McIlroy chuckled for the first time in several days. "So that's the reason you didn't take off when you were scheduled," he said.
"Well, yes," Jones answered. "I thought that it might happen that a rocket would be needed in the search."
The light from Earth lighted the Moon as the Moon had never lighted Earth. The great blue globe of Earth, the only thing larger than the stars, wheeled silently in the sky. As it turned, the shadow of sunset crept across the face that could be seen from the Moon. From full Earth, as you might say, it moved toward last quarter.
The rising sun shone into Director McIlroy's office. The hot light formed a circle on the wall opposite the window, and the light became more intense as the sun slowly pulled over the horizon. Mrs. Garth walked into the director's office, and saw the director sleeping with his head cradled in his arms on the desk. She walked softly to the window and adjusted the shade to darken the office. She stood looking at McIlroy for a moment, and when he moved slightly in his sleep, she walked softly out of the office.
A few minutes later she was back with a cup of coffee. She placed it in front of the director, and shook his shoulder gently.
"Wake up, Mr. McIlroy," she said, "you told me to wake you at sunrise, and there it is, and here's Mr. Phelps."
McIlroy woke up slowly. He leaned back in his chair and stretched. His neck was stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position.
"'Morning, Mr. Phelps," he said.
"Good morning," Phelps answered, dropping tiredly into a chair.
"Have some coffee, Mr. Phelps," said Mrs. Garth, handing him a cup.