Crater Trueblood and the Lunar Rescue Company

  Petro’s smile was rueful. “If I pull this off, Crater, I’ll be the greatest fuser pilot who ever lived.”

  Crater clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Then do it!”

  THIRTY

  Maria was strapped to the gurney facing the tunnel of the 3DCP. Truvia worked the keyboard of its puter. “This thing keeps locking up,” she complained.

  “Truvia, listen,” Maria said, her mind scrambling for a way out. “Let’s make a deal. I won’t make any more trouble. You unstrap me and we’ll forget about all of this. I’ll even be the princess, you be the queen. How about it?”

  “You won’t make any more trouble after I transform you into an old woman. By the way, it will take about eight hours, so I’ll have to put you under after I get this thing working.” Frustrated, she slapped the keyboard and sighed. “It’s the power on this station. It’s uneven and makes the puter stop and start up again.” While waiting for the puter reboot, she pondered Maria. “If this was my lab on Earth, I’d already have you well on your way to cronehood.”

  “What will I look like?” Maria gulped.

  Truvia drew a rectangle, filled it with a picture of a woman bent over a walker, then floated it past Maria. “Maybe in the low gravity of the station, you won’t need a walker. We’ll see.”

  Maria struggled with the straps, but a hulking crowhopper guard put his hands on her shoulders and pressed her down. Maria looked into his eyes, which were filled with malevolence. “You seem like a nice guy,” she said. “Maybe you and I could be pals. How about you killing Truvia for me?”

  When the crowhopper didn’t respond, Maria plaintively asked, “I take it that’s a no?”

  Truvia looked up from the puter. “I’ll give you this much, Maria. You have spirit. Right to the end.” She shook her head. “I’m going to have to go down to the power room. William, you’re in charge of our erstwhile Queen Maria. Keep her strapped down or it’s your head.”

  “She will be here exactly as she is until you return, Trainer Truvia.”

  Truvia went through the hatch. Maria craned her neck to look at the crowhopper. “So, William,” she said in a voice she hoped was enticing, “what brings a nice-looking fellow like you way out here?”

  The crowhopper made no answer, his eyes locked on the far bulkhead as if he didn’t dare look at Maria.

  “Seems like a crummy duty station. No bars to bust up and no human girls to abuse. Who’d you scrag off to get sent here? And what do you fellows do in your off time? Shine your armor?”

  The crowhopper’s eyes remained locked.

  “Aw, come on, William. I know all soldiers like to gripe. So what do they pay you?”

  “We are paid nothing,” William said, stiffly. “We serve for the honor and glory of the Legion.”

  “What Legion? Last I heard most of you fellows were dead.”

  “We are a remnant, that’s true.”

  Maria tsked. “Doesn’t sound like your leaders are doing a very good job. You guys ever sit around while cleaning your railgun rifles and talk about how you managed to get defeated in the last war? Come on. You can tell me. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “We do have our concerns,” William confessed.

  “Like not getting paid, I bet! You know the Trainers are getting millions of johncredits, but what do you get?”

  “Bloody meat-grinder wars,” William grumbled. “Poorly led and ambushed at every turn.”

  Maria tried to look sympathetic. “Well, there you go. That’s what I heard too. A crowhopper friend of mine told me all about it.”

  William looked down at her with sudden interest. “I do not believe you have a friend that’s a crowhopper.”

  Maria saw an opening. “Sure do. Her name’s Crescent. She’s a member of the Phoenix Legion. Or was before she joined my outfit.”

  Though his facial expression was limited, the crowhopper’s eyes were filled with astonishment. “You know someone in the Phoenix Legion? It is an honor to know someone who even knows someone in that most exalted of legions.”

  Maria searched the corners of her brain for something to prove her alleged friendship with Crescent. “Life is death. Death is life. That’s what she said the motto of her legion was!”

  “Yes! You truly know a Phoenix Legionnaire. Crescent is his name?”

  “Actually, a female. The only one.” Maria kept her voice reverent.

  “Amazing.”

  “Yeah, amazing. Look, William, why don’t you take a good look at me? Do you really want me, someone whose best buddy is a member of the Phoenix Legion, to be turned into an old lady? I mean take a good look. A woman like me, a fellow like you, we could be friends.”

  William’s eyes roved over her like he was choosing a shiny new rifle from a gun rack. “It isn’t my decision,” he finally grunted.

  “A lot of things aren’t your decision. Come to think of it, you ever look through that hatch over there?”

  “No. It is off-limits.”

  “I’ll bet it is. You want to know why, William? I’ll tell you why. That’s the incubator room. Go in there, look around. What you’ll see is they’re planning on replacing you with some creatures that can live in a vacuum. You’ll probably be changed into a moon frog or something.”

  “You are not funny.”

  “Don’t mean to be. Just go take a look, then come back here and let’s talk turkey, just you, me, and, in a strange way, Crescent, my really good friend, she of the Phoenix Legion.”

  William frowned, then walked to the hatch, swung it open, and went through. In a few minutes, he was back. Silently, he released Maria from her straps. “They will kill me for this, of course.”

  Maria grabbed his arm. “I’m going to run, William. Run with me.”

  “There is nowhere to run. We are ninety-thousand miles from the moon on a space station.”

  Maria pointed toward the cabin hatch. “I’m going through that hatch, William. You’re not going to stop me, are you?”

  “No. I will try to kill Trainer Truvia when she comes through it. I may die, but at least I won’t be made into a frog.”

  Maria considered the fact that she was about to get William killed, then saw no recourse. “All right, William. Good luck.”

  “And good luck to you, Miss. I would have liked you to be my queen.”

  Maria was oddly touched. “That is high praise, William, and thanks.”

  “Life is death.”

  Maria looked over her shoulder at the forlorn crowhopper. “Death is life,” she said, then opened the hatch, looked up and down the corridor, and bolted for the central core. She floated up through the hatches, then pulled down the spoke that led to the middle ring and the main airlock. There she swung the hatch open and crawled inside, coming upon a rack of pressure suits. Entry to the suit was by swinging open the backpack and crawling through the opening. She pushed her feet inside one that looked to be about the right size and ducked within, her head popping up in the helmet. She reached behind her, found the strap attached to the backpack, and pulled it shut. “Pressurize,” she commanded. “Check for air leaks and oxygen generation.”

  In a few seconds, the suit puter reported no air leaks and a full oxygen generator. “How much time on this suit?”

  Approximately thirty-six hours.

  Maria caught sight of the airlock monitor that showed her in the suit. If they were monitoring on the bridge, someone would be coming after her very soon. Maria opened the hatch leading into the airlock, just as the inner hatch swung open and a big crowhopper stepped inside. Maria picked up a broom, clambered into the airlock, and closed the hatch behind her. “Depressurize,” she said.

  “Maria.” It was Truvia’s voice. “Bad girl. Poor William. He is stone cold dead. He was never a good shot.”

  “Hello, Truvia,” Maria said. “Too bad about William. He was such a nice fellow, but you really ought to talk things over with your crowhoppers. I think they’re catching on to your various scams. You know,
where they do all the work and dying and you collect all the money? Are you listening to me there on the bridge? Anyway, thought I’d go out for a stroll. Want to come with me? You won’t even need to wear a suit.”

  “Please be serious. Why did you go outside? What could you hope to accomplish? There’s no way for you to escape.”

  “Well, I guess I came out to look at the stars and stuff. Seems a nice day for it.”

  “Mathus, get in a suit and retrieve Dr. Medaris.”

  The airlock gauge reached zero and Maria opened the outer hatch. “I wouldn’t do that, Mathus,” she warned.

  “Go ahead, Mathus,” Truvia said.

  Maria climbed through the hatch and jammed the broomstick into its hinges so it wouldn’t close.

  Maria heard a crowhopper, apparently Mathus, say, “Trainer Truvia, the inner hatch of the airlock will not open. The gauge says there’s zero pressure inside. And, no matter how much I tell the puter to do it, the outer hatch remains open.”

  “And so shall it stay,” Maria sang, jamming the aluminum handle of the broomstick further between the hatch and the opening.

  “Blow the inner airlock hatch, Mathus,” Truvia ordered. She sounded bored.

  “What will happen if I do that, Trainer Truvia?”

  “You’ll be able to go outside and bring the prisoner inside, you idiot. What do you think? Listen very carefully. I’m sending Crispus down with some plastique explosives. You put it around the rim, then insert an explosives cap, run wires back, and blow it. Understand?”

  “Yes, Trainer Truvia.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Mathus,” Maria said. “You are in a pressurized chamber, and you’re going to explode the hatch into a vacuum. You’ll get blown out into space.”

  “That’s nonsense, Mathus,” Truvia said. “Do as I tell you.”

  Maria climbed up on the airlock entry to get out of the way. A few minutes later, there was a puff of debris through the hatch followed by a crowhopper shooting through it. He was flailing, clutching his throat. Not only had he been blown into space, but apparently his suit had been compromised. Death in a vacuum was not pretty. Debris kept spouting through the open hatch until it abruptly stopped. Mathus stopped flailing and floated away.

  “I bet that popped your ears, Truvia,” Maria said gleefully.

  “Mathus was always an idiot.”

  “Yeah, well, he was just following orders from someone who didn’t care if he died or not. You fellows on the bridge listening? Come on. Let’s have a revolt against the Trainers, what do you say?”

  Truvia laughed. “You are truly wasting your breath in the most obvious way, considering you are in a space suit. Legionnaires are loyal to their Trainers, Maria.”

  Maria felt a rush of adrenaline. “Yeah? Well I know a few besides William who got smart. Their names are Absalom, Lucien, Dion, and Crescent. I worked with them, ate dinner with them, had parties with them, and watched them make some money of their own. Some even took wives. Umlaps, it’s true, but females are females. You heard about those fine members of the Legion, gentlemen? Crescent, by the way, was a member of the Phoenix Legion. Life is death. Death is life. Get it? Knock old Truvia in the head there, string up Carus, and come on over to the good life. I’ll see you all millionaires.”

  When nobody answered, Maria suspected Truvia had turned off communications. She crawled up on the ring and looked around for a place where she could defend herself. Then she saw a suited crowhopper stick his arms out of the main airlock hatch, remove the broomstick, and pull the hatch closed. Likely, they intended to fix the airlock and then come after her.

  Maria decided to go along the spoke to the inner core and then down to the lower ring. There were foot restraints there where she could attach herself. She positioned herself in the foot restraints and then kept her eye on the main airlock hatch, although she knew it would take some time to fix it.

  “Maria.” It was her father. “Maria, come inside. We were never going to hurt you. We just wanted to scare you.”

  “Scrag off, Junior!”

  Truvia spoke next. “Maria, can you see the Earth from where you are?”

  “Yes.”

  “It will still be there when we’re through. Just as beautiful. Perhaps more so.”

  Maria gritted her teeth. “How can a destroyed Earth be beautiful?”

  “I suppose it depends on your point of view,” she said, “but, in any case, the light show should be spectacular.”

  “I don’t guess I’ll be alive to see it, Truvia, but thanks for the heads-up.”

  Her father spoke next. “You are in a lot of trouble, young lady.”

  “Junior, you are truly an idiot. Didn’t you just hear Truvia admit she’s going to destroy Earth?”

  “I’m sure she has her reasons.”

  Maria shook her head and swore to herself never to speak to her father again.

  THIRTY-ONE

  The Colonel called a war council on board the fuser Jan Davis. They were ten thousand miles out from the moon, their course set to take them the shortest distance to L5 with periodic bursts of the fuser engines. Normally the Colonel wasn’t the type of leader who let people in on his plans. This was because it was his experience that secrecy made him look smarter than he was. He also sometimes pretended to know things he didn’t know. On this mission the Colonel was uncertain what he knew and what he didn’t, and the meeting was to sort it all out.

  The cockpit of the fuser was not well arranged for meetings. The pilot and copilot sat facing the viewport and puter screens, gauges, throttles, and holographic projections. Behind them were two jumpseats that could swivel. When the Colonel called everyone to the cockpit, Tiger was in the traditional left seat of the pilot, Riley was in the copilot’s right seat, and the Colonel and the sheriff took up the jumpseats. Awkwardly, Tiger and Riley had to turn around and kneel on their seats, holding on to the backs to keep themselves stable in the low gravity. The sheriff, sweating and still sick to his stomach, belted into the jumpseat behind the copilot. For his part, the Colonel chose to stand by, inserting his slippers into the foot loops behind the other jumpseat and gripping its back for stability. The Colonel was aware that a good portion of his mystique was his height, giving him the ability to stare down at people with his deep-set eyes that exuded strength and power.

  The Colonel began with a reminder that he was solely in charge. “People, this mission is mine, just as this fuser is mine. Although Tiger has technical command of this ship, I will decide where it will go and what it will do.”

  When no one chose to argue his point, the Colonel went on. “The purpose of this flight is to get me to the L5 station. I see no reason for stealth. The lack of long-range communications remains a concern. If we had it, I’d be broadcasting all the way that we’re coming to talk to Junior about his assuming the mantle of family leadership.”

  Riley tugged at one of her pigtails. She had braided her hair in zero-g to keep it out of her eyes. “Do ye really think they’d fall for that crock of bull, sir?”

  Tiger nodded his agreement. “If they know we’re coming, Colonel, I think they’ll just blow us up.”

  “In any case,” Riley said, “it’s a moot point, isn’t it? There are no communications.”

  “Yes, Riley,” the Colonel said tiredly, “that’s why as soon as the environmental system is fully functional, we must get communications up and running.”

  “The main comm dish is gone, Colonel,” Tiger pointed out. “Troubleshooting won’t fix that. You need to wrap your head around the fact we aren’t going to be able to communicate with the station until we get closer in. You can’t fix what can’t be fixed.”

  “Once again, Pilot Tramon, try to pay attention,” the Colonel growled. “I will decide what we will do. Although I’m certain you have a thorough knowledge of the fuser and its systems, I do not like a defeatist attitude. We will work on long-range communications.”

  Tiger shrugged. “Roger that, sir.”


  The Colonel glared at Tiger, then continued. “I want L5 painted with the pulsdar so that I know every asteroid, rock, pebble, and warpod that might be hiding there. When we arrive, I don’t want to be surprised by anything. The pulsdar will announce that we are coming even if we can’t talk to them, and, since they know we’re aware our pulsdar is detectable, I’m hoping they will think we aren’t hostile.”

  “Perhaps, sir,” Riley said, “we can communicate with the station by using the pulsdar. Is there a code we might use? We could switch it on and off like the old telegraph.”

  “We could,” the Colonel mused, “but would there be anyone there who could read it? My son never made it past second-class World Scout because he was unable to either build an ancient telegraph or memorize Morse code. It was an early demonstration that he lacked the intellectual capabilities of the majority of the Medaris family.”

  “I’ve got an idea!” Tiger exclaimed. “Perhaps we can reroute our long-range communications link through the pulsdar antenna. It’s not designed for those wave lengths, but we might be able to modify it.”

  “What would that take?”

  “Access to the maintenance ports, some cabling, and time.”

  The Colonel thought over the situation. “All right, here’s our priorities. Environmental systems first, weapons systems next—Sheriff, you and I will check the kinetic and missile systems—and then Tiger, work on your pulsdar antenna idea. Riley, help Tiger, but if you find he doesn’t need you, come and help me. Clear?”

  The sheriff raised a shaky hand. “The toilets don’t work, Colonel.”

  “Use a bucket.”

  “In zero-g?”

  The Colonel shook his head. “Riley, spend a little time on the waste collection system.”

  “Yes, sir. I think I know what’s wrong. It’s a matter of pneumatics. There’s some kind of obstruction. I’ll figure it out.” She headed aft.

  Tiger raised his hand. “When we arrive, Colonel, is your plan to slide up next to the station and talk to your son and convince him to stand down?”