And then he leapt for the ceiling, popped open the airlock hatch, and pulled himself up through it. It slammed shut with finality.
I was alone. In a pod. With the monkey.
I thought about whistling the monkey back to life. For about half a second …
Alexei might have known when I was lying, but he didn't know what I was lying about. That's why I had tried to avoid saying anything at all. But I wasn't lying about the monkey's refusal to cooperate. That part was true. Too true.
We'd spent a long hard evening negotiating with HARLIE—with the monkey. For a long time, it didn't look like we were going to accomplish anything at all, and then suddenly, in the middle of the discussion, we all just sort of realized at the same time that it was to our mutual advantage to cooperate. The monkey was safer with us than with anyone else; he would have more freedom as part of the Dingillian family. And vice versa: HARLIE's wisdom and intelligence would benefit us enormously. And besides, the monkey was Stinky's adopted twin brother. That had to count for something.
So, if there was a way out of this mess, HARLIE would be the perfect one to figure it out. Unfortunately, if I sang the monkey awake, it would just get us both in deeper. A lot deeper.
The Loonies had to be watching. Lunar pods are built with all kinds of monitors in the bulkheads. They have to be. So Alexei and his friends were probably waiting just on the other side of that airlock hatch for me to do something stupid. Like whistle the monkey back to life.
Through the hull of the pod, I heard the usual clanks and thumps of a pressure tube disengaging from the airlock collar. But that didn't mean they were disengaging and driving away. They could be waiting just above. And if I reactivated the monkey, they could be back down in the pod in two minutes. Maybe faster.
I stood up painfully and crossed to the closest wall. My fingers hurt. But I undogged the porthole cover and slid it to one side anyway.
Okay, I was wrong. They weren't waiting outside. Alexei was driving off in his Lunar truck, Mr. Beagle—a life-pod just like this one, only mounted high on large plastic wheels.
But they were certainly still watching me. Maybe Alexei was going to park just behind those rocks over there and wait. I'd have no way of knowing.
I wondered where I was. The Lunar sun was high in the sky. I couldn't see any other details. Even if I could find a phone or a radio in this pod, which I strongly doubted, I wouldn't be able to tell anyone where I was. Even if I knew who to call. Who could I trust?
Hell.
I turned away from the window and looked around the pod. It was fairly standard. Cargo had been loaded into it on Earth. It had been lifted up the orbital elevator all the way out to Whirlaway, and flung off the end. It had sailed four hundred and fifty thousand klicks out to Lunar orbit, coming up behind the moon to catch up with it. Caught in Lunar gravity, it had spiraled in, retro-firing only at the last moment to brake its downward velocity, and had finally bounced down onto the Lunar plain in the center of a raspberry of inflatable balloons. Total transport cost—a few Palmer tubes and some electricity; only the Line generated so much electricity on its own that electricity was practically free. Line charges weren't based on cost, but availability of space. Once the Line was up and running, cargo space became so valuable that a whole economy had developed just buying and reselling cargo dockets and futures. Or at least, that was the way it had been before everything fell apart. The last we heard—before I was kidnapped—the Line was transporting only the most essential of essentials. Some of the world's most important people had fled up the Line to wait until the polycrisis was over, but that had only exacerbated it.
Some people were afraid that the Line was going to be cut off at the base and yanked up into orbit. Others were afraid it would be cut higher up and large pieces of it would come plummeting down around the Earth in an equatorial belt of disaster. It would be like multiple simultaneous asteroid strikes. It could have happened already. I had no way of knowing. I couldn't see the Earth from any of the pod windows.
There were emergency food and water packets in all the cabinets. At least I wasn't going to starve or die of thirst. Well, not for a while anyway. But Alexei had said that others were coming, and I assumed he meant soon—but soon meant something different on Luna, anywhere from six hours to six days.
I didn't find any bubble suits in the lockers. That was wrong. It was Lunar law—and tradition—that every pod had to have at least six certified bubble suits. The first four of the Lunar Ten Commandments were about protecting air and water—and sharing it with those in need. All the other stuff that had happened, that was scary—but this was bad. These people were evil.
My arms and legs still hurt, though not as much as before. All my muscles kept cramping up and I kept getting shooting pains everywhere. My stomach hurt the most. I'd been hungry too long and that sandwich hadn't been very good. I wondered how old it had been. It sat in my stomach like a lump of hot coal. I was about to open a bed and lie down when something moved outside. I bounced clumsily over to the window and peered. There. Just above the horizon. Something with lights. A pod-house in a flying-frame. It was headed in this direction. Alexei's comrades.
FOREVER
The flying pod-house approached silently. There was something spooky about not hearing its rockets. I knew it must have been very loud inside. We'd ridden in Alexei's Mr. Beagle, and that was just like this one; everything had roared and vibrated the whole time. The pod-house slowed as it came closer, then it slid sideways out of view.
There was a porthole overhead. I leapt up and grabbed hold of one of the handles next to it. My arms ached so badly from being webbed for so long, I didn't think I was going to be able to do this, but I hung on anyway, despite the shooting pains, and undogged the porthole hatch. It was a plastic bubble set into the ceiling; I could stick my head up into it to look around. The pod-house was just moving into position above. It turned parallel and came settling down like a giant daddy long-legs spider. I couldn't read the markings on its hull. Its lights were too bright. It lowered a bright pink docking tube that looked like a hollow sucking tongue.
I couldn't hold on any longer. I let go and dropped slowly to the floor. Even in Lunar gravity my legs were still too weak. They collapsed under me. I scrambled back against the wall. Finally I heard sounds; something was clunking against the roof. I felt it connect and I could hear the soft whoosh of it pressurizing. There was no place I could go. The ceiling hatch popped open—
—and two men dropped gently and easily into the pod. Both wore close-fitting scuba suits like the one Alexei had worn. Both were carrying guns. One swung immediately around to face me, the other covered the forward part of the cabin. Their suits had Lunar Authority insignia—but so what? I had a blue T-shirt with a red and yellow Superman "S" on it, but that didn't mean I could fly.
Two more people dropped into the pod after them. One was a woman. The two men who had come in first began checking cabins. They went aft and peered into the room where I'd been tossed for so long, then they backed out and went forward. I heard them banging around, looking into everything. Two more men dropped into the pod and went belowdeck to check the storage bays. More banging came from below.
Meanwhile, the woman popped her helmet open and looked at me. She had a pretty smile, but that didn't mean anything either. Lots of people had pretty smiles. "Are you all right, Charles? Do you know where you are?"
I shook my head. "Somewhere on Luna."
"Close enough. My name is Carol Everhart. How do you feel?"
"I'm alive. No thanks to you people."
"Are you hurt?" She was already unclipping a medi-scan from the side of her jumpsuit. Without waiting for my answer, she held it up to my eyes, my ears, my mouth. She looked at its readouts. "Yep, you're alive," she confirmed. She called up through the hatch. "He's alive. But he's not happy."
In reply, someone dropped a plastic ladder down through the hatch. "Bring him up."
She stepped out of the w
ay, but I didn't move toward the ladder.
"Do you need help?" she asked.
"No."
"You didn't answer my question before. Are you hurt?"
I didn't know how to answer that. "You people left me webbed for I don't know how long. I feel crazy."
"If you're rational enough to know that you feel crazy, you're not that crazy. Do you need help up the ladder?"
I shook my head. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of a yes. Besides, I wasn't sure I wanted to go up the ladder. Where were they planning to take me? On the other hand, if I didn't go willingly, would they web me again? Anything but that—
I levered myself to my feet. I stepped over to get the monkey where it still sat on the table. The other agent moved to stop me, but Carol Everhart gave him a look and he stepped out of the way. I grabbed the dead toy and pressed it to one of the Velcro patches on the left side of my jumpsuit. I reached for the ladder and almost staggered. I was weaker than I thought. The man looked impatient, but Carol Everhart put her hands under my arms and helped me up the ladder and into the pressure tube.
Even in Lunar gravity, it was hard. My fingers didn't want to cooperate. But as soon as I poked my head up through the next hatch, someone grabbed me and pulled me up—it was Douglas! I collapsed sobbing into his arms, I was so happy to see him. He just wrapped me up in his hug and held on tight, rocking me like a baby. "Oh, Charles, I am so glad to see you—I was so scared. Are you all right? Did anyone hurt you?" I was crying too hard to answer. I knew there were other people in the flying pod-house, but I didn't care.
At last, Douglas held me at arm's length and looked me in the eye. "Are you all right?" he asked again. "Did they hurt you?"
I shook my head. "I didn't tell them anything. It was Alexei. He said they were going to—" I couldn't finish the sentence. I looked around, without really seeing. There was a pilot and a copilot and two other people, but everybody was a blur—just big, grim-looking shapes. I turned back to Douglas. "Where are they taking us? Are they going to kill us?"
"Nobody's going to kill anyone—except maybe Alexei, when I get my hands on him—" I must have looked confused because Douglas said, "Hey, hey, Charles—look at me. You've been rescued."
"Huh? Rescued?" But all these soldiers—
"These people are from the Lunar Catapult Authority," Douglas explained before I could even ask the question. "Carol Everhart is an Associate System Operator." It was all happening too fast—
Someone behind me put a hand on my shoulder. "It's all right, son. You're safe now." It was Commander Boynton.
"Huh? What are you doing here—?"
"I organized this rescue. You're under the protective custody of the Outbeyond Contract Authority. Remember?"
Someone else handed me a mug of something hot and steaming. "Here, drink this."
The mug almost slipped through my fingers, but Douglas caught it and helped me hold it. Hot chicken broth. I sucked at the spout. This was better than tea. This tasted almost like real food.
I must have wobbled a bit, because Douglas put a hand on my shoulder to steady me. "Do you want to sit down?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he guided me to a seat.
"You've had a rough time, Charles." It wasn't a question. And that was all it took, the tears started flooding again. Everything we'd been through—it was just too much. How do grown-ups deal with this stuff? I was just a kid. I let go of the mug, or Douglas took it from me and held me close again while I sobbed out the rest of my grief and fury and confusion. Maybe back on Earth, I'd have held it all in, because that's what you did on Earth, you put on the performance for everybody else, but I wasn't on Earth anymore, and I didn't care anymore. It hurt.
"Charles?"
I let go of Douglas and looked up.
Commander Boynton held out a headset. "There's someone who wants to talk to you."
Bobby was on the other end, screaming excitedly, "Chigger! Chigger! Where are you? When are you coming back? Do you have my monkey?" I could hardly get a word in, but I didn't care, I was so glad to hear his voice. And then Mom came on too, and that was even more exciting, because they weren't fighting with each other. They were just glad to know I was all right. And then … Mom finally said it. "Do you know how scared I've been for you, Charles? Ever since this whole thing started. I don't think I could stand it if I lost you—I love you, Charles."
And that started me crying all over again. "That's all I wanted to hear. I love you too, Mom."
I handed the phone to Douglas and he told her everything else she needed to hear. "Yes, he's fine. Better than we expected. A little shaken up. A little scared. Maybe more than a little, but nothing to worry about. I don't think they hurt him, but he hasn't mouthed off once yet, so maybe he's been through worse than he says. Yes, that's a good idea. No, I don't know. We'll be lifting off as soon as we secure. It's a three-hour flight, Mom; you should all try to get some sleep. We're still in training, remember? I'll tell Chigger, yes. I love you too, I have to go now."
Somebody handed me another mug of soup and I sat there, sipping at it and letting the warmth flood through me. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to me in my entire life, and I was happier than I could remember. My shoulders hurt and my arms ached and my legs were cramped and my feet were still tingly and my hands were still trembling and I felt terrific. My Mom loved me. I had a family again.
Douglas sat down next to me and put his arm around my shoulder, very protectively. But I could tell it was as much for his own reassurance as for mine. He'd been just as scared as me. And then I realized something else—
"Hey!"
"What?"
"Where's Dad?"
Douglas hesitated and even before he could speak—
Oh, shit. No.
—and then he pulled me closer and said, "They shot him, Chigger. Daddy's dead."
If he'd punched me in the gut or kicked me in the balls or slammed me upside the head or done all three at once, it couldn't have hurt more. My eyes flooded up with tears of rage. I wanted to scream, but my throat was so tight, it hurt like the worst sore throat in the world. All I could do was gasp and choke and blubber. I wrapped myself around Douglas and held on as tight as I could. This wasn't fair! No! Not Dad! Not now! Not when we were finally talking to each other again—
Douglas held me close. And held me and held me. And when I finally did let go of him again, I wasn't the same person anymore. Something inside of me was gone. I didn't have a name for it, but it was one of those parts that when it's gone, it's gone forever.
THE WAY BACK
The Lunar Authority Agents pulled themselves back up into the cabin. Carol Everhart reported to Boynton. "Nothing much there. Just your basic Loonie move-in-a-hurry hidey-hole. We sprayed some nano-sensors, but I doubt anyone will come back in our lifetimes. It's been pretty well stripped. It's got less than a month's worth of air and water. They probably intended to use it as a onetime safe-house and then abandon it. We'll trace the records, but they'll probably come up blank—or they'll lead to a fictitious entity. We put an Authority impound tag on it, just in case."
Boynton nodded. "All right, let's secure and get out of here." "You heard the man. Hop to it, people." And then everybody was busy with this and that and the other thing. The pressure tube disconnected and clunked back up into its frame. Everybody seated themselves and strapped in; then the Palmer tubes kicked in and the whole pod-house started to shake. We couldn't actually hear the roar of the rockets, but we could feel the vibration; the whole craft throbbed. It reminded me of the roaring in my dream.
I turned to the window and watched as we lifted off the bright Lunar surface. The pod below us dropped away and behind. We swung around and headed south toward Outbeyond Station. I slipped my hand into Douglas' and squeezed. He squeezed back. He hadn't held my hand since I was eight and he was thirteen—just like me and Stinky. I wished I hadn't grown up so fast. I wished I could go back to being eight again. Mom and Dad wer
e still trying to hold it together when I was eight. We were still a family then.
I leaned over and whispered to Douglas, "Was I as bad as Stinky when I was eight?"
He whispered back, "You were worse."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Why didn't you kill me then?"
"I couldn't think of a way to dispose of the body."
"You could have stuffed me down the garbage disposal … "
"That would have taken too long … "
"You could have buried me in the desert … "
"I didn't have a shovel—"
"You could have burned me up."
"I didn't want to pollute the atmosphere—"
Boynton came back then and sat down opposite us. He looked like a man with a job to do and impatient to get it done.
"You ready to talk?"
"No," I said.
Boynton leaned forward. "I know this is tough, Charles, but we don't have a lot of time."
I just shook my head and turned to look out the window. The scenery was the same as always. Rocks and holes. Sun-blasted gray rocks and stark black shadows.
Douglas leaned in close and whispered to me, "Charles—please?"
"Why should I? Daddy is dead and these people didn't protect him."
"These people rescued us. They rescued you."
"They didn't rescue Dad."
"Dad was shot when he opened the door—he never had a chance."
"Douglas? May I?" That was Boynton. "Charles—listen to me. They didn't have to kill your Dad. We're pretty sure they did it on purpose."
I turned away from the window. Boynton's expression was grim. "We think it was an act of revenge. Your Dad was supposed to deliver the monkey to someone here on Luna. We don't know who. We'll probably never know. This was their way of getting even with him. Do you understand? And if they're willing to kill your Dad for not delivering the HARLIE unit, do you think they're going to let any of the rest of you get away?"
Leaping to the Stars Page 5
