Dark Benediction

Braxton squealed like a stuck pig; a moment later all three of them were on him. “Please, Joe…. Fuh the love a heaven, Joe, have a haht…. Gawd, women!”

“Get off my lap, you sonofabitch!” he barked at Braxton, who sat on top of him, grabbing at the controls. “Wait—I’ll tell you what. Put the damn binoculars down and watch the line. Don’t say another damn word about dames until we find the break and splice it. Swear to that, you bastards, and you can stay. I’ll stop at their ship on our way back, and then you can stare all you want to. OK?”

“Joe, I sweah on a stack of—”

“All right, then watch the line.”

They drove on in silence. The ship had fired down on a flat stretch of ground about four miles from the construction train, a few hundred yards from the trolley road. They stared at it as the runabout crawled past, and Novotny let the vehicle glide to a halt.

“The ramp’s out and the ladder’s down,” said Relke. “Somebody must have come out.”

“Unglue your eyes from that bird and look around,” Novotny grunted. “You’ll see why the ladder’s down.” He jerked his thumb toward a row of vehicles parked near the massive ship.

“The rescue team’s wagons. But wheah’s the rescue team?”

No crewmen were visible in the vicinity of the ship or the parked runabouts. Novotny switched on the radio, punched the channel selector, and tried a call, reading the call code off the side of the safety runabout.

“Double Able Niner, this is One Four William. Talk back, please.”

They sat in silence. There was nothing but the hiss of solar interference from the radio and the sound of heavy breathing from the men.

“Those lucky ole bastands!” Braxton moaned. “You know wheah they gone, gennlemen? I know wheah they gone. They clambered right up the ladies’ ladduh. I taya, alright—”

“Knock it off. Let’s get moving. Tell us on the way back.”

“Those lucky ole—”

The runabout moved ahead across the glaring land. Relke: “Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“Joe, on our way back, can we go over and see if they’ll let us climb aboard?”

Novotny chuckled. “I thought you were off dames, Relke. I thought when Fran sent you the Dear John, you said dames were all a bunch of—”

“Damn, Joe! You could have talked all day without saying ‘Fran.’ “ The lineman’s throat worked a brief spasm, and he stared out across the broken moonscape with dismal eyes.

“Sorry I mentioned it,” Novotny grunted. “But sure, I guess one of us could walk over and ask if they mind a little more company on board.”

Lije: “One of us! Who frinstance—you?”

Joe: “No, you can draw for it—not now, you creep! Watch the line.”

They watched in silence. The communication circuit was loosely strung on temporary supports beside the road-bed. The circuit was the camp’s only link with Crater City, for the horizon interposed a barrier to radio reception, such reception being possible only during the occasional overhead transits of the lunar satellite station which carried message-relaying equipment. The satellite’s orbit had been shifted to cover a Russian survey crew near Clavius, however, and its passages over the Trolley Project were rare.

“I jus’ thought,” Lije muttered suddenly, smacking his fist in his palm.

Relke: “Isn’t that getting a little drastic, Lije?”

“I jus’ thought. If we fine that outage, ‘less don’ fix it!” Joe: “What kind of crazy talk is that?”

“Lissen, you know what ole Suds want to call Crater City fo’? He want to call ‘em so’s they’ll Senn a bunch of tank wagons down heah and tote those gals back to town. Thass what he want to call ‘em fo’!”

Braxton slapped his forehead. “Luvva God! He’s right. Y’all heah that? Is he right, Joe, or is he right?”

“I guess that’s about the size of it.”

“We mi’not evum get a look at ‘em!” Braxton wailed. “Less don’ fix it, Joe!”

“I sweah, if I evum touch one of theah precious li’l fingahs, I’d—”

“Shut up and watch the line.”

Relke: “Why didn’t he use a bridge on the circuit and find out where the break was, Joe?”

“A bridge won’t work too well on that line.”

“How fah we gonna keep on drivin’, Joe?”

“Until we find the break. Relke, turn up that blower a little. It’s beginning to stink in here.”

“Fresh ayah!” sighed Braxton as the breeze hit them from the fan.

Relke: “I wonder if it’s fresh. I keep wondering if it doesn’t come out foul from the purifier, but we’ve been living in it too long to be able to tell. I even dream about it. I dream about going back to Earth and everybody runs away from me: Coughing and holding their noses. I can’t get close to a girl even in a dream anymore.”

“Ah reckon a head-shrinker could kill hisself a-laughin’ over that one.”

“Don’t talk to me about head-shrinkers.”

“Watch the damn line.”

Braxton: “Talk about dreams! Listen, I had one lass sleep shift that I oughta tell y’all about. Gennlemen, if she wasn’t the ohnriest li’l—”

Novotny cursed softly under his breath and tried to keep his eyes on both the road and the communications circuit.

Relke: “Let ‘em jabber, Joe. I’ll watch it.”