“Huh? They’ll come, never fear.”
“Do as I say.”
“You’re the doctor.” The pilot trudged through the sand, his back expressing disapproval. LeCroix looked puzzled. “Quick, Les—help me with this.”
“This” was the five thousand cancelled envelopes which were supposed to have been to the Moon. They got them out of Harriman’s stratoship and into the Moon ship, there to be stowed in an empty food locker, while their actions were still shielded from the later arrivals by the bulk of the stratoship. “Whew!” said Harriman. “That was close. Half a million dollars. We need it, Les.”
“Sure, but look, Mr. Harriman, the di—”
“Sssh! The others are coming. How about the other business? Ready with your act?”
“Yes. But I was trying to tell you—”
“Quiet!”
It was not their colleagues; it was a shipload of reporters, camera men, mike men, commentators, technicians. They swarmed over them.
Harriman waved to them jauntily. “Help yourselves, boys. Get a lot of pictures. Climb through the ship. Make yourselves at home. Look at anything you want to. But go easy on Captain LeCroix—he’s tired.”
Another ship had landed, this time with Coster, Dixon and Strong. Entenza showed up in his own chartered ship and began bossing the TV, pix, and radio men, in the course of which he almost had a fight with an unauthorized camera crew. A large copter transport grounded and spilled out nearly a platoon of khaki-clad Mexican troops. From somewhere—out of the sand apparently—several dozen native peasants showed up. Harriman broke away from reporters, held a quick and expensive discussion with the captain of the local troops and a degree of order was restored in time to save the Pioneer from being picked to pieces.
“Just let that be!” It was LeCroix’s voice, from inside the Pioneer. Harriman waited and listened. “None of your business!” the pilot’s voice went on, rising higher, “and put them back!”
Harriman pushed his way to the door of the ship. “What’s the trouble, Les?”
Inside the cramped cabin, hardly large enough for a TV booth, three men stood, LeCroix and two reporters. All three men looked angry. “What’s the trouble, Les?” Harriman repeated.
LeCroix was holding a small cloth bag which appeared to be empty. Scattered on the pilot’s acceleration rest between him and the reporters were several small, dully brilliant stones. A reporter held one such stone up to the light.
“These guys were poking their noses into things that didn’t concern them,” LeCroix said angrily.
The reporter looked at the stone and said, “You told us to look at what we liked, didn’t you, Mr. Harriman?”
“Yes.”
‘Tour pilot here—“ He jerked a thumb at LeCroix. ”—apparently didn’t expect us to find these. He had them hidden in the pads of his chair.”
“What of it?”
“They’re diamonds.”
“What makes you think so?”
“They’re diamonds all right.”
Harriman stopped and unwrapped a cigar. Presently he said, “Those diamonds were where you found them because I put them there.”
A flashlight went off behind Harriman; a voice said, “Hold the rock up higher, Jeff.”
The reporter called Jeff obliged, then said, “That seems an odd thing to do, Mr. Harriman.”
“I was interested in the effect of outer space radiations on raw diamonds. On my orders Captain LeCroix placed that sack of diamonds in the ship.”
Jeff whistled thoughtfully. “You know, Mr. Harriman, if you did not have that explanation, I’d think LeCroix had found the rocks on the Moon and was trying to hold out on you.”
“Print that and you will be sued for libel. I have every confidence in Captain LeCroix. Now give me the diamonds.”
Jeff’s eyebrows went up. “But not confidence enough in him to let him keep them, maybe?”
“Give me the stones. Then get out.”
Harriman got LeCroix away from the reporters as quickly as possible and into Harriman’s own ship. “That’s all for now,” he told the news and pictures people. “See us at Peterson Field.”
Once the ship raised ground he turned to LeCroix. “You did a beautiful job, Les.”
“That reporter named Jeff must be sort of confused.”
“Eh? Oh, that No, I mean the flight. You did it. You’re head man on this planet.”
LeCroix shrugged it off. “Bob built a good ship. It was a cinch. Now about those diamonds—”
“Forget the diamonds. You’ve done your part. We placed those rocks in the ship; now we tell everybody we did—truthful as can be. It’s not our fault if they don’t believe us.”
“But Mr. Harriman—”
“What?”
LeCroix unzipped a pocket in his coveralls, hauled out a soiled handkerchief, knotted into a bag. He untied it—and spilled into Harriman’s hands many more diamonds than had been displayed in the ship—larger, finer diamonds.
Harriman stared at them. He began to chuckle.
Presently he shoved them back at LeCroix. “Keep them.”
“I figure they belong to all of us.”
“Well, keep them for us, then. And keep your mouth shut about them. No, wait.” He picked out two large stones. “I’ll have rings made from these two, one for you, one for me. But keep your mouth shut, or they won’t be worth anything, except as curiosities.”
It was quite true, he thought. Long ago the diamond syndicate had realized that diamonds in plentiful supply were worth little more than glass, except for industrial uses. Earth had more than enough for that, more than enough for jewels. If Moon diamonds were literally “common as pebbles” then they were just that—pebbles.
Not worth the expense of bringing them to earth.
But now take uranium. If that were plentiful—
Harriman sat back and indulged in daydreaming.
Presently LeCroix said softly, “You know, Boss, it’s wonderful there.”
“Eh? Where?”
“Why, on the Moon of course. I’m going back. I’m going back just as soon as I can. We’ve got to get busy on the new ship.”
“Sure, sure! And this time we’ll build one big enough for all of us. This time I go, tool”
“You bet.”
“Les—” The older man spoke almost diffidently. “What does it look like when you look back and see the Earth?”
“Huh? It looks like— It looks—” LeCroix stopped. “Hell’s bells, Boss, there isn’t any way to tell you. It’s wonderful, that’s all. The sky is black and —well, wait until you see the pictures I took. Better yet, wait and see it yourself.”
Harriman nodded. “But it’s hard to wait.”
11
“FIELDS OF DIAMONDS ON THE MOON!!!”
“BILLIONAIRE BACKER DENIES DIAMOND STORY
Says Jewels Taken Into Space for Science Reasons”
“MOON DIAMONDS: HOAX OR FACT?”
“—but consider this, friends of the invisible audience: why would anyone take diamonds to the moon? Every ounce of that ship and its cargo was calculated; diamonds would not be taken along without reason. Many scientific authorities have pronounced Mr. Harriman’s professed reason an absurdity. It is easy to guess that diamonds might be taken along for the purpose of ‘salting’ the Moon, so to speak, with earthly jewels, with the intention of convincing us that diamonds exist on the Moon—but Mr. Harriman, his pilot Captain LeCroix, and everyone connected with the enterprise have sworn from the beginning that the diamonds did not come from the Moon. But it is an absolute certainty that the diamonds were in the space ship when it landed. Cut it how you will; this reporter is going to try to buy some lunar diamond mining stock—”
Strong was, as usual, already in the office when Harriman came in. Before the partners could speak, the screen called out, “Mr. Harriman, Rotterdam calling.”
“Tell them to go plant a tulip.”
“Mr. van der Velde is waitin
g, Mr. Harriman.”
“Okay.”
Harriman let the Hollander talk, then said, “Mr. van der Velde, the statements attributed to me are absolutely correct. I put those diamonds the reporters saw into the ship before it took off. They were mined right here on Earth. In fact I bought them when I came over to see you; I can prove it.”
“But Mr. Harriman—”
“Suit yourself. There may be more diamonds on the Moon than you can run and jump over. I don’t guarantee it. But I do guarantee that those diamonds the newspapers are talking about came from Earth.”
“Mr. Harriman, why would you send diamonds to the Moon? Perhaps you intended to fool us, no?”
“Have it your own way. But I’ve said all along that those diamonds came from Earth. Now see here: you took an option—an option on an option, so to speak. If you want to make the second payment on that option and keep it in force, the deadline is nine o’clock Thursday, New York time, as specified in the contract. Make up your mind.”
He switched off and found his partner looking at him sourly. “What’s eating you?”
“I wondered about those diamonds, too, Delos. So I’ve been looking through the weight schedule of the Pioneer.”
“Didn’t know you were interested in engineering.”
“I can read figures.”
“Well, you found it, didn’t you? Schedule F-17-c, two ounces, allocated to me personally.”
“I found it. It sticks out like a sore thumb. But I didn’t find something else.”
Harriman felt a cold chill in his stomach. “What?”
“I didn’t find a schedule for the canceled covers.” Strong stared at him.
“It must be there. Let me see that weight schedule.”
“It’s not there, Delos. You know, I thought it was funny when you insisted on going to meet Captain LeCroix by yourself. What happened, Delos. Did you sneak them aboard?” He continued to stare while Harriman fidgeted. “We’ve put over some sharp business deals—but this will be the first time that anyone can say that the firm of Harriman and Strong has cheated.”
“Damn it, George—I would cheat, lie, steal, beg, bribe—do anything to accomplish what we have accomplished.”
Harriman got up and paced the room. “We had to have that money, or the ship would never have taken off. We’re cleaned out. You know that, don’t you?”
Strong nodded. “But those covers should have gone to the Moon. That’s what we contracted to do.”
“Damn it, I just forgot it. Then it was too late to figure the weight in. But it doesn’t matter. I figured that if the trip was a failure, if LeCroix cracked up, nobody would know or care that the covers hadn’t gone. And I knew if he made it, it wouldn’t matter; we’d have plenty of money. And we will, George, we will!”
“We’ve got to pay the money back.”
“Now? Give me time, George. Everybody concerned is happy the way it is. Wait until we recover our stake; then I’ll buy every one of those covers back—out of my own pocket. That’s a promise.”
Strong continued to sit. Harriman stopped in front of him. “I ask you, George, is it worth while to wreck an enterprise of this size for a purely theoretical point?”
Strong sighed and said, “When the time comes, use the firm’s money.”
“That’s the spirit! But I’ll use my own, I promise you.”
“No, the firm’s money. If we’re in it together, we’re in it together.”
“O.K., if that’s the way you want it.”
Harriman turned back to his desk. Neither of the two partners had anything to say for a long while. Presently Dixon and Entenza were announced.
“Well, Jack,” said Harriman. “Feel better now?”
“No thanks to you. I had to fight for what I did put on the air—and some of it was pirated as it was. Delos, there should have been a television pick-up in the ship.”
“Don’t fret about it. As I told you, we couldn’t spare the weight this time. But there will be the next trip, and the next. Your concession is going to be worth a pile of money.”
Dixon cleared his throat. “That’s what we came to see you about, Delos. What are your plans?”
“Plans? We go right ahead. Les and Coster and I make the next trip. We set up a permanent base. Maybe Coster stays behind. The third trip we send a real colony—nuclear engineers, miners, hydroponics experts, communications engineers. We’ll found Luna City, first city on another planet.”
Dixon looked thoughtful. “And when does this begin to pay off?”
“What do you mean by ‘pay off’? Do you want your capital back, or do you want to begin to see some return on your investment? I can cut it either way.”
Entenza was about to say that he wanted his investment back; Dixon cut in first, “Profits, naturally. The investment is already made.”
“Fine!”
“But I don’t see how you expect profits. Certainly, LeCroix made the trip and got back safely. There is honor for all of us. But where are the royalties?”
“Give the crop time to ripen, Dan. Do I look worried? What are our assets?” Harriman ticked them off on his fingers. “Royalties on pictures, television, radio—”
“Those things go to Jack.”
“Take a look at the agreement. He has the concession, but he pays the firm—that’s all of us—for them.”
Dixon said, “Shut up, Jack!” before Entenza could speak, then added, “What else? That won’t pull us out of the red.”
“Endorsements galore. Monty’s boys are working on that. Royalties from the greatest best seller yet—I’ve got a ghost writer and a stenographer following LeCroix around this very minute. A franchise for the first and only space line—”
“From whom?”
“We’ll get it. Kamens and Montgomery are in Paris now, working on it. I’m joining them this afternoon. And we’ll tie down that franchise with a franchise from the other end, just as soon as we can get a permanent colony there, no matter how small. It will be the autonomous state of Luna, under the protection of the United Nations—and no ship will land or take off in its territory without its permission. Besides that we’ll have the right to franchise a dozen other companies for various purposes—and tax them, too—just as soon as we set up the Municipal Corporation of the City of Luna under the laws of the State of Luna. We’ll sell everything but vacuum— we’ll even sell vacuum, for experimental purposes. And don’t forget—we’ll still have a big chunk of real estate, sovereign title in us—as a state—and not yet sold. The Moon is big.”
“Your ideas are rather big, too, Delos,” Dixon said dryly. “But what actually happens next?”
“First we get title confirmed by the U. N. The Security Council is now in secret session; the Assembly meets tonight. Things will be popping; that’s why I’ve got to be there. When the United Nations decides—as it will!— that its own non-profit corporation has the only real claim to the Moon, then I get busy. The poor little weak non-profit corporation is going to grant a number of things to some real honest-to-god corporations with hair on their chests—in return for help in setting up a physics research lab, an astronomical observatory, a lunography institute and some other perfectly proper nonprofit enterprises. That’s our interim pitch until we get a permanent colony with its own laws. Then we—”
Dixon gestured impatiently. “Never mind the legal shenanigans, Delos. I’ve known you long enough to know that you can figure out such angles. What do we actually have to do next?”
“Huh? We’ve got to build another ship, a bigger one. Not actually bigger, but effectively bigger. Coster has started the design of a surface catapult—it will reach from Manitou Springs to the top of Pikes Peak. With it we can put a ship in free orbit around the Earth. Then we’ll use such a ship to fuel more ships—it amounts to a space station, like the power station. It adds up to a way to get there on chemical power without having to throw away nine-tenths of your ship to do it.”
“Sounds expensive.”
/>
“It will be. But don’t worry; we’ve got a couple of dozen piddling little things to keep the money coming in while we get set up on a commercial basis, then we sell stock. We sold stock before; now we’ll sell a thousand dollars worth where we sold ten before.”
“And you think that will carry you through until the enterprise as a whole is on a paying basis? Face it, Delos, the thing as a whole doesn’t pay off until you have ships plying between here and the Moon on a paying basis, figured in freight and passenger charges. That means customers, with cash. What is there on the Moon to ship—and who pays for it?”
“Dan, don’t you believe there will be? If not, why are you here?”
“I believe in it, Delos—or I believe in you. But what’s your time schedule? What’s your budget? What’s your prospective commodity? And please don’t mention diamonds; I think I understand that caper.”
Harriman chewed his cigar for a few moments. “There’s one valuable commodity we’ll start shipping at once.”
“What?”
“Knowledge.”
Entenza snorted. Strong looked puzzled. Dixon nodded. “I’ll buy that. Knowledge is always worth something—to the man who knows how to exploit it. And I’ll agree that the Moon is a place to find new knowledge. I’ll assume that you can make the next trip pay off. What’s your budget and your time table for that?”
Harriman did not answer. Strong searched his face closely. To him Harriman’s poker face was as revealing as large print—he decided that his partner had been crowded into a corner. He waited, nervous but ready to back Harriman’s play. Dixon went on, “From the way you describe it, Delos, I judge that you don’t have money enough for your next step—and you don’t know where you will get it. I believe in you, Delos—and I told you at the start that I did not believe in letting a new business die of anemia. I’m ready to buy in with a fifth share.”
Harriman stared. “Look,” he said bluntly, “you own Jack’s share now, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”