Helium3 - 1 Crater (9 page)
“Oh yes, Crater. Very complicated. But history is going somewhere, that much is apparent. Past is prologue as they say, so if we know history, we might predict where it will all end up. You've never lived anywhere other than the moon, have you?”
“No, sir.”
“Many people on Earth hate the way we live here amidst our ancient lava flows and rubble, Crater. Did you know that?”
“No, sir. Why would that be?”
“Jealousy, pure and simple. We live free. No one on Earth does. They are all controlled by governments, most of them with a very heavy hand. Oh, there's been some improvements with the new countries, but even they have their tax man with his hand out.” He fondly studied the moon globe a little longer, then turned in Crater's direction and asked, “Do you like living in Moontown?”
“I love living in Moontown, sir.” It was an honest admission.
“I believe you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Do you know why I've asked you to visit me?”
“Are you going to fire me for driving a shuttle without a permit?”
The Colonel stared at Crater for a long second, then laughed heartily. “No, no, Crater, not at all. I should give you a medal for that, and maybe I will someday when I have nothing better to do. After all, you saved me having to rebuild a maintenance shed and hire a bunch of new orangutans. No, I called you in because I want you to understand something.”
The Colonel tapped his finger on the globe at Armstrong City, which was the main settlement built near the first landing of humans on the moon, then trailed his finger northwestward. “I have in mind a great project, Crater. A monorail across our storied wayback. It will begin or end at Armstrong City, depending on your point of view, then travel northerly through the Sea of Tranquility, skirt the Plinius Crater, cut across the Sea of Serenity between the Aristillus and Autolycus Craters, then proceed to a depot a few miles from Moontown.
If constructed, it would be a true wonder and allow a safer and more economical delivery of Helium-3.”
Crater, who knew a great deal about engineering since he had been taught by the best ones to show up at the Dust Palace, thought it would be a difficult proposition to build anything as complex as a monorail through the wayback. But he supposed if anybody could do it, it would be the Colonel.
The Colonel moved to his desk and sat, then waved Crater to a leather upholstered chair in front of it. Crater had never sat in such a fine piece of furniture. He carefully lowered himself into it, feeling its softness form around his rump.
“Unfortunately,” the Colonel went on, “there are obstacles.
One of them is that the monorail would cross most of the Sea of Serenity, which is Russian territory. They don't want it because they are in league with General Nero, I fear, who opposes my attempts to modernize lunar transportation. And without the Russians on board, the Earthian money men are loathe to fund it.”
“Why don't the Russians want the monorail, sir?”
The Colonel took on an expression of distaste. “Because they are idiots, fools, misanthropes, vodka-swilling, nineteenthcentury nincompoops! Excepting the Czarina, of course, but she's heavily influenced by the louts who purport to advise her, louts who are paid under the table by our dear General Nero.”
Colonel Medaris, after a brief period of contemplating his own words, continued with what Crater considered a most peculiar question. “Crater, how are you at subterfuge, lying, being underhanded, that kind of thing?”
Crater, believing the Colonel had a good reason for everything, thought the question over. “Not very good. Q-Bess always catches me every time I try to tell a fib.”
The Colonel nodded. “Not surprising since that lady's been known to tell a fib or two herself. Nobody in Moontown can cook the books quite so well as our Q-Bess.” He chuckled. “I admire her majesty's audacity, though. How about any of those misbegotten denizens of the Dust Palace? Any of them ever teach you to lie, cheat, that kind of thing?”
Crater decided not to mention Petro and replied, “Doom and Headsplitter taught me how to fight dirty, sneak up on people, knock them on the head, although I've never actually done it and I don't really think it's right to fight that way.”
“How about Asteroid Al?”
“As far as I know, nobody scrapes a straighter path than Asteroid Al.”
The Colonel shrugged. “A straight path, Crater, can also go through an unproductive field, but that's a never mind. If someone asked you, what would you say you were good at?”
It was a hard question since Crater didn't think he was particularly good at anything. Still, he needed to answer so he said, “I guess I'm a pretty good scragline picker, and I know fourteen languages so I'm okay at that, and I can play a few musical instruments, and maybe I'm a fair mechanic too.”
“I've heard you're better than fair when it comes to machines. Tell me, are you loyal to my company?”
“Why, yes, sir. I wouldn't have a home or a job without it.”
The Colonel pretended to ponder Crater's answer for a moment, then pointed at a display on his desk. It was a glass dome and within it was a gray splintered rock about the size of a man's fist. “I collect artifacts of the movement into space.
That is my most treasured one, an actual rock picked up by Neil Armstrong after the first moon landing and carried back to Earth. It cost me a pretty penny. What do you think of it?”
Crater peered at the rock, which looked just like any one of the thousands of such rocks he'd popped out of conveyor rollers. He considered a pleasant lie, couldn't manage it, and said, “It's a rock, sir.”
The Colonel chuckled at Crater's response but then his expression turned grave. “Crater, I have a proposal for you. It's simple, really. I would like you to take a job as scout with the Medaris Convoy Company. You'll work for Captain Teller and journey with the next heel-3 convoy to Armstrong City and, once there, go up on the Cycler and retrieve a package with a very important space artifact and bring it back to me. What do you say?”
Crater was startled by the Colonel's proposal and didn't know what to say. Seeing what he took as confusion, the Colonel said, “This artifact is more than a collectible. It has much to do with the future of Moontown or I wouldn't ask you to do this job for me. You see, Crater, if I sent someone after this thing, someone clearly dispatched to the Cycler to pick it up, there might be some bad men who'd try to stop him. So here's what I'm thinking. What if someone they didn't suspect went after it? Do you understand?”
Crater didn't understand. “I like working on the scrapes, sir,” he said.
“I know, Crater, but it's a ruse. Do you understand what that is?”
“A trick or a deception,” Crater replied. He felt like he'd just lost a battle in a war he didn't even know he was fighting.
“Precisely,” the Colonel said. “So what do you say? Besides doing me a great favor, it might be just the adventure for a young man. Wish I was your age again. I'd be out of here and on that fastbug scouting for the captain faster than you could say the name of my great-grandmother, Penny High Eagle Medaris.”
Crater, who'd read the historical accounts of the Colonel's ancestor, said, “She was a prodigious woman, wasn't she, sir?”
“Yes, she was, Crater, and she would approve of what I'm asking you to do. She loved the company she and my greatgrandfather formed, out of which all of the present Medaris family companies were spawned.”
The Colonel held every card. If Crater refused, he might lose his job or be kept as a scragline picker for the rest of his life. “I guess I can do it,” he said slowly. “But can I come back and get my old job afterward?”
“Why of course!” The Colonel smiled tenderly at the boy.
“You are a first-rate lad. I always knew that. That's why I let you stay at the Dust Palace after your parentsâthat is to say your foster parentsâpassed. I don't think you had a defender in my company. They all said you should be sent to Armstrong City to fend for yourself but I said, âNo, this lad's a survivor, that's what he is, and smart as paint. Let him stay, let Q-Bess raise himâshe has but one child, the Prince of Wales or Petro or whatever he's calledâand she loves children.' So I solved another problem to everyone's satisfaction.”
The Colonel looked pleased with himself, then said, “Now, Crater, get thee to the company administrative office and tender your resignation. Then seek out Captain Teller who will take you on as a scout.”
It was all too fast. Crater was already scared, and he hadn't done anything yet. The Colonel took no notice, saying, “There's another thing I am going to ask you to do. My granddaughter, Maria? She and I are joint owners of the convoy company. Like all Medarises, she knows the best way to run a company is to learn it from the inside. She has decided, therefore, to be a convoy scout on a few runs. I'm against it, but she has me twisted around her finger. That's true for just about anybody she meets, so watch yourself, eh? A convoy across the moon has significant dangers. Captain Teller is quite competent, but Maria is headstrong and more than a little arrogant about what she can and cannot do. Things can happen out there. You will be working alongside her and I expect you to keep her safe. That, of course, includes giving up your life for hers if necessary. Agreed?”
Crater didn't know what to say. Look after Petro's new girlfriend? He supposed he could do that, especially since Petro wouldn't be around. “Of course, sir.”
“Splendid. However, presuming you don't die in defense of my granddaughter, your next most important duty is to get to the Cycler
Elon Musk
on time. If you don't, there may not be another opportunity to acquire this artifact. I've already tried twice but had to call off the show. Don't let me down, Crater, hmmm?”
“I'll do my best, sir.”
“I expect you to do better. Now, the convoy leaves in two days. It will take approximately ten daysâtwelve at mostâ to get to Armstrong City. So if it's twelve, the
Elon Musk
will rendezvous with the elevator's ferry one day after that. By my calculations, um, sixteen days from today I expect you to be on the Cycler. Got it?”
“Fifteen days, sir, and I won't fail you. Maria will be protected and I will get to the Cycler on time.”
“It's all set then,” the Colonel said. “Off you go.”
Crater rose, searched his muddled thoughts for something adequate to say, finally settling on a pallid “Thank you, sir,” and left the office. To his surprise, the sheriff was in the waiting room. The gillie was with him in its holster and he handed it over. “How'd it go?” the sheriff asked.
“I'm not sure,” Crater said.
“Was the Colonel smiling when you left?”
“Smiling, sir? I'm not certain. Should he have been?”
“No, of course not. A silly question. Well, on your way, lad.”
After Crater left the waiting room, the sheriff went inside to see the Colonel. “Your receptionist called and said you wanted me to visit after Crater, sir.”
The Colonel was still at his desk. “I was going to congratulate you for finding him. Now I don't know,” he said.
“I'm sorry, sir. Did he not prove to be good, honest, naive, and loyal?”
“Perhaps too much.”
“Shall I look for someone else?”
The Colonel took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. “No. I need him. But have I done the right thing?”
The question startled the sheriff. “The right thing, sir? I don't know much about right things. Now, if you asked me about the expedient thing, that I could advise.”
The Colonel allowed a small, sad smile. “Do the names George Taylor Grange and Lawrence Zummer mean anything to you?”
“Why, yes, sir,” the sheriff answered. “They are employees of yours, stationed in Armstrong City, and recently deceased.
Their files crossed my desk. Natural causes, I believe?”
“So we allowed everyone to believe. Both were murdered.
Grange got it with an elk sticker in June. Zummer was poisoned in September. I had assigned them a particular duty.
They were to go up to the Cycler and retrieve a certain artifact.
The same artifact I'm sending Crater after.”
The sheriff processed that information. “Who killed them?”
“I have no idea. There are many candidates but I really don't know. All I know for certain is I'm sending that fine, innocent boy on a mission that may get him killed. No, will
probably
get him killed. What say you now, Sheriff?”
“One does what one has to do, sir.”
The Colonel nodded. “One does, indeed,” he said, though he allowed himself a brief pang of regret, then rejected it as unworthy. What was one orphan, even one as smart and good as Crater? The Colonel allowed himself to relax. He'd done the right thing, the only thing to be done. It was for the good of his family and their various enterprises, which meant it was for the good of the moon.
