KOROLEV CRATER
“Starting descent,” Oberman said.
Trudy saw that the hopper was falling toward the hard, hard ground. Abruptly, a feeling of weight buckled her knees. Then it disappeared as suddenly as it came and she was weightless again. In the soundless vacuum, she heard nothing, but she knew that the hopper’s braking rockets had fired.
Another jolt, longer this time. Then back to falling like a rock.
“You do know what you’re doing,” Halleck said, her voice sounding strained in Trudy’s helmet speakers.
“It’s all automatic,” Oberman replied. “Preprogrammed.” But he sounded uptight, too, Trudy thought.
The ground was coming up faster than ever. Trudy could see the smooth concrete slab that would one day be the foundation for the hundred-meter telescope, and the little hump of dirt that marked the buried shelter.
Weight returned, and stayed. Trudy gripped the handrail and saw the flare of the rocket engine’s exhaust outlining the edge of the hopper’s platform.
Then a final jar, and she felt the gentle gravity of the Moon once more. She swallowed burning bile.
“We’re down,” Oberman said.
“Thank goodness for small mercies,” said Halleck.
Trudy saw that Oberman had landed them about fifty meters from the shelter’s airlock. The concrete foundation slab sat another fifty or so meters beyond that.
“Very well,” Halleck said, “let’s get into the shelter and out of these damnable suits.”
“Right,” said Oberman. Turning to Trudy, he pointed to the ladder leading down to the ground. “Ladies first.”
The three of them trudged to the shelter’s airlock hatch. Oberman leaned a finger on the green pad of its control panel and the hatch slid silently open.
“Only big enough for two,” he said, after a glance inside the airlock.
“Dr. Yost and I will go, then,” said Halleck.
“Nope,” Oberman said. “You and me, Mrs. Aitch. Trudy can wait out here.”
Sudden fear surged through Trudy, close to panic. Stand outside here and wait for them? she thought. What if they don’t reopen the airlock? What if something goes wrong?
Halleck was saying, “Very well, then: you and me, Mr. Oberman. Then Dr. Yost.”
“Right,” said Oberman, gesturing Halleck into the airlock with a gloved hand. Then he turned back to Trudy and said, “Don’t go wandering off, kid.” She couldn’t see his face inside the helmet, but she could hear the smirk in his voice.
* * *
“They’ve gone to Korolev?” Sheer disbelief filled Professor Uhlrich’s voice.
“That’s what Grant Simpson told me,” said McClintock.
The professor’s face looked ash gray as he sat behind his desk.
“But why would they do this?” he asked. “How—”
“They stole a hopper and took off, the three of them, Mrs. Halleck, Dr. Yost, and one of the technicians, Oberman. I suppose he’s flying the hopper.”
“But why? Why?”
“Simpson believes that Mrs. Halleck is the one who brought the nanomachines here, and she wants to get away to safety. Selene won’t take any flights from Farside, so she’s gone to the shelter at Korolev.”
In a ghostly whisper, Uhlrich said, “And she’s leaving us to die here.”
“That’s what Simpson thinks. He’s taken a hopper to go after them.”
“Or to save himself,” Uhlrich muttered.
McClintock said nothing.
The professor sagged back in his chair. “We’re going to die. We’re all going to die.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic, Professor,” said McClintock. “I’m sure Dr. Cardenas will figure this out.”
Despite his words, though, McClintock saw death approaching him.
* * *
Grant knew he was breaking just about all of Farside’s safety regulations as he flew alone across the Moon’s starkly beautiful land. Solo excursions are not allowed: a minimum of two people at all times. The buddy system. Yeah, but we don’t have time to follow the rules.
Why did Halleck take Trudy with her? As a hostage? What’re they going to do cooped up in the shelter at Korolev? Trudy and Halleck and that jerk Oberman. If Nate lays a hand on her I’ll break every bone in his frigging body. Twice.
Over the curve of the horizon he saw the worn, slumped mountains of Korolev’s ringwall. Then the floor of the crater came into view. And there was the hopper, parked between the foundation slab and the rounded hump of the shelter.
Dumbass Oberman didn’t even have the brains to use the foundation as a landing pad, Grant said to himself.
* * *
“Well, this is cozy,” Oberman said, once they had taken off their suits and peeled out of their thermal undergarments.
Trudy looked around and saw that the shelter was identical to the one at Mendeleev, strictly utilitarian: a food freezer; a microwave cooker; a table with four flimsy chairs; a desk-type console with a wall screen above it; four bunks built into the wall, two uppers and two lowers.
The tiny chamber smelled of the sharp tang of gunpowder. Their three space suits hung by the airlock hatch, their boots and leggings spattered with gray lunar dust.
“How long will we be here?” Trudy asked.
Mrs. Halleck blinked at her question. “I don’t really know. I’ll have to call Selene and ask for an emergency rescue flight.”
“Do you think they’d come here?”
“They’ll have to! They can’t leave us here to die. I’m not some anonymous technician. I’ll call the chief administrator of the IAA if I have to.”
Trudy wished she felt as confident as Mrs. Halleck. But she’s an important person, Trudy told herself. She’s right. I’m just an anonymous astronomer, as far as the rest of the world is concerned. But she’s important. They’ll send a flight here to rescue her. And the two of us with her.
Oberman sat on the edge of one of the lower-tier bunks. “Okay, Mrs. Aitch,” he said, pointing to the console and its computer. “You start calling.” With a leering grin in Trudy’s direction, he went on, “I suppose we’ll hafta spend a couple of nights here.”
* * *
Grant landed the hopper squarely in the center of the foundation slab, then climbed down the hopper’s ladder and stepped to the edge of the concrete. He hopped down to the ground in dreamy lunar slow motion and strode toward the shelter’s airlock, kicking up puffs of dust with each step.
Nobody’s going to land a lobber there, he said to himself, with grim satisfaction. If anybody’s going to leave here, they’re going out with me.
He reached the hopper Oberman had used and ducked beneath its platform. It was awkward work in the space suit, but Grant managed to open the liquid oxygen tank enough to start a thin stream of LOX leaking out of it. The cryogenic fluid flashed into the vacuum immediately. Nodding inside his helmet, Grant said to himself, Nate won’t be able to go anywhere with that bird.