Easing my way down the hills is even scarier than going up. Ol’ Stomper lurches hard; for an instant I’m scared that we’re going to tip over. But Stomper plants those big feet of his solidly and we’re okay. Still, my hands are slippery with perspiration as I jiggle the throttle and the gear shifts.
We get down, back on the crater floor, and start thumping along as fast as we can to the Ranger 9 wreckage. Out on the horizon to my left I spot a hazy cloud of dust heading my way. It’s Zeke, in Dash-nine. The turtle has beaten the hare!
«Vehicle oh-four reporting,» I sing into my lip microphone. «I’m approaching the Ranger site.»
«Pay no attention to Taylor Reed,» Brunner’s icy voice answers immediately. «He’s been disqualified.»
Bastard! I walk Stomper right up to the crumpled remains of Ranger 9, under its protective dome of clear glassteel, and use the external arms to plant my marker by the old wreckage. Then I turn around and start for home.
I ought to slow down, I know. I can’t win the flicking race, I’ve been disqualified. So what’s the difference? But then I hear Zeke call, «Dash-nine at Ranger site. Starting my return leg.»
And again I remember that old, old folk song my grandfather used to sing when things got really bad. About John Henry, a black man who refused to give up. And I thought, I’ll be damned if I let Zeke Browkowski or Mance Brunner or anybody else beat me. I’ll die with a hammer in my hands, Lord, Lord.
«Come on, you ol’ turtle,» I mutter to Stomper. «Let’s get home before Zeke does.»
Stomper weaves through the hills again and we’re back down on the flat. We clomp along at a pretty fair clip, but then I see Browkowski off to my right, a cloud of dust coming around the hills and heading straight for home.
It’s turning into a two-car race. I’m way ahead but Zeke is catching up fast. I can see him in the rearview screen, a cloud of dust that’s getting closer every second.
I’m pushing too hard. Stomper’s middle left leg starts making a grinding noise. My control panel shows a blinking yellow light. The leg’s main bearing is starting to overheat.
I shut down the middle left leg altogether; just keep it locked up and off the ground. Stomper limps the rest of the way back to Selene’s main airlock. It’s a rough, jouncing ride but we get there a whole two minutes, eighteen seconds ahead of Zeke.
Who is proclaimed the official winner of the race, of course.
I limp Stomper through the main airlock and into Selene’s big, cavernous garage, power down, and duck through the hatch. Five meters high, I can see the crowd gathering around Browkowski and Dash-nine: Brunner and Zeke’s older brother, the chief of maintenance, a bunch of other people. Even Janine.
Nobody’s waiting for me at the bottom of Stomper’s ladder except Harry, sitting in his powerchair and grinning up at me.
I’ll die with this hammer in my hand. The words to that old song kept ringing in my mind. I was dead, all right. Just like ol’ John Henry.
Once I plant my boots on the garage’s concrete floor, I slide my helmet visor up and take a look at Stomper. His legs are covered with dust, even the middle left one, which is still hanging up there like some ponderous mechanical ballet dancer doing a pose.
«Better keep your distance,» I tell Harry. «My coveralls are soaked with perspiration. I’m gonna smell pretty ripe when I peel off this suit.»
He’s grinning at me, big white teeth sparkling against his dark skin. «I’ll go to the infirmary and get some nose plugs,» he says.
He rolls his chair alongside me as I clump to the lockers where the suits are stored. I take off the helmet and then sit wearily on the bench to remove my big, thick-soled boots. As I start to worm my arms out of the sleeves, Janine shows up.
I stand up, my arms half in the suit’s sleeves. Janine looks pretty as ever, but kind of embarrassed.
«I’m sorry you were disqualified, Tay,» she says.
«Not your fault,» I mumble.
She tries to smile. «There’s a sort of party over at the Pelican Bar.»
«For Zeke. He’s the winner.»
«You’re invited, too.»
Before I can refuse, Harry pipes up. «We’ll be there!»
Janine’s smile turns genuine. «Good. I’ll see you there, okay?» And she scampers off.
I scowl at Harry. «Why’d you say yes? I don’t feel like partying. ’Specially for Zeke.»
«Chill out, Taylor,» Harry tells me. «All work and no play, you know.»
So we go off to the Pelican Bar—after I take a quick shower and pull on a fresh set of coveralls. The Pelican’s owned by some fugitive from Florida; he’s got the place decorated with statues of pelicans, photographs of pelicans, painting of pelicans. Behind the bar there’s a big screen display of Miami, the way it looked before the greenhouse floods covered it over. Lots of pelicans flying over the water, diving for fish.
The place is jammed. Bodies three, four deep around the long bar. Every booth filled. Noise like a solid wall. I take two steps inside the door and decide to turn around and leave.
But Harry grabs my wrist and tows me through the boisterous crowd, like a tractor dragging some piece of wreckage.
He takes me right up to Zeke Browkowski, of all people, who’s standing at the bar surrounded by admirers. Including Janine.
«Hey, here’s the turtle guy!» Zeke yells out, grinning at me. My hands clench into fists but I don’t say anything.
To my total shock, Zeke sticks out his hand to shake. «Taylor, you beat me. You broke the rules, but you beat me, man. Congratulations.»
Surprised, I take his hand and mutter, «Lotta good it’s done me.»
Still grinning, Zeke half turns to the guy standing next to him. He’s an Asian man: older, grayer, wearing a regular suit instead of coveralls, like the rest of us.
«Taylor, this is Hideki Matsumata. He designed Dash-nine.»
Matsumata bows to me. On reflex, I bow back.
«You have made an important contribution, Mr. Reed.»
«Me?»
Smiling at me, Matsumata says, «I was certain that my Dash-nine couldn’t be beaten. You proved otherwise.»
I can’t figure out why he was smiling about it. I hear myself say, «Like Zeke says, I broke the rules.»
«You bent the rules, Mr. Reed. Bent them. Sometimes rules need to bent, stretched.»
I didn’t know what to say.
Glancing down at Harry, in the powerchair beside me, Matsumata says, «Today you showed that walking vehicles can negotiate mountainous territory that wheeled or tracked vehicles cannot.»
«That’s what walkers are all about,» says Harry. «That’s what I was trying to tell you all along.»
«You have proved your point, Professor Walker,» Matsumata says. But he’s looking at me as he says it.
Harry laughs and says, «Soon’s we get that bad bearing replaced, Tay, you’re going to take Stomper up to the top of Mount Yeager. And then maybe you’ll do a complete circumnavigation of the ringwall.»
«But I don’t have a job.»
«Sure you do! With Walker’s Walkers. I haven’t fired you.»
«The company’s not busted?»
Harry’s big grin is my answer. But Matsumata says, «Selene’s governing council has wanted for some time to build a cable-car tramway over the ringwall and out onto Mare Nubium. Walking vehicles such as your Stomper will make that project possible.»
«We can break out of the Alphonsus ringwall and start to spread out,» Harry says. «Get down to the south polar region, where the ice deposits are.»
My head’s spinning. They’re saying that I can stay here on the Moon, and even do important work, valuable work.
Zeke claps me on the shoulder. «You done good, turtle guy.»
«By breaking the rules and getting disqualified,» I mutter, kind of stunned by it all.