The ravine was almost fifteen feet deep and steep-sided. It ran in a tight, zigzag pattern, its bottom gouged and pitted by hundreds of artificial meteorites. There was no sign of the Lunar Vehicle at Grid 12, but that didn't mean much. It could be only a few yards away, hidden from view.
Cautiously Nick edged his way down the steep flank, testing each hand- and foothold before putting his entire weight on it. Tiny meteorite pebbles went bouncing down ahead of him, dislodged by his boots. When he reached the floor of the ravine, he turned left, heading toward Grid 11. He moved slowly, picking his way over the tortured convolutions and spiky outcroppings of a simulated ash flow.
Because of the steady hissing sound in his ears and because of the vacuum outside his suit, he didn't hear anything behind him. But he either saw or sensed a sudden flash of motion and turned.
A shapeless thing with two glaring orange eyes came bearing down on him. It turned into a giant insect, then a weird four-wheeled vehicle and he saw a man in a moon suit similar to his sitting at the controls. Nick waved his arms wildly, then realized that the man had seen him and had purposely put on an extra burst of speed.
There was no escape.
The Lunar Vehicle came hurtling toward him, its huge cylindrical wheels with their razor-sharp spiral blades filling the ravine from wall to wall…
Chapter 6
Nick knew what would happen if those blades tore his suit.
Outside, the simulated two-week lunar day was only minutes short of high noon. The temperature was 250°F. Higher than the boiling point of water — higher than that of human blood, too. Add to this a vacuum so intense that pieces of metal welded themselves together spontaneously when they came in contact, and you had a phenomenon known to scientists as "ebullition."
This meant that the interior of the exposed human body would boil. Bubbles would begin to form — first in the mucous lining of the mouth and eyes, then in the tissues of other vital organs. Death would occur within minutes.
He had to keep clear of those flashing, blade-like spokes. But there was no room on either side. Only one thing was possible. Hit the ground, let the monstrous three-ton vehicle roll over him. Its weight in the gravity-free vacuum atmosphere was only half a ton and this was further modified by the wheels which flattened out at the bottom like soft tires in order to achieve traction.
There was a slight depression a few feet behind him. He swung around and went sprawling into it, face down, fingers clawing at the scoriaceous volcanic rock. His head inside the plastic bubble was the most vulnerable part of him. But it was lined up with the space between the wheels and the ravine was too narrow for any maneuvering by the LRV. His luck was still running.
Silently it came rolling over him, blotting out the light Intense pressure slammed into his back and legs, crushing him against the rock. The breath exploded from his lungs. His vision momentarily dimmed. Then the first set of wheels had passed over him and he was lying in the rushing darkness beneath the 31-foot-long vehicle, watching the second set come hurtling toward him.
He saw it too late. A low-hanging box-like piece of equipment. It slammed against his ECM backpack, spinning him over. He felt the pack torn from his shoulders. The hissing in his ears stopped abruptly. Heat seared his lungs. Then the second wheels crushed into him and pain exploded through him like a black cloud.
He held onto a thin thread of consciousness because he knew he was finished if he didn't. Intense light scorched his eyes. He struggled sluggishly upward through physical torment, searching for the vehicle. Slowly his eyes stopped swimming and focused on it. It was some fifty yards past him and no longer moving. The man in the moon suit stood atop the control box, looking back at him.
Nick gasped for breath — but there was none. The artery-like tubes inside his suit no longer carried cool oxygen from the main intake duct at his waist. His ringers clawed at the torn rubber on his back where the Environmental Control pack had been. His mouth opened. The lips moved dryly inside the dead plastic bubble. "Help," he croaked into the mike — but it, too, was dead, the wires of the Communication Power Unit severed along with the others.
The man in the moon suit had climbed down from the lunar vehicle. He pulled a utility knife from under the seat on the control box and started toward him.
That action saved N3's life.
The knife meant that Nick wasn't finished, that one last piece of equipment had to be severed — and that was how he remembered the tiny packet attached to his waist. It was there in case of malfunctions in the backpack system. It contained a five-minute supply of emergency oxygen.
He switched it on. A soft hissing sound filled the plastic bubble. He forced his tortured lungs to breathe in. Coolness filled them. His vision cleared. He gritted his teeth and struggled to his feet. His mind started to explore his body to see what was left of it. Then suddenly there was no time for taking stock. The other man had taken a long running stride. He bounced once to become airborne and came gliding toward him, light as a feather in the reduced gravity atmosphere. The knife was held low, point down, ready for a quick upward flip that would sever the emergency lifeline.
Nick dug his toes into a ridge in the volcanic rock. He dropped his hands in a single sweep to the rear, like a man making a racing dive. Then he catapulted himself forward, throwing all of his stored-up power into the lunge. He found himself soaring through the air with frightening speed — but wide of the mark. The other man ducked his head, jackknifed down. Nick made a grab at his knife-hand as he passed, but missed.
It was like fighting under water. The force field was radically different. Balance, thrust, reaction time — all were changed by the reduction in gravity. Once a motion was started, it was virtually impossible to stop it or to change its direction. He was now gliding to earth at the end of a wide parabola — a good thirty yards away from where his opponent stood.
He swung around just as the other man launched a projectile of some kind. It slammed into his upper thigh, spinning him to the ground. It was a huge, jagged chunk of meteorite, the size of a small boulder. Impossible to even lift under normal gravity conditions. Pain knifed through his leg. He shook his head, started to rise. A thermal mitten suddenly came down, scrabbling at his emergency oxygen kit. The man was already on him.
He slid across Nick and in passing struck at his airpipe with the edge of the utility knife. It bounced harmlessly off and Nick brought his right leg up, the heel of his heavy metallic boot meeting the man's relatively exposed solar plexus on a rising angle. The shadowy face inside the plastic bubble opened its mouth in a great silent exhalation, its eyes rolling. Nick surged to his feet. But before he could follow up, the man slithered away like an eel and turned toward him, poised to attack once again.
He feinted for N3's throat and aimed a ferocious mae geri at his groin. The blow missed its target by less than an inch, numbing Nick's leg and almost causing him to lose his balance. Before he could counter, the man swung around, following up with a pile-driving rear kick that sent Nick tumbling forward over the jagged outcroppings of the ravine floor. He couldn't stop. He kept rolling, the razor-sharp rocks tearing at his suit.
From the corner of his eye he saw the man unzip a side pocket, pull out a weird-looking gun and take careful aim at him. He grabbed at an outcropping, brought himself to a sudden halt. A streak of dazzling, blue-white magnesium light laced past him, exploding against a rock. A flare gun! The man started to reload it. Nick launched himself at him.