Helium3 - 1 Crater (25 page)

Petro showed up with two players. One of them was Irish, and another fellow Irishman named Claddy. Irish and Claddy immediately sat down on the sidelines. Crater thought they looked sick or drunk or both. “Do they even know how to play?” Crater asked.

“Irish and Claddy were on the Irish national hurling team until they got kicked off for cheating.”

“Cheating?”

“They took a bribe.”

“You mean they threw a game?”

“Pretty much.”

“Leave it to you to recruit untrustworthy felons for my team.”

“What do you care? They play like gods.”

“Up the Irish, down the English,” Claddy grunted.

“You see?” Petro grinned. “Full of spirit, these lads.”

Crater was dubious. Irish and Claddy had stopped sitting and were lying down, their arms across their eyes. “Right now, it looks like they'd have trouble standing up. In fact, they look like they're about to hurl.”

Petro looked around. “You're short a man. Where's Maria?”

“I don't know. She said she'd be here.”

Carlos, his arthritis affecting his knees, limped up. “Message from Maria. She's still cleaning up the Umlap women.”

“Great,” Crater grumped, then pondered Carlos. “All right, Carlos, you're in the game.”

“Me? I can't play.”

“You're all I got.”

Carlos shook his head. “Then you don't have much, son.”

The Aces had cheerleaders, a dozen or so young women in tight outfits. Their cheers were so loud it was hard to hear when the teams met in the center of the field. Since the referees were naturally from Aristillus, Crater knew the Moontown Truckers weren't going to get a fair shake, but it didn't worry him too much. Since just about anything went in lunar shovelball, except deliberately beating the opposing players with shovels, the referees had little to do other than hand the ball over and get out of the way.

“Give up now,” Mayor Trakk said to Crater, “and you won't be humiliated.”

“Get ready to take a whipping,” Crater snorted, though he had his doubts. Compared to the Truckers, the Aces were huge and looked fast.

The referee reminded the teams of the few rules, then flipped a coin. Crater called it and lost, a harbinger he feared of what was to come. The teams lined up. Crater swatted the ball downfield with his shovel and the game was on.

An Ace caught the ball on his shovel and started running, then swatted it with amazing strength, bouncing it off the roof. Another Ace emerged from the pipe onto the roof and swatted it farther up the field. The mayor, who was also the team captain, leapt high, caught the ball with one hand, and tapped it to another of his players who slapped it back. Teller leapt after it and missed, Petro leapt at it and missed, and the mayor powered it into the goal. Six points.

Crater noticed that neither Irish nor Claddy had moved much from where they'd started. He trotted over to them where they were lethargically looking at the cheerleaders.

“Have you forgotten how to play this game?”

Petro came to their defense. “They just need to get warmed up.”

“What about you?”

“I told you I was old and stiff.”

Scoring teams had the option of going one-on-one for three points or using three players against one opposing player for one point. The Aces easily took the single point against Crater.

The Aces swatted the ball to the Truckers who fumbled it away, and the Aces quickly scored, again taking the extra point. Then the same thing happened again. Only minutes into the game, the Truckers were behind by twenty-one points.

Captain Teller walked over to Crater. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to suggest we play harder,” Crater said.

Teller looked around at the other Truckers. They were all, including Petro, admiring the cheerleaders. “Maybe you ought to tell them your superb plan.”

Crater gathered his team. “Look, fellows,” he said. “We've got to set up a pattern. Irish and Claddy, I'm looking to you to get us downfield. Captain Teller, you run along the sidelines, get ready to receive. I'm the center man. Petro, guard the goal.

Carlos, try not to have a heart attack.”

“These guys are good,” Irish said, and Claddy nodded agreement.

“You're supposed to be good too,” Crater replied.

About then, Crater heard a weak cheer and looked over his shoulder and saw the Umlap women and children were the source. The women were dressed in new skirts and blouses, the daughters in coveralls. Their hair was washed and combed and glistened in the lights of the stadium. “Listen to them,”

Crater said. “They haven't given up.”

“Who are they?” Irish asked while Claddy also studied the women.

Crater told the two Irishmen who they were. “I didn't know we were playing this game for them,” Claddy said.

“Does that mean you might play harder?” Crater asked.

“Of course,” Irish said. “An Irishman always helps the ladies. That's the way we roll.”

Crater had renewed hope, especially since Maria trotted on the field, replacing Carlos. “Let's do this,” she said.

The Aces shoveled off to the Truckers. Irish received it and Claddy ran up the ramp, whipped through the pipe, and emerged on the roof. Irish tossed Claddy the ball who shoveled it in, slung it across to Captain Teller who hit it downfield.

Crater caught it on his shovel, bounced it for a fast run, then shot it to Petro who leapt to catch it, and shoveled it to Maria who slammed it past Ace's goalie.
Score!

Two more times the Truckers scored, picking up the extra points. By the third and final period, the score was tied, 21–21.

Crater was sure the Truckers had the momentum, but the Aces came roaring back, keeping the ball on the roof as they ran up the ramp, bursting out and slamming the ball into the goal.

They got the extra point and were ahead by seven points.

The clock was ticking down. The Truckers tried a desperate maneuver, all of them racing to the roof and shoveling the ball between them as they fell to the floor. As soon as his feet touched the field, Claddy ran up the tube, caught the ball while performing a flip, and drove it into the goal. If they went after the single point, the game would be tied up again.

Crater chose to go for the win, one-on-one. Mayor Trakk was the goalie, Irish the attacker. Irish came running at the ball, scooped it up, leapt with it, and swung halfway. The mayor threw himself to where the ball would have gone except Irish deliberately missed it, spun all the way around, switching his shovel to his left hand to bat the ball in the opposite direction.

At one hundred and fifty miles per hour, Mayor Trakk had no chance to recover. The Truckers were ahead 30–28.

The clock ran down, the buzzer sounded, and the Truckers ran off the field, holding their shovels aloft in triumph. At the sidelines, Crater was hugged by the Umlap women, all of whom smelled sweet and looked marvelous—the power of soap and water.

Crater and Captain Teller walked over to have a word with the mayor to see if he was going to keep his end of the bargain. Mayor Trakk reluctantly shook their hands. “I think you had some ringers in those two Irish lads. And the girl. The Colonel's granddaughter? She's a terror.”

“Yes, she is,” Teller said. “Now, can we pay our taxes and leave? And take the Umlap women with us?”

“You may not think much of how we run things here,” the mayor said, “but we don't renege on a bet.”

Captain Teller grinned and went off to get things organized.

The queen came over, and the mayor couldn't take his eyes off her. “Would you mind introducing us, Crater?” He added, “I'm a bachelor, you know.”

Crater saw no harm in it, so he introduced the mayor to the queen who shyly batted her eyes.

“May I offer you dinner, madam?” Mayor Trakk asked.

Queen Talks No Nonsense frowned deeply, then said, “You may, indeed. I think we have much to discuss.”

And off they went, arm in arm, across the field while Crater watched incredulously. Petro sidled up next to him and Crater said, “Just when I think I've got them figured out, I discover I don't know a thing about women.”

“Who does?” Petro replied. “They are the strangest creatures there are. Give me a deck of cards anytime. You might lose your money but at least you keep your mind.”

Captain Teller was gathering his drivers from the stands, herding them toward the dustlock to get their trucks ready to go. “Two hours!” he yelled. “Two hours and we're on the road!”

Petro joined the others while Crater headed for the dispensary to say good-bye to Mr. Justice.

:::
TWENTY-SIX

T
he convoy moved out in the desired two hours, including the motorbarn with a revived Ellis Justice at the wheel and a rested Pegasus in his domicile. When Crater went to the clinic, he found Justice's bed empty and the head nurse flustered. She even had a tendril of hair hanging from beneath her perfectly starched cap, although it was slightly askew. “Mister Justice said he had a convoy to catch,” she said. “I told him he was still too ill to go anywhere. Then he took my hand and kissed it and told me I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and that he intended to return and marry me.” She put her hand to her cheek. “Then he kissed me on my cheek and was off. When do you think he might return?”

Crater didn't know when and said so, then went off to Clara's to see how the gillie was faring. “It's still sick,” Clara said, handing it over wrapped in a blue kerchief. “But I think I perceive a little more life in it.”

“Has it said anything?”

“It said your name and Armstrong City before lapsing back into its little coma. What you should do is keep it warm and hope for the best. It's a sweet gillie for a gillie. Otherwise, I'm sure it's untrustworthy as they all are.”

“That's why they're illegal,” Crater said in unison with Clara, then headed for the convoy in time to see Justice walking Pegasus up the ramp into the motorbarn.

“The head nurse said you were too sick to leave, Mister Justice,” Crater said while he helped get Pegasus comfortable.

“Ah, isn't she a pretty thing?” Justice chuckled. “I was always a sap for a woman in uniform. Anyway, the Peg and I need to get on back to Armstrong City. We'll stay there until this crowhopper business is sorted out.”

Crater removed the plaston girdle from Pegasus and placed it in the sanitizer. “I hope you're right about the Colonel taking care of those crowhoppers.”

“Well, he's a capitalist of the old order, the kind that builds companies and, if need be, nations too,” Justice replied. “You could do worse than hitching your star to him.”

Crater thought about that, then said, “If you ever need somebody to work for you and the Peg, sir, please think of me.”

Justice beamed and nodded his shaggy head. “Aye, I will, son. You'd make a fine addition, and I know Pegasus would love to have you around. Tell you what. When we get to Armstrong City, I'll have a talk with Deep Space Suits. But for now, are you going to be able to make the Cycler?”

“If all goes well from here, yes.”

“Good. A man should honor a promise made.”

Crater left the motorbarn, feeling a little dazed. He hadn't meant to ask Justice for a job but it had just popped out. And now that it had, he felt good about it. Maybe his life wasn't on the Moontown scrapes after all. But if that proved true, it didn't change his determination to get to the Cycler on time.

And take care of Maria.

The convoy moved away from Aristillus, all the trucks in fine condition, the drivers in good moods, but Captain Teller was worried as always. Crater and Maria zipped ahead on the scout. The long shadow was coming inexorably at them but nothing could be done about that. Above might be crowhoppers but the convoy was moving, and that was all that counted.

Ahead lay the Russians' Sea of Serenity and then the Ocean of Tranquility. Once there, the convoy would make the dash to Armstrong City.

The Umlap women and their daughters had all hitched rides in various trucks. The women proved to not only be excellent drivers but required little sleep. It didn't take long before the drivers were arguing over who got the women in their cabs. The deciding factor eventually was who paid the women the most.

The one exception was Queen No Nonsense Talker who had decided to stay in Aristillus, a guest of the mayor who had promised to put together a little army and march on Baikal to reclaim the town for the queen. Crater was confident she would do fine.

The dustway and the surrounding plain turned dark gray, then black as coal. The volcanic dust filtered into hubs, wheels, axles, and gears and poured over the trucks, scouring their paint, even seeping inside the cabs. Suits and helmets were required.