blow to him as to Chuck.
But his voice was calm enough as he began putting new tobacco into the pipe. “Tough luck, kid. By the way, Vance and Rothman are testing the
“Lew should make it,” Chuck protested weakly. “He’ll need the experience. I guess—”
The phone cut him off, and his father picked it up. “Sure, Doc… What?… Look, he was feeling fine a few minutes ago…. Oh… we’ll be there!”
He swung around to Chuck quickly. “Lew just reported in to Medical. Doc Barnes says it looks like appendicitis. Says the boy claims he’s been bothered ever since he got up here.”
“It’s a fake. Dad.”
“Of course it is. Fool kid. Come on!”
Doctor Barnes met them inside the infirmary and led them into his office. There was a little smile on his sharp-featured face. “Looks like you’ll have to go. Chuck,” he began.
Svensen cut him short. “Doc, you know Lew Wong has no more appendicitis than I have. If you’re just playing along with it so my boy can go in his place, you’re making a mistake. I’m not going to permit it! Chuck won’t go; the Council says he can’t, and that settles it. They’d only send someone else, anyhow.”
“But—” The doctor’s face purpled for a second. Finally, he nodded. “I. guess you’re right, Will. It seemed like a good idea, but it wouldn’t work. Um-m-m. Still, Wong just
“How about symptoms?”
“He’s either read up on it—any good encyclopedia would do—or he has something. There’s no fever, though, and his pulse is normal.”
Svensen lifted an inquiring eyebrow toward Chuck, then nodded. “Okay, son, get in there and change his mind. And if you can’t, I’ll do it with a hairbrush!”
Lew was sitting on the cot in the little receiving room, smiling faintly. As Chuck came in, he dropped back and began groaning.
Chuck stared at him. “I’m not going. Lew. Even if I wanted to replace you, Dad wouldn’t let me. If you want to hold up the ship while they find someone else, you can…But you can count me out. I’m not even going on the test flight. That’s your job. Thanks for the try, but it’s no dice!”
He swung about sharply and went out, closing the door
before Lew could argue with him. It was only a minute later that Lew followed him, looking sheepish.
“I guess you think I’m a complete fool,” he admitted. “Okay, it was just an idea that didn’t work. But you’re going on the test flight. Chuck.”
The doctor reached for the admittance card and began tearing it up. The other three started back toward the Svensen home, with Lew still trying to convince Chuck that he should make the test hop.
But Chuck had decided. He’d had enough of half-hopes and plans that didn’t amount to anything. There was no sense in teasing himself with something that could only make him envy Lew the more.
“I’ll be watching you,” he finished. “From the surface here. But if I can’t go to Mars, I’m too old to play games. It’s your job. Lew. And that’s that.”
“And what about you?”
Svensen dropped his arms over the shoulders of the two-boys. “Chuck will want to learn piloting under Jeff Foldingchair—Jeff asked about it when I talked to him last night. Eighteen’s the right age for that too. And when the next rocket goes to Mars—well, I’m betting the other pilots won’t have a chance against a Moon boy who can pilot and run a radar set to boot. Right, son?”
“Right!” It had been Chuck’s wish once, though he’d never hoped to get his mother’s permission to attempt his own piloting, But she’d never go against his father’s promise. He grinned at Lew. “There’ll be other trips, chum.”
Behind them, someone had been calling excitedly, but they had been too busy to pay attention. Now in the momentary silence, Chuck heard his name. He turned, to see the Governor’s male secretary racing toward them. “Governor Braithwaite wants to see you at once!”
‘The council changed their minds?” Lew exclaimed.
“No, no.” The secretary frowned. “Of course not. But they have made another decision. In fact, the delegate from China sponsored it. The news just came in.”
They followed Jam, trying to get more information out of him, but he was enjoying the mystery and refused to tell any more. After the cat and mouse game of the last few days, Chuck had stopped reacting. He wasn’t going to get all he wanted, but he’d still do all right. Just being part of Moon City was something worth being happy about. That, plus a chance to become a rocket pilot, was enough. He couldn’t really kick. Going to Mars was something like going to heaven—and most people had to die to do that.
Probably the Council had decided to make some official apology to him, or to grant him full adult status on the Moon, with the right to hold an official job. It would be nice enough, but it wouldn’t be important.
Governor Braithwaite was beaming happily as they entered. He shook Chuck’s hand warmly, muttering something about how sorry he was that his appeals had failed. But there was something else on his mind, obviously, and he wasted little time in getting down to it.
“Chuck, you’ve no idea how much those ratings of yours impressed the Council. They were up for hours of consideration before the vote, you know. I tell you, it isn’t every day a young man can take up that much time in the United Nations! They’ve decided you’re being wasted here. Look!”
He handed Chuck a long transcript of a radargram, and stood beaming while the boy read it. Chuck skipped the formal part, until he came to the point of it:
At the request of the Delegate from the Republic of China, it is therefore resolved that Charles Svensen, now a resident of Moon City, shall be granted a Council Scholarship, as provided in the Act establishing the Committee for Educational Allocation. This Scholarship shall be for the period of six years at any university of his choice duly approved, to lead to a degree of Ph.D. in physics with any branch of electronics as a major study. During this time, Charles Svensen shall be considered a candidate for Council Advisor, and shall spend three months of each year at the behest of the Council in attendance at the Council meetings in the capacity of a Junior Advisor, for which he shall receive a recompense of $7,000 per annum, minus costs of tuition.
There was more official stuff, but Chuck had seen enough. He handed it back to the Governor. “That means they want me to take a course in electronics for six years and then go into United Nations work—research, I suppose?”
“Precisely.” Governor Braithwaite beamed harder than ever. “You know, that’s a remarkable resolution. Chuck. The Council absolutely shouted when the Chinese Delegate proposed it. They’ve only granted the full honor like this eight times in history, you know.”
“What about it, Dad?” Chuck asked.
His father shrugged. “It sounds like a fine opportunity—better than I could ever offer you. If you want it, take it. You’ll make more than you will piloting rockets.”
“And have to give up the Moon as well as Mars,” Chuck said. He shook his head. “No thanks. Governor Braithwaite, you can fix it up in fancy language. Just tell them I don’t feel I can accept, and that I prefer to stay right here on the Moon!”
Braithwaite’s face fell. He rubbed his hands together, and stared at the rug under his feet. He shuffled his papers about nervously. “I’m afraid I can’t. Chuck.” Again he shuffled the papers. “You see—dash it, you
Chuck knew that; getting onto the Moon was something like being cleared for entrance into one of the most secret laboratories on Earth, only harder. Even Tippy had required a special permit, after Jeff had brought him out.
“And—” Governor Braithwaite cleared his throat, as the shocked look deepened on his face. “And it takes
