Moonfall Read Free

that few expected Charlie to get his party’s nomination during the summer.) “But,” he added, adopting a serious tone, “the United States is the major stockholder in this venture, and space has always been the special preserve of the vice president. Goes all the way back to Lyndon Johnson.”
    The truth was that the president didn’t like Charlie very much, that Charlie had been on the ticket four years before only because he could deliver New England. From Washington, Moonbase looked like an investment boondoggle, and Henry Kolladner had no wish to be associated with it, even if he had taken himself out of the running. “He knew how much this program meant to me,” Charlie continued, bending the truth substantially, “so he asked me to represent him. I’m delighted to be here.” He turned and beamed at Evelyn Hampton, who nodded modestly.
    Behind the gaggle of reporters, a window looked out over the regolith. The land was flat and gray and flowed out to a very close horizon. TR would have loved it , he thought.
    Teddy Roosevelt was Charlie’s role model. Tough. Unbending when he thought he was right. Scrupulously honest. Fascinated by the world around him. What would the old Rough Rider not have given to have been able to gaze across that landscape?
    Hampton showed him to his quarters while four Secret Service agents accompanied them. The agents were unhappy that they’d been unable to clear the regular occupants out of the area prior to Charlie’s arrival. But there wasn’t much space yet at Moonbase, and it simply wasn’t possible to move out whole wings of people and put them somewhere else. Furthermore, Charlie had pointed out to the senior agent, they don’t allow wackos on the Moon.
    Evelyn Hampton was a startlingly attractive Senegalese who spoke precise English with a trace of an Oxford accent. She had luminous dark eyes and an imperious manner that left no doubt among her subordinates that she was in charge. “We’re delighted you could come, Mr. Vice President,” she told him, standing at the threshold to his quarters. “We hope your stay with us will be satisfactory.” Her eyes momentarily seemed to promise something more. “Your people have my number,” she said. “Please let me know if I can be of assistance.”
    “I will,” Charlie said. He was a bachelor, and the one real regret he had about his political success was the media attention that made it so difficult to lead anything approaching a normal life.
    She wore the formal version of a Moonbase uniform, white blouse, navy jacket, slacks, and neckerchief. A pocket bullion was stitched with her name and the Moonbase logo, the Armstrong Memorial. “We’re having a celebratory luncheonafter the ceremony,” she said. “We hope you can fit it into your schedule.”
    “Of course,” said Charlie. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
    His apartment was located in Grissom Country, the section reserved for senior personnel and visiting VIPs. It was more spacious than Charlie had expected: He had two reasonably large rooms plus bath and kitchenette, with a desk, a compact conference table, a couple of occasional chairs, a bookcase (which someone had thoughtfully filled with current novels and histories), and a coffee table. One wall held a universal window through which he could see the lunar surface. Or, if he preferred, Tequendama Falls in Colombia, Mount Bromo in Indonesia, or the limestone hills of Kweilin. If he was feeling homesick, various views across Cape Cod were available. The push of a button brought a bed out of the wall.
    Someone had thoughtfully left two Moonbase uniforms on his sofa, one dress uniform, one jumpsuit, and a jacket. The uniform would look good on camera, so he decided he’d wear it to the dedication.
    Despite the fact that there was water ice on the Moon, its extraction was still expensive and difficult. Consequently, water was scarce. It was available, but a large sign invited him to substitute the ultrasonic