with himself. He had let his preconceived ideas affect his powers of observation.
What did it mean? He examined the area closely with a magnifier. The trail ended in a small, diffuse dot, which he judged to be about two hundred meters across. It was very odd - almost as if Selene had emerged from the mountains, and then taken off like a spaceship.
Tom's first theory was that she had blown to pieces, and that this smudge of heat was the aftermath of the explosion. But in that case, there would have been plenty of wreckage, most of it light enough to float on the dust. The skis could hardly have missed it when they passed through this area - as the thin, distinctive track of one showed it had indeed done.
There had to be some other explanation, yet the alternative seemed absurd. It 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 neighborhood. 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 centimeters high projecting above the dust surface. The infrared 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, become 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 8
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 clothesshedding, 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 program for the day. Professor Jayawardene, perhaps you'll let us know what the Entertainment Committee has arranged."
The Professor was a small, birdlike person whose gentle dark eyes seemed much too large for him. It