Reaching For The Moon
By S. A. LOMBINO
It was no longer a question of theory, but
of money. Man could reach the moon, if
Saunders could persuade someone to finance him.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Science Fiction Quarterly November 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The laboratory was brightly lit, and four men in business suitssurrounded the large table. They stared down at the blueprints on thetable, some scratching their heads, others rubbing their chins inspeculation. The thin man in gray tweeds eyed them cautiously, hisbreath coming in short, anxious rushes.
The big man at the head of the table adjusted his eyeglasses, his handlingering on the rim for a second. Then he cleared his throat and said,"It won't work, Dr. Saunders."
The little man in gray tweeds darted impatient eyes at the man who hadjust spoken. "Why won't it work? Why not?"
"It can't be done," the big man stated simply. "Maybe sometime in thefuture, but certainly not now."
Saunders stretched a bony hand out from the cuff of his tweeds. "Itcan be done," he said, slapping that hand on the table. "It's allhere. You've just seen it; you've studied it. Damn it, this isn't afly-by-night affair! I've worked on these plans for more than eightyears. I know it will work."
A man in blue serge shrugged and said, "I'm afraid Bragg is right,Dr. Saunders." He tugged at his collar, the fat hanging in loose foldsaround his neck.
Saunders turned to eye the newcomer. "You agree?" he asked defiantly."Even after studying my work? You agree that my proposed rocketcouldn't possibly reach the Moon?"
"It might," the man in blue serge admitted, "but we can't speculateon a thing of this nature. After all, Dr. Saunders, there'll be moneyinvolved and...."
"Money!" Saunders snorted in disgust. "Is that all you're worriedabout? You're one of the richest men on Earth, Mr. Peterson. How canyou let money stand in the way of what may well be man's greatestachievement?"
Bragg spoke again, peering from behind the thick lenses of hiseyeglasses. "Peterson is right; this thing would cost millions—morethan any of us would be willing to risk. We appreciate your consideringus, but...."
Saunders cut in sharply, "Does that go for all of you? Is Mr. Braggspeaking for all of you?"
A heavy silence crowded into the room. Saunders confronted Petersonagain.
"He speaks for me," Peterson said.
"And you, Mr. Thorpe?" Saunders asked.
"Yes, yes, I'm inclined to agree," a balding man in glen plaidannounced.
"Mr. Slade?" Saunders turned to a weasel-like man dressed in solemnblack.
Slade nodded, his face chalky white against the black of his garb.
"I've asked you four men because you were probably the richest menon Earth. I've asked you because I thought perhaps you would see thesignificance of such a project. To reach the Moon." Saunders' eyesgleamed with an intense light. "To reach the Moon."
"And when we reach it?" Peterson asked. "Then what?"
"Unlimited space," Saunders answered with feeling. "New worlds, worldsbeyond the imagination of man. The Moon is only the first step, theexperimental step. From there, Mars ... or Venus ... or a new solarsystem."
Bragg said, "Rubbish. Even if this should work—I'm not at allc