The Solar Sea by David Lee Summers Page B

or the other isn't going to affect our velocity much given the ship's design."
    Jefferson returned to Earth for a day, retrieved some belongings and made arrangements for the care of his house. Two days later, he found himself back on the Moon and outfitted in a space suit, walking out on the lunar surface. The sand crunched like snow under his feet and he turned and looked back at his footprints. He shook his head when he saw a work crew drive over his tracks, eroding them away almost as fast as they were created. On the other side of the Moon, another set of footprints was carefully fenced in, those belonging to Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin. Those footprints would be there for centuries, until micrometeorites erased them.
    A Quinn Corp technician named Vanda Berko led Jefferson to a scaffold. The two climbed a ladder and Jefferson found himself standing above one of the quinitite sails. From that vantage, he saw a device mounted on rails that almost looked like the inner workings of an old-fashioned toaster. Giant coils mounted to the device glowed red for a few seconds then, in the blink of an eye, the section of sail below the coils was shiny as a mirror.
    "On Earth, they use huge vacuum chambers to put aluminum coatings on things like telescope mirrors,” said Berko. “Up here on the Moon, we can coat anything with aluminum right out in the open."
    "Impressive.” Jefferson watched the giant coils move along their rails to a new place and apply another coat of aluminum. “How long will this take?"
    "We're hoping to deploy the sails later this week,” said Berko.
    * * * *
    Natalie Freeman arrived on the Moon in her full dress uniform, carrying a duffel bag. Neb O'Connell hurriedly showed her to her quarters and gave her directions, so she could find the dining room. “Is there anything else I can show you?” he asked.
    She smiled. “It seems like you're in a hurry to get out of here. Is something the matter?"
    O'Connell took a deep breath and shook his head. “Nothing at all, ma'am. It's just that they're getting ready to lift the core of the Aristarchus into lunar orbit and I don't want to miss it."
    "Well, why didn't you say so?” chided Freeman. “That sounds like something I don't want to miss, either."
    "I thought you might want to get comfortable.” O'Connell shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Freshen up or something."
    Freeman shook her head. “I've been in the Navy a long time, Mr. O'Connell. I care a lot more about the ship that's gonna carry me across the water than taking a few minutes to ‘pretty up.'” She batted her eyelashes at him.
    O'Connell made an indiscernible noise—something halfway between a moan and a gurgle—then quickly recovered. “This way, then.” He led her toward the observation deck of the vehicle assembly building.
    As they arrived, they found a number of the other members of the Aristarchus crew. Natalie Freeman took in their faces. Two women stood together. One was young with long, blondish hair. She leaned languorously on a railing, but her blue eyes watched absolutely everything happening outside the windows of the observation deck. Natalie surmised that must be Lisa Henry. The other woman—Dr. Myra Lee—was slightly taller with a sun-darkened face and dark brown hair—a few strands streaked white. While Lisa remained still, Myra kept adjusting her position, as though trying to find the best possible vantage.
    A lanky, young man, with wiry hair and blue coveralls, watched the action happening outside with intense interest and carried on a fervent conversation via radio. From the sound of his voice, Natalie could tell he was Thomas Alonzo, the pilot. Yet another man was unmistakable to Natalie even with white hair. He was tall, handsome, and wore the same coveralls as Pilot—Jonathan Jefferson, the last astronaut to walk on Mars. Jefferson turned around and caught sight of Natalie, then stepped between two other people, extending his