For a moment, we all just stood there and looked at each other, embarrassed. Had we really imagined that Alexei wanted to kill us–?
Alexei busied himself with housekeeping tasks–turning up the heat, checking the oxygen and humidity levels, testing hull integrity and air pressure, making sure the air circulators were functioning, monitoring the water supply, double‑checking the batteries and fuel cells, and other chores of that nature. "Hokay, all boards are green. Vehicle phoned to tell me same, before we arrive here, but I check twice anyway."
Satisfied that his porta‑home wouldn't accidentally kill us, he settled himself into the driver's seat, where he brooded over his display map for a while. I peeked over his shoulder, but it didn't make any sense to me. It was overlaid with lines and shadows, and everything was labeled in Russian.
At last, Alexei pulled on a headset and began chattering instructions at the vehicle's intelligence engine. Compared to the one hanging around my belly, it was a very primitive device–but it was smart enough to find its way across the Lunar surface.
That reminded me–"Is that it? Are we safe now?"
"If you mean, are we private again? Da,we are."
"Thank Ghu!" I hiked up my dress and slip and peeled the monkey off my waist. "Go play with Bobby," I told it, pushing it into his lap. Bobby was delighted. The monkey was really his toy, and he hadn't had much chance to play with it since before bounce‑down. He pulled it close and hugged it like a long‑lost brother; the monkey wrapped itself around Bobby just as eagerly, and the two of them made purring and snuggling noises at each other. He was still wearing his dress and wig, still as cute as Pattycakes, and with the monkey cuddled in his lap he looked happier than I could ever remember seeing him in my life.
I reached up to pull my wig off, then stopped–it was cold in here. The wig was keeping my head warm. We'd shaved ourselves bald on the Line, and I still hadn't gotten used to the cold feeling. The soft lining of the wig was comfortable and warm like a favorite flannel hat on a cold morning. But that wasn't the only reason I hesitated–I had this weird thought that when I finally did take off the wig, I'd be killing Maura forever.
I pulled off my earrings thoughtfully. They jangled and they were cold. I liked Maura. I liked her family. They seemed like nice people, was sorry we were leaving them behind–I wished we could take em with us.
I sat with that thought for a while. I'd had a vacation from myself, and didn't want to go back to being me. Not the me I was before–selfish andd self‑centered and nasty. That wasn't a lot of fun. But I couldn't stay Maura either. That wasn't who I really was. That conversation with Mickey had been as confusing as it was useful.
If I took off the wig and the dress, would I be spiteful Chigger again? Would Douglas and Bobby turn back into Weird and Stinky? In a week, would things be back to what passed for normal in the dingaling family? If so, then why had we bothered? It didn't matter how far away we went–we'd still be us.
Alexei finished what he was doing. He clapped his hands in satisfaction, and shouted, "Watch out, Luna! Here come the Beagle Boys!" The truck began rolling slowly forward. The readout on his main display climbed to thirty klicks.
"We are almost there," Alexei said, swiveling around in his chair face the rest of us. "Just a few more hours. Fortunately, we have road, almost direct. The autopilot can drive. Everyone can sleep. Even me."
I pushed forward to look. Alexei rapped the front window with his bare knuckles. "Please to notice, this is nota windshield–because there is no wind to shield against. Even better, we do not get bug spots on Luna. So there is no need for windshield wipers. Save very much money, makes whole thing cost‑effective. Is much good, da?"
Outside the window we saw only shadowlands. Alexei wasn't going to turn his headlights on unless he absolutely had to, but there was more than enough light bouncing off the rocks above to reveal the frosty landscape around us.
"Where's the road?" I asked.
"Right in front of you," he said, pointing. "Open your eyes and look."
I was looking for an Earth‑like highway. But this road wasn't paved at all. On Luna, paving is unnecessary. This was a wide bulldozed path that found its way between steep rumpled hills. It curled off into the distance, sometimes slicing into the side of a slope, but more often winding around. Orange ribbons marked the edges of the road, and periodically, there were bright‑colored signal flags on tall poles.
"Welcome to Route 66," said Alexei. "From Borgo Pass, we take great circle route eastward. Is also called Beltway. Gagarin is inside Beltway, but we are going outside. Not to worry, we will be on official road for two hours. The autopilot will stay inside the lines. When we get to turnoff, I will drive myself."
There were comfortable chairs installed behind the pilot's seat; none of them matched. Indeed, the whole interior was a hodgepodge of techno‑gingerbread scrounged from a thousand unidentifiable sources. Mickey and Douglas sat down closest to Alexei, Bobby and I took the couch along the opposite bulkhead. Alexei opened a floor panel and retrieved a plastic can of beer. "Anyone else?" he asked. Douglas and Mickey shook their heads; he passed out soft drinks instead.
"All right, Alexei," said Mickey, opening his drink. "What's the plan? What are we doing?"
"Is no plan. I take you to safety, like I promise. No one find you at Fortress of Solitude. From there, you can make all the phone calls you want. Everything traces only as far as Wonderland Jumble or Gagarin. No closer. So you can pick up e‑mail, call home, do everything but order pizza. No problem, I bake pizza myself if you really want. You arrange contract for colony, whatever. Then we get you to catapult."
Mickey and Douglas exchanged a glance. Douglas looked to me as well. Could we really trust him?
Did we have a choice?
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD
The house‑truck–it was hard to know what else to call it–trundled over the Lunar surface like a giant dung beetle, never going slower than ten klicks, never going faster than forty. When I asked why we couldn't go faster, Alexei laughed and replied, "The laws of physics. We do not weigh a ton, but we still have a ton of mass.I do not want to argue with either inertia or momentum. Especially not when momentum is coming from other direction." He pointed ahead.
Another vehicle was silently rolling toward us. "An eighteen‑wheeler," said Alexei. It was three truck‑pods just like the Beagle, only linked together like a train. They rode heavily, Alexei said they were filled with water. The Beagle slowed automatically, to let it pass.
"This road has many cargo‑trains," said Alexei. "They collect from the freelance mines and deliver to Gagarin. The invisibles sell to the freelancers, and that's how they stay out of the net. Gargarin knows it and doesn't care. The market for fresh water on Luna is second only to the market for fresh air. And remember, water can be turned into air. Oxygen and hydrogen. Very useful. And we can mine water on Luna much easier than we can mine air–although I have heard of a crazy loonie who thinks he can extract oxygen from rock. All he needs is lots of rock and sunlight. Who knows? Maybe he will find that somewhere here?"
A thought occurred to me. "Won't the driver of that truck identify us?"
"He already has," said Alexei. "Look over there. There is HoboCo. Miller‑Gibson ice‑mine. Freelance station. They buy from invisibles. Is profitable sideline, for everybody. So why should they report anything? They would put themselves out of business. HoboCo is where big eighteen‑wheeler comes from. Miller and Gibson are very successful. They have found layer of ice not cost‑effective for Exxon or BabelCorp, but very profitable for freelance miners. Make their own water, air, grow their own crops. Very good people. They have very nice microbrewery." He waved his beer at us to illustrate. "But it's just a sideline. Mostly they grow cactuses–astringent bases for medicine. But also very nice for tequila too. Tequila has important medicinal uses. Good for drowning worms, one per bottle. Also good on barbecue chicken. But first you have to catch chicken. Are you good with chicken net?"