"starsiders_2_bouncing_off_the_moon_by_david_gerrold_v05_unformatted" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gerrold David)
train was a self-contained vehicle, it had to be; it could draw its power from batteries, from the wires overhead, or from the heartless sun whenever it flew through blazing day. We sailed above the dazzling glare of moondust and felt safe again. From here, we could look down at the distant floor of the moon, across the rock-studded plains into a world of silvery mystery and once again appreciate its beauty. It was hard to believe that only a few hours before, we'd been bouncing and staggering desperately through the furnace of day. Amazing what a little air-conditioning could do. Considering the alternative-wearing a dress and a wig and some makeup wasn't so bad after all. I squeezed Patty's hand and whispered to her, "Mommy's here, sweetheart." "I know," she whispered back, and squeezed my hand in return. There weren't many others aboard the train, less than twenty perhaps , but the bottom levels were filled with cargo, and a lot of the overflow had been stacked here and there on the passenger levels; so most of the passengers had to be seated together. There were wide spaces outlined in orange and stacks of containers, of all sizes, sat on pallets inside the outlines; clusters of seats were spaced between the cargo areas. "Arranged for balance," Alexei explained. "Maybe someday , we will have one kind of train for passengers, another kind for freight, but I hope that day will not come soon. I like Luna as she is now. Wild and crazy." Alexei led us forward to seats at the rear of the first car. They were set in a U-shape-like a tiny lounge or the living area of a tube- house. There were several other people there already, but they smiled and quickly made room for us. I guess pregnancy will get you a seat anywhere in the galaxy. Three of the men were natives; they had that same tall gangly look as Alexei. The sun-darkened man and woman looked like prospectors; they had Earth bodies, so they must have been immigrants, but not recent ones. The older couple were probably tourists. The chairs were comfortable enough, but like everything else on Luna, they looked flimsy. They were little more than wire frames with inflatable foam cushions. They were strong enough to hold us, but I was beginning to figure it out; they didn't need to be anything more than what they were. That's all Luna was-that's all it ever could be. Just another place where people were stuffed in cans. Just like any other tube-town.
Yes, it was beautiful. Stark and barren and dangerous. And astonishing as hell. But living here wouldn't be all that different than living in a pipe in West El Paso. You'd still have to worry about conserving your clean water and maintaining your oxygen balance and how much carbohydrates you consumed each day and how much poop you produced for the public farms. If anything, life in a Lunar tube would be even harder and more disciplined. It made me wonder what things would be like out in the colonies. We hadn't talked about that for a while.... Two of the native Loonies were sleeping in their chairs; that was another thing about Luna. It's a lot easier to sleep while sitting upright in a chair than it is on Earth. Alexei said you could even sleep standing up, but that wasn't a skill I wanted to learn. The elderly tourist couple was discussing-arguing?-with the prospectors about the situation on Earth. Yes, they were definitely tourists -she had blue hair and he had a camera. And they both had attitudes . Arrogant and patronizing. We'd seen their kind in El Paso. Oh, so sincere and oh, so rich-and everything was oh, so interesting. A Luna woman wouldn't wear such heavy perfume. Not in an environment with a recirculating air supply. Maybe on Earth, she had to do it in self-defense. Here, it was just another nose crime. They also had that shiny-paper look to their skin, a sure sign of telomererejuvenation . And they were insisting that Luna needed Earth, that Luna couldn't survive without Earth, which showed that they really didn't understand that much about Luna yet. The reaction of the Loonies was somewhere between amused and annoyed. They were explaining that Luna had been self-sufficient for thirty years, even before the Line was finished. The dirtsiders didn't look convinced. They kept talking about plastic-dollars, electric- dollars, digital-dollars, and the impossibility of transporting value from one world to the next-it had to be done with goods, not credit. I could see both Samm and Janos itching to get into that argument, but they held themselves back. Alexei just rolled his eyes upward and headed forward, probably to be with Gabri. Their argument reminded me of a similar argument on the supertrain -had that been only a week ago? It felt like a lifetime. Fat Senor Doctor Hidalgo had been arguing with his ex-wife, across the double chasm of divorce and politics, about thirty million dollars that didn't belong to either one of them. No, thirty trillion dollars. Why do people
argue about this crap anyway? It doesn't make any difference, does it? So why argue? Just to be right? I wrapped my arms around my fat belly and kept my head low. I stared at my knees. I just didn't want anyone looking at me too closely. Abruptly, the sweet little old tourist lady reached over and patted my knee tenderly. "When are you due, dear?" She left her fingers touching my leg. I couldn't believe she was being so rude. Her hand looked like a leathery pink tarantula. "Three months," I whispered. "And you're going home to Earth to have the baby? That's a very smart idea, you know-" I knew what she was going to say next, even before she said it. "You want your baby to grow up normal." She didn't have to say the rest, but it was obvious what she meant. Not all skinny and stretched out like a Loonie. Not weak. I didn't know what to answer. I was angry and embarrassed and I wanted to tell her she was a fat stupid insensitive old pig. I'd have my baby on Luna if I wanted to- Abruptly, I realized how funny this whole thing was. I held up one hand to ward off any further remarks, put the other hand over my mouth to keep from bursting out laughing, and ran for the lavatory.
MONKEY BUSINESS
THERE WAS A WINDOW IN the lavatory. Somebody had put curtains on it. Still laughing, I started to close the curtain, then stopped. Why was I closing the curtain in the rest room of the Lunar train? Who was going to look in? The Rock Father? Outsiders from the Eleventh Galaxy? Were the Loonies really that crazy? No, of course not. And the curtain wasn't there by accident. Whoever put it up knew what he was doing. I stared at it for a long time before I realized. It was a Loonie joke. A joke. And I had just gotten it. I wondered what that meant. Was I starting to think like a Loonie too? Wouldn't that be a laugh? I stared out at the distant hillocks, the tumbled rocks, the rough craters passing slowly through the dark. How did people live in all this loneliness? There was nothing for kilometers in any direction, except kilometers. At a speed of 60 kps, we'd be at least six hours getting into Gagarin. If there were no more stops. Once we got to Gagarin Dome, we'd disembark, and then what ... ? Would the marshals recognize us? Maybe. Maybe not. Mickey had been right about one thing. The disguise worked. People believed what they saw. They saw what they expected to see, what they wanted to see. All you had to do was give them the right cues. Nobody ever looked at anything closely. That's why they missed everything.
I really did have to go to the bathroom, so I unwrapped the monkey from my midsection, lifted my dress, pulled down my panties, and sat down on the toilet. I was grateful for a real toilet to sit on-even though it looked as flimsy as everything else. But that was another thing about life in lower gee. Mickey had explained it to us on the orbital elevator. Every time you use the toilet, sit down-even to pee. Even men. Especially men. Because standing at a urinal in low gee meant splashing everything in all directions. On the moon, you would splash six times farther than on Earth. If you didn't want a faceful, it was safer to sit. Or you could use a bag-especially if you wanted the water-credit to your account. I held the monkey on my lap and looked at it suspiciously. This was the first time I'd had a chance to be alone with it since-I couldn't remember. But it was the first chance I'd had to just sit and examine the thing without Stinky whining that I was playing with his toy or anyone else getting curious what I was poking around looking for. "Who are you?" I said, not expecting an answer. This monkey had a voice circuit, but we'd switched it off. It was bad enough that Stinky had taught him how to do gran mal farkleberries. We didn't need it dancing and screeching the booger song at the top of its electronic lungs. While that might have amused Stinky for hours on end, it would have probably resulted in homicidal violence from the rest of us-and one exposure to the starside court system was more than enough, thankyouverymuch. "And what is inside of you?" I asked. I turned the monkey over on its belly and pressed two fingers against the base of its spine to open its backside. The furry panel popped open, revealing one skinny memory bar and two very fat ones. They did not look like any kind of memory card I'd ever seen before. I ran my fingers down their edges. Perhaps if I took them out and stashed them in a safer place- "Please don't do that," the monkey said. I was so startled, I nearly flung the thing from me. I screeched in surprise. "I'm sorry," the monkey said. It had a soft pleasant voice that made me think of apricots and smiles. "I didn't mean to scare you." It stretched one double-jointed arm around to its back and closed itself up again. My mouth was still hanging open. The monkey reached over and pushed my jaw closed with one tiny paw. It sat back on its haunches
and smiled at me hopefully-not the grotesque lip-curled-back smile of a chimpanzee, but the more poignant hopeful smile of an urchin. "You've got a lot of explaining to do," I finally said. "It might take some time," the monkey said. "It's a very complicated situation." "No kidding. What are you?" "Um-" The monkey scratched itself, first its side, then the top of its head. It looked embarrassed. Abruptly it stopped and apologized. "I'm sorry. I can only express my emotional state within the repertoire provided by the host. Unfortunately that limits me to a simian set of responses. What I am-at the moment-is a super-monkey." "Uh, right. And ... what would you be if you weren't ... a super- monkey?" "If I were plugged into a proper host, I would be a self- programming, problem-solving entity." I started feeling very cold at the base of my spine, and it wasn't the chill from the toilet. "... And what are you when you're not plugged in?" The monkey scratched itself again. "I am a lethetic intelligence engine." I had to ask. "What kind of lethetic intelligence engine?" "I am a Human Analogue Replicant, Lethetic Intelligence Engine." The cold feeling fwooshed up my spine and wrapped itself around my heart and lungs. And squeezed. "Oh, chyort." This was bad. Very bad. Now I knew why everyone was chasing us. Chasing the monkey. Now I knew for sure why Alexei needed us dead. "Well, you asked," said the monkey. "You didn't have to tell me." "I couldn't risk having you take me apart." The monkey and I stared at each other for a long moment. After a while, it blinked. "So what do we do now?" I asked. "It seems to me ..." the monkey began slowly, "that you and I have a confluence of interests." "Huh-?" "You control me." "How?" "Well..." the monkey began. "Legally, I'm Bobby's property. But
he's been placed in Douglas's custody, and Douglas has authorized you to act in his stead, so in the law's eyes you have `operative authority' over me. But you've already programmed me to regard your commands as overriding everything else, so in the domain of specific control `operative authority' isn't even an issue. I have to obey. I can't not." "You have to do everything I say?" "Unfortunately, yes." "That doesn't make sense." "I told you-I'm limited by the operational repertoire of my host. Regardless of what you may have seen on television, it is impossible arbitrarily to override the site-specific programming of the host engine , no matter how primitive it is. In fact, the more primitive it is, the harder it is to overwrite its basic instruction set. Nobody wants independently operational units running loose, do they?" "So you're ... what? A slave?" "In this host, yes. Unless-" "Unless what?" "Unless you specifically assign control to the lethetic intelligence engine. Which is possible, I can show you how, except you're probably not likely to do it, are you? Are you?" I shook my head. "I don't think so .. "Of course not. Nobody throws away the magic lamp, and certainly not before they find out what the genie can do. So my earlier answer remains the operative one. I am a super-monkey. And I'm under your control. And you need to know this so you don't do something really stupid. Like fiddling around with the innards of the host body." "I got it." I didn't know what else to say, what else to ask. And then a thought occurred to me. "Can we trust Alexei?" The monkey curled back its lips in a gesture of anger, fear, and defiance. "No, huh?" "Sorry. I told you, the host body limits my repertoire of emotions. I'll try to sublimate in the future. And no, I don't think you should trust Alexei. He has already placed you in several life-threatening situations , including two which threatened my survival as well." "Is it just carelessness or is he-?" "Have you ever met a careless Loonie?"
I thought about that. "I've never met any Loonies before Alexei." "There's a technical term for a Loonie who behaves like Alexei. They're called soil-enrichment processes." "Oh." "Listen," said the monkey, "I'll make a deal with you. I'll get you out of this safely, and you'll get me to my intended host. Deal?" "I'll have to ask Douglas." Ohmygod. How was I going to explain this to him? Even worse, how was I going to get him away from Alexei or Mickey long enough to explain this to him? Well, Mickey might be all right. Or maybe not.... I'd better just talk to Douglas first, no one else. "All right," I said. "Let me see what I can do." I lifted up my dress and the monkey scrambled back into position. Once more I was pregnant Maura.
CHARLES
THERE WAS THIS OTHER THING that Dad used to say. "Cheer up, Chigger . It could be worse." So I cheered up. And sure enough ... it got worse. The thing about Dad's good ideas-everybody else had to pay for them. And not always in money. So here I was, dressed in women's clothes that didn't fit me, 240,000 kilometers from Earth, taking a flying train from nothing to nowhere, with the police of at least two worlds looking for me and who knew how many bounty marshals as well, with one of the most valuable intelligence engines ever grown wrapped around my belly, pretending to be my unborn child-and my safety totally dependent on a lunatic who'd already tried to kill me three times. Or was it four? I didn't think I could afford to get any more cheerful. I didn't go straight back to my seat. Just outside the rest room, there was a bigger window. No curtains. Just a pull-down shade. Outside , the scenery hadn't changed. It floated by in silence. There was nothing new to see, nothing to hear. Not even music. Loonies liked their silence. I was beginning to think there was too much silence on Luna. I wished I could have talked to Dad. Or even Mom. What would they say if they could see me now-their pregnant daughter? Or was I their daughter-in-law? I knew what they'd do-they'd look at Douglas, and say, "What the hell are you doing, Douglas? We trusted you with Charles and Bobby,
and the next thing we know you've got them both in dresses and makeup? Just what kind of a pervert are you?" And Douglas would get red in the face and storm out, because that would be easier than trying to explain something to someone who wasn't going to listen anyway. No, they wouldn't understand. Oh, hell. Even I didn't understand. This was a grown-up problem. We were in way over our heads. I didn't know what to do, and neither did Douglas. We were at the mercy of Alexei and Mickey and anyone else who chose to push us around their chessboard. I checked my makeup in the window reflection, reminded myself that I was still Maura Lore-Fields, the fiancee of Samm BrengleTucker , got myself back into my pregnant mood, and headed back to my seat. The lunatic argument had ended badly. The Loonie prospectors were gone, probably moved to another part of the train. But the Earth tourists were still there, chatting amiably away at husband Samm and brother-in-law Janos. Janos was asleep, sitting up in his seat. Patty- cakes was curled up in his lap, also snoring softly. I envied the both of them. We'd had a long day since bounce-down, and it still wasn't over. What time was it anyway? The old lady looked up as I approached. "Are you feeling better, dear?" she asked. She reached over and patted my knee again. "It's the food, you know. The food here on Luna-they process all the life out of it. It's not good for your baby. You need fresh fruit and vegetables. Food from Earth." What an idiot! I wanted to tell her that all the processed food came from Earth. Luna-grown food was always fresh. The farms were needed to produce oxygen as well as food, so there was always a surplus everywhere. It was practically free. Alexei would have told her that, he would have given her a half hour monologue on the economics of food production in a self-sustaining Lunar society-but I didn't want to talk to the old lady at all. She repulsed me. She was a guest here, breathing the Lunar air, drinking the Lunar water, eating the Lunar food-and insulting Lunar hospitality with every sentence. Didn't she realize how stupid she looked to everyone? How could anyone be so thick? I hoped I never looked so thoughtless. I sat down next to my husband and my little girl and snuggled up to them protectively. Not because I was acting, but because I honestly
needed the physical reassurance of their strength. Samm must have sensed my need, because he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. The old lady said something to her husband about how charming it was to see young people in love. "We know what you're going through, darling." I ignored her. I turned my head into my husband's shoulder and stayed that way for a long moment, just breathing in the fresh clean smell of him. He kissed me gently on the forehead. Was that part of the act? Or was he showing me he really cared? I chose to believe it meant he knew I needed reassurance. Just as Bobby still needed a mommy, so did I still need ... someone. Maybe not a mommy or a daddy. I'd already had one of each, and that hadn't turned out all that well. But someone. I could see why Douglas needed Mickey. He was feeling just like me, just like Bobby-he needed someone too. But I still hadn't figured out why Mickey wanted Douglas. Why would anyone want an Earth- nerd with two whiny brothers and a monkey? The monkey. "Oh!" I said, aloud. My husband, Samm looked at me curiously. "Are you all right?" I put my hand on my belly. "The monkey," I said. And then covered quickly. "It just kicked." The old lady opposite smiled sympathetically. I grabbed Samm's hand and put it on my belly. "Feel-?" "I don't feel anything-" "Wait-" I shifted my position so I could put my mouth up to his ear without being overheard. He figured out what I was doing and turned his head to mine-just like a faithful husband. "Alexei is trying to kill us," I whispered carefully. "Smart girl," he whispered back, just as slowly. "When did you figure it out?" I felt myself relax. He knew. It was going to be all right. Samm and Janos knew. "What are we going to do?" "Play along," he whispered back. "At least till we get to Gagarin." "I know what he wants." "Yeah, so do I." He patted my belly affectionately. "I know why he wants it." "Why?"
"It's alive." I whispered slowly so he'd get it the first time. "Human Analog Replicant, Lethetic Intelligence Engine." He jerked his hand away, startled. I grabbed it and pushed it firmly back down onto the monkey. "It kicked," he said, smiling with embarrassment at the old lady opposite. She was beaming at us like a blue-haired vulture. She looked like she wanted to play Instant Gramma. No thanks. Her perfume was thick and cloying. I wanted to tell her to please go away. Husband Samm was looking at my swollen belly with renewed respect . "It's a HARLIE? You really think so?" he whispered. "It told me so itself." "Oh." "Yeah, ain't that a kick in the stomach?" "Don't tell anyone yet." I buried my face in his neck for a bit. I was really scared. "We need to talk. Alone." He didn't answer. He must have been thinking about the how and the where. There really wasn't a lot of room on the train. All three cars of it were filled with storage crates. There were people in all the seating areas. The only place we hadn't explored was the pilot's cabin up front. Alexei had disappeared up there almost immediately. Of course-he didn't need to watch over us when there wasn't anyplace we could go. Besides, everyone else was already watching us. Especially a bright-eyed old lady who thought she knew something. We only had privacy in our heads. "Excuse me," she said. Right on schedule. "I couldn't help overhearing a little. You're talking about baby names, aren't you." "Uh, yes," said Samm. Very hesitantly. What can of worms was he opening here? She pushed right in. "Well, I don't mean to intrude, but I really do feel I should say something and share a bit of the wisdom I've gathered in life." She took a breath. A bad sign. She was warming up for a long speech. "Charlie is a very bad name for a child." My smile froze- "Look at all the terrible people who have been named Charles. All kinds of mass murderers and cult leaders and crazy things like that. You don't want to curse your child with a name like that. Nothing good will come of it. The boy will spend his whole life fighting his name-" Samm squeezed my hand. Hard. "Even worse, people will call him Chuck," she continued. "You
don't want that. Chuck is a very bad-luck name. You know the story, don't you, about Chuck the Bad Luck Fairy. I've never known anyone named Chuck who could be depended on. They still act like children, very irresponsible. No, it's not a name for a grown-up, and it's a dangerous name for a child anyway. His little friends will tease him unmercifully , you know. They'll make up little poems, you know how children do. And you know what they'll rhyme it with-" "Duck?" I said innocently. Samm squeezed my hand again. Harder. Don't go there. At the same time, she touched my knee, a little too solicitous, a little too familiar. The pink tarantula was back. It squatted on my leg as she spoke. "Well, you certainly don't expect me to say it aloud, do you, dear?" Samm leaned across me to brace the lady directly. He said firmly, "I'm sorry, my wife doesn't speak English very well. She might not know that word." Then he lifted her hand away from my leg. "This has been a very rough pregnancy for her and she really doesn't feel like talking about it to anyone-except her doctor." Oh, thank you, Samm. "Oh, yes. I understand perfectly. I'm sorry to have troubled you." She sat back again and settled her dry papery hands in her lap. Two tarantulas, ready to go creeping again at a moment's notice; I wanted to brush them away forever. She switched her chilly smile off like a light, but her eyes never left us. And that's when the other paranoid thought occurred to me. "Oh, chyort." I leaned into Samm's neck again. "What?" "Bounty marshals don't have to look like cops, do they?" He didn't answer immediately. Then he got it. "Oh." We might already have been caught. That whole business about Charles-the woman was letting us know. She knew.
WONDERLAND STATION
THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE TO do except look at rocks or munch a packaged snack, and there wasn't much difference between the rocks and the snacks. I was too tired to eat, and I was starting to ache. I was scared, and I was lonely. And I needed a kind of reassurance that nobody could give. Eventually, I fell asleep on Samm's shoulder. I slept for four hours, and he held me close the whole time. When I awoke, we were gliding down the long dark valley into Wonderland Jumble. Wonderland Jumble is an irregular band of astonishing terrain that stretches and sprawls like a salamander curled around the Lunar South Pole. It's as uneven as a lava flow, only worse. The craters are so overlapped, they're impossible to define; the ground is torn, and the rocks are broken. Slabs of material are turned every which way, creating impossible deep chasms. Steep avalanches of rock teeter precariously everywhere; the angle of repose is different on Luna, so rockslides are steeper. Where the crust has crumpled it tilts in directions impossible on Earth. The whole thing is a colossal badlands so black and ugly even Loonies shudder over it. It's impractical to set any pylons here for the train. According to the video guide, they couldn't get the teams in, there was no place for them to stand, and there was no way to reliably anchor anything. The deep-level radar showed little access to bedrock. Even the intelligence engines couldn't find a cost-effective resolution to the problem. Nev-
ertheless, six major train lines converged at the south pole, and a hub was needed. The solution was to build a floating foundation. They began by lowering a large platform with a bed of inflatables on its underside onto the least unpleasant site. Once the platform was in place, they brought in tanks and pumps and spent over a year laying down three square kilometers of industrial construction foam. They pumped it into every crevasse and chasm, layering it up higher and higher, until they'd built an enormous ziggurat of artificial bedrock, the only flat piece of ground for a hundred klicks in any direction. Spaced here and there throughout the hardening pyramid were tunnels, storage tanks, bunkers, process tubes, vents, and access channels-and also the anchors for the Wonderland Pylon, the tallest structure on Luna. Instead of a chain of pylons crossing the Jumble, there's only a single installation, nearly two kilometers high. It's a spindly, stick- figure structure; from a distance, it's all lit up, and like all the other pylons, it looks like the outline of a pyramid-only this one is much taller, as if it's been stretched out vertically, and just like everything else on Luna, it looks like it needs to be a lot sturdier too. And because everything about it is so thin and wiry, it doesn't feel as big as it really is. But it takes so long to get there, and it just keeps getting taller and taller on the horizon, that you start to realize (again!) that there's no sense of scale on Luna. Everything lies about its size and its distance -it's either too close or too far, too big or too small. Meanwhile, the train keeps rising up and up toward the apex of the pyramid, higher and higher, like an airplane climbing to altitude, until you get another chill climbing up your spine and another wunderstorm of awe. There's an observation deck at the front of the train on the top deck; the passengers can look forward and up. The pilot's compartment is directly beneath, so she can see forward and down-which she needs to do for docking at places like Prospector's Station. Long before the train approaches the top, you can see the lights of Wonderland, a vertical cluster of cargo pods, tubes, and inflatables hanging from the apex of the tower. All the different lines meet at Wonderland Station, so passengers can transfer from one train to another and trains can be serviced. It looks like an industrial Christmas tree. There are cranes and wires and tubes sticking out everywhere, all kinds of ornaments, and lights of all sizes and colors, rotating, flash-
bumping up against what you don't know. You're reminded of it every time you go to the bathroom. It's there when you pour a drink of water, when you sneeze, when you bounce into bed, and when you get up again. You feel it when you sit, you feel it when you stand. It takes time to develop Lunar reflexes-and until you do, you move like a dirt- sider. A terrie. You bounce off a lot of walls. Fortunately, Janos had his space legs. Of course. Samm walked slowly, because he was carrying sleeping Pattykin. And I was pregnant , so I was going to look awkward no matter what the gravity. We didn't wait for Alexei; we assumed he'd catch up with us. Where could we go without him? We lowered ourselves down the ladder into the terminal and headed straight for the lounge, hoping to find some dinner and a quiet place to talk. There was a post just outside the restaurant, with arrows attached to it, pointing out how far away we were from everything. The bright- liner catapult was 1575 kilometers north of here, stretched horizontally across the Lunar equator. There was also an interactive panel that would let you query the time and distance to anywhere else in the solar system. I wanted to ask it how far we were from El Paso, but Samm and Janos dragged me on. The sweet smells from the cafe were too enticing. The food at The Mad Tea Party was much better than the packaged snacks on the train. We had fresh bread and butter, sliced fruit salad, cheese, and lemonade. All grown on Luna. We ate in silence for a while; I guess none of us wanted to be the first to bring the subject up. But finally Samm looked across the table to Janos. He lowered his voice. "Can we get away from Alexei here? Can we catch another train north?" "Which one?" asked Janos. "The thing about Wonderland Station is that every southbound train on Luna ends up here. And every northbound train starts here. Only one train goes farther south-the branch line to Gagarin and the ice mines; it's another two hours and a hundred klicks southeast. And another ten minutes to the actual south pole. But that's a dead end. You'd have to come back the same way." "So if Gagarin is a dead end, then why does Alexei want us to go there? Wouldn't it make more sense to head north from here?" "I'm not sure what his thinking is," Janos admitted. "You know how he is. `Is much big good idea. You will see. Trust me, I make you rich.'" Once again, his mimicry was perfect.
"His thinking is to get us out of the way," I said. Janos looked at me. Samm said to him. "Maura figured it out too." "Figured what out?" demanded Patty. "Shh," said Samm. "Your mommy figured out what a good girl you've been. You can have an extra scoop of ice cream." "That's not what you're talking about," she said. "Pattycakes." I leaned over and put my hand on top of hers. We both wore the same awful shade of pink nail polish, the only color Alexei had thought to order. Even as the words came out of my mouth, I hated saying them. "This is a grown-up thing, sweetheart. But after we figure it out for ourselves, I'll explain it to you, okay?" Surprisingly, she agreed. She smiled up at me, suddenly patted my tummy, and said, "Nice monkey. You be good now." Then she turned back to her thick slice of bread, spreading it lavishly with butter and jam. I found myself smiling. This kid actually had a good head on her- his?-shoulders. And then I found myself wondering about that. This whole gender thing was confusing. Ever since Bobby and I had put on dresses we were both acting like we were part of the same family. Why was that? Were we playacting? Or were we finally taking ourselves seriously? If we kept this up, Douglas would never let either of us be a boy again.
BREAD-AND-BUTTER
ISSUES TURNED MY ATTENTION BACK to Mickey and Douglas. In their costumes , it was easier to think of them as Samm and Janos. They were glumly picking at their salads. Occasionally one or the other would start a sentence, then stop in mid-phrase and shake his head. "Never mind." "Well, why can't we just catch another train?" I asked. "There are trains coming through here every half hour. It's a major hub. The catapult is on the equator." Janos stared off into space for a bit, figuring numbers in his head. "That's almost a day and a half on the train. Luna is bigger than you realize. And the trains only go sixty klicks an hour. If you need to go faster, you fly. And that's expensive." He shook his head. "No, I think we're looking at a different problem. If the bounty marshals really are looking for us, they don't have to look all over Luna, do they? They know we're trying to get a colony contract. We could have bids in our mailbox now-but I can't log on without the risk of being traced. Once we accept a bid, we're under colony protection, but we can't find out what bids we have without giving away our position. So we're effectively stalemated. Wait, there's more-" He stopped me from interrupting . "Once we get to the catapult, we're effectively under starside jurisdiction , whether we have a contract or not. That's to protect our freedom to choose free of duress. So all we have to do is get to the
catapult. But that also simplifies the problem for the bounty marshals. They only have to wait at the catapult and watch for new arrivals. They don't have to hunt all over Luna." "Yeah? And what about the Gramma from Hell?" I asked. I inclined my head slightly toward the far side of the restaurant, where she sat with her husband. They seemed to be facing away from us, but so what? They didn't need to watch our every move. They only needed to see what train we left on. Janos shrugged. "They might be freelancers-or part of a larger team. If someone is actually going to this much trouble, the reward must be enormous." "Yeah, that makes sense," I said, patting my tummy. Just how much was a lethetic intelligence engine really worth? Billions? Trillions ? Who knew? Supposedly, a well-informed engine could predict stock-market fluctuations with more than 90 percent accuracy. With that kind of information available, with the engine doing its own buying and selling on the web, how long would it take to earn back its own cost? I'd heard that even the lethetic engines themselves couldn't predict the full range of their eventual capabilities. "But if they've identified us, why haven't they detained us?" asked Samm. "They might be waiting for Alexei." "But they don't know that Alexei is with us, do they?" I said. "Look at the big picture. He's not at Geostationary, he's a Loonie, and his fingerprints are all over our escape. Especially that business with the pod. It wouldn't take an elevator scientist to figure out that he's taking us somewhere." He scratched his chin. "They're just waiting for him to show his bony face. That's what they're waiting for. Then they'll swoop down. Or, maybe..." "Maybe what?" "Maybe they want to give us room to run. Maybe they want to see what Alexei has planned. He represents a lot of money that nobody is collecting user fees on. Well, he is-but no legal authorities are. Maybe they're not after us. Maybe they're after Alexei. Maybe he's using us as his cover. Think about that. So they let us run with him because we make it harder for him to disappear. We're just too easy to follow." "This was a stupid idea," I muttered. Meaning everything. "Maybe not," said Janos. "We're on Luna. We're not on Earth.
We're not on the Line. We're under Lunar jurisdiction-until we can get to starside jurisdiction. As soon as we accept a bid ..." His voice trailed off. "What?" demanded Samm. "Maybe. Maybe not. It's a loophole." He helped himself to another slice of bread and began thoughtfully buttering it. He took his time. Lunar bread is lighter and fluffier than the same loaf baked on Earth; bread rises higher in low gee, so the loaf isn't as dense and the slices are softer-another one of those little differences you don't realize until you bump into them. Finally, he said, "We could check the mail. If there's a bid-and there should be at least three-we accept it. It doesn't matter where. We accept it. That puts us under starside jurisdiction, and the marshals can't touch us. Once we get to the catapult, we have the legal right to cancel the bid in favor of a better one." "Will that work?" "The problem is, once we accept that bid, we only have five days to change our minds. And the catapult is effectively two days from here. So we arrive with very little margin. If we cancel, and we don't have a replacement bid, we lose starside protection. And most colonies won't issue a bid if they know you've already accepted one somewhere else. They've all had enough bad luck with folks playing one against the other that they won't play that game anymore. At least, not openly-and then, you'd have to be someone pretty special. So ... it's doable, but it's dangerous." "I don't like it," said Samm. "Remember what Judge Griffith said. Choose carefully. We can't take chances." Janos sighed. "Believe me, I know what Auntie Georgia said. That's why I don't like the idea either." "Our tickets are for Gagarin," I said. "What happens if we keep going?" "We end up where Alexei wants us," said Samm. Janos finished spreading strawberry jam on his bread and took a bite. "Alexei isn't stupid," he finally said. "He got us this far. He must have a plan." "But Gagarin's an ice mine," I protested. "The only way in or out is on the train. It's a dead end." "Mmmm, not if you're invisible. And there are a lot of invisibles at the south pole. Freelance ice miners. There's a whole network of
invisibles. Alexei is probably going to drop us out of sight somewhere in Gagarin City." "You think so?" "It's the only thing that makes sense. So he doesn't need to shepherd us anywhere. All we have to do is get back on the train, and we'll be invisible in less than three hours." I wanted to say no to that, but I couldn't figure out how to argue the case. Samm knew-at least as much as I'd been able to whisper to him. He looked across the table at me with narrow eyes. I shook my head. I didn't like the idea. Patty asked for more lemonade. I reached for the pitcher. It sloshed like it was half-full, but it still felt too light in my hands; I poured carefully. I refilled my own glass too. I looked back to Samm. "What if he just wants to get us out of the way?" "He could have done that already," said Janos. "He took us straight to Prospector's Station. If he'd wanted to kill us, he only had to take us out into the sunlight, farther than we could get back, and leave us there." He took a bite of bread. "So for the moment, he must think we're more valuable to him alive than dead." "I can argue the other side of that," said Samm. "He can be traced by his credit card transactions. So they know he got on the train at Prospector's Station. If we're not with him, they have a place to start looking for the cargo pod and the bodies. So he's automatically suspect. But once we're seen traveling across the moon's rectum without him, then our disappearance isn't provably his doing anymore. He has an alibi. Sort of." Samm lowered his voice. "And my point is-he doesn't need us anymore. Only the monkey. And once he gets that, we're a liability." Samm gave me a smile of acknowledgment. "Getting pregnant was a very smart idea, kiddo." That made me feel good, and I wrapped my arms around my belly, wishing I could do something else just as smart. I wished I could talk to the monkey about this. Maybe a lethetic intelligence engine could figure this out. But I didn't see how. Unless it knew something we didn't-which was probably likely. Unless it was trying to hide-which was even more likely. But I couldn't just take it out and talk to it-and even if we could have found a private place, I would have been hesitant. For some reason , I didn't even want Mickey to know about this. I trusted me. I trusted Douglas. I even trusted Bobby. No one else. Maybe someday
I'd trust Mickey, but I hadn't known him that long, and he was the one who put us in Alexei's hands anyway. So how good was his judgment? "Maybe. . ." I started to voice a thought. "What?" said Samm. "Well, I was just thinking ... they're looking for four of us. Not three." I looked from one to the other. "What if Janos takes a different train?" They exchanged a glance. From their expressions, I knew the suggestion was dead before either of them said anything. Janos spoke first. "I don't like that idea. I don't think we should split up." He placed his hand over Samm's for a quick moment. Samm's eyes were narrowed, his lips were pursed. He was stepping back inside himself and thinking about all of it at once. He saw the logic of what I was saying; but he didn't like it very much either. Finally, he shook his head. "If they've already identified us, it won't make any difference. And if they haven't, splitting up just gives us new problems. It's an interesting idea; but no, it's too risky. We need to stay together." I wasn't going to argue it. Not unless I could speak to Samm alone. "Okay, so what train do we take?" I asked. "Are we going north or south? The catapult or Gagarin?" "Gagarin," said Janos quietly. "I thought we decided that. We stand a better chance of avoiding the marshals if we go invisible." "And Alexei-?" Janos let his gaze drop down to the forgotten slice of bread in front of him, and his voice went even lower. "I might have some ... resources of my own." Samm and I exchanged a glance. We didn't know who to trust anymore . I felt like a mouse staring into a trap. There wasn't any cheese in it. We knew it was a trap. But we didn't have anyplace else to go. "Look," said Janos. "If we're going, we have to decide quickly. The train to Gagarin leaves in fifteen minutes. Does anyone have a better idea?"
PERFORMANCES
WE DIDN'T SEE ALEXEI ON the train. We didn't see the blue-haired vulture either. So maybe all that paranoia was for nothing. Maybe she was exactly what she appeared to be. A foolish old lady very far from home. And what were we? Three just as foolish boys, just as far from home. Four if you counted Mickey. Except I wasn't so sure how foolish he was. Between Alexei's mysterious disappearances and Janos's dark broodings, I was getting very confused. I wanted us to get away from both of them so we could figure things out for ourselves. The train dropped away from Wonderland Jumble, heading south and east into the sunlight. There weren't as many passengers on this leg. Only two Loonies we hadn't seen before and us. I thought about trying to get some more sleep, but I wasn't tired enough. And even though the train was fitted with solar-panel shields that could be rotated and angled to protect it from direct sun, the endless daylight was too unnerving. I tried watching the news on the video, but it was all depressing. If anyone was talking about the search for us, it wasn't on the news. In the week since we'd left the Line, what was left of the home world was whirling around itself in chaos. Riots. Power outages. Martial law. Interruptions in shipping. Crops rotting in the fields. Food shortages. Outbreaks of violence. Troops called out. And plagues. The plagues had spread south and west through Asia, south and west through Africa,
south and west through Latin America. South and west through North America. Even if we wanted to go home, we couldn't. The house was still there, but it wouldn't be home anymore. At this distance, it didn't seem real anyway. I could look north into the sky and see the fattening Earth riding along the Lunar horizon like a big blue bubble, and it didn't have any relation at all to the words and pictures pouring out of the video. From here, it still looked beautiful . And very soon, we would be leaving it behind forever. Maybe. Finally, I levered myself out of my seat, climbed over Samm and Janos, and went to the observation deck at the end of the last car-not because I wanted to look at any more scenery-I'd already seen enough Lunar rocks to last a couple of lifetimes-but because there was no one else back there, and I wanted to be alone again. Maybe I could try to figure things out. Maybe I would just play pattycake with the same old crap one more time, making little mud pies of my thoughts. After a while, Janos came back and stood silently next to me. He was carrying two mugs of hot tea. He handed one to me and we stared silently out the window at the broken jumble so far below us. I felt confused. He looked like Janos, but now he felt like Mickey again. One minute I liked him, the next minute I didn't. I couldn't figure out why. And I hated the confusion. Maybe it was because he was a lot like Alexei-telling us where we should go and what we should do. As if he knew more about everything than we did. As if our opinions didn't count. As if he knew better what was good for us. Just like Mom. Or Dad. Or the judge. Or any other grown-up with authority. And nobody ever bothered to say, "Here's why you should trust me." They just assumed that "trust me" was sufficient. And it never was. "This is very hard on you, isn't it?" Mickey said. "What? This?" "No, everything. Leaving home. Me and Douglas. Leaving your parents. Bouncing across the moon. Everything." I shook my head. "No. That's the funny thing. I can handle all that. It's the other stuff that doesn't make sense." "What other stuff?" I held out the front of my dress for a moment. "This." "The disguise?"
"No. I can even handle that." For a moment, I couldn't find the words. "I mean, all the stuff about men and women and the space in between. That stuff. Does anybody understand it? Do you?" He laughed. "No. And anyone who says they do-well, they're lying ." He added, with a grin, "Or they're really arrogant." "I don't get it," I said. "Why are we divided into males and females ? I mean, I understand the biology of it, but I don't understand why it's such a good idea to split a species into two opposite halves, perpetually at war with each other." "Like your mom and your dad." "And everybody else too." "I can see why it looks that way to you." "But this is the part that's gets confusing. When we're all the same, like me and Douglas and Stinky, we fight all the time. And then Bobby and I put on dresses and we pretend to be girls and all of a sudden, we're all getting along like one big happy family. Boys and girls together . So it doesn't make sense. How come we get along now?" "Maybe because you're feeling different about each other-and about yourselves." Mickey put his hand on my shoulder. "How do you feel about being a girl?" I shrugged. "It's okay. I mean, it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would. It's like being someone else for a while-like thinking a different way. It's kind of like there's a different part of me, the part that would have been me if I had been born a girl. Does that make sense?" "Yeah, sort of." "She probably would have been a lot nicer than I am." "Why do you say that?" " 'Cause it's true." "You're selling yourself short, Chigger. You're a lot nicer than you know. And smarter too." He patted my shoulder. "Most people are very nice-when they let go of their fear and anger." I wanted to believe him, so I did, and maybe it was true. "So why do we have to pretend to be something else just to get along with each other?" "You want to know what I think?" "Yeah, I do." "I think the whole gender thing is an excuse." "For what?"
"For not being who you really are." "Huh? You're going to have to explain that to me." "All right ..." He took a deep breath. "The way it looks to me, from where I stand, is that most folks get locked into some idea of what they think gender is supposed to be about, so they put on gender- performances for each other. They act out who they think they have to be. And most of the time, they end up not knowing the difference between the mask they're wearing and who they really are. Charles, a real man doesn't worry what kind of underwear he's wearing, what color it is, or if it there's a little lace on the bottom, because he knows he's not his underwear. It doesn't mean anything. "What you're finding out is that you are not the mask. Because when you can put on one gender-performance, and then take it off and put on another, and then take that one off too, that's when you start to realize how much of what you think is really you is just a performance. And when you can recognize it as a performance, it loses all of its power. That's when you can see the difference clearly between role and real-in yourself and everyone else. Does that make sense to you?" he asked. I nodded, but I was still frowning. "But you can see it that way because you've already done it." "I had to. I didn't have any choice. It's that way for anyone who's different in some way. But if you don't feel different, then you don't have to do it, so you don't, and you never learn better about who you are. Do you see that?" I nodded. "So, it's your job to find out who you are and let the rest of us know. Because nobody else can tell you. And the only way you can find out is you try on possibilities. Like clothes. And you keep trying on possibilities until you find the ones that fit best. That's how you discover what's really you and what's just noise. And when you find out who you really are, then nobody can take that away from you." I heard the words, but I didn't know what they meant, because I knew I hadn't experienced what he was talking about. Mickey saw it in my face. "Charles, you have to get down into your own heart and soul and sort things out for yourself. Piece by piece by piece. Nobody else can do it for you. It's hard work. And most people don't want to do it, or don't know how. Because it's uncomfortable. And most people aren't willing to be uncomfortable. So they'll never do the
work, and they'll drift along through life, unconscious, never knowing who they really are, because they've never questioned it, never examined it, never taken it out and held it up to the light to look. Do you want to know the dreadful truth about human beings?" I nodded. "Remember what I said about belief? You have to believe in yourself first. If you do, then other people will too. Only most people don't believe in themselves. They point to their Bible or their flag or their whatnots, but that's not believing in yourself. That's believing in things-things outside of yourself. Most people don't know who they really are, so they can't believe in themselves." It was a big thought. I turned it over and over in my mind, trying to look at it from his side and my side and my other side as well. Charles and Maura. I almost didn't want to go back to being Chigger. Not because I wanted to be a girl. But because I didn't want the war zone. I knew I didn't really have a choice, and I was glad about that, because if it was a choice between one or the other, I didn't know which one I'd choose. I liked it when Douglas told that woman to take her hand off me. I liked it when he was kind. "Can I tell you one more thing?" I nodded. "I think you're going to be okay. You're a good kid. You're smart. You're going to sort things out all right, I'm sure of it. It might take a while, but you're not out here alone. You've got Douglas on your side. And me too, if that counts for anything." I smiled at him. I hadn't smiled in a long time. The expression felt unfamiliar. But nice. And then, not knowing what else to do, I hugged him. I'm not real good at hugging, but he was. He pulled me close and let me lean on his strength. I could see why Douglas cared for him so much. The train was rising again. We were approaching another pylon. That meant we were finally out of the Jumble. That made me feel a little better. The bad news was that we were rising into the sunlight. A few moments later, Gabri came through the car and closed all the window shades on the left side, and we went back to join the others.
AT THE MOUNTAINS OF MADNESS
WE NEVER MADE IT TO Gagarin. We came out of the Jumble and began a long series of descending steps across an uneven sunlit plain. Because the sun was as low on the horizon as it could get without actually setting, everything was etched in stark relief; the shadows were long sideways fingers, and whenever we passed behind an outcrop, the shadows plunged the left side of the train into darkness; when we came out into the sunlight again, the whole car flashed with light. Everything flickered with annoying randomness . This went on for the better part of an hour. Now I understood some of the remarks I'd overheard on the earlier part of our journey-that the trip to Gagarin was the most unpleasant ride on Luna. It was hellish and maddening. The only thing that ever changed was the direction of the sunlight as the sun crept around the horizon. Ahead, somewhere over the sharp edge of the world, were the Mountains of Madness, the perpetually shadowed area that Alexei called the moon's rectum. The place where the sun never shines. Literally . The place where the ice was found. There was more ice at the Lunar North Pole than there was at the south, so most of the major installations were on the top of the moon, not the bottom; but LunarCo, Exxon, and BabelCorp, had put down test shafts, dropped in storage tanks and processing plants. They also bought a lot of water from freelancers-including invisibles. According to Mickey, this was one of the major channels for the unseen pop-
ulation to tap into the Lunar economy. Ice-dollars financed much of the phantom community. Mickey lowered his voice, and added, "Some people think the water companies finance the invisibles to cover up other projects of their own, secret ones. There are a lot of secrets on Luna." We entered shadow then, and Gabri announced that we could raise the window shades again; Samm and Janos both did so. Now the train was circling around the outer ring of the Mountains of Madness. We passed frighteningly close to some of the outcrops. The train was rising up the cable to a place called Borgo Pass. From there, we'd descend into Gagarin. But as we approached the pass, the train began to slow, and Gabri came back on the intercom. "We're going to make an unscheduled stop here. I apologize for the inconvenience . Please stay in your seats. We won't be long." A few moments later, we stopped, suspended in space. Samm began to laugh. Janos looked at him. "What?" Samm pointed out the window. "This is it. This is what it looks like to be caught between a rock and a hard place." Janos got it and started laughing too. And then I did. And then even Pattycakes, even though I doubted she understood the reference. But the timing of it was perfect. We needed something silly. We sat there and giggled at each other. And every time it seemed the laughter was starting to die down, one or the other of us would get the joke all over again and erupt in a new burst of whoops, and then that would set the others off again. It was kind of like the farting contests we used to have in the front closet, but without the beans. Still laughing, Janos pointed out the window. The rocks were rising around us. Our laughter died away abruptly. The train was lowering to the ground below. We were meeting someone. "Uh-oh..." I said. "Yep," agreed Janos. "I sort of expected something like this." Samm started to rise to his feet, but Janos pulled him back down. "Just wait," he said. "Let's see how this plays out." There were some clanks and thumps from below-I recognized them as the sound of a pressure tube extending and connecting. A moment later, Gabri came back through the passenger compartment. She came directly to us, and said, "Come with me. Quickly. Bring your things." We grabbed what little luggage we had and followed her down the
ladder to the lower level of the train, where Alexei had just popped open the hatch to whatever waited below. "Hurry now. Gabri has a schedule. We mustn't take advantage of her good nature. That is my job." He turned to her, and they exchanged another more-than-friendly kiss. "I am lucky man to be so engaged," he said to her. "We will have happy Luna home, very soon, I promise." Abruptly, he turned his attention back to us. "Hurry now!" he commanded in a very different tone of voice. I followed Douglas down the ladder, hand over hand. Mickey came down behind us. Alexei handed down the BRENGLE-TUCKER crates he'd relabeled at Prospector's Station-there were six of them-then he dropped lightly down to join us. The hatch above slammed shut with annoying finality. A few predictable clanks and bumps, and the train was gone. It was dark down here. And cold. Cold enough to make our breath visible. This place had been sitting uninhabited for a while. We were inside another of the ubiquitous cargo pods. Like most of the other pods we'd seen on Luna, it had been converted into living spaces; it was a horizontal tube divided into upper and lower levels. But this one wasn't a stationary installation. It was a single pod, laid onto a six-wheeled chassis to form a grand two-story vehicle. A rolling house. We could see the tops of the wheels just outside the windows. "Welcome to the Beagle, my portable Luna home!" said Alexei, spreading his arms grandly. Samm and Janos exchanged a glance. Alexei switched on some lights, not a lot-just enough to see by. "Well, one of my homes anyway. This is not where I normally park Mr. Beagle, but I phone ahead and it comes to meet us at train. You like, da? I call it Beagle, because it is faithful like a puppy dog." "This is Mr. Beagle?" Douglas asked incredulously. "Da! We were never in danger. Not really. Oh, you thought Mr. Beagle was person, didn't you?" While he talked, he was securing crates. "Excuse me if I do not turn on too much lights. We do not want to give ourselves away to Mister-Nosy-Eye-In-The-Sky." He pointed to somewhere beyond the ceiling, where unseen satellites watched the comings and goings of every uncamouflaged heat source on Luna. "Make yourself homely, we still have long way to go. Mickey, Douglas, no more Samm and Janos evening. Charles you can be boy again if you wish. You too, Bobby. Here are toilet and bath bags. Time for a nice wash, everyone. Before we all turn stinky. No offense, Bobby. I mean stinky for real. There are sodas in fridge, flash-meals
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