“.. . tell Martha, Jan, and Ivy not to worry about me, I'll be home soon. Ask Tom how the Ericson deal went, and let me know when you call back. My love to you all—George. End of message. Did you get that? Selene calling. Over.”

“Luna Central calling Selene. Yes, we have it all down; we'll see that the messages get delivered and will relay the answers as soon as they come in. Now can we speak to Captain Harris? Over.”

There was a brief pause, during which the background noises in the cruiser could be clearly heard—the sound of voices, slightly reverberant in this enclosed space, the creak of a chair, a muffled “Excuse me.” Then:

“Captain Harris calling Central. Over.”

Commissioner Davis took the mike.

“Captain Harris, this is the Tourist Commissioner. I know that you all have messages you wish to send, but the news services are here and are very anxious to have a few words with you. First of all, could you give us a brief description of conditions inside Selene? Over.”

“Well, it's very hot, and we aren't wearing much clothes. But I don't suppose we can grumble about the heat, since it helped you to find us. Anyway, we've grown used to it. The air's still good, and we have enough food and water, though the menu is—let's say it's monotonous. What more do you want to know? Over.”

“Ask him about morale—how are the passengers taking it?—are there any signs of strain?” said the representative of Triplanetary Publications. The Tourist Commissioner relayed the question, rather more tactfully. It seemed to cause slight embarrassment at the other end of the line.

“Everyone's behaved very well,” said Pat, just a little too hastily. “Of course, we all wonder how long it will take you to get us out. Can you give us any ideas on that? Over.”

“Chief Engineer Lawrence is in Port Roris now, planning rescue operations,” Davis answered. “As soon as he has an estimate, we'll pass it on. Meanwhile, how are you occupying your time? Over.”

Pat told him, thereby enormously multiplying the sales of Shane and, less happily, giving a boost to the flagging fortunes of The Orange and the Apple. He also gave a brief account of the court proceedings—now terminated sine die.

“That must have been amusing entertainment,” said Davis . “But now you won't have to rely on your own resources. We can send you anything you want—music, plays, discussions. Just give the word—we'll fix it. Over.”

Pat took his time in answering this. The radio link had already transformed their lives, had brought them hope and put them in touch with their loved ones. Yet, in a way he was almost sony that their seclusion was ended. The heart-warming sense of solidarity, which even Miss Morley's outburst had scarcely ruffled, was already a fading dream. They no longer formed a single group, united in the common cause of survival. Now their lives had diverged again into a score of independent aims and ambitions. Humanity had swallowed them up once more, as the ocean swallows a raindrop.

CHAPTER 16

Chief Engineer Lawrence did not believe that committees ever achieved anything. His views were well known on the Moon, for shortly after the last biannual visit of the Lunar Board of Survey, a notice had appeared on his desk conveying the information: A BOARD IS LONG, HARD, AND NARROW. IT IS MADE OF WOOD.

But he approved of this committee, because it fulfilled his somewhat stringent requirements. He was chairman; there were no minutes, no secretary, no agenda. Best of all, he could ignore or accept its recommendations as he pleased. He was the man in charge of rescue operations, unless the Chief Administrator chose to sack him—which he would do only under extreme pressure from Earth. The committee existed merely to provide ideas and technical knowledge; it was his private brain trust.

Only half of its dozen members were physically present; the rest were scattered over Moon, Earth, and space. The soilphysics expert on Earth was at a disadvantage, for owing to the finite speed of radio waves, he would always be a second and a half in arrears, and by the time his comments could get to the Moon, almost three seconds would have passed. He had accordingly been asked to make notes and to save his views until the end, only interrupting if it was absolutely necessary. As many people had discovered, after setting up lunar conference calls at great expense, nothing hamstrung a brisk discussion more effectively than that three-second time lag.

“For the benefit of the newcomers,” said Lawrence , when the roll call had been completed, “I'll brief you on the situation. Selene is fifteen meters down, on a level keel. She's undamaged, with all her equipment functioning, and the twentytwo people inside her are still in good spirits. They have enough oxygen for ninety hours—that's the deadline we have to keep in mind.