Journey Into Space by Charles Chilton Page B

would be gone and only the flag, the scorched ground, prints in the dust and the impression of Mitch where he had lain in the washbowl would remain to show we had set foot on the Moon. No wind or rain would ever rub them out. They would stay forever, just as we left them, until some great moonquake destroyed them or the satellite itself was no more.
    My thoughts were interrupted by Lemmy’s laugh. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said. “Maybe I’ll spend my holidays here again. But I’ll find better digs next time.”
    We all joined in his laughter and then, when Jet gave his first order for take-off, became serious again. “Doc, gyro.” We could feel it rotating. The ship was coming to life. She seemed almost as pleased about going home as we were.
    “Stand by for count-off.”
    “We’re going home,” whispered Lemmy.
    “But we’ll be back,” said Mitch.
    “Firing in 15 seconds.”
    Nobody spoke now. Take-off would not be so unpleasant as it had been from Earth but, our bodies having got used to the low gravitational pull of the Moon, it would be bad enough.
    “Ten seconds.”
    I set myself to watch the televiewer screen. All the picture showed at the moment was a stabilising fin and part of the Moon’s surface below it. But I wanted to see the Bay below us, receding and getting smaller as we pulled away from it.
    “5, 4, 3, 2, 1--fire!”
    I tensed slightly, waiting for the roar of the motor to come pulsating through the aluminium frame of my bunk. But nothing happened. Only the slight feel of the big gyro.
    “Well, press the ignition switch,” said Mitch.
    “I did,” replied Jet. “Nothing happened.”
    “Press it again.”
    A pause.
    “Still nothing.”
    “Hey, Jet.” It was Lemmy now. “The radar--it’s cut.”
    The picture on the miniature screen above my head blurred, darkened, and went out.
    “Now the televiewer’s gone.”
    The pitch of the gyro began to drop.
    “Now the gyro.”
    The note reached its lowest pitch and faded out altogether. The lights went out. We were plunged into deep, impenetrable darkness.
    “Everything’s stopped,” came Jet’s voice from the bunk above. I could hear him pressing buttons. “There’s not a thing in the ship that works.”
     
     

Chapter 7 - THE DEAD SHIP
     
    What’s happened to the emergency lights?” Mitch’s voice enquired out of the darkness. “They should come on automatically.”
    “Lemmy.”
    “Yes, Jet.”
    “The flashlight hanging behind you. Can you find it?”
    “I think so.”
    “Then switch it on. Hurry. Switch it on.”
    We could hear Lemmy fumbling. Then the beam from the flashlight stabbed the gloom.
    “Thank goodness,” I said almost involuntarily. “To lie in the dark as well would be the last straw.”
    “What do you think has happened, Mitch?” asked Jet.
    “Main power supply must have failed. We can thank our lucky stars it didn’t happen while we were actually taking off.”
    “Didn’t you inspect the power pack, Lemmy?” asked Jet.
    “Of course I did,” replied Lemmy indignantly.
    “Well, we’d better get down into the hold and check it again. Get the tool pack out of the locker.” Lemmy started to climb out of his bunk. “And get Mitch’s flashlight and mine, too.” “Yes, Jet,” said Lemmy meekly.
    “And Doc, go round to every control and switch it off. Break every circuit and keep it open until we get back.”
    Much to Lemmy’s disgust, Jet, taking Mitch with him, went down into the hold to inspect the power pack himself. Lemmy and I waited up in the cabin; we were still waiting four hours later.
    “How much longer are they going to be?” Lemmy said at last.
    “Give them time,” I told him. “Dismantling the power pack is a tricky job and it can’t be done in five minutes.’“
    “But they’ve never taken this long to check it before.”
    “It’s never packed in before,” I reminded him.
    Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps ascending the