Helium3 - 1 Crater by Homer Hickam Page A

“Thank you, sir,” and left the office. To his surprise, the sheriff was in the waiting room. The gillie was with him in its holster and he handed it over. “How’d it go?” the sheriff asked.
    â€œI’m not sure,” Crater said.
    â€œWas the Colonel smiling when you left?”
    â€œSmiling, sir? I’m not certain. Should he have been?”
    â€œNo, of course not. A silly question. Well, on your way, lad.”
    After Crater left the waiting room, the sheriff went inside to see the Colonel. “Your receptionist called and said you wanted me to visit after Crater, sir.”
    The Colonel was still at his desk. “I was going to congratulate you for finding him. Now I don’t know,” he said.
    â€œI’m sorry, sir. Did he not prove to be good, honest, naive, and loyal?”
    â€œPerhaps too much.”
    â€œShall I look for someone else?”
    The Colonel took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. “No. I need him. But have I done the right thing?”
    The question startled the sheriff. “The right thing, sir? I don’t know much about right things. Now, if you asked me about the expedient thing, that I could advise.”
    The Colonel allowed a small, sad smile. “Do the names George Taylor Grange and Lawrence Zummer mean anything to you?”
    â€œWhy, yes, sir,” the sheriff answered. “They are employees of yours, stationed in Armstrong City, and recently deceased.
    Their files crossed my desk. Natural causes, I believe?”
    â€œSo we allowed everyone to believe. Both were murdered.
    Grange got it with an elk sticker in June. Zummer was poisoned in September. I had assigned them a particular duty.
    They were to go up to the Cycler and retrieve a certain artifact.
    The same artifact I’m sending Crater after.”
    The sheriff processed that information. “Who killed them?”
    â€œI have no idea. There are many candidates but I really don’t know. All I know for certain is I’m sending that fine, innocent boy on a mission that may get him killed. No, will probably get him killed. What say you now, Sheriff?”
    â€œOne does what one has to do, sir.”
    The Colonel nodded. “One does, indeed,” he said, though he allowed himself a brief pang of regret, then rejected it as unworthy. What was one orphan, even one as smart and good as Crater? The Colonel allowed himself to relax. He’d done the right thing, the only thing to be done. It was for the good of his family and their various enterprises, which meant it was for the good of the moon.
    When Crater arrived at the Dust Palace, he found Q-Bess with both a smile on her face and a tear in her eye. She held up her reader. “Crater, it says here you’ve quit the mining company and joined the convoy company. Is it true?”
    When Crater said it was true and that he was to be a scout on the next heel-3 convoy, she took him into her arms for a big hug. “Oh, my darling boy,” she sobbed through a proud smile.
    â€œDon’t get yourself killed out there, but do good. Do real good!”
    â€œI’ll make it back, Q-Bess,” Crater swore. “And I’ll do good too,” he added, although he had his doubts about both propositions.

::: Part Two

THE CONVOY

::: EIGHT
    A cceptance of his application to be a convoy scout came instantly, and Crater test-drove the fastbug assigned to him. Thinking it a bit sluggish, he asked Captain Teller if he could work to make it faster. Teller approved as long as Crater strengthened the fastbug’s frame. “Speed is good, Crater,” he advised, “but I can’t afford to have one of my scouts break down out there.”
    Crater told the captain he understood, then beefed up the fastbug’s frame with lunasteel bar stock. He also installed a heavy-duty torsion beam suspension and modified the fastbug’s fuel cell with a design of his own utilizing a