by Homer Hickam
Maria studied Crater. “So you’re the child of famous inventors. That explains why you like to tinker with things.”
Crater supposed Maria was right, and he resolved to think about it later. For the time being, he was satisfied. “Let’s go,” he said. “We have a package to pick up. The way I see it, Captain Teller died for it and we should see it through. Are you coming?”
“Are you kidding?” Maria demanded. “Go up the elevator, then aboard the Cycler, then meet a renegade scramferry with a secret payload? Wouldn’t miss it for the world or the moon.
Anyway, you need a bodyguard.”
“True is,” Crater acknowledged with a tinge of regret, then led the way.
:::
THIRTY
Petro found Crater and Maria just before they climbed on the tram that carried passengers to the elevator terminal. He took Crater aside. “I wish I could go with you,” Petro said. “I think you could use me.”
“I think you’re right,” Crater said. “But there’re only two tickets. Listen, will you check on Pegasus for me while I’m gone?”
“Every day,” Petro swore.
“And stay out of trouble. No gambling. There’s a rough crowd here. And don’t be talking about how you’re the Prince of Wales. Likely, somebody would stab you just for that.”
“I can take care of myself,” Petro replied with a crafty smile. “Just worry about yourself.”
Crater stuck out his hand to Petro. “Well, farewell, brother.”
Petro ignored his hand and gave Crater a big bear hug.
“Farewell and Godspeed, Crater Trueblood.”
“Come on, Crater,” Maria called from the tram, which had started to move.
Crater climbed aboard and turned to wave to Petro. To his disappointment, the boy had already disappeared in the Armstrong City crowd.
The paperwork process at the elevator terminal was designed to be simple and easy. Maria and Crater showed their tickets and that was it. Once upon a time, according to the history Crater been taught by a Yale University president turned heel-3 miner at the Dust Palace, transportation terminals on Earth, especially airports, were a nightmare of presenting papers and getting luggage inspected and even personal body searches of the most intimate type. With the collapse of most of the world’s governments in the mid-twenty-first century, the harassment at airports collapsed with them, mainly because most people were forbidden to travel for a time. In any case, the people prone to highjack airplanes or blow them up were among the first to be eliminated by the harsh new governments that took the place of the old ones. After those governments were in turn overthrown, the terrorists still didn’t come back, so travel was just a matter of buying a ticket, at least for those who lived in tough, young republics such as the Independent States of America.
Maria and Crater got on the tram going out to the elevator and watched the dull gray plain slide by. When they got closer, Crater saw two wide ribbons rising from a huge mooncrete terminal. The fibrous material of the ribbons was turned to shimmering rainbow hues by spotlights directed from the ground. “Wow,” Crater heard himself say in awe.
Space elevators worked by putting a counterweight into geosynchronous orbit, meaning they stayed over the same spot on the ground and brought up a ribbon from a fixed base at that spot. To balance gravity against the centrifugal force of the moon’s rotation, the counterweight of the lunar elevator was required to be many thousands of miles high. The elevator wasn’t designed to take passengers to the counterweight, only to a terminal located sixty miles off the surface. That was plenty high for the Cycler ferries to manage a rendezvous.
Maria’s delight at seeing the ribbons was obvious. She couldn’t stop grinning. She put her arm around Crater’s waist and said, “The first time I saw the elevator I was coming in on the Cycler Wernher von Braun. There was only one ribbon then and it looked to me like it went all the way to heaven.” She mused over her own words, then said, “Of course, I was just a little girl back then.”
The tram stopped and its driver announced that everyone should exit and be sure to take their hand luggage, packages, and souvenirs and proceed directly to the elevator. Most of the other passengers were Earthian tourists who were chattering excitedly and comparing the treasures they’d bought on their exotic journey to the moon. There were also a few moon residents going back to Earth for a visit. And then there were Crater and Maria, doing their best to look like a happy, young couple heading off to college.
The elevator car was designed like a lounge, with plush chairs and couches. An attendant walked in and sealed the door. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, “the Lunar Elevator Company truly wishes you a very pleasant lift up to the Apex terminal. Please be aware that once we start our ascent, we will not stop until we have arrived in approximately six hours. As we rise, the effects of lunar gravity will gradually diminish until you will be essentially weightless. You will notice that we have a number of freshly laundered pillows and cushions in bins along the wall on which we invite you to lounge, or you may take advantage of the various chairs and sofas. There are seat belts to use if you wish. If you are prone to motion sickness, I recommend using them. There are plastic bags located conveniently in several stations in the event sickness should occur. Most of you won’t have any problems in that regard, so we have a small lunch counter and bar available. Please let me know if you require food, drink, or other refreshment, all of which are priced quite reasonably and are served in disposable containers designed for microgravity. As we ascend, please feel free to enjoy the view. If you prefer to converse, play games on your readers, or anything else, please be careful not to disturb your fellow passengers. We have a brig for such offenders.” She smiled prettily. “Are there any questions?”
There being none, the attendant said, “Then, welcome aboard! The management of the Lunar Elevator Company, the crew of this ascension, and I hope you enjoy your journey. We will be ascending soon.” She took up position behind the bar and began to prepare complimentary drinks.
After a few minutes, the car began to creep slowly up the ribbon. It was so slow, it was some minutes before Crater realized it was climbing at all. He chose a couch that had been evacuated by a family who went after pillows to spread out on the floor. The couch faced one of the window view ports.
Maria came over and sat beside him, and together they enjoyed watching more and more of Armstrong City come into view as the car got higher. The dome on its eastern edge was the town’s signature feature. Constructed of lead-infiltrated plaston, lunasteel, and mooncrete, it dominated the skyline.
Observation towers here and there indicated the locations of many of the buried tubes that housed offices, stores, warehouses, maintenance facilities, heel-3 shipment docks, and homes. Some suburbs had been established with minidomes covering parks.
As they were lifted ever higher, Crater and Maria began to look farther out. When they spotted the serpentine trail of the dustway emerging out of the great shadow, they fell silent, thinking of all that had occurred there. When they climbed even higher, they saw the Alpine Valley.
Maria borrowed binoculars from the attendant, and she and Crater took turns trying to see Moontown. The town itself and its towers were too small, but the Copperhead Bridge was big enough to be seen. It was enough to make Crater terribly homesick for Q-Bess, his friends, and the Dust Palace.
Eventually, Crater noticed he was no longer sitting on the bench but floating slightly above it. About then, he also started to get sleepy and, excusing himself from Maria, found an empty cushion, strapped himself to it, and promptly fell asleep. He woke only when the car bumped into the latch at the Apex terminal. “We are so glad you ascended with us today,” the attendant said. “Please use the rails to pull yourself to the lounge. Your ferry will arrive in thirty-two minutes.”
In precisely thirty-two minutes, with sparkling jets, the rocket ferry arrived and docked. Its hatch swung open and there was a mild rush of air as the pressures betw
een the terminal and the ferry were equalized. Maria grasped the railing that led to the hatch. “Here we go,” she said, with what sounded to Crater like merry abandon.
Crater pulled himself hand over hand through the hatch into the ferry. He felt his excitement rising. The next step was to catch the Cycler as it swept grandly past the moon.
:::
THIRTY-ONE
There were five Cyclers constantly orbiting around the moon and the Earth, the Burt Rutan, the Konrad Dannenberg, the Elon Musk, the Jack Medaris (named after the Colonel’s great-grandfather), and the Wernher von Braun. All of them had essentially the same design. There were five main tubes, four situated like spokes around the interior core tube. The core was twice the diameter of the spokes. The bridge was at one end and a set of rocket engines at the other. The core also provided attachments for the spokes, observation decks, holds for storage and cargo, and two airlocks. Attached to the spokes was a tubular ring forming an outer rim. Since the Cyclers slowly rotated, centrifugal force provided gravity of varying degrees to the spokes and the rim, where all of the passenger and crew cabins were located.
Once aboard the Elon Musk, Crater retreated to his cabin. After getting a good six hours sleep, curiosity brought him out and he started to explore. The core turned out to be his favorite place. Weightless flying was fun and he practiced a variety of acrobatics. Then, fatigue again washed over him and he headed back to his cabin. Maria apparently was also feeling tired, no doubt the result of the grueling convoy, and was nowhere to be seen.
The next day, while exploring anew, Crater came to the attention of the chief purser, a graying man named Strickland. “Here now, youngster,” the old spacefarer called as Crater zipped through the spokes. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
Crater’s natural curiosity amused the purser, who sent him along with various crew members to inspect the parts of the Cycler ordinarily off-limits to passengers. Crater loved most of all the engine room with its pumps and fans and fuel cells and fuel tanks that fed the rockets.
Crater also met the ship’s cat, although it came as a surprise. He became aware of something black and white and furry lounging on top of the couch in the crew’s lounge. After he stared in amazement at the creature, the gillie, which seemed to be much healthier, stirred on his shoulder and said, with something akin to reproach before scurrying into its holster, It’s a cat.
Crater had heard of cats but never imagined he would get so close to one. According to his readings of Earthian species, cats had teeth and claws and were carnivorous. The bigger ones were known to eat humans, and Crater wasn’t certain about the little ones, although he supposed the crew wouldn’t keep one in their lounge if it was a man-eater. Crater crept closer to the cat and studied it. After the cat made a languorous stretch, it opened its eyes, saw Crater, and began to mutter and shake which caused Crater to jerk back.
CP Strickland came inside the lounge. “I see you’ve met Paco. Go on. You can touch him. He won’t hurt you. He’s the ship’s cat and belongs to everyone.”
“But there’s something wrong with it! It’s making a terrible sound.”
“A sound? Oh, I see what you’re getting at. He’s purring.
See? When I pet him, he does it even louder. It’s his way of saying he’s happy.”
Very carefully, Crater reached out and touched the cat, which erupted with more rumblings. He pulled his hand back, which made CP Strickland laugh. “Go on. Keep petting.
He likes you!”
Crater tentatively put his hand back on the cat, then began to pet it while CP Strickland gave him a little history lesson about the first cat in space. It was a cat in an experiment called FLEA, for Feline Epistemology Attitude experiment, its purpose lost in the mists of time. FLEA was carried aboard a space shuttle that was supposed to go into low earth orbit but ended up going to the moon. The cat was a black and white longhaired cat named Paco. In fact, CP Strickland said, the errant shuttle was piloted by none other than Colonel Medaris’s great-grandfather, Jack Medaris, in the world’s first spacejack.
Medaris had become famous after that mission along with the other crew members which included Paco. Ever since, a lot of ships’ cats were named after the original Paco, including the one on the Elon Musk.
“You’ve met the ship’s cat,” the purser said. “How would you like to meet the ship’s captain?”
Crater said he would like that very much, and CP Strickland led him to the bridge.
The bridge was gleaming steel and aluminum, utilitarian with the singular exception of the faux leather chairs for the captain and helmsmen. There were no view ports, although two wide holoscreens were programmed for a variety of views of both the exterior and interior of the spacecraft. Because of the electrical blackouts sometimes caused by solar flares and electromagnetic storms, the Cyclers used hardwired fiber optics, rather than wireless communications.
The ship’s captain was a Cycler veteran of forty years’ service named Captain George E. Fox. Fox was a broad-shouldered man with an air of authority. A smart blue uniform and a gold braided cap made him even more imposing. “Well, Crater, my crew tells me you have a few ideas regarding how to improve some of our hardware.”
Crater had made some suggestions about the fuel cell designs in the engine room and was surprised the captain had heard about it. “Nothing important, sir,” Crater answered.
“This is a well-designed ship, from all that I can see.”
“Still,” the captain said, “it is good to see a young person with practical engineering knowledge.”
Captain Fox went on to say that Crater was welcome to come on the bridge anytime he wanted, and that there was always a great deal of activity on a Cycler bridge that Crater might find of interest. “Cyclers are complex machines with components that have to be constantly monitored, adjusted, and maintained,” Fox explained. “Perhaps someday you’d like to be a crewman on a Cycler. We could use smart lads such as yourself.”
The next day, Crater was on the bridge when Captain
Fox noticed something wrong on the bank of controls, monitors, and status lights. “That pressure is unacceptable, Miss Clayton,” he said to a harried-looking helmsman. “I don’t care if the volumetrics are otherwise within limits. I have seen droppages like that which later caused a complete shutdown in those utilities. Get on the horn. Talk to Mr. Damson and tell him that an adjustment is required in his sensor pressures. Move smartly, Miss.”
“Aye, sir,” the crewman responded, reaching for a comm unit.
The captain called Crater over. “The news from Armstrong City has indicated you’ve had quite the adventure,” he said.
Although he didn’t like being cynical, Crater thought maybe now he understood why Chief Purser Strickland and Captain Fox had been so attentive to him. They knew something of his mission and wanted to know more. Captain Fox looked around his bridge with evident pride, although it did not keep him from noticing fault. “You there,” he said to a member of the bridge crew who had briefly turned to glance at him. “Write yourself up for lethargy.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” she said and turned back to her duties, which consisted mainly of staring at a single screen of data, searching the scrolling numbers for some minute discrepancy.
Crater took his leave, pulling his sticky boots from the floor and heading for the bridge hatch. Before he got there, Captain Fox detached his boots and drifted over to put his hand on the hatch cover. He studied Crater, then said, “We are to meet a ship after the scramferry. I presume it is for you.”
Crater saw no harm in answering. “I think so, Captain,” he said. “If so, it’s bringing with it a package for Colonel Medaris. I am on board to receive it. What it is, I don’t know.”
“I trust there is no danger involved for my ship or crew.”
“I wouldn’t discount the possibility,” Crater admitted.
Captain Fox looked disappointed, but said, “Thank you for your honesty.”
; Crater found Maria in the starboard lounge and sat across from her. “The captain knows,” he said.
“Knows what?”
“About us. What we’re here for. He’s worried.”
“He shouldn’t be. It should just be a routine transfer.”
“The crowhoppers attacked our convoy. Why not attack us here?”
“Crowhoppers are land troops.”
“Are there sky troops?”
“Crater, stop it. There’s nothing to be done. Everything is in motion. We know what we’re doing.”
Crater went back to his cabin, bothered by Maria’s assertion that “we” knew what “we” were doing. By that, he was sure she meant the Medaris family. It was a family that was willing to risk people’s lives for their own ends. Captain Teller was proof of that.
The next days passed until Earth filled the porthole in the observation lounge. “Lovely, isn’t it?” Maria commented as Crater came up beside her.
The misty blue world was lovely, but Crater was thinking it was maybe too lovely because it was covered by people willing to fight wars to gain even a little part of it. Now maybe they were ready to fight one for the moon too.
Maria pondered Crater pondering the world. “Well, you’re the gloomy Gus. I told you to stop worrying. What’s going to happen is going to happen. We might as well enjoy the view until then.”
Crater wanted to discuss the Medaris family with Maria, wanted to hear from her that she had a greater allegiance to truth and honor and maybe just people than to the family business. But he lacked the courage to ask her, mainly because he thought he already knew the answer.
At last, the scramferry approached as the Elon Musk began its looping voyage around Earth. Crater’s first view of it was a bright moving star that gradually grew until he could discern a white shape that was sleek and had wings. A scramferry took off from a runway utilizing a turbo jet, which then switched to a scramjet to streak out of the atmosphere. Rockets then maneuvered it to the Cycler. This meant it required an aerodynamic design, which Crater very much admired.