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Personal glory emphasized to a point where it got beyond sense. And wouldn't that unreason be more likely to get worse in the terrible lunar desert than it ever would on Earth? Would Rodan ever release them? Wouldn't he fear encroachment on his archeological success, even after all his data had been made public?
Nelsen cleared his throat, found his voice. "Cocky, aren't you, Pal?" he chuckled. So another thing was happening in reverse from what most people had expected. Gimp Hines was finding a new, surer self, off the Earth. "It's all right, Gimp," Nelsen added. "I figured that I saw your tracks and your tractor tread marks, up in the hills, just before I decided to break away from Rodan..."
"Maybe I overplayed my hand, but just the same, I still think I'm the best to say what's to be done and maybe get us out of a jam, and I can't have Helen or Rodan or anybody else doing any more cockeyed things to screw matters up even worse than they are." Nelsen trussed Rodan up, too, then searched Rodan's thigh pouch and found a bunch of keys. "You come along with me, Les and Helen," he said.
Quarters proved to be okay two bunks and the usual compact accessories. "Leave your Archers in the lockers outside your door here are your keys," Rodan suggested. "Helen will have a meal ready for you in the adjacent dining room. Afterwards, take a helpful tranquilizer, and sleep. No work until you awaken. I shall leave you, now..."
But it could sometimes be treacherous. Frank thought of these things as the long minutes dragged. Perhaps Rodan, hunched intently over his controls, had reason enough, there, to be silent... The actual landing still had to be made in the only way possible on worlds whose air-covering was so close to a complete vacuum as this like a cat climbing down a tree backwards.
Or would it be better to wait fourteen more Earth-days, till another lunar dawn? Hell no that would be chickenish procrastination. Rodan and Dutch were a good ten feet away from him he was out of their reach. With the harmless-looking trowel held like a dagger, he struck with all his might at the stellene outer wall of the dome, and then made a ripping motion.
With flaming jets still holding it up, and spinning gyros keeping it vertical, the rocket lowered gradually. The seats swung level, keeping their occupants right side up. There was a hovering pause, then the faint jolt of contact. The jet growl stopped; complete silence closed in like a hammer blow. "Do you men know where you are?" Rodan asked after a moment.
Someone had to be in command in a situation which already looked black. "Frank I didn't suppose " Lester stammered. "Now what are we going to do?" "All that we can do try to get out of here!" Frank snapped back at him. With some shreds of stellene, he tied Dutch's arms behind his back, and lashed his feet together. Then he pulled Helen away from Rodan. "Hold her, Les," he ordered.
Rodan indicated a large, Archer-clad man, who also carried an automatic. He had the face of a playful but dangerous mastiff. He was hunkered down in a shallow pit, scanning the ground with a watch-sized device probably intended for locating objects hidden just beneath the surface, electronically. Beside him was a screen-bottomed container, no doubt meant for sifting dust.
In the airtight cabin of Xavier Rodan's vehicle, Frank Nelsen and David Lester had read and signed their contracts and had received their copies. Rodan didn't smile. "Now we'll go down and have a look at the place I'm investigating," he said.
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