by Bob Goddard
Then he turned to go, grabbed at the teetering hat which almost fell off his greasy head, and waddled off into the morning.
“Stupid oaf!” shouted the interrupted mother at his retreating back. Then the women gathered around Lucy and asked what she would do.
“I will continue as before,” she said. “He cannot prove something which is not true.”
“Be very careful, Lucy,” said one of the women. “He will try something to catch you out. He is an evil man who will stop at nothing to get his way.”
Sure enough, three weeks later three women arrived with a small girl. One of the women asked if Lucy would teach her daughter and how much she charged? Lucy was immediately suspicious as she didn’t recognise the woman or the two who she introduced as her sisters. Anyone who knew of her school knew there were no fees to pay.
“I don’t charge anything for teaching children here,” said Lucy, “But my class is full at the moment. If you let me have your name and where you are living, I will send word when there is a vacancy for your little girl.”
The woman looked shifty and pulled a handful of coins from her skirt pocket. “I will make a down-payment to ensure a place in your school,” she whispered. She thrust her fist full of money at Lucy and nodded for her to take it.
Lucy called to the two mothers who helped her with the children to come forward and hear this conversation.
“No, no,” hissed the woman, “this is just between us, a secret.”
“They will be my witnesses, just as you have brought your two witnesses along with you,” said Lucy.
Then she opened the woman’s hand to reveal the money, folded her fingers over it again and said, “Take this money back to the man who sent you. I know who he is. You can tell him that you cannot bribe me or trick me. I take no payment for teaching children here, from you or from anyone else. I am not running a business and have no intention of doing so.”
She turned to the little girl and stroked her head. “It is a shame to use one so young and innocent in a game of deceit.” Then she looked up into the woman’s eyes, “I hope she will forgive you for your dishonesty here today.”
The woman snatched her little girl away which made her yelp and start crying. Then she marched out of Lucy’s parlour, dragging the child with her. The two ‘sisters’ lowered their eyes and followed in silence.
Lucy was on her guard from that day, but the Cardinal decided to ignore Lucy’s free school and turned his corrupting influence elsewhere. Yes, thought Yonaton, as he rowed some warmth back into his muscles, Lucy was a smart and courageous woman, just like her mother. He was very proud of her.
* * * * *
Moon, 2087: Saturday 8th February
Sokolova’s comm buzzed just minutes after she’d switched it on at 6am. It was Ngomi.
“Yes, Tamala. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks, Nadia. I saw Doctor Rozek yesterday, as you suggested, and a couple of things came up. I didn’t know how much to tell her. Can you spare a few minutes sometime this morning, so we can talk?”
“I will be in the Lunchbox in half an hour. Want to join me for breakfast?”
“Yes, thank you. I’ll meet you there.”
Sokolova was sipping black coffee from a spill-proof mug and trying to summon up enthusiasm for her pancakes. They were nothing like blini or her favourite cheesy sirniki, drenched in honey, but the canteen staff tried their best to make pancakes with the ingredients available. With cold cuts and a slice of cheese, they were the closest she would get to a Russian breakfast.
“So, Tamala,” she said, as Ngomi placed her bowl on the table, “only porridge? You need to keep your strength up. Eat some meat, help to build some little muscles and bones!”
Ngomi looked over her shoulder to see who was in earshot, but the Governor had chosen her table wisely. “I’m feeling a bit queasy, Nadia,” she confided. “I can’t stomach meat or cheese in the mornings. Not at the moment.”
“Ah, of course.”
“But I can drink all the fruit juice in the canteen. Can’t get enough of it.” She smiled and sat down.
“That reconstituted dried juice? Doesn’t taste much like fruit to me. Never mind. We make do with what we have.” She sipped her coffee. “So, what did you want to talk about after meeting Doctor Rozek?”
“Two things,” Ngomi leaned forward. “Yasmine says I am well and sees no problem with me flying home at…” she looked nervously over her shoulder again, then whispered, “… at six months pregnant.”
“But she says it would be too risky for me to go after that time. I haven’t told her there’s a chance it might be later than that before we get a supply ship up here.”
“Yes, it’s a possibility we must consider.” Sokolova was thoughtful for a minute. “So, did she say she could cope with a birth here?”
“No. She assumes I will be going home in a month’s time. I didn’t know what to say.”
“Okay, I will speak with her.” Sokolova took another sip of her coffee then raised her eyebrows. “You said there were two things…?”
“Yes. I asked her about medical supplies lasting until we get the next shuttle. She said most things were good for three months or so, but she had only six weeks supply of blood pressure tablets for the elderly Greek gentleman who is with the tourists. She said it was a good thing he would be going home in a month’s time also…”
“Ah, I see. I will have to bring the doctor into our confidence. We must find another way to treat his condition, in case he’s still here when his tablets run out.” She took another sip of coffee. “And I will ask her to prepare for delivering your baby, just in case you can’t go home in a month’s time.”
She saw the desolate look as Ngomi’s gaze drifted away. In a rare show of tenderness, she put down her cup, reached over and held the African woman’s hand. Tamala was so surprised she looked up with an open mouth.
“Listen Tamala. I think there is every possibility that our replacement shuttle will be here in a month’s time and you will be able to return to your family and have your baby at home.” She smiled and squeezed her hand.
“But I’m not prepared to take chances with you or your baby. Just in case there is a longer delay, and you can’t have your baby at home, we will be fully prepared for you to give birth here. Then you will be able to fly home with the first baby born on the Moon. The first baby cosmonaut in history. Famous for all time! Not so bad, hmm?”
Ngomi nodded slowly, the hint of a smile growing at the corners of her mouth. She reached over with her other hand and squeezed Sokolova’s elegant long white fingers. “Thank you, Nadia. I really appreciate that.”
Sokolova looked over at the other diners and withdrew her hand before anyone saw the unusual intimacy at their table. Then she frowned and pursed her lips, as if considering something important.
“When I was here before,” she said, “nine years ago, a man died. He was Brazilian, Matheus de Souza. Little bit crazy, but a lovely, funny man.”
Now it was her turn to look down at the clear plass table. “He died because I didn’t foresee the accident. I didn’t foresee the need for a surgeon. Day by day I watched him sicken and die. I was powerless to save him.” There was a deep sadness in her voice. “I never want that to happen again.”
She looked up and met Ngomi’s eyes. “All life is precious. And new life is especially precious. We will take care of you and your baby, you can be sure of that.”
Then she straightened up in her seat and picked up a pancake topped with sliced meat and cheese. “Now, we eat! You eat up your porridge before it gets cold, and I will eat this tasteless pancake. We will keep strong and healthy so we can deal with whatever the future has in store for us. Okay?”
“Okay, it’s a deal.” Ngomi smiled and picked up her spoon.
* * * * *
Moon, 2087
Cooper wasn’t looking forward to this morning. Scientists from academic backgrounds were all brain and no common sense
in his experience. The prospect of inducting fifteen of them into the gritty world of Malapert’s engineering workshops filled him with apprehension. Training up another six ready for duty in the hostile environment of Haworth Crater was worse. Like trying to mix oil and water. The opportunity for accidents was everywhere. Anyone lacking an instinctive feel for tools and equipment could do real damage, mostly to themselves.
But there was no alternative. If he was to increase production, he needed more workers and the ‘Lab Rats’, as his engineers called them, were all they had. Speaking to groups was not his strong point, either. He’d rather wrestle the crankshaft out of a Moto Guzzi any day.
“Okay. Now listen up guys… and ladies,” he started. The eleven men and ten women who filled one end of the canteen turned their eyes towards him.
“Sorry to drag you away from your cosy laboratories, but fifteen of you have been chosen to get your hands dirty inside the mountain. And six extra-lucky ones will be heading down into the crater to dig for ice.” He gave them a cheesy smile to make sure they got the joke.
“But, hey, it could be worse. Twelve of your colleagues are headed down the farm today. They’ll soon be up to their elbows in manure!” This elicited a snigger from one guy at the back and an unexpected reaction from a blonde-haired woman sitting at the front.
“Well, I am looking forward to it,” she said, in a Scandinavian accent. “Staring into petri dishes day after day is pretty boring. It will be good to be doing something for the welfare of the whole colony. And anyway, it’s only for a month – until our next supply shuttle gets here – isn’t it?”
Wrong-footed by her comments, Cooper mumbled, “Yeah, sure, umm… that’s the plan. Anyway, your new duties won’t be too hard, but it will be a different working environment for you. So I’m giving you a quick safety briefing before I hand over to Ryan here…” He turned and indicated the tough-looking Canadian in charge of ice-mining. “He will be training those of you going to work in Haworth Crater.
“And I will take the rest of you inside the mountain to start work on making plass, PV panels, pumps, stuff like that. Between us we are going to step up production so we can feed and support ourselves without relying on supplies from Earth.”
He started on the safety briefing, spelling out the errors people make when handling heavy equipment in the low gravity of the Moon. Then another woman, her hair covered with a Muslim Hijab, piped up. “Can you tell us, Mr Cooper, are we in any danger from this comet, here on the Moon?”
“Any danger?” His mind was racing. What did he tell them? “No, not here. The comet will pass well clear of the Moon. We might get a sprinkling of dust from the comet’s tail, but nothing to worry about.”
“But what if this mission to deflect the comet puts it on a collision course with the Moon instead?” She wasn’t going to be fobbed off that easily.
“Nope,” he said with conviction. “The deflection will push the comet further away from the Moon. No problem there.” He gave them his most reassuring smile.
“But,” she wasn’t done yet, “what are the chances of failure with this deflection attempt? Nothing like this has ever been tried before, has it?”
Shoot! How was he supposed to answer that? Cooper’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“I think I can help with this, Will,” came a familiar voice from behind him. He turned to see Sokolova getting up from a table a little way back. How long had she been sitting there?
She stood beside him and addressed the group. “The greatest scientific minds from across the world are focussed on this comet problem right now. Specialists in astrophysics, planetary dynamics, space flight and nuclear weapons technology are all cooperating to ensure the mission’s success.
“We have every reason to believe that the comet will be deflected and will slip past the Earth, just grazing the upper atmosphere.
“We are making changes at Armstrong Base to ensure we all remain well-fed and comfortable until our next supply shuttle gets here. The Moon colony was always intended to be self-sufficient and this is an ideal opportunity to make it so.
“What we all need to do right now is to focus our minds and our efforts on upgrading our facilities and production. Wild speculation will not help that process, so I want you all to concentrate on your new duties and especially on this safety briefing.
“New and unfamiliar work poses many potential hazards here on the Moon, so you need to listen carefully to what you are told and make sure we don’t have any accidents. That’s the real danger you have to concern yourselves with.
“I will let Will finish his safety briefing now, then you can proceed to the training phase for your new jobs. Thank you for your help and cooperation.” Sokolova gave a small nod to indicate she had finished, turned and walked out of the canteen.
Cooper watched her go, wishing he had her confidence. He turned back to the group and forced a smile. “Okay! Let’s do like the boss lady says and get this done so we can all go get busy.”
* * * * *
Earth, 1504
“Captain!”
Yonaton looked up to find Benyamin smiling at him. He had been staring at his boots, deep in thought, while pulling steady strokes on the boat’s oars.
“What is it, Ben?”
“If you think we are far enough from the ship, this might be a good spot to go ashore.” The navigator pointed away to his left.
Yonaton glanced over Ben’s shoulder and saw that the Pelican, still tilted over at a giddy angle, was now a distant dark blob in the early morning light.
“Yes, far enough,” he muttered then looked where Ben had pointed. There was a small inlet where a stream ran out into the estuary. On the downstream side a small sandy beach led up to a thicket of the stunted pines that grew slow and small this far north. On the right of the stream was a high granite cliff that put any further trees out of reach.
“You are right Ben. This will do fine. We can pull the boat up out of sight of the Pelican, cut our plank and then have a look around.”
Ben pushed the tiller, turning them towards the shore. Yonaton and Mammed rowed the boat across the incoming tide and within minutes the keel scrunched into the sand.
The youngster gathered wood for a fire while the two men inspected the forest edge for a suitable tree. They soon found what they were looking for and set to work with the saw and axe. By the time it was felled and the trunk cut to length, Mammed had a pot of coffee ready and they were all warmed up from their work.
Over the brim of his steaming mug, Yonaton checked on the two Dasony trackers who were watching their every move from a safe distance in the trees. They wouldn’t come forward, he knew, until their chief joined them and that would be a while yet. Although the third scout had set off back to the native village as soon as it was clear the mariners were staying for a while, it would take Chief Masceola a long time to return. He had been old and slow three years ago. If he was still on his feet, he wouldn’t be here any time soon.
They got back to work with wedges and mallets, splitting the trunk four times to release the piece of timber they wanted. They shaped and smoothed it with the adze to create an oversize plank that would be trimmed to exact dimensions once they got it back to the ship.
It was almost midday and they were loading their tools into the boat when Yonaton saw three Dasony men coming towards them. They had a small, wiry old man in a bear-fur coat with them, shuffling along with the help of a long wooden stick.
Chief Masceola was still alive! Yonaton raised his hand and smiled in greeting. He was pleased. He liked the old forest warrior. He had been head of the northern tribes for countless years and had an unrivalled knowledge of these lands where the trees ended and the ice began. He would be happy to share his wisdom over a cup of coffee.
“So. Captain Yonaton. You come back!” The old man’s voice was a little more wobbly now, but his eyes were as clear and piercing as ever.
“Yes, Chief Masceola.” They gripped eac
h other’s forearms in traditional Dasony greeting. “It has been a long time.”
“Too long. We look for you last summer. Many furs to trade. Summer before, many furs. But you not come. Captain Yonaton trade with other tribes now.” He looked at Yonaton accusingly.
“No. I don’t trade with anyone, Chief. My ship has been taken over by the Cardinal who brings only religion and sadness.”
“What is this ‘Cardinal’?”
“He is a fat man in a purple robe. He has many warriors with swords and spears. It is better that you don’t meet with him.”
“Ah, that one? I hear of this big man from the tribes to the south.” The Chief smiled. “He is like woman in purple dress. He says all men come up from the sea, crawling like crabs.” He tipped his head back and let out a loud, cackling laugh.
The Dasony trackers threw their heads back and laughed loudly. Yonaton and Ben joined in too, knowing it was rude not to laugh at the Chief’s jokes. Mammed looked at them as if they were all mad.
The Chief fixed his beady eye on Mammed. “Your son grows, Captain Yonaton. He is man now.”
“He will be one day, Chief, when he learns some manners.” The boy could be frustrating at times like this, when he seemed oblivious to the mood of the moment and the feelings of others. But he’d always been like that, unable to read faces and respond like other kids.
“Come and sit, Chief,” said Yonaton, gesturing towards the fire and the logs they had dragged there to sit on. “Come and have coffee and let us talk. Mammed may not know how to laugh, but he does know how to make sweet coffee, just the way you like it.”
“Ah, coffee,” said the Chief as he sat and uncovered his scrawny old knees to the warmth of the fire. “It is good you come, bring coffee. Tell me of the world, Captain… and why your ship sails on land, not sea?” He looked serious for a moment then threw his head back in another raucous laugh. He did love his little jokes, Chief Masceola.