Crescent

  “Aren’t you waiting for the doctor?” a techie asked.

  “If she shows up, tell her to wait until I get back or look for another ride!”

  As the mobile pad crawled out of the hangar, Crater went through his checklist. As soon as the pad stopped, he called for clearance. “You’re number one on the runway, sir,” came the reply.

  Crater fired up the engines and jetted aloft, turned toward Moontown, and firewalled the throttles.

  ::: TWENTY-THREE

  Crater rotated the jumpcar and backed down onto the Moontown mobile pad. He did a post flight while being transported into the hangar, then climbed down the ladder where Riley waited for him. “Thanks for everything, Riley,” he said and tossed his helmet to her. “If I’m not back in a few hours, how about flying the jumpcar over to Cleomedes and picking up the doc?”

  “Roger, wilco, sir, but do ye have a second now?” Riley asked.

  “Later, okay?” Crater said and ducked through the hangar hatch, leaving her frowning after him. Crater loped through the tubeways, saying, “Sorry, ma’am,” and “Excuse me, sir,” to the tubewives and tubehusbands as he ran by. He arrived at the Colonel’s office, surprising the new executive assistant, a young olive-skinned woman from Greater Israel. She rose to stop him. “See here, sir, you can’t go in there!”

  “Don’t worry. He’ll want to see me,” Crater said and flung open the great door, only to find the office empty. He turned around as the assistant came up behind him. “Where is he?”

  Her eyes were wide. “On the scrapes.”

  “Where on the scrapes?”

  She took a step back. “I don’t know.”

  Crater thought she was lying but he didn’t have time to worm the truth out of her. “Thank you,” he said, his inherent politeness asserting itself, then ran past her and headed for the sheriff’s office only to find it empty too. He next headed for his assigned dustlock, climbed into his biolastic sheath, pulled on his suit and helmet, and went outside. He jumped aboard a fastbug and headed for the scrapes. There were eight of them being worked. It was on the fifth one that he found the Colonel.

  The Colonel was dressed in the white coveralls of a supervisor as were the two men accompanying him. “Sir, a word, if you don’t mind.”

  “I am inspecting this scrape at the moment, Crater,” the Colonel said. “Make an appointment.”

  “This is very important, sir.”

  “So are the scrapes,” he said. “I’m doing my job. Now, go away and do yours.”

  “Colonel, you said that if I could produce evidence showing Crescent innocent, you’d let her go. I want to tell you what I’ve found out.”

  The Colonel sighed. “Go to my private channel.” When that was done, the Colonel said, “I should have known it was about that barbaric creature.”

  “Colonel, do you know who Deputy Jones was back on Earth?”

  The Colonel’s eyes turned frosty. “President Warto of Centropia. I didn’t know that until after I’d hired him. He covered his tracks very well.”

  “Even though you knew he killed millions of people, you kept him on your payroll?”

  “Actually, at the time of his murder, I was considering how to rid myself of him.”

  “Do you know who else in Moontown is from Centropia?”

  “No, I don’t,” the Colonel replied with a sigh, “but I suppose you do.”

  “Kurto, the chef at the Dust Palace. He’s also a Tovar, the people Warto all but wiped out. According to Deputy Zageev, the night Warto died, Kurto told him that Warto was seen near the Dust Palace. When Zageev went looking for him, he found him in the chicken goop. I think what actually happened was Kurto spotted the dictator at the Dust Palace, saw what he was doing with Crescent, and took the opportunity to kill him. Then Zageev came over and helped him clean up the mess.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “He and Kurto are friends.”

  “So you’re saying these two fine men, both of whom work hard at their jobs, therefore supporting my production schedule in their own way, are so craven they would let your creature take the blame?”

  Crater hadn’t thought about that although he supposed it was so.

  The Colonel allowed a long sigh. “Not that it matters now, of course.”

  “Of course it matters, sir. This is about Crescent’s life.”

  The Colonel shook his head. “I believe I have mentioned to you before that you have this soft side about you that severely needs toughening up. Oh, you’ve performed admirably in combat but I’m talking about mental toughness, that which allows you to see past the sentimentality of any particular situation to the sometimes cruel realities of life. Now, listen to me carefully, Crater, because I’m going to say this but once. That little crowhopper was a lot of trouble and I think it would have eventually killed somebody. That you brought it to Moontown was a mistake, so all this is your fault, not mine. You placed the people of Moontown in jeopardy, which therefore put my production schedule into jeopardy. That had to be addressed and so it has. It’s all done now, so you need no longer concern yourself.”

  “What’s done now?”

  “Your creature has gone into the dust.”

  Crater’s heart thumped. “When?”

  “Yesterday morning.”

  “Yesterday morning? You sent me away deliberately!”

  “Not at all. It was a real emergency, but it was a coincidence I took advantage of, knowing that you might make a scene. But never mind that, Crater. It’s amazing how you go off in tangents. What’s done is done. It’s time we both got back to work.”

  Crater wanted to pound the Colonel until his face was a bloody pulp but he knew he wasn’t going to, partly because he knew it wouldn’t do any good. “What time did you put her out?” he asked.

  “Around ten in the morning, I believe.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “Where? I have no idea. Wherever the air in its pack could take it, I suppose. We’ll find it out there sooner or later. The important thing is it was let out into the dust with dignity. I even quoted to the thing from Romans, as if it deserved to hear holy scriptures. One of my favorites. ‘If you do wrong, be afraid, for rulers do not bear the sword for no reason. They are God’s servants, agents of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer.’ Yes, a great verse, that one. By the way, go this instant to pick up the doctor. Afterward, I will need you to fly me to Armstrong City this afternoon.”

  Crater ignored the Colonel and focused on a quick calculation. Crescent had been outside for twenty-seven hours and therefore, based on the limited duration pack she’d been given, had been dead for twenty-six. Crater ran to the fastbug, jumped in and floored the accelerator, its wheels spinning twin rooster tails.

  The Colonel was showered by dust. “Crater!” the Colonel yelled. “Come back here!”

  Crater had the hammer down. He drove up the side of a crater and vaulted nearly a hundred feet into the vacuum, landing hard. At the dustlock, he jammed on the brakes and skidded to a shuddering, dust-spraying stop, jumped out, pulled open the hatch, pressurized the airlock, then threw open the hatch leading to the showers and lockers. He stripped off his gear while shouting for the dustie, who came running. “You yelled, sir?”

  “I need you to get two long-endurance convoy packs ready. I’ll be back in thirty minutes to get them.”

  “But, sir—”

  “Thirty minutes!”

  Crater threw on his tunic and leggings and burst through the final hatch into the main tubeway. When he reached the Dust Palace, he went straight to the kitchen, finding Kurto there. “I need to talk to you privately,” he said and nodded toward the pantry.

  With the pantry hatch closed behind them, Crater said, “I know where you’re from. You killed Warto and let Crescent take the blame!”

  “Not so,” Kurto replied calmly. “I find Warto in chicken goop and call Zageev. He come, happy for me at the death of this awful man, then he call sheriff.”


  Crater studied the cook’s face. “Did he have a broken nose when you found him?”

  “Zageev and me, we think Crescent, she hit him hard on the face. That made me happy.”

  Crater kept studying the cook, but all he saw was sincerity. “If you’re lying to me, I can’t tell.”

  “If I lie, what difference? Warto is dead. Crescent, she confess. Now she dead.”

  “She didn’t confess!”

  Kurto made a helpless gesture, then went back to work while Crater sought out Q-Bess in her tube. He rang the bell, then went inside, finding her sitting on the mooncrete throne that someone had constructed for her. It had lions and unicorns carved in its back and had purple cushions. Her face was clouded, her makeup smeared, her eyes red from crying. She gasped at the sight of him. “My darling boy. How awful the news! I tried to call you but the comm people said you were in Cleomedes.”

  “I was sent there deliberately.”

  “As I suspected.” She waved him to a gilded chair. “Come, sit with me, Crater. Let us mourn Crescent.”

  “There’s no time,” Crater said. “I have to go look for her.”

  “Her body will be found in due time.”

  “There may not be a body.”

  Q-Bess’s swollen eyes widened. “Ah, you did it, then.”

  “I did. Whether it worked or not, I don’t know.”

  “You’re an awful sneak, Crater Trueblood.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was a compliment.”

  Q-Bess rose from her throne and gathered Crater into her arms. “No mother ever had a better child. You did what you had to do. I will defend you to the death. Be safe, my son.”

  Being safe was the last thing on Crater’s mind as he ran all the way back to the dustlock. There, he clambered inside, calling for the dustie who reappeared. “Are my convoy packs ready?”

  “No, sir. I tried to tell you before you ran out of here. We had one stolen and, since then, no convoy packs are to be issued without a chit from the company. Do you have one?”

  Crater grabbed the dustie and threw him to the deck. “Don’t move,” he said, then took away the dustie’s do4u, tossed it into a corner, threw open a random locker, and grabbed a pair of leggings which he used to tie the dustie’s hands behind his back. He rifled another locker for another pair of leggings which he used to tie the dustie’s feet together at the ankles.

  During all this, the dustie submitted meekly, although the expression on his face was incredulous. “Mr. Trueblood,” he said, “what are you doing? There’s no big deal on the convoy packs. Just get approval and a chit. What’s so difficult?”

  Crater locked the entrance hatch, then came back inside the locker room, threw open the backpack storage locker, and removed two convoy backpacks. “If you take those without permission, you’ll be a thief,” the dustie said.

  “It’s for a good cause.”

  “The wages of sin are death, Mr. Trueblood.”

  Crater decided to stop talking to the philosophical dustie. He climbed into his dust gear and strapped on one of the packs. Carrying the extra pack, he crossed into the airlock, closed the hatch behind him, drained out the air, opened the hatch into the big suck, and went outside, climbing into the fastbug he’d left there. He drove it around to his garaged fastbug, switched to it, and drove through the convoy staging area. Then, with the lights of Moontown to his back, he turned east and floored the accelerator.

  From the observation tower overlooking the maintenance shed, the sheriff and Deputy Campos watched as Crater’s fastbug threw up twin rooster tails and streaked away. The sheriff chuckled. “Go find your creature, Crater,” he said. “Or what’s left of it.”

  “Why’d you let him go, Sheriff?” the deputy asked.

  “Colonel’s orders. We figured he’d do something stupid. Well, all he’ll find is a corpse. When he comes back, he’ll be charged with theft and assault. After that, the Colonel will be pulling his strings for the rest of his pathetic life.”

  The deputy scratched up under his cap. “I dunno, Sheriff. That boy strikes me as being pretty slick.”

  “Slick as moon dust,” the sheriff retorted, “and thick as mooncrete. We’ve got him now, the Colonel and me, right where we want him.”

  ::: TWENTY-FOUR

  Crater drove to the Copperhead Bridge that crossed the Copperhead Rille that wound down the length of the Alpine Valley. He stopped at the entrance to the bridge and climbed out to have a look beneath its ramparts on the near side. It was a hundred feet to the bottom of the rille so Crater took his time. Beneath the bridge, he saw that the convoy pack he’d left there was gone. Crescent had read the note he’d left her on the tray beneath the sugar pot. In a world of electronics, do4u’s, and puters, he’d sent her a message the old-fashioned, and least expected, way. On a scrap of a paper bag, he’d written “Go to the bridge. Look under.” The deputy had patted him down, not ever expecting a paper note. What was written on it was succinct but apparently it was enough.

  Crater got back in his fastbug and drove across the high bridge, a gossamer design of spaghetti-thin cables. The sinuous gorge below, the result of a river of collapsed melted rock, was in partial shadow and ranged from a deep chocolate color to a bright yellow. After he’d crossed the bridge, he struck out along the dustway—the main overland road—until he reached the site of the crowhopper ambush where Crescent had been captured. He turned and went off-road until he reached the crowhopper jumpcar.

  Crater got out and saw an obvious trail from the fin. Something had been dragged away. It occurred to him that perhaps the dead crowhopper he’d left sitting against the fin hadn’t been picked up by the greenies. He followed the trail, and not far away, in a small crater, the drag marks ended with a shallow grave and a marker of stacked rocks. There also sat Crescent on the rim of the crater, her helmet down, her knees pulled up under her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs. She was not moving. Crater activated his do4u. “Crescent, are you all right?”

  “I am alive,” she said, although she did not lift her head to look at him.

  “I was afraid you’d be out of air.”

  “Legionnaires don’t use as much air as humans,” she replied. “But thank you for the extra pack. I would be dead without it.”

  “It was Q-Bess’s idea.”

  “But you placed it there. I thank you both.”

  “You have given this man a fine grave,” Crater said.

  “He watched out for me during my training. He also saved me during the battle that brought you here. He took my weapon away and ordered me to live. He gave me his pendant because I lost mine. Then you gave it to me again.”

  “I knew it was important to you.”

  “The mythology of the phoenix is it dies, yet it lives, rising from its former self. It is the symbol of my military unit. Life is death. Death is life. You’ve heard that before. Why Trabonnet wanted me to live, I do not know.”

  “He cared about you,” Crater said. “And you cared about him.”

  “If those things are so, they are of no consequence.”

  “Yet you came here to honor him.”

  “I prayed for him as you taught me. Dust to dust. I even said amen.”

  “That’s good, Crescent.”

  Crescent turned her face to Crater. “Why are you here?”

  “To make certain you are okay. And I have brought more air.”

  “I wish you hadn’t. You must go back. My fate is my fate and you have no part of it.”

  “Tell me if you killed Deputy Jones.”

  “I didn’t kill him.”

  “Then who did?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “To me, it makes a great deal of difference. My life has changed because of that murder.”

  Her big, dark eyes were riveting. “The sheriff killed him.”

  “The sheriff?”

  “He punched him in the face and he fell down. Then he straddled the deputy
and broke his neck. It was excellently done. The Trainers could not have done it better.”

  “Why was the sheriff there?”

  “I’m not sure. That drug put me in something like a dream. I knew I was with the deputy in the biovat room and then the sheriff was there. He yelled at the deputy about a lot of things I didn’t understand and then killed him. The sheriff told me to help him carry the deputy up to the platform. We got him on the platform and the sheriff said to lower him in, which I did. I am very strong, so it was no problem.”

  “That’s why there was no mess. Why didn’t you tell me what really happened?”

  “The sheriff said it was my fault the deputy died. If I hadn’t come to Moontown, the deputy would have stayed within the law. He also said they were going to punish you for not killing me and they were going to fire Q-Bess for taking me in. But then he said if I would confess, they’d leave you and the queen alone. So I did.”

  “No, you didn’t. You just said he deserved to die.”

  Crescent shrugged. “A fine point. It makes no difference. I have performed this service and now I will die. Go back to Moontown and I will take care of myself.”

  Crater made a helpless gesture. “I can’t go back. I’m a thief and I roughed up a dustie. I’m on the run, Crescent, and so are you. We’re going to Armstrong City.”

  She frowned. “Why Armstrong City?”

  “It’s big. We can hide there until we figure out what to do.”

  “Armstrong City is almost a thousand miles away. We don’t have enough air.”

  Crater inclined his head toward the jumpcar. “If that ship is flyable and has enough fuel, it’ll get us there.”

  Crescent shook her head. “No, go back. The Colonel will forgive you.”

  “I don’t care about the Colonel.”

  “You love your job. Q-Bess told me.”

  “Your life is worth more than any job.”

  Crescent looked away. “My life is worth nothing.”

  Crater walked to the jumpcar, climbed the ladder, and opened the hatch. In the cockpit, he fired up the controls, ran through the checks, then climbed back down. “There’s enough fuel to reach Armstrong City. Let’s go.”