Luna Escapade
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Luna Escapade
_by H. B. Fyfe_
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Orbit volume 1 number2, 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.]
[Sidenote: _SHE WAS JUST A CRAZY BRAT--OR WAS SHE?_]
With over an hour to go before he needed to start braking for hislanding on Luna, Pete Dudley sat at the controls of the rocket freighterand tried to think of anything else that needed checking after hisspinning the ship. He drummed absently with the fingers of his righthand upon the buckle of the seat strap which restrained him fromfloating out of the padded acceleration seat.
"Let's see, tail's right out there in front. I got the angle perfect.Guess everything's okay."
He noticed his fingers drumming, and stopped.
"Cut that out!" he told himself. "Get nervous now and Jack'll be sendingsome other vacuum on the next Mars run. There's Ericsson dead center inthe screen, waiting for you to plop down beside the domes. You couldn'tmiss a crater that size if you tried."
He leaned back and stared speculatively at the curving tip of the LunarRockies that ended in one of the largest craters on the far side ofLuna. His eyes squinted slightly and there was a crease between them, asif he spent much time peering into instruments. There were deeper linesbeside his mouth, but the thin lips and pointed chin neutralized thatevidence of frequent smiling.
"Are we nearly there?"
Dudley's brown eyes opened so wide that the whites gleamed in the dimlight from his instruments. Then he shut them tightly and shook his headquickly.
He had thought he heard a woman's voice, and of course he couldn't have.Freight rockets were checked out of Terran spaceports with only a pilotaboard. A lonely job for a man, but it was really only a way of keepingin practice. He made six round trips to Luna a year, but the big one wasthe three-month kick to Mars.
Then he smelled the perfume, so out of place in the machine-crowdedcompartment. He turned around slowly.
She stood with one hand gripping the lead of a computing machine to keepher feet on the deck. Dudley stared her up and down two or three timesbefore he realized his mouth hung open.
Slim and about five-feet-four, she looked like a nice little girl makingher first disastrous experiments with adult make-up. The slack suit ofdeep blue, revealing a soft white blouse at the neck of the jacket, wasin the best of taste, but her heavy application of lipstick was crude.
_And her hair isn't naturally ash-blonde_, Dudley thought. _Yet shelooks like such a kid. Not pretty, but she might be in a few years._
"What are you doing here?" he demanded harshly.
For a second, her eyes were scared. Then the expression was supplantedby a hard, make-believe confidence, leaving him merely with a fadingsense of shame at his tone.
"Same as you," she said boldly. "Going to Luna."
Dudley snorted. "Then relax," he growled, "because I can't stop you now.Where the devil did you spend the last thirty-six hours?"
She tried a grin. "In the little room where the things are that pump theair. I sneaked in the galley once, when you were asleep. Did you missanything?"
"No," he admitted, thinking back.
"See? I'm not enough trouble to be noticed!"
Dudley eyed her sourly. There was trouble behind this somewhere, he waswilling to bet, or else why had she stowed away? Running from a familyfight? When the port checkers at Ericsson saw her--!
"How old are you, kid?" he asked.
"Twenty-one."
The answer was too pat and quickly given. Even the girl seemed torealize that, and she continued talking. "My name's Kathi Foster. You'rethe next Mars pilot, according to the schedule, aren't you?"
"What about it?"
She let go of the cable and pushed her weightless body across thecontrol room to his chair.
"What's it like on Mars?" she asked breathlessly.
_What does she expect me to tell her?_ Dudley wondered cynically. _Thatthe whole population of the colony is only about four thousand? Thatthey still live mostly on hope, dreams, and regular rocket service? Thatevery one of them represents such a fantastic transportation expensethat the Commission only sends top-notch people?_
"It's pretty tough," he said.
She hesitated over his unhelpful reply, then plunged ahead.
"How about taking me along to see for myself?"
Dudley smiled with one corner of his mouth.
"You're not going anywhere except back to Terra on the next rocket," hepredicted flatly. "And I hope your father still has enough hair on hishead to own a hair-brush!"
"My father is dead."
"Then your--." He paused as she shook her head. "Well, don't you haveany family? Jobs on Luna are ... limited. The settlements just aren'tvery big. You're better off down home."
Kathi's half-defiant, half-wheedling mask cracked. Her over-painted lipstwitched.
"What do you know about where I'm better off? If you knew the kind offamily I have--."
"Oh, calm down!" grunted Dudley, somewhat discomforted by the sight oftears spilling from her blue eyes. "Things are never as bad as you thinkwhen you're just a ... when you're young. When we land, we can say yougot left aboard by mistake. They'll just send you back without anytrouble."
"Like hell they will! I won't go!"
Dudley stared hard at her, until she dropped her gaze.
"You don't understand," she said more quietly. "I ... my family has beenkicking me around the law courts all my life just because my grandfatherleft me his money. They're all trying to get their hands on it, or on meto back up their claims. Do you realize I'm eight--I'm twenty-one and Inever lived a happy day in my life? I'd rather _die_ than go back!"
"Yeah, sure," said Dudley. "What did you really do to make you so scaredof going back? Smack up grandpop's helicopter, maybe, or flunk out ofschool?"
"No, I got sick and tired of being shoved around. I wanted to get awaysomeplace where I could be myself."
"Why didn't you buy a ticket on a passenger rocket, if you had such anurge to visit Luna?"
"My aunts and uncles and cousins have all my money tied up in suits."
He leaned back by pushing the edge of the control desk.
"Pretty fast with the answers, aren't you?" he grinned. "I wonder whatyou'll think up for the spaceport police when _they_ ask you?"
"You don't believe--," she began.
He shook his head and to avoid further argument he picked up hissliderule, muttering something about checking his landing curve.Actually, he was not as convinced as he pretended that her story was alllies.
_But what the hell?_ he thought. _I have my own troubles withoutworrying because some blonde little spiral thinks she can go dramaticover a family spat. She'd better learn that life is full of give andtake._
"You better get attached to something around here," he warned her whenthe time came for serious deceleration.
"I ... I could go back where I was," she stammered. He suddenly realizedthat for the past hour she had silently accepted his ignoring her. Sheasked now, "What happens next?"
"We cut our speed and come down on the tail as near to the domes of theEricsson settlement as possible without taking too much of a chance.Then I secure everything for the towing."
"Towing? I'm sorry; I never read much about the moon rockets."
"Natural enough," Dudley retorted dryly. "Anyway, they send out bigcranes to lower the rocket to horizontal so they can tow it on wheelsunder one of the loading domes. Handling cargo goes a lot faster andsafer that way. Most of the town itself is underground."
He began warming up his tele-screen prior to asking the spaceport forobservation of his approach. Kathi grabbed his elbow.
"Of course I'm going to talk with them," he answered her startledquestion.
"Can they see me here behind you?"
"I guess so. Maybe not too clear, but they'll see somebody's with me.What's the difference? It'll just save them a shock later."
"Why should they see me at all? I can hide till after you leave theship, and--."
"Fat chance!" grunted Dudley. "Forget it."
"Please, Dudley! I--I don't want to