Escape Velocity: The Anthology (5 page)

Zuggyzu had it all worked out. He would unplug the wire from the detector and send his own message to the computer instead. Once the humans decoded it, they'd understand how close they were to runaway global warming. Even better, they'd have the formulas for nice clean, safe nuclear fusion. It was so easy to save a planet.

Pedro thought it wonderfully appropriate when the astronomers bawled out the chorus from
The Fool on the Hill
.

      
Finally, Dr. Reid's computer beeped and he displayed the image they'd just taken. “Blue meanies!”

      
Pedro and Anne came over. Instead of a pretty image of two colliding galaxies, the screen was covered with random dots.

       “
I never see this before,” said Pedro. “I call the duty engineer, yes?” He picked up the house phone and punched in a number.

      
Claire, the engineer, arrived five minutes later. “What's up?”

      
Dr. Reid pointed at the screen. “What is that?”

      
Claire's eyebrows went into orbit. “Mind if I have the keyboard?”

      
Dr. Reid moved over and Claire checked the detector. Temperature in range, responding to network messages – all completely normal, except for an image that resembled a piece of modern art. “I'll take a look in the dome,” Claire said.

      
As Zuggyzu struggled to reconnect the cable, something grabbed him round the middle. His appendages recoiled into his spots in his startle reflex.
Oh no
, thought Zuggyzu.
Oh no!

      
Zuggyzu felt himself lifted up, and carried along. He seemed to be in a human hand, but he didn't dare poke his eyes out to look.

      
Pedro was relieved when Claire came back so quickly. She said, “Some joker's been playing around with the instruments and left this behind.” She lifted up something furry, but Pedro didn't bother to look closely. “And a Coke can I can recycle. Anyway, I fixed a loose cable, so let's try another exposure. How about Saturn?”

      
Pedro moved the telescope again. Saturn blazed on the screen, and only needed a ten second exposure. Everyone stopped breathing while the data read out and displayed ... one pretty picture of Saturn. Pedro had never enjoyed the rings so much.

      
Dr. Reid said, “So it's fixed. Ok, back to our galaxies, Pedro. Anne, delete the duff file. Pity it wasn't a message from the aliens. I could fancy the Nobel Prize.”

       “
Right,” said Claire, “I'll go hang this up in my car.”

Zuggyzu felt sick. He had failed. He was trapped. He was going to die.

      
The hand carried him, swaying in great arcs. They seemed to be going down steps. He heard a door creak, and then felt cold air flowing past, so he must be outside. Another door, metal this time, and the hand left him dangling in space. He heard the human leave.

       “
It's OK. She's gone,” said a voice. He poked his eyes out. A female of his species dangled beside him, along with something green.

      
His companion said, “Are you the rescue team? I've been here for months.”

       “
But what do you eat?”

       “
This,” she said, pointing at the pine-tree car-freshener hanging beside them. It smelt delicious.

       “
Why have they hung us here?”

       “
I don't know.” Her spots turned a puzzled violet. “They call us fuzzy dice. They don't seem to realise that we're sentient at all.”

      
Zuggyzu sighed. “No. Humans only see what they expect to see.”

A Smaller Step

Michael Anderson

The two astronauts waited patiently in the main corridor on the west side of the station, dressed in pressure suits and carrying helmets.

      
One of them sat on a metal bench; the other stood at the door to the Ready Room and peered through the glass porthole, watching the activity inside.

       “
What are they doing?” asked Matthews.

       “
They have a lunar map spread out on the table. They're studying it and talking about something.”

       “
Talking about what?”

       “
Hell if I know, Rick. I don't speak Russian.” Walt Davis peeked through the window again.

      
Matthews sipped from a small container of orange juice and shrugged. “They probably want to go on a rock hunt. This is the first time Russians have been allowed up to Lunar One since it opened. They don't have too many moon rocks.”

      
Davis gave up spying on the cosmonauts and joined his partner on the bench. “Maybe we should take them over to site R-6. There's a good representation in that area. They can collect all the friggin’ rocks they want.”

       “
They don't look like geologists to me.”

       “
Who do you think they are, then?”

       “
Could be your typical black-bag types,” said Davis. “Probably sent up here to check out the base.”

       “
Should we do anything?”

       “
No. If they got this far, they passed the security clearances. Just keep an eye on them.”

       “
Good idea. Those two give me the creeps.”

      
A few minutes later, the two Russians finally emerged from the Ready Room. They were dressed in dark blue coveralls with the initials of the Russian Federation stitched on the pockets. Both were about thirty years of age and wore serious expressions.

      
One of the Russians offered his hand. “I am Alexei Gordonov, and this is Mikhail Greshchenko. I can speak English fairly well, but I will have to act as interpreter for Mikhail.”

      
Matthews returned the handshake firmly. “Rick Matthews. I'm your rover driver. This is Walt Davis from the lunar science team. We have orders to take you out from the base, but no one has said where you want to go.”

       “
It is about sixty kilometers from here,” said Gordonov.

      
Davis interjected. “Are you joking? Sixty kilometers! No one has been more than ten klicks from this station since it went operational!”

       “
He's right,” said Matthews. “What you ask is dangerous. If we drive out that far and have a problem with the rover, rescue could be impossible. It's extremely risky.”

       “
I am told your lunar rovers can travel over two hundred kilometers on a full battery charge.”

       “
Well, yes...”

       “
That's not the point,” Davis interrupted angrily. “He said that if something went wrong we could be in serious trouble. We've been out in the rover more than twenty times in the last three months. We buried our axles in some loose dust on one trip. We had to wait for the B-team to pick us up. When they finally found us, we were down to our last fifteen minutes of oxygen.” He paused, and then added, “We were only six kilometers from the base that time, too. You want to go ten times that distance. Impossible.”

      
The four astronauts stared at each other in silence. Finally, Greshchenko said something to Gordonov in Russian. It sounded like a question.

      
Gordonov  nodded to his partner in response.

       “
What is it?” asked Matthews. “What are you two talking about?”

      
Gordonov took an envelope from his pocket and held it out reverently. “Mikhail reminded me to show you this.”

      
Matthews opened the letter.

Office of the President
The White House
Washington, D.C.

Please provide cosmonauts Mikhail Greshchenko and Alexei Gordonov any assistance they require and the full use of all resources at Lunar One Research Station/NASA. This matter has been designated Top Secret. You are expressly forbidden to disclose any facts or discuss anything concerning this project, under penalty of law.

       “
What does it say?” asked Davis.

       “
It's an order from the White House,” said Matthews. He thrust it to Davis. “It's signed by the President.”

      
Davis read it quickly and groaned. “Told you it was black bag stuff.”

      
The cosmonaut plucked the letter from Davis' hand and tucked it away. “We need to reach a certain site. And we are not spies, Mr Davis.”

       “
All right,” said Matthews. “Where the hell do you guys need to go?”      The Russian held up a palm-sized computer. A series of numbers showing lunar surface coordinates scrolled across the tiny screen. “Here,” he said. “Do you know of it?”

       “
Of course I do,” said Matthews. “Okay, so you know people in high places. And the President says we have to help you. But he didn't order us to throw our lives away, either. We'll take you out, but if it’s rocks you want, you will have to limit the load. We're going to pack as much oxygen as we can cram into that rover. If something happens, we're not sitting out there waiting to die with our asses hanging in the breeze.”

       “
Carry all the oxygen you wish,” replied Gordonov. “We are not seeking geological samples.”

Conversation was brief and uncomfortable as the four astronauts moved steadily across the stark landscape. The Rover was fully pressurized and rolled through the lunar dust at fifteen kilometers an hour. Thick windows comprised much of the upper section of the Rover, providing stunning views in all directions.

      
Matthews drove in silence.

      
Davis sat in the passenger seat with the Russians behind him in the rear section. He turned and faced the cosmonauts. “So are we allowed to ask why we're going out so far from the station?”

       “
It is allowed,” Gordonov said. “I am surprised you did not ask sooner. We are headed for the site where a Russian spacecraft crashed many years ago. We are to take pictures and cut off samples of the spacecraft.”

       “
What kind of spacecraft?” said Matthews.

       “
A sample-collection lander. It failed to return to Earth.”

       “
I remember that,” said Davis. “The Luna missions, right?”

       “
Yes, it was called Luna, I believe.”

       “
I thought none of them made it to the moon.”

       “
This one did. The engine failed to re-ignite and it remained on the surface.”

      
The two Americans glanced at each other for a moment. An unspoken thought passed between them.
Bullshit.

It was several hours later when Matthews stopped the rover at the edge of a steep hill. “Well, this is as close as we can get,” he announced. “According to your coordinates, that lander is down in a canyon on the other side of this hill. Looks pretty steep to me.”

       “
Yes.” Gordonov said something in Russian to his partner and they began gathering up equipment and putting on their helmets. “We must try anyway.”

      
The two Americans followed suit, sealing their helmets so the Russians could exit. After everyone was secure, Matthews shut down the oxygen pumps and vented the atmosphere from the rover. White crystals of suddenly frozen air poured from the vehicle and trickled slowly to the ground like snow.

      
The Russians opened a rear door and climbed out, shutting it behind them firmly. They walked to the base of the hill and began to climb hard for the summit.

      
They made good progress.

       “
Look at that,” said Davis. “Those two are in good shape.”

      
As they watched in fascination, the cosmonauts used short hiking poles to work their way up the hill. Occasionally, a rock would dislodge from under their feet and roll down, but they continued steadily upward. It was obvious they had been in training for the mission a long time.

      
Within a couple of minutes, the Russians had reached the top and disappeared over the other side.

       “
Gordonov,” Matthews called out over his suit radio. “Do you read me?”

       “
Affirmative. Everything is good.”

       “
Do you need any help over there?”

       “
No. We can see the spacecraft now. We are going down to it. The terrain is suitable. We do not require assistance.”

       “
Roger that.”

Fifteen minutes later, Matthews looked at his partner. “What do you think?”

       “
I think we should go up there, buddy.”

       “
So do I. Get your helmet on.”

The two Americans struggled up the rocky hill. When they reached the summit, they found themselves above a steep and narrow canyon.

      
They had turned off their helmet radios to avoid alerting the Russian cosmonauts to their presence. Davis pointed into the darkness below and gave a thumbs-up. They started their descent cautiously. Boulders the size of cars were scattered at the bottom of the canyon. At first, they could see nothing, and then a silvery glint from one of the cosmonauts' suits flashed near some of the boulders.

      
Matthews switched on his suit radio. “Gordonov?”