“Yes. Landed last night in the Tycho Brahe. Haven’t had time to see much yet.”

In unconscious mimicry, Sadler found himself using the clipped sentences of his companion. He wondered if everyone on the Moon talked like this. Perhaps they thought it saved air.

“Going to work at the Observatory?”

“In a way, though I won’t be on the permanent staff. I’m an accountant. Doing a cost-analysis of your operations.”

This produced a thoughtful silence, which was finally broken by: “Rude of me—should have introduced myself. Robert Molton. Head of Spectroscopy. Nice to have someone around who can tell us how to do our income tax.”

“I was afraid that would come up,” said Sadler dryly. “My name’s Bertram Sadler; I’m from the Audit Bureau.”

“Humph. Think we’re wasting money here?”

“That’s for someone else to decide. I’ve only got to find how you spend it, not why.”

“Well, you’re going to have some fun. Everyone here can make out a good case for spending twice as much money as they get. And I’d like to know how the devil you’ll put a price tag on pure scientific research.”

Sadler had been wondering that for some time, but thought it best not to attempt any further explanations. His story had been accepted without question; if he tried to make it more convincing, he would give himself away. He was not a good liar, though he hoped to improve with practice.

In any case, what he had told Molton was perfectly true. Sadler only wished it were the whole truth, and not a mere five per cent of it.

“I was wondering how we’re going to get through those mountains,” he remarked, pointing to the burning peaks ahead. “Do we go over—or under?”

“Over,” said Molton. “They look spectacular, but they’re really not so big. Wait till you see the Leibnitz Mountains or the Oberth Range. They’re twice as high.”