'I think you know something you aren't telling me,' Chadwick said, still gazing intently at Egg's face.
'Think what you please,' Egg grunted, and floated toward the toilet facility.
As soon as he had the door closed he put his hands on his face, trying to compose himself.
He didn't know if this saucer had a weapon on it — he hadn't asked the computer. He wondered if Chadwick would. All he had to do was put on the headband and ask. If he knew enough to ask. In his explorations of the computer's memory, Egg had spent months wandering along, poking here and there, completely on his own, before one day the thought occurred to him to ask the computer for the information he wanted. Then data spewed forth like an Oklahoma gusher.
What if this saucer did have an antimatter weapon of some sort and Chadwick learned of it? So what? They were on their way to the moon.
Given a moment to think about it, Egg put two and two together. If Rip's saucer had indeed flown again, Rip and Charley Pine were in it.
Were they still alive? Were they safe?
If anything happened to them…
When he had himself completely under control, Egg opened the door and floated out into the main compartment. Chadwick had strapped himself to the pilot's seat and was wearing the headband.
The news of the loss of the spaceplanes hit Pierre hard. He had bet his quest — indeed, his life and Julie's life— on the fact that his friends could get control of the French spaceport and continue to fly the spaceplanes to and from the earth. He was sure the French government would fold— he knew most of the ministers personally. They weren't gamblers, they were politicians. They read the papers, were acutely attuned to the public mood and strove mightily to stay in front of the parade so they would appear to be leading. If the public could be persuaded, the politicians would go along, and Pierre knew how to sway the French public. Honor, glory, for the good of all mankind, which would be united under a French banner. The appeal would be irresistible.
And,
Except for that Charley Pine. Stealing the spaceplane from the moon, stranding them.
He wondered if she had flown the saucer that attacked the three spaceplanes in orbit. His gut told him yes. She would do that.
It would take at least two years to build another space-plane and test it, even on an expedited schedule. Then another fuel tank would have to be placed in earth orbit and filled with fuel before a spaceplane could make a trip to the moon filled with supplies.
The lunar base was not self-sustaining, as he well knew. Oh, there was indeed water, but the hydroponic gardens would not sustain the forty-two people who were here. Make that forty-six, for four more were coming on Chadwick's saucer. Nor were the complex carbon-based compounds being created in the lab yet edible.
Somehow, some way, Chadwick's saucer had to be used to carry critical supplies back and forth across the chasm.
He was musing thus when Julie came into the com center. He told her of the disaster to the spaceplanes. She took the bad news well, he thought, although obviously it was a blow. They discussed how Chadwick's saucer would have to be used.
'Even with the saucer, it will be difficult to sustain forty-six people,' she remarked distractedly.
Pierre nodded. 'We will send as many as possible back to earth on the saucer.'
'Yes. We must lower the number somehow.'
The radio crackled to life. It was Mission Control reporting that the French space facilities were under attack. 'Hangars are exploding, the fuel dump just detonated—' He was cut off in midsentence.
'The Americans,' Pierre said heatedly.
'Or the British,'Julie said. 'We'll give them a taste of their own medicine. They want war, and they shall have it! And I'm going to enjoy pulling the trigger!'
It was still dark in Washington when Charley Pine drifted the stolen saucer to a stop ten feet in the air outside a large hangar at Andrews Air Force Base. One of the huge doors began opening, revealing a brilliantly lit interior and dozens of people. The saucer slipped through the open door. Inside, the gear snapped down; then the ship settled to the shiny, reflective white concrete beside Air Force One, a huge Boeing 747 that dwarfed saucer and people. Behind the spaceship, the door was already closing.
Rip and Charley dropped through the open hatch. The first person they saw was the president of the United States. He walked over with a hand out.
He pronounced their names as he shook their hands, but didn't say his own. After all, Rip thought, any American who didn't know the name of the president was in danger of being involuntarily committed.
Charley said, 'Hi,' to the president, then asked, 'Where's the ladies?'
Surprised, the president looked around for a sign. One of his aides pointed, and Charley headed that way, leaving Rip and the president standing in front of the saucer.
'She's had a rough night,' Rip explained. 'She knew the spaceplane crews, trained with them in France.'
'Sure,' said the president.
'Sorry about smashing up the window over at the Air and Space. I'll pay for the damage. We didn't have time to get permission,' he finished lamely.
The president's eyebrows rose. 'The director told one of my staff that he figured it would cost ten million to repair the side of that building.'
'We've been doing okay licensing the propulsion technology. When I get back to Missouri, I'll write the museum a check.'
'I've never been inside your saucer,' the president said. 'How about a tour?'
Once inside, the president climbed into the pilot's seat and looked at the blank computer presentations. Rip pulled out the power knob to the first detent, and the presentations came vividly to life. After Rip's cursory explanation, the president said, 'Tell me about the spaceplanes.'
So Rip told it, about going into orbit, calling Space Command, doing a huge loop and dropping down onto them, blowing up the refueling tank with the spaceplane attached…
When Rip ran dry, the president said, 'One spaceplane blew up with the fuel tank, one burned up in the atmosphere, the third came down in the Pacific. The survivors were picked up by a freighter. One crewman dead, four injured. The fourth ship, which Ms. Pine flew, is parked on the Bonneville Salt Flats under armed guard.'
'Guess that's the inventory.'
'Then there is the saucer that we kept in Area Fifty-one. Top secret and all that. It was stolen and is on its way to the moon, presumably under the command of Artois' colleagues.'
'With my uncle Egg flying it.'
'Space Command said that you believe this saucer can make that trip.'
'Yessir. If we put bladder tanks here in the cabin, plumb them into the water system, we can increase our fuel capacity by two hundred percent. Charley and I figure that will be enough to get us there and back.'
The president wiggled the controls. 'And this saucer has a weapon?'
'Yessir. An antiproton beam.'
'What's an antiproton?'
'Antimatter. When an antiproton hits a regular proton, it destroys it, releasing a lot of energy. A whole lot.
'Your uncle will be at the lunar base. That will complicate things.'
'We're going to need a couple of assault rifles and some grenades. They'll work the same there as they do here.'
'Want to take a couple of marines with you?'
'It's sorta cramped in here now. When we add the water tanks, there won't be room.'
'Okay.' The president stirred the stick, kicked the rudders and took in the displays one more time. 'Before you go, can I get a ride in this thing?'
To get to the restroom Charley walked through a large office and along a hallway. When she came out, she paused to examine the framed photos of World War I aviators hanging on the hallway wall. There was Georges Guyne-mer, with lean cheeks and haunted eyes, wearing a coat with a fur collar; Charles Nungesser standing in
