The Collected Stories of Arthur C. Clarke by Arthur C. Clarke Page A

drifted down from the stars.
    But there was movement now. Glittering in the sunlight like some strange, armoured insect, the powerful motor-vehicle was racing swiftly towards its goal—the Second Lunar Base, which had been built five years before as headquarters for the exploration of the Moon’s hidden hemisphere. Unlike the Observatory, Base Two was not underground, and when Daphne first caught sight of its buildings they reminded her irresistibly of Eskimo igloos.
    They were, so Norman told her, simply plastic domes blown up like balloons and painted silver to conserve heat. Each had its private airlock, and was linked to its neighbour by a short connecting tube. There was no sign of life, but a pressurised tractor—a small edition of the machine in which Daphne was riding—was joined to one of the domes by a flexible coupling rather like a great hose-pipe, wide enough for men to walk through.
    ‘That’s Joe Hargreaves’s tractor,’ said Norman. ‘He’d just started on a thousand mile circuit before I left. I wonder if he’s found anything interesting.’
    ‘What was he looking for?’
    Norman grinned. ‘I don’t suppose it sounds very exciting, but we’re trying to make an accurate geological map of the Moon, showing where all its mineral deposits are—particularly things like uranium, of course. So we send these tractors all over the place, drilling holes and collecting samples. But it’s going to be centuries before the job’s finished.’
    It certain wasn’t as glamorous as the astronomers’ work, Daphne decided, but she realised that it was just as important. And Norman seemed to find it interesting enough, for he was still talking about magnetic surveys and other mysteries of his trade when their bus was coupled up to one of the domes and they walked through the airlock. The flexible connection didn’t fit very well and there was a rather frightening hiss of escaping air, but as no one seemed to worry, Daphne supposed it was all right.
    They found themselves beneath a large dome about fifty feet across. The level rock floor was littered with packing cases, pieces of machinery, and all the miscellaneous stores needed for life on this inhospitable world. However, there was not a single human being in sight.
    Professor Martin looked a trifle annoyed. ‘Where is everyone?’ he said to the driver. ‘You radioed that we were coming, didn’t you?’
    ‘They must all be busy in one of the other domes, I suppose, but it’s a bit odd.’
    At that moment a small, grey-haired man came bustling breathlessly into the chamber and hurried up to Professor Martin.
    ‘Sorry we weren’t ready to meet you, Professor,’ he gasped, ‘but something terrific has just happened. Come and see what we’ve found.’
    ‘That’s Dr Anstey,’ Norman whispered to Daphne. ‘He’s in charge here. A nice chap, but always going off the deep end about something. Let’s see what it is this time.’
    They followed the excited little scientist through one of the connecting corridors into the next dome. It was packed with men who looked around as they approached, then cleared a way for Professor Martin. As she followed her father into the centre of the room, Daphne saw that they were approaching a perfectly ordinary table on which was standing a far-from-ordinary object.
    At first sight, it resembled a fragment of multicoloured coral from the bed of some Pacific lagoon. No—perhaps it was more like a piece of petrified cactus, strangely coloured with reds and greens and golds. It stood on a slab of rock in which it seemed to be rooted like a stalagmite—but it was easy to tell that it was no mere mineral formation.
    It was Life—here on the barren, airless Moon, here on the world which for so long had been the symbol of empty desolation! As she stood in that quiet, yet crowded, room, Daphne knew that she was present at one of the great moments in the history of lunar exploration.
    Presently Professor Martin broke the