by Homer Hickam
“In the dustlock.”
“His name on it?”
“Yeah. His name is John Glenn.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No! That’s his real name!”
“Stay with him,” Petro told Crescent and headed for the dustlock, pulled open the hatch, pressurized the lock, and then, ignoring dust protocol, walked through the suit chamber and into the shower lock where lockers were stacked. He looked around until he found one labeled GLENN, JOHN that had a combination lock on it. Going to the tool cage, he picked out a hammer, which he used to smack the lock open. It didn’t take long before he found what he was looking for in the locker. A slip of old-fashioned paper with a code on it. “Flyboys,” he said, tsking.
Once outside, Petro told Crescent, “Put the guard in the dustlock, then come help me.”
Petro clambered up the ladder and opened the hatch into the tug. Inside was a long, dark corridor lined by pneumatic and hydraulic lines that led up to the cockpit. He settled into the left seat, switched on the circuits, and keyed in the password. Everything came up green. Crescent crawled into the right seat. “I put the guard in the locker room,” she said. “Do you know how to fly this thing?”
“I watched a fellow fly one in a simulator once.”
“Uh oh. Let me get buckled in.”
Petro went through the checklist, necessary for its puter to agree to take off. When the puter asked if he wanted to fly on autopilot, he said, “No thank you. Manual control all the way. On the count of five. Five-four-three-two-one! Away we go!”
Crescent gripped the seat rests as spewing chemrockets lifted the giant machine, which immediately began to lean to port. “Too much fuel in the left tank,” Petro said. “Shoulda checked that. Crescent, look for the fuel tanks on your screen, see which one’s green, tell it to pump into the other one. Hurry now, before we crash. That’s a good girl.”
Crescent scanned the ship’s schematic on the viewscreen until she spotted the fuel tanks. She dragged her finger from the green tank into the other fuel tank, which was red. Then both turned orange.
Petro pushed his head against the towel band on the inside of his helmet to wipe the sweat off his forehead, then dipped the Angie Johnston’s nose toward the maintenance shed, not noticing that the next yard held a number of parked jumpcars. The tug clipped the first one it encountered, which fell into the one beside it, which fell into the one beside it until the line of jumpcars, like dominos, fell over.
“Oops,” Petro said.
“Nice flying,” Crescent sarcastically observed.
“Maybe nobody will notice.”
“Luckily, nobody can hear jumpcars fall in a vacuum.”
“Hey, that’s right!”
“Get real, Petro! Those jumpcars will get noticed. We’ve got to go fast! And try not to hit anything else!”
“You crowhoppers can get kind of whiney.”
“Shut up and fly!”
Petro flew. When they got closer to the maintenance shed, they could see that Crater had placed the fuser in a temporary crib in the outer yard. Petro said to Crescent, “OK, your job is to extend the landing gear. Keep us seventy-five feet off the ground. Got it?”
Crescent was a quick study and called up the landing gear puter page. “Just let me know when.”
Petro lowered the tug over the fuser. “OK, let her feet down.”
Crescent punched in the data and the legs of the tug telescoped downward. Four white lights flared in the cockpit. “Contact lights!” Petro said.
Crescent looked out of the side viewport and saw boils of dust along the road. “Somebody’s coming this way, and at the rate they’re coming, I’d say they’re pretty mad.”
“Lower the clamps. Crater, you in the fuser cockpit, boy?”
“I’m inside,” Crater answered. “Grab on and let’s go!”
Crescent had already called up the clamp page. The huge clamshells descended from the tug belly and grappled the fuser. A green light flared and Crescent reeled the fuser in until it was snug against the tug’s belly.
Petro revved the throttles, the jets spouting oceans of fire as the Angie Johnston struggled to rise. “Autopilot is engaged,” Crescent said when the engines inexplicably started to wind down. “Oh no! I think they’ve got us under remote control!”
The tug settled back into the dust, the pad contact lights flaring. While Petro and Crescent frantically tried to regain manual control, there were heavy footsteps, and then the hatch was flung open. Guards climbed into the cockpit and leveled their rifles. “Get your hands up where I can see them,” one of them said, “and please make a move that’ll give us an excuse to kill you!”
Petro and Crescent raised their hands.
SIXTEEN
Maria was adrift, untethered, detached, careless, but warm. She moved her arm and felt a syrupy resistance that flowed luxuriously across her entire body. Gradually, she felt as if she was settling onto something soft and feathery. She groaned at even that fluffy contact. She didn’t want gravity. She wanted to float through eternity in the warm, heavenly syrup.
The syrup kept draining away until she felt a cushion along the length of her body. Still, she resisted coming awake. Awake meant pain and the recognition that the bones in her right foot had been crushed into powder. Her foot would have to be removed, which would mean more pain if she lived, which was, she knew very well, a doubtful proposition.
She tensed, waiting for the pain in her foot to return. When it didn’t, she lifted her head to look at it, and it was perfect. She wiggled her toes and they simply felt like her toes. She looked at her hands. Her thumbs and fingers were perfect too. There was no pain.
Truvia’s white face appeared. “You have pretty little feet and toes. When I first saw them, I thought how marvelous they were!”
“How did you fix me?” Maria asked.
“Our king and queen perfected cell manipulation many years ago,” Truvia said. “If we have the blueprint, we can put everything back into place. Before we crushed your foot and broke your fingers, we made a complete picture of them cell by cell on a machine called a Variable Cell Analyzer. With that datum, we simply put you back the way you were with a 3-D cell printer. Bruising is inevitable, of course, but you have been here long enough for everything to turn back to a nice pink.”
“How long was I out?”
“Six days. You are no longer aboard the warpod. We’re on a station.” She lovingly ran her hand over Maria’s right foot. “While you slept, I made you whole again.”
Truvia released the belts that were holding Maria to the couch and took her hand. “Come.”
Maria felt detached from reality. She fought to focus but was having difficulty with forming her thoughts. “Where are we going?”
“To visit your father. You may feel a bit dizzy. We are on the lower ring of the station, so we have artificial gravity created by a turning walkway. There will be a coriolis effect that will make you unsteady. Walk carefully until you get your balance.”
Even without the coriolis effect, which caused the inner ear to be confused, Maria was dazed and uncertain on her feet. Still, she managed to follow Truvia around the ring until they reached a hatch. Inside the hatch was a conference room. Standing at the head of a long plaston table was Carus, dressed in the Trainer’s inevitable copper-colored tunic and leggings, and holding a laser pointer. Sitting at the other end of the table was Maria’s father. He smiled at her and said, “Well, here’s my kitten. And don’t you look refreshed! Truvia said she gave you something to let you sleep.”
Seeing her father instantly cleared Maria’s mind. Heedlessly, she said, “Truvia had a demon torture me. It crushed my foot and broke my fingers.”
Truvia’s face registered disappointment. “Really, Maria,” she said. “I hoped you wouldn’t tell.”
Her father glanced at Truvia, then said, “I’m sorry, Maria. I told them you would need convincing, but I didn’t know they would go that far. Really, Truvia. You shoul
d have asked me before you did that.”
“Many regrets,” Truvia said. “But it is over now. Maria showed great courage.”
“Of course she did.”
Maria glared at her father. “You seem to be in charge. Let me go home!”
“Of course, kitten. I just need to know a few things first, such as the Colonel’s secret bank accounts, where they are, their numbers, the passwords, everything.” He tapped his head. “I know you have it all upstairs.”
Maria was incredulous. “The Colonel’s bank accounts? Is that what all this is about? You murdered a thousand people, destroyed a billion-dollar telescope project, and tortured me for the Colonel’s money?”
“It’s more than that,” Junior answered. “Carus, why don’t you show her? Maria, come over here and sit beside me.”
Maria remained standing. Her father shrugged, then waved at Carus to begin.
Carus made a curt bow, then moved his hands describing a circle, and within it appeared a floating Earth. He took a few steps and then his hands revealed a floating moon. Beside it, he described another circle with small gray blobs floating inside. “The Earth and the moon with L5 trailing it,” he explained. “Those are asteroids inside L5. We call them the horde. Do you know what they’re for? Watch when I touch this one.”
Carus touched one and it wobbled, then fell toward the moon, striking the farside, where a plume of dust erupted. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Maria gasped. “The asteroid that destroyed our telescope project! Did you enjoy your little instant replay of murder?”
Carus shrugged, then touched two more blobs. They wobbled, then fell to the moon, causing big new craters. Maria recognized the sites where they struck. Armstrong City and Cleomedes.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Maria seethed.
Truvia touched her arm. “Tell us what you are feeling at this moment,” she said.
“I’m thinking I’m the only sane person in this room. And I’m disgusted.”
To get her attention, Maria’s father rapped his knuckles on the table. “Maria, look at me. What you just saw was a simulation, but we could make it real anytime we wanted. Just give me the information on the Medaris Enterprises bank accounts and nothing like that will happen.”
Maria stared at her father. “Junior, why the telescope site? I don’t get it.”
“It was a waste of Medaris family money. Consider it cutting our losses.”
Maria shook her head. “You’re insane.”
“If I am, it runs in the family. Here’s your choice: hand over the information or I will order one or more of those towns destroyed.”
“What would you do with all that money?”
Junior smiled. “It’s not about money, Maria. It’s about power. If I control the liquid assets of the Medaris family, I control everything. Your grandfather will retire and hand over the family business to me. I’m his son. No one will question it.”
“Really? I will.”
“No, you won’t. These asteroids at L5, all poised for destruction of whatever we please? Who do you think put them there? Me? I frankly wouldn’t have the imagination for such a mad scheme. The architect of this monstrosity is your beloved grandfather and my wonderful father, the Colonel himself. It was his ego that placed the seeds of the destruction of the moon at L5. Of course, his plan was to threaten the Earth with them if it ever dared invade the moon again. When I got up here, I saw the best target was actually the closest, the moon.”
Maria replied, “I don’t believe you,” but her voice wasn’t certain.
“You know it’s true, Maria,” Truvia said. “I can see it in your face.”
Maria didn’t respond, but she didn’t have to. It indeed showed on Maria’s face because it solved a mystery Maria had been wondering about for some time. When the war ended, her grandfather had started withdrawing lots of money out of his accounts. When she’d asked the Colonel where the money was going, he’d put her off, saying, “It’s for a good cause.”
“The Colonel put me in charge of the L5 project,” Junior said. “Me, the black sheep. He probably knew nobody else in the family would have built this monstrosity for him.”
“I think he was sick for a while,” Maria acknowledged. “The war . . . temporarily unhinged him.”
“Temporarily? He was always unhinged and the L5 project is clearly indicative of that. But now he’s had a change of heart. He sent me back here to remove the asteroids from L5 and fling them back into space. Instead, I came up with a better plan, to bring my dear daddy down and take over Medaris Enterprises. Then I’m going to send him off to a nursing home somewhere. As for you, Maria, if you’re good and do as you’re told, I’ll put you in charge of a tractor factory or something.”
“What about the asteroids?”
“Give me the accounts, the passwords, and the codes, and I’ll remove them from L5.”
When Maria didn’t reply, her father shook his head. “You were always an exasperating child. Carus? Please place some ammunition on the rim.”
Carus put his finger on a holographic asteroid and moved it a few inches. As he did, a series of positive and negative numbers flashed beside it. When they reached +.01 and -.01, he stopped and looked at Junior.
“Go ahead. Make it real.”
Carus drew a small rectangle with his finger and a keyboard appeared. He tapped on its holographic keys and then opened another projection, a view of the asteroid horde inside L5. As Maria watched, one of the space rocks began to move across the screen. She could see a small flame spouting from its trailing edge. Then more flames spurted and it stopped. “CS-424 is poised,” Carus said.
“This asteroid is small,” Junior said, “no more than fifty meters across. It is, however, more than equal to its task. Carus, please explain what that task is.”
“L5 might be thought of as a bowl,” Carus said. “Objects can move around inside it but can’t leave unless given a push. Essentially, I have placed CS-424 on the rim of the bowl. The thrust from the rockets attached to it will send it out of L5 and into the moon. In this case I will aim it at Cleomedes. Once released nothing can stop it. Considering the velocity it will be traveling, I doubt there will be survivors at our Lunar Las Vegas.”
“If you destroy Cleomedes, everyone will turn against you,” Maria said. “They’ll come out here and drag you from this station and turn you inside out.”
Junior once more smiled his maddening smile. “Who will do that, Maria? The Lunar Council has put its fusers in storage and cashiered its troops. They have no power. The Colonel is an old man. The Earth doesn’t care who controls the moon as long as someone does. Face the reality. Either give me the information or watch Cleomedes be destroyed.”
Maria stared at the asteroid wobbling on the rim of the L5 bowl, then sighed and nodded her surrender. “Give me a puter. I’ll give you the accounts and everything you need. But before I do, I want to see that rock moved back into the bowl.”
Junior’s smile vanished. “You’re in no position to negotiate,” he growled.
Maria raised her chin. “I’m always in a position to negotiate.”
Maria watched her father’s expression change from sullen anger to weak-willed acceptance. It summed up the man. At his nod, Carus played his fingers across the keyboard and the viewscreen showed the rock tumbling slowly inward, back toward the horde.
“Would you like a real puter or will a holographic one do?” Carus asked.
“Holographic will do,” Maria said. She sat down at the table, drew one in the air, closed her eyes for a moment, then began to key in the secrets of the Medaris family accounts. When she finished, she caught a glance from Truvia. Her glowing green eyes seemed to be telling her nothing was what it seemed.
SEVENTEEN
Petro and Crescent were shoved by the guards into a room inside the tug maintenance shed and the hatch locked behind them. Crescent immediately started looking for a way out. She lifted a grate from the wall and studied the duct b
ehind it. “Too small,” she concluded. She tried the lever on the hatch. “It’s an old-fashioned mechanical lock too. Even if I hadn’t left my gillie in the fuser, we’d be stuck.”
Petro looked at her, then sat down on the floor and leaned his back against the wall. “Yep, too bad all around. Why don’t we plan your wedding while we’re stuck here?”
“My wedding? Are you crazy?”
“Yes, but that’s beside the point. Is this going to be a small affair or are you going to invite thousands of people?”
“I don’t know thousands of people.”
“OK, a small affair. Civil or religious?”
“Both Absalom and I are members of the Appalachian Church of the Resurrection.”
“OK, we import an App preacher. Oh, wait, why not have the wedding in Endless Dust? The Apps are great cooks and they love a party! It’s perfect.”
“Well, I suppose that would be all right even though we aren’t planning on living there. I was hoping Absalom would become an associate with the Lunar Rescue Company.”
“Sounds good to me. You want to wear a fancy white wedding dress, the veil, the complete works?”
“No.”
“Yes, you do. I can see it in your face.”
“My face doesn’t register emotion. It’s a lack of facial muscles.”
“Yeah, well, I can see it in your eyes.” Petro studied her. “You know, maybe if you worked on your hair . . .”
Crescent touched her locks. “My hair’s too coarse to do anything but cut it.”
“I’m not so sure of that. You know, your face is really quite intriguing. Yes, your skin’s a little gray, but have you ever thought about powder and rouge? And lipstick? Why, a girl can fix herself up with the right application of paint. How’re your legs?”
“Hairy and thick as tree trunks.”
“A little toning and a good razor can take care of that. I have also always admired your good posture.”
“Thank you. The Trainers made certain we squared our shoulders and held our heads high . . .” Crescent came up short. “Wait a minute! Why are you giving me makeup tips and not figuring a way out of here?”