Free A Fall of Moondust by Arthur C. Clarke Page B

was
     almost impossible to imagine that anything as large as
Selene
could sink without trace in the Sea of Thirst, merely because there had been a quake
     in that neighbourhood. He certainly could not call the Moon, on the evidence of a
     single photograph and say, “You’re looking in the wrong place.” Though he pretended
     that the opinion of others meant nothing to him, Tom was terrified of making a fool
     of himself. Before he could advance this fantastic theory, he would have to get more
     evidence.
    Through the telescope, the Sea was now a flat and featureless glare of light. Visual
     observation merely confirmed what he had proved before sunrise; there was nothing
     more than a few centimetres high projecting above the dust surface. The infra-red
     scanner was no greater help: the heat trails had vanished completely, wiped out hours
     ago by the sun.
    Tom adjusted the instrument for maximum sensitivity, and searched the area where the
     trail had ended. Perhaps there was some lingering trace that could be picked up even
     now—some faint smudge of heat that still persisted, strong enough to be detected even
     in the warmth of the lunar morning. For the sun was still low, and its rays had not
     yet attained the murderous power they would possess at noon.
    Was it imagination? He had the gain turned full up, so that the instrument was on
     the verge of instability. From time to time, at the very limit of its detecting power,
     he thought he could see a tiny glimmer of heat, in the exact area where last night’s
     track had ended.
    It was all infuriatingly inconclusive—not at all the sort of evidence that a scientist
     needed, especially when he was going to stick his neck out. If he said nothing, no
     one would ever know—but all his life he would be haunted by doubts. Yet if he committed
     himself, he might raise false hopes, becomes the laughingstock of the Solar System,
     or be accused of seeking personal publicity.
    He could not have it both ways; he would have to make a decision. With great reluctance,
     knowing that he was taking a step from which there could be no turning back, he picked
     up the Observatory phone.
    “Lawson here,” he said. “Get me Luna Central—Priority.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Aboard
Selene
, breakfast had been adequate but hardly inspiring. There were several complaints
     from passengers who thought that crackers and compressed meat, a dab of honey and
     a glass of tepid water, scarcely constituted a good meal. But the Commodore had been
     adamant: “We don’t know how long this has got to last us,” he said, “and I’m afraid
     we can’t have hot meals. There’s no way of preparing them, and it’s too warm in the
     cabin already. Sorry, no more tea or coffee. And frankly, it won’t do any of us much
     harm to cut down on the calories for a few days.” That came out before he remembered
     Mrs. Schuster, and he hoped that she wouldn’t take it as a personal affront. Ungirdled
     after last night’s general clothes-shedding, she now looked rather like a good-natured
     hippopotamus, as she lay sprawled over a seat and a half.
    “The sun’s just risen overhead,” continued Hansteen, “the search-parties will be out,
     and it’s only a matter of time before they locate us. It’s been suggested that we
     have a sweepstake on that; Miss Morley, who’s keeping the log, will collect your bets.
    “Now about our programme for the day. Professor Jayawardene—perhaps you’ll let us
     know what the Entertainments Committee has arranged.”
    The Professor was a small, bird-like person whose gentle dark eyes seemed much too
     large for him. It was obvious that he had taken the task of entertainment very seriously,
     for his delicate brown hand clutched an impressive sheaf of notes.
    “As you know,” he said, “my speciality is the theatre—but I’m afraid that doesn’t
     help us very much. It would be nice to have a play-reading, and I thought of writing
     out some parts;