by Hal Clement
To a physicist or an experienced space pilot, a bounce ride is just another orbit. Unfortunately most of the orbit is underground, like that of a baseball—though, as with a baseball, the underground part is not what is used. Traveling by bounce from, say, Ley Base in Sommering Crater to Wilsonburg under Taruntius X, the trip takes only thirty-five minutes and is never much more than two hundred miles above the Moon. But during the final third of it anybody can see that most definitely he is falling toward the ground.
Rick Suspee had gladly shown off his adaptation to free-fall during the long trip from Earth. He hoped, however, that no one was watching him now. In his mind he knew that the bounce-shuttle’s computer was keeping track of position and velocity through its radar eyes. That the computer would light the main engines at the proper instant. That a second computer with a separate power source and independent sensors would fire a solid-fuel safety brake if the first engine failed to ignite. That a living, highly competent pilot with his own sighting equipment and firing circuits could take over if both the automatics failed. Rick’s mind knew all that but the lower parts of his nervous system were not convinced. Traveling at thousands of feet a second on a downward slant low over the moon’s surface still made him tense.
Annoyed and frightened as he was, Rick felt sorry for his stepmother as he glanced back and saw the expression on her face. She was petrified. He decided it would be best to talk, and luckily he had seen enough Moon charts to be able to talk sense.
“We’re past the peak now, I think. That’s Ariadaeus behind on the left, just into the sunlight. You can relax for a while—we’re still more than two hundred miles up. Look for a white beacon flashing three times a second just to the south of our arc. That will be the Tranquility Base monument. We’re out over the Mare now. Look—on the horizon ahead you can see Crisium and the mountains where Wilsonburg is.”
The rocket swung slowly around so that its main engines pointed “forward.” The braking blast was about due.
The mountains southwest of Mare Crisium were looming huge “ahead” and below. The Mare itself stretched beyond the horizon, which was much nearer than it had been a quarter-hour before. The pilot’s calm voice sounded.
“Thirty seconds to power. Check your safety straps and rest your heads in the pads.” The two passengers obeyed. The pad allowed Rick Suspee to see the stars beyond the rocket’s bow, nothing else.
The braking stage was made at two Earth gravities, the computer applying changes of one percent or so in power and a fraction of a degree in direction every tenth of a second throughout firing time—none of these adjustments could be sensed by human nerves. The only change at touchdown was from two Earth gravities to one Lunar pull.
“You may unstrap,” the pilot said, “but stay in your seats until we’re inside the lock. I’ll tell you when there’s air enough for you to exit.”
Rick watched the mobile rack trundle the rocket toward the side of the sixty-foot circle of smooth rock on which it had settled. The circle was the bottom of a craterlet in one of the hills over Wilsonburg. The bottom had been leveled and the side next to the upward slop of the hill cut to a vertical wall. In this wall was the lock, now yawning open to gulp the shuttle.
The craft was through the huge outer valve in moments. The black sky and sunlit rock outside were cut off from view as portals slid shut.
The pilot spoke again. “You can start for the door now. There’s a pound and a half of oxygen outside and it will be up to three before I get our own valves open. It’s been a pleasure to have you aboard.”
Rick was on his feet before the speech was over. His stepmother was more careful. She did not exactly mind weighing only twenty-one pounds, but she was not yet used to it and the ceiling was low. She was about to make some remark about inadequate gravity, Rick w sure, when she was distracted by what she saw outside.
“Rick! Look! There’s Jim! He hasn’t changed a bit. I don’t see Edna, though—”
Rick picked out the man easily enough from the dozen figures at the foot of the ladder outside. He was the heaviest and obviously the oldest. Rick gave less thought to the whereabouts of his aunt. He was noticing that none of the group were wearing spacesuits. Yes, the air had to be all right outside. This realization was supported by a slight pop in his ears as the shuttle’s air pressure changed slightly. Evidently the pilot had opened both valves of the vehicle’s airlock. Rick headed rapidly for the exit, leaving his stepmother to follow more cautiously.
THE top of the ladder was forty-five feet from the floor of the big lock. Rick accomplished the distance in a single jump—at least, he meant it for a jump. In terms of energy, this was about the same as an eight-foot drop on Earth; in time, it took rather more than four seconds. Which was enough to let Jim Talles step forward and catch him, the catch being embarrassingly necessary because the four seconds were also quite long enough to permit Rick to complete the best part of a unintended somersault. His Moon coordination not good as he had supposed—he had left the top step with more spin than he realized. His uncle’s first words were a tactful reproof.
“Watch it, lad. Carelessness can be dangerous on the Moon. I take it your mother is aboard?”
“Sure is. I—I guess you’re my Uncle Jim. Uh—hello.” Rick could not decide whether he was more frightened or embarrassed. It had been a weird sensation on the way down, something like that of a diver leaving the board to do a jackknife and deciding too late to turn it into a half-twist. That was bad enough—but still worse, Rick felt, was the fact that the five young persons accompanying his uncle were all about Rick Suspee’s own age. None had laughed or even smiled, but he could imagine what they were thinking. For about the five-hundredth time since his fifteenth birthday he told himself to stop showing off. Then he took a closer look at the five teenagers.
One, on second glance, appeared almost too old for that category. He was about Rick’s own height—five-and-a-half feet—but stouter, sturdier. His broad shirtfront was covered even more solidly than Rick’s own by competence badges, many of which the Earth boy could not recognize—naturally enough.
A quick glance showed that all the others were similarly decorated. But Rick saw with relief that none exhibited nearly as much badge area as he did. Maybe they would be impressed enough by his Earth-gained skills to be able to forget, or at least discount, the slip he had just made. For one thing, none of them could possibly hold an underwater rating. Rick’s scuba badge had been earned so recently that he was still gloating over it.
“Jim! It’s so wonderful to meet you at last!” His stepmother’s voice pulled Rick from his thoughts. She stood at the top of the ladder, Jim Talles posting himself at the foot to cover possible accidents. An unnecessary precaution. Mrs. Suspee’s methods of showing off were more subtle than her son’s. She descended slowly and carefully, reaching the bottom quite safely. She embraced her brother-in-law with an enthusiasm Rick suspected was due to her relief that the bounce ride was over. Then she asked about Edna’s health and whereabouts, delivered messages from her husband and sundry friends, and finally allowed Talles to shepherd the party out of the lock chamber and make introductions.
“Edna couldn’t get off the job,” Jim Talles said. “But she’ll be home by the time we get there. The kids here with me will be hosting Rick a lot”—Rick gulped; these would be just the ones he’d played the fool for—“and will probably show him a good deal more than I could. This is Aichi Yen, chairman by earned competence of the group known officially as the Fresh Footprints. Usually they call themselves by less formal names.” Talles indicated the oldest member, whose badges Rick had already particularly noticed. His face, to Rick, seemed rather nondescript. His hair, cut short in the common Moon style so as to give no trouble inside a space helmet, was jet black. His eyes gave just a suggestion of the ancestry implied by his name although the color of his skin suggested suntan much more than Earth’s Orient.
“This is Marie D’Nombu.” A girl certainly not yet sixtee
n nodded in greeting. She was several inches shorter than Rick and Aichi but her shirt was well covered with badges. Her lips were parted in a good-humored smile, and Rick wished he were sure she was not laughing at him. “Orm Hoffman—Peter Willett—Audie Rice.” A tall, unbelievably thin boy of Rick’s own age, a fourteen-year-old with a shy expression and skin almost as dark as Marie’s, and a girl about twenty pounds more massive than Marie acknowledged their names in turn. All were looking more at Rick’s shirt than at his face.
“Rick will come with me for now,” Talles told the young people. “It was good of you to trouble to meet him here. I’ll be glad to see all of you at my place around ten P.M. and as long after as anyone can stay awake. I know you’re busily scheduled now—so thanks again for coming.”
Aichi Yen shook hands with Talles and, as an afterthought, with Rick, then nodded to Mrs. Suspee and disappeared into a nearby tunnel mouth. Three of the others did the same. Marie altered the pattern by speaking.
“I’m glad to meet you, Rick. I’ve been looking forward to it ever since Chief Jim told us you were coming. I’ve read, a lot about Earth. I’ve tried to imagine what it’s like to be able to go outdoors with no special preparation unless it’s raining or something like that. I hope you’ll tell us about wind and rainbows and glaciers and such—”
“I can try. I’ve never seen a glacier, though.”
“Well, that makes us even. I’ve never seen a radical trap.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll tell you tonight if the Chief hasn’t beaten me to it. I’m supposed to be in class now. ‘Bye.” She was gone on the track of the others.
“Those seem interesting youngsters,” Mrs. Suspee remarked as the girl disappeared. “I’m not sure I approve of that flaunting of badges, though. It seems like showing off. I was hoping we’d be away from that sort of thing on the Moon. We get enough of it at home.”
“If the badges are properly earned, why not display ‘em?” responded her brother-in-law. “There are a lot worse things than letting the world know what you can do well.”
“Well, Jim, I won’t argue. And you’ll notice I didn’t forbid Rick to wear his badges here, even if I did hope they’d turn out to be out of style.” She gazed off to her left. “I think those must be our bags over there. Do we take a cab, or do you live close by?”
“Our place is about eight miles away.” Talles seemed amused. Smiling, he added, “We walk, and carry our baggage.”
His sister-in-law looked at him, stupefied. Rick, too, was startled. The bags weren’t heavy, especially on the Moon, but—
“There’s no public transportation here. We could probably work out some arrangement for getting the luggage delivered, but it would inconvenience a lot of people.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Mrs. Suspee frowned. “I suppose this is a sort of frontier town, in a way.”
Talles laughed. “Maybe it is, but that’s not why we walk. You’re on the Moon now. You weigh about a sixth of what you did on Earth. You need exercise, plenty of it, or your muscle tone goes down, your circulation falters, your bones start getting soft. A good rule of thumb is ten miles of fast walking every day for each hundred pounds of body mass. If your work doesn’t give you time for that, you get a doctor to prescribe some specific exercises and you do ‘em faithfully. All right—traveling!”
HE PICKED up his sister-in-law’s luggage—a forty pound-mass bag in each hand—and started off down the same tunnel that had swallowed the Footprints members. Rick took his own, much lighter load, and he and his stepmother followed his uncle.
The tunnel ran about eight feet wide and ten feet high for some thirty yards. An airtight door about three yards in opened manually rather than by photocell or pushbutton. Talles carefully closed it behind them. A similar barrier graced the farther end of the passage. Once through this, they found themselves in a much broader though not much higher passageway. Well lighted, crowded with people, it was lined on both sides with large windows filled with sales displays. Except for the ceiling it gave the impression of a street in a shopping district.
“Not so frontier after all,” remarked Evelyn Suspee.
“We don’t think so,” replied Talles. “But remember the freight charges back to Earth before you stock up on souvenirs.”
Mrs. Suspee was finding the hike less dull than she had expected. And less tiring than it would have been on her home planet. The trip was long, of course. In spite of the low gravity, one could not walk much faster than on Earth. When Rick tried, his feet spent too much time off the ground and left him with poor control or none; and after a near-collision with another pedestrian, who glared first at him and then at his uncle, the boy was more careful. Talles advised him that there were pedestrian speed limits, quite strictly enforced, in the tunnels; if he wanted to try the leaping “run” cultivated by Moon-dwellers, there were caves devoted to athletics.
Part of the walk was through residential tunnels, not quite as wide as those in the business districts but interrupted more often by parklike caves where grass, flowers and even bushes grew under the artificial light. Rick noticed that each of the doors along these tunnels was marked by a small lamp; some white, the rest blue except for a very few that were red. He asked his uncle about them.
“We work around the clock here, Rick. The periods of sunlight don’t match human biological rhythms, and few of us see the sun much anyway. It’s more efficient for facilities to be in use all the time rather than shut down sixteen hours a day while people play and sleep, so we live in shifts. White light over a door means the family is up for the day, though of course they may be out at work or school or what have you. Blue means they’re asleep. Red means the unit isn’t occupied. No matter when you walk the tunnels you’ll find about as many people in them as now. All but the smallest businesses are always open, and the mines, schools, and other productive facilities are always operating.”
“I’d think if you overslept, you’d have a hard time finding out whether you were late for today’s work or early for tomorrow’s,” remarked Rick. “Looking out the window would tell you nothing. I suppose you use twenty-four-hour clocks, though.”
“You’ve touched a sore subject,” his uncle replied. “As a matter of fact, we don’t. We still have the A.M. and P.M. distinction. I know it’s silly, but every time the change is proposed in the settlement council it’s defeated. People just don’t like the idea of going to work at half-past seventeen. Of course, the same thing holds true on Earth. And because they want to start work earlier in summer so they can have more recreation time before dark, they make laws changing the clock settings. I admit it doesn’t really matter whether you start your time measurement from local mean apparent midnight or any other moment—but changing the zero point back and forth with the seasons I insist is pretty silly. We’re just as human here, so I don’t suppose we’ll ever graduate to the twenty-four-hour clock.”
Rick’s aunt was at home when they arrived. She was a taller and quieter woman than Evelyn Suspee. At least she seemed quieter to Rick, but that may have been because his stepmother did not give anyone else much chance to talk. She monopolized the conversation all through the standard guest-arrival routine of settling the visitors in their rooms and feeding them dinner.
Rick would much rather have listened to his aunt and uncle talk. After all, that was what he was here for, wasn’t it? To learn more about the Moon and the people who dwelled on it?
He bit thoughtfully into his cutlet of fishmeal artificially flavored and imported from Earth like practically everything else eaten here. Three generations of colonization had seen the steady growth of youth organizations on the Moon devoted to hiking, exploration, technical innovation, and the like. Although autonomous, they were loosely joined into a confederation that set standards and established goals.
The trend had inspired a resurgence of similar youth clubs on Earth. There the emphasis was on ecology, space science, and—where still available—outd
oor living. The FEA—Federated Earth Adolescents—had agreed to send a representative to exchange ideas and knowledges with a typical Lunar group. Largely because he had an uncle on the Moon interested in the youth movement, Rick Suspee had been chosen as the emissary. His stepmother had elected to accompany him, at her own expense. She wanted to see her sister, Edna, after a separation of many years, and to meet her sister’s husband, Jim Talles.
Rick earnestly hoped he would be up to the responsibilities wished on him by the FEA. He glanced across the table at his husky, curly-haired uncle by marriage. Rick felt sure that the man would help him. Talles was the kind of person who inspires confidence. He had no children of his own, and it was perhaps in compensation for that lack that he devoted himself to the affairs of young people.
ABOUT an hour after dessert and coffee, the Footprints members began to arrive. Marie D’Nombu was first by perhaps five minutes, and within another half-hour ten of the group were crowded into the small Talles living cave. Since Aichi Yen was among them, Rick was still a little uneasy about speaking up. Marie quickly took care of that situation. Somehow she managed to take the conversation away from Mrs. Suspee without actually interrupting, then smoothly induced the Earth boy to talk.
Jim Talles was wearing another of his amused smiles. He knew Marie and her brains. He listened with approval as the girl pulled Rick into the chatter by making remarks about Earth that simply had to be corrected—remarks not really silly but indicating reasonable misunderstandings. The question of going out in the rain, which she had left unsettled back at the lock, was straightened out, and incidentally gave Rick a much better idea of just what “outdoors” meant to these Moon folks. They called it “outside.” He himself described scuba wet-suits as opposed to spacesuits, and even Aichi made a slip in physics there when he remarked that it must be harder to swim in Earth’s heavier gravity. Jim Talles wondered whether this had been done on purpose to make Rick feel better about his mistake at the rocket ladder. If so, Marie must have inspired it; Aichi would never have thought up such a thing by himself.