Helium3 - 1 Crater (29 page)

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.

Crater went down to the entry hatch and positioned himself to watch the process of new passengers coming aboard and the disembarkation of the passengers returning from the moon. CP Strickland floated up, then righted himself by pressing the soles of his sticky boots on the deck. His duty was to release and open the hatch.

When the ferry docked, the Cycler shuddered as the big craft hugged it close. Since it took awhile to make certain of the mooring, the chief purser waited patiently beside the hatch while Betty and Tommy, the two tour guides who worked for Lunar Expeditions—Lunex as it was called—shepherded their tourists into the area. Crater had spent some time with B&T, as they liked to call themselves, and listened to their stories of their various adventures on the moon with their clients. He'd also received a job offer. “We think you'd be perfect for what we do,” they said.

Tommy came over to Crater and remarked, “I hope none of the noogies are sick. Imagine you've spent your entire life in Earth gravity, then you're slung up here, pulling about three Gs on the scrams, then once the rockets stop firing, you're down to zero. Oh yeah, there'll be a few folks who won't be feeling all that well.”

After CP Strickland finished checking the seal between the scramferry and the Cycler's airlocks, he announced, “Look alive, look alive! Passengers coming aboard!”

After some pulling of levers and twisting of knobs, the
Elon Musk
crew swung open the airlock, then got out of the way to let the Lunex tour guides do their jobs. The first passenger, a graying man in a suit and tie, pulled through the hatch and drifted out into the arrival area. Tommy floated over. “Welcome aboard, sir,” he said. “I am Tommy and this is Betty. You can just call us B&T. We are your lunar adventure guides.”

“I'm no tourist, B&T,” the man said. “I'm a representative of the Unified Countries of the World. There are no other passengers.”

B&T were astonished by this turn of events and turned to CP Strickland for an explanation. “Captain Fox's orders. No tourists on this swing-by.”

“But we have contracts,” Tommy said to Strickland's shrug.

Crater was pleased and sorry at the same time, pleased that if there was trouble, there would be no innocent tourists who might get hurt, and sorry for B&T who were going to lose some good money. Crater had no doubt that Captain Fox had used up more than a little of his company clout to cancel the tourists.

Betty and Tommy shook off their disappointment, not that they had much choice. Tommy crossed over to the inner hatch and swung it open to let their returning tourists go aboard the scramferry. Veteran space flyers now, they greeted B&T with grins, nods, handshakes, and cheerful asides, and slipped them envelopes that surely contained tips.

“Thank you, thank you, had a great time too, won't be the same up here without you,” B&T said as they took the envelopes and helped their clients with their luggage.

Crater followed Tommy into the scramferry where he was giving his final speech to his clients. “Folks, you have been the best group Betty and I have ever had the privilege of leading on the moon. I will be bragging about you to my supervisors.

If you enjoyed yourself, we wouldn't mind if you mentioned B&T to Lunex. On the puters on the back of each seat, you'll find all the information you need to write to the president of Lunex to let her know your opinion of your entire experience.”

“We love you, B&T!” a young woman yelled. Cheering and applauding from the other tourists erupted, and Betty and Tommy made a great show of bowing and looking delighted— although they turned a bit grim as they made their way back into the
Musk
.

Crater watched the offloading of a variety of cargo from the scramferry including, he noticed with interest, crates bound for Moontown. Other items were personal in nature with the names of the recipients printed on the sides of the packages. It made him wonder why the Colonel had not sent his package up with those goods. Surely, whatever it was could have been hidden in one of the crates. The answer, after Crater gave it some thought, was obvious. The package was not yet in the hands of anyone within the Medaris empire.

A thump and a shudder announced the departure of the scramferry, and the Cycler was alone again. That was when Maria tracked Crater down. She was carrying one of the railgun rifles. “How did you get that on board?” he asked.

“We Medarises have our ways,” she said with a smile. “I put your rifle in your cabin. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know like what. You're thinking whatever's coming up couldn't be worth endangering the Cycler. Look, I don't know how else to say it. This is very important. Trust me.”

“What is in the package?” Crater asked. He supposed it was time for him to know at least that.

Maria told him, and Crater's response was immediate.

“But that's not worth anything!”

“It will get the monorail built.”

“How?”

Maria told him how. “This is madness,” Crater said.

“No, Crater, it's business. Family business.”

Crater thought over her answer and came to a conclusion.

“I don't think I want to be part of your family's business.”

“Does that include me?”

Crater didn't know. All he knew was he couldn't stop what was about to happen. He went to his cabin to check on his rifle.

:::
THIRTY-TWO

U
p the freighter came a scramjet—small, sleek, with delta wings, and white as the Earthian clouds from which it appeared. It streaked up from somewhere in Asia. Crater saw its twinkling star rise and arc toward the Cycler, going through its turbo, scram, and rocket phases. It was a beautiful machine. Then he saw something, a flash like a rocket pulse, behind the freighter. The gillie stirred in his holster, then said,
They are under attack
.

Crater flew up to the bridge and told Captain Fox what the gillie had said. The gentleman rocked on his heels, then studied the gillie. “I've been wondering about that thing. Where did you get it?”

Crater quickly told him the story. “They are fiercely loyal, or so I've heard,” the captain replied. “It was one of the reasons they were made illegal, then all were destroyed. They couldn't be sold, you see, because to remove them from their original owner made them sick. Often, they would just shut themselves down.”

“The gillie is just a biological machine, Captain,” Crater said.