The Lotus Caves Read Free

because that was the age for entry to Peter Dickinson’s old boarding school in England.
    â€œWe gave it a lot of thought, your mother and I. We decided to keep you till you were ready for a university. Maybe we were being selfish—I don’t know. One of the arguments on our side was that you and Paul were such buddies—had been since you crawled around a sandpit together, before you could walk. I guess that one has kind of blown up in our faces.”
    Marty did not say anything. His father went on: “We’ve been thinking about things again. We decided you are old enough to make a decision for yourself. If you want to go down, we’ll fix it.”
    â€œWhere would I live?”
    â€œWe’ve got relatives in different places. You could have a choice.”
    His father had spoken evenly and casually, but Marty realized there was nothing casual about this, nor about the decision he should make. He was excited, and guessed the excitement could have shown in his voice. He was a bit ashamed and, realizing that, realized something else—that it really would mean leaving them, for six long years. He would be down on Earth and they would be still up here in the Bubble. He imagined seeing his mother’s anxious face, not in reality but on the flickering circle of the visiphone screen, rationed to a few minutes at a time. He said quickly: “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go down.”
    â€œYou’re sure of that? You could give it thought. You don’t have to make your mind up right away.”
    â€œI’m sure,” he said. “I’m fine here.”
    â€œThen I’m very glad. Especially on account of your mother. Life here is more of a strain on some people than others. They miss things more, things they knew back on Earth. Your mother does.”
    But you don’t, Marty thought with sudden resentment. He looked at his father’s tall, upright figure, the strong chin, high-cheekboned face, steady gray eyes. You’re happy enough here.
    â€œIt would have been rough for her if you had decided to go. It’s going to be pretty rough for Mrs. Miller.”
    The excitement had gone; in its place there was a sick feeling in his stomach. He had been offered the trip to Earth and had turned it down. He was stuck with the Bubble.
    His father said: “Hey, you’re not watching your line! That looks like a big one.”
    â€¢ • •
    He went with the Millers by crawler to the launch station. It was six miles away along the edge of the Sea of Rains, as a precaution against blowups damaging or maybe even destroying the Bubble. The caterpillar tracks took them steadily with occasional jolts across the Moon’s surface, from time to time plunging through dust pockets and sending dust scattering on either side, a shower of floating sparks in the rays of the risen sun.
    Nobody spoke much. At the launch station they went on board with Paul and saw him for the last time, with all of them crowded together in the capsule. There was the bunk in which he would lie, cushioned for takeoff. And for landing. It was hard to believe that in a few weeks he would be breathing the air of Earth, not inside a protective dome but out of the whole wide sky of the planet.
    Paul said: “You’ll write to me. I’m counting on that.”
    â€œSure,” Marty said. “You, too. If you don’t find you have too many other things to do.”
    But he would, of course. Paul said: “I won’t. Bye, Mom, Dad. I’ll visiphone you right away, soon as I land.”
    Mrs. Miller kissed Paul. Mr. Miller put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard. Then they had to get out and take a cabin across to the control center. From the viewing level they heard the relay of the countdown, and saw the exhaust gases rise in a fiery cloud from the pit before the ship itself began to rise, sliding out of its sheath, slowly at first and then faster and