“As independent operators, they took the risks that the Lunar Development Corporation was not willing to take. Isolated by lack of communication and the search for scattered resources, some paid the price of their risky endeavor, losing everything to misadventure. A few paid with their lives, building a frontier-hero mythology around the Runners. Whether heroes or gypsies, the Runners were essential to the success of JVLB. Eventually . . .”
excerpt: “Manned Space: A Study of Sociological Development, Intro.”
“Peter, that is too risky, I cannot allow you to endanger yourself like that. You can’t travel like that in the dark, anyway.”
“What, wait here for your medication to run out so I can watch you die? Or maybe we just starve to death together? Uh-uh, Frans, no way.” I had to smile at the deja vu this conversation was giving me. “No radio, no rover, most of our stuff is gone, even most of your medicine. No way we can just wait. Anyway, you were willing to take off by yourself.”
“I was willing to take an acceptable risk for my future and the future of my fellow runners, and the future of my family. That’s not the same as hiking off into the lunar night, Pete, not even close. You would be risking certain death against a slim chance of a rescue.”
I had to gripe a little.
“First of all, who says it’s certain death, and second, a slim chance is better than none. They won’t think we’re late until sunset reaches them in a couple of weeks, and then they’ll have to wait two more weeks until sunrise to start a search. If by some miracle they drove straight here, it would be two more weeks before they could reach us, and two weeks back home. How long until Ray decides we’re in trouble Out Here?”
“I told him I would contact him within two months.” Frans looked bleak. “He would probably tell a Runner where to find us, but he might give the company our coordinates so they could send a lander.”
“So, they can’t possibly help us for six weeks, at best, and it might be more than two months. How long will the medicine you have left last, maybe two weeks?”
“A month if I split my dose in half. I’m sure I can survive long enough after it is gone.”
“There you go, practicing medicine with your head up your butt. Didn’t Ray almost die over that already?” Dammit, I just have to be stupid sometimes. “Uh, sorry, that’s not what I meant to say.” His answer surprised me.
“No, no, that is fine Peter. You are right. In trying to protect you, I’m risking us both. Let’s talk about your idea.”
“Really, I’m sorry it came out that way . . .” Frans interrupted me with a wave.
“Peter, you must learn to be graciously correct, however clumsily you get there. Now, your idea?”
“Right. Gotcha. Okay, I was figuring how long it would take to hike back to Lunar Base, just as a baseline.”
“Too long, I assume?”
“Way too long. But I got to thinking it would be much closer to reach a Runner as he passed by. If I could average just forty miles a day, I could make it six hundred miles south not too long after sunrise. Then I could just sit in the sun, keep the ‘suit com open, and wait for a Runner to come by.”
“Forty miles a day? How are you going to manage that with a hundred air canisters strapped on your back?”
If the professor wants to talk about possible subjects for extra credit, you’ve already won that argument.
“I’m gonna take your backup compressor unit instead.”
“Oh? How will you power it in the dark?”
“With your backup fuel cell.”
“That is ridiculous. You might be able to handle their combined weight, but they are far too bulky to attach to your surfacesuit. Wait. You thought of that, too.”
I smirked at that. I just couldn’t help myself.
“A sled? No, a wagon or cart would be more efficient. Not the rollagons though, they are too heavy . . .” He started to pace as he worked it out. All I had to do was make encouraging sounds now and then while my PDA recorded it all.
“You sound like an engineer, Frans,” I teased.
“I am,” he shot back, still pacing, “Lunar Base chief engineer at one time.”
I knew Frans had retired from Lunar Base, but hadn’t realized he had been management. That sounded familiar. I opened my research files to the early personnel records and found what I was looking for. The second director of Lunar Base was Vera Gould, and Frans Gould was her chief engineer.
“Frans,” I called. He looked up from the paper he was sketching on.
“Yes?”
“Were you married to Director Vera Gould? Back when you were the base engineer?”
“She was my wife, yes. She was married to her job, though. Why do you ask?”
“I connected the names just now. I was thinking what a small world it is when I remembered something Patty said to me. She mentioned that her grandmother had connections on Lunar Base, and pulled strings for her to get the Programmer/Analyst job. Well, then I thought you’d need some darn high-ranking strings. Like a former Director?”
For the first time, I saw Frans uncomfortable about something. I didn’t let him off the hook; I kept watching him expectantly. After a considerable internal struggle, he grinned sheepishly.
“Peter, that figuring out of people’s secrets is a bad habit. Patty is my granddaughter. I had to promise Vera I wouldn’t tell anyone before Patty could come. Now you have to promise.”
My God, what a relief! Frans was my friend, but I’d been a little jealous of how much attention he gave Patty . . . and she gave him.
“Sure thing gramps. So, is that why you were waiting at Lunar Base when I landed? Waiting on her, but you got me instead?”
Frans nodded.
“And that is why I was there when she crashed,” he continued, “to see her before I left on a run.”
“Why the secrecy?”
“Vera doesn’t want Patty to know that grandfather is a Runner bum. It was why she left me in the first place. Vera decided Patty should never find out who I am.” He smiled, a little grimly.
“Ouch. Well, we’ll get back at the old witch.”
“Peter! That’s rude.” He chuckled. “How?”
“When we get back, I’m gonna talk Patty into being my wife, so she’ll be married to a Runner bum.” We found that very amusing.
It was the only amusing thing for the next twenty four hours. Frans designed a human-powered long range rover using the materials from the station. I froze my butt off searching in the lunar night, gathering the materials he wanted. Frans measured, calculated, and made adjustments while I grunted, sweated, lifted, moved, and froze some more. It was important though, even more now that I knew Frans was Patty’s grandfather. I probably could make it here at the station for a couple of months; I wouldn’t be in good shape, but alive. Frans probably wouldn’t survive.
Frans woke me when he finished with the various hookups, and we went out to inspect the device under the glaring work lights.
“There you are Pete. One Human-Powered Long Range Lunar Rover, ready to go.”
“Damn, that’s a good-lookin’ piece of work, Frans. Mind if I borrow it?”
“Well, it’s the last one I have on the lot . . . but for you, sure.” We made manly humor to buck up our confidence in the face of imminent danger; I had the hilarious urge to scratch and spit.
My idea had started simply. The plan was to hike south until I found a Runner’s rover tracks. If I could get there not too long after sunrise, a Runner should be along within a few days, and even if the Runner didn’t come close enough to see me, the ‘suit coms were good for ten or fifteen miles. The big problem was that surfacesuits were only good for about eight hours before needing a fresh rebreather tank and battery recharge. This meant I had to take along a truck full of tanks, or some way to recharge them. The station used several rover-style recycler/recharger fuel cells. Given electricity, water, and air the fuel cells would make and store fuel, or could produce electricity, air, and water vapor by catalyzing stored fuel. Combined with a gas storage and compressor unit, I could recharge tanks and batteries as I walked.
Both units were as light as technology could make them, but the fuel cell weighed about four hundred pounds on Earth, and the compressor half that. But that wasn’t all, it turned out. I needed some way to recharge the cells, because there was no telling how many days I’d have to wait after sunrise. I couldn’t just sleep on the ground either; in the night I’d freeze to death, and in the day I might overheat. We added a short solar panel for the fuel cell charging, and to be a shade for resting under, and put one of the Luna-bago’s scorched bucket seats under the panel, facing forward. In the end, we had built a huge rickshaw, including a harness for my upper body between the grip rails. The whole thing massed nearly half a ton, but in Lunar G it lifted like one hundred and fifty pounds, which I intended to drag across six hundred miles of airless, extraterrestrial desert. I felt tired just thinking about it.
“Well,” I said as we finished our inspection, “I guess there’s no time like the present.”
“Indeed. Here, let me help you strap in. Remember to use the handles; you are the stabilizing system.”
“And the motor, and the driver, and the in-flight entertainment too. Thanks, Frans.”
“Don’t worry Pete. It’s a good plan. Good luck.”
We solemnly shook gloved hands.
“Remember Pete,” Frans said as he stepped out of the way, “the mass is still there, so it will be difficult to accelerate, but with the friction coefficient down, the momentum will help your progress.”
“Got it. Hard to start, hard to stop.” I reached up and pulled down on the handles, leveling the cart behind me. The handles kept pressing upwards, making me unstable.
“Frans, the balance seems off, can you see how?”
“I will adjust it, just a moment.”
“Okay,” I said.
The cart bobbed then the handles settled into my grip. “There, that’s it, that got it. See you in a couple of weeks.” I turned to wave to Frans.
He was sitting in the seat on the cart, a big smile on his face. I couldn’t help it; I burst into laughter. Frans did too. We laughed together for a few priceless seconds.
“It’s a good idea, huh?”
“Yes it is, and I even improved it a little.”
“Well, I like your improvement, and I’m glad you’re coming. Buckle up. Your chariot is about to launch.”
I set my feet and leaned into the harness. I had a flash of concern; the cart didn’t seem to react much to my effort. Despite my worry, it eased slowly and smoothly forward until I was moving at a brisk march. I guided us out of the station area, and then turned on the afterburners. In moments we were moving at a jog, five or six miles an hour.
“Steer left some, Peter,” Frans called to me, “there is another way out of the valley.”
“Good. I wasn’t looking forward to pulling this thing up that pass we drove through.”
“Just a habit. Runners try not to retake the same path to a good spot.”
As we rolled off down the valley, I looked back at the station. Sparkling purple domes edged everything near them in neon, framed by the ebon on black of the starlit valley. The stars themselves burned clear and clean, not coy and winking as I remembered them from Earth. The beauty of the scene cut itself into my memory. I blinked back tears and felt something change in me; if I survived, I would be back Out Here.
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