Farside Read Free

degrees in sunlight to more than two hundred below zero in shadow. Hard radiation from the Sun and stars drenched the ground, together with a constant infall of dust-mote-sized micrometeorites. It was safer underground. Much safer.
    But dismally drab, dreary. The corridors were tunnels, really, narrow, their low ceilings lined with pipes and electrical conduits. Trudy wondered if they would turn her into a claustrophobe.
    “Be careful how you walk,” her young guide warned. “In one-sixth gravity it’s easy to go staggering around like a drunk rabbit.”
    Trudy had paid strict attention to the orientation lectures back in the space station before she’d headed out to the Moon. She very deliberately scuffed the weighted boots she had bought during her brief stopover at Selene along the corridor’s plastic-tiled floor in a bent-kneed shuffle. It reminded her of videos she’d seen of chimpanzees trying to walk on their hind legs.
    Her guide stopped at a door marked:
    J. UHLRICH
    DIRECTOR
    ANGEL OBSERVATORY
    “Angel Observatory?” she asked.
    “That’s the observatory’s official name,” the guide explained. “Named after Roger Angel, an astronomer who built the largest telescopes on Earth, more’n half a century ago. The name makes for a lot of jokes, you know, about angels and all. We just call it Farside.”
    He rapped on the door, very gently.
    “Enter,” a voice called from the other side of the door.
    Her guide slid it open and gestured Trudy through.
    It was a small office, its ceiling of smoothed rock depressingly low, its four walls blank but glowing slightly. Wall-sized smart screens, Trudy recognized. A desk painted to look like wood stood across from the door, with a conference table joined to it like the stem of a T. Behind the desk sat Jason Uhlrich, director of Farside Observatory.
    Professor Uhlrich rose to his feet as Trudy entered, his head cocked slightly. With a hesitant smile he gestured toward one of the conference table’s chairs.
    “Welcome, Dr. Yost,” he said in a nasal, reedy voice. “Please to make yourself comfortable.”
    Uhlrich was a small man, a bit shorter than Trudy and very slight in build. His face had the prominent cheekbones and high forehead of an ascetic, although his skin looked waxy, almost artificial. His hair was cropped short, as was his trim beard. Both were a soft gray, almost silver. Narrow shoulders, tiny delicate hands. He was wearing a dark blue cardigan jacket over a white turtleneck, neat and precise. Trudy felt shabby in her dull old shirt and baggy jeans.
    It was Uhlrich’s eyes that caught Trudy’s attention. They were as dark as two chips of obsidian. But they seemed blank, unfocused.
    She stuck out her hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you, sir.”
    Uhlrich’s smile turned slightly warmer, yet he ignored her proffered hand. “Thank you. I hope we can work well together.”
    He gestured toward the chair again and sat down behind his desk. Trudy took the chair; it swiveled so that it was easy for her to face Professor Uhlrich.
    He turned to the computer screen on his desk and brushed his fingertips across it, frowning slightly. “We should be joined by Mr. McClintock … He should be here by now.”
    Trudy’s pulse thumped. He’ll be here! I’ll see him again. Great!
    With a disappointed little sigh, Uhlrich said, “Well, I might as well begin. No sense waiting until—”
    A rap on the door stopped him. It slid open and Carter McClintock stepped in, all smiles.
    “Professor,” said McClintock as he strode toward the desk. Pulling out the chair across the table from Trudy, he added, “It’s good to see you again, Trudy.”
    “I expected you five minutes ago,” Uhlrich said. He neither rose from his desk chair nor offered McClintock his hand.
    Looking just the tiniest bit embarrassed, McClintock said, “I, uh, I had to answer a call of nature on the way here. Sorry, but it couldn’t be helped.”
    “I see.” Uhlrich’s tone was