CLAIM JUMPER

by Joseph Barrett Bland

     From the ridge overlooking Moon Base 9, I watched as the base’s paired accumulator towers launched a cargo pod bound for Earth.  My eyes followed the pod as it shot straight up, noting the tiny bursts of corrective thrusters.  As the Earth-bound cargo pod neared its apogee some three miles up, its Moon-bound counterpart decelerated down into view, suspended at the end of Moon Tether Number 1.  Both pods slowed as they approached one another, until the two pods briefly came to a halt right next to one another.  Instantly, the moon-launched pod fastened itself to the tether’s capture rack, just as the pod delivered from moon orbit was released.

The newly delivered pod dropped straight down, gaining speed in leisurely lunar fashion.  Once more a few puffs from corrective thrusters could be seen. Meanwhile, the Earth-bound pod began its lift upward, its pace of acceleration already dramatically greater than that of the dropped pod.

My attention shifted back to the falling pod as it fell faster and faster, seemingly impacting at last directly between the two accumulator towers.  In an instant, the pod was slowed and stopped.

I said to the vaguely anthropomorphic contraption sitting next to me.  “Okay, Fred, I think it’s safe for us to jump now”, and rotated my seat to the proper takeoff angle.

“Aye-aye, captain”, said my mechanical companion.  “Target Dot alpha three seven four acquired.  Jumping in three, two , one, z…

A giant hand seemed to press me down into my seat, as the massive storage units in each of the four legs of my Pogo Pete released some of their stored energy into launching us up and forward, off the ridge.

“…ero.” , finished Fred.  “Hi ho Silver, away!” I shouted, as gravity disappeared completely and I, my trusty steed Silver, and my sidekick Fred arced towards the distant Dot that was our target.  It’s hard to say which was more fun – getting booted off a cliff like that or floating serenely afterwards in zero gravity for twenty or thirty seconds.

     “Course correction computed and adjustments commencing”, said Fred, as Silver’s thrusters applied a small force.

     “Great jump, Fred”, I said.  “That’s the way to ration our reaction fluid.”

     “Thanks, boss.”

     As we floated serenely to the top of our apogee, I shifted my seat to better enjoy the scenery.  It really was quite a sight. Floating low on the horizon was Earth, at present in its “full earth” phase, with the sun maybe ten degrees above the opposite horizon.  Since my camp was on the Moon’s far side, seeing the planet of my birth like this was a treat.  On my left, mountains towered, fiercely lit by the low-hanging sun, while on my right even more distant mountains stretched their shadows far out onto the plain upon which Moon Base 9 had been situated.  Meanwhile, below me lay the base itself, a collection of odd shapes on top of mounds of moon material serving as radiation barriers to the mostly hidden structure below.  A single figure, antlike at this distance, moved towards the large cargo crawler that would soon transfer the contents of the pod to the base itself, replacing those contents with moon-based materials soon to be carried into orbit on Moon Tether 1.  From orbit the moon materials would be traded at the top of the tether’s arc for a new pod traveling up from Earth. Released at the same moment the Earth pod was acquired, the Moon cargo pod would acquire enough speed to leave the Moon’s influence.  It would be dropped down the Earth’s gravity well to the Arnold/Kingsbury momentum exchange platform in orbit there, where its captured kinetic energy would be used to help toss yet another pod out of the Earth’s gravity well to Moon Tether 1.

“Adjusting for landing, boss.”

     “Thanks, Fred”, I said, rotating my seat to its correct orientation.  Two more tiny thrusts rotated Silver’s “feet” to orient towards the fast-approaching Dot.

     Since we’d jumped off a cliff that was some five hundred feet higher than our target Dot, the g-force produced by the landing was appreciably more than that of the takeoff.  That was a little rough on my old carcass, but it came close to maxing out the storage potential of the Pogo Pete’s extenders – which was exactly what I wanted.  On this trip, we would be hauling a good deal more mass back with us than we had brought.  I wanted to make sure I had a “full tank” before starting to hop home.

     “Landing complete.  All lights green.”

     I quickly double-checked Fred, because in this business it often only takes one mistake, although I had yet to catch the robot making one. Then I switched Silver to standby mode.  “I concur.  We’re down and locked.”

     I punched the hatch release, and the top half of the Pogo Pete opened up and formed into a ramp leading from the storage area behind me to the surface of the Dot.  As I got stiffly up to exit, I noticed for the first time that only two other Dots were occupied.  On one Dot squatted an eight-legged behemoth, with the Trans-Luna Cartel logo on its side. The other Pogo Pete was a late-model runabout, sporting a single leg.

     Well, I thought to myself, looks like there’s just going to be a few of us in town this trip.  That was a little disappointing.  After so much time with nobody for company but mechanicals, you looked forward to a little socializing.

     “Fred, you go on over to the garage and start your checkup.  I’ll let you know when they’re ready to shift cargo.”

     “Okay, boss.  See you soon.”

     I watched Fred as he pogoed out of the ship and then off towards a distant structure, each time landing squarely in the middle of one of the various Dots that patterned the ground in all directions.  Then I turned and bounced in the direction of the base’s main annex, following a metal grate that led from the edge of my Dot to the annex’s suiting room entrance.

     Closing the main airlock door behind me, I hit the suit shower button.  At length, having been subjected to something akin to a drive-through car wash, up to and including a thorough blow-dry, I passed into the main suiting room atrium.  On one wall, five suits sat in their respective harnesses, the TLC logo emblazoned on the breastplates.  On the opposite wall were several other suits, including one that was obviously new and top of the line.  It was set a little apart from the rest.

     When I’d finished hanging my suit in one of the empty harnesses that lined the semi-circular room, I activated a box of nanochip-slaved mites and hooked it over the collar of my suit, confident that in a few hours the tiny insects would return to their box, leaving me a clean and fresh-smelling suit to wear.  Then I bounced over to the five TLC suits and checked the nametag on the largest one.

     Just as I’d suspected – it said “Mike Hammersmith”.  This should be interesting, I thought, as I headed towards one of the corridors leading off from the suiting room.

     About halfway down the corridor I stopped by a hatch with “Vacant” showing on its slider.  I slid it to “In Use”, opened the hatch, and entered my “home away from home” for the next few days.  “Be it ever so humble…” I said, closing the hatch behind me.  As expected, the room was spartan and functional.  I checked the pantry, making sure it had been stocked with the basics by the house-bot, swung down the bed, and dropped my travel bag on top of it.  I pulled out my robe and shaving kit, then peeled my clothes off and dropped them in the laundry drawer.  I activated the drawer’s cleaning mites, threw on my robe and some slippers, grabbed my kit, and re-entered the corridor.

     Whistling between my teeth, I bounced down to the end and entered the hatch marked “Bathroom”.  Looking around, it appeared I had the joint to myself.  Sinks and toilets on the right, shower stalls and shower bags on the left.  I hung my robe and kit on a hook inside the first stall, stepped into the shower bag, zipped it up behind me, pressurized the bag, and gave myself over to an experience I’d been dreaming of for weeks.

     Ah, the luxury of it, the pure sybaritic pleasure of being inundated by jets of hot water from all directions!  And thanks to the near-perfect waste reclamation facilities of the station and the present availability of unlimited solar radiation, I could stay in the shower as long as I wished.

     A long while later, I’d finally had enough.  I turned off the water and let a stream of warm air issuing from the floor thoroughly dry me.  I unzipped the shower, put on my robe, and headed for the sink.  I stared at the grizzled old man who stared back at me from the sink’s mirror.  The old gentleman revealed there had a deeply lined and darkly tanned face, while below the neckline the skin was the bleached white of someone who hadn’t seen sunlight for years. He looked to be about 75, but I knew that to be untrue.  I was actually approaching 90.  The Moon’s gravity had been good to me, almost as good as my multitudinous pills and supplements.

     “Jedediah, you are one ugly bastard,” I said.  I sighed, quickly shaved, and headed for the hatch.  Just as I reached for it, it opened towards me.  I managed to stop as it swung just by my nose – only to have a beautiful young brunette in a bathrobe bounce through the hatchway and float directly towards me.  When she noticed that she was on a collision course, her eyes went big and her mouth formed an O.  Meanwhile I, instantly assessing the situation, dropped my kit and reached out to catch her, praying my robe managed to stay closed.

     The pretty young thing gave a kind of squeal as I grabbed her arms and pivoted her around our mutual center of gravity, bringing her to a stop facing 180 degrees in the other direction.

     “Pardon me, miss.  Didn’t mean to startle you,” I said with what I hoped was a disarming smile, releasing her and ensuring that my robe was properly fastened.  Hers was fetchingly in some disarray, which she quickly became aware of.  She hastily reached to reassemble it.  I reached down to pick up my kit, then stood, bowed slightly, pivoted and exited the bathroom, shutting the hatch behind me.

     “You may be an old fart, but you’ve still got it,” I said to myself as I went back to my room, with a bit of an extra bounce in my bounce, so to speak.

     Back in my room, I dressed quickly, pulling fresh clothes from my travel bag.  After dressing, I unzipped a compartment of the bag, pulled out a sealed pyrex vial, and placed it on a small shelf next to the bed.  I sat cross-legged on the bed, steepled my fingers, and took a moment to think through the possibilities.  Finally, I got up, put the vial in my shirt pocket, and headed for the base’s main lounge.

     A moon base’s main lounge was also its social nerve center.  Base 9’s lounge sported a small library, comfortable couches and chairs, tables with built-in computers, a self-serve bar and a self-serve food center.  Also, one whole wall was a high-resolution monitor, at present emulating a window looking out on a beach in the Bahamas.  Base 9’s real claim to fame, however, was that it contained the only full-sized pool table on the moon, cobbled together by some pretty creative guys with a lot of time on their hands.

     As I entered the lounge, a powerful “crack” echoed through the room.  “Good break, Hammer,” said one of the four men lounging around the pool table to the large man bending over the far end.  As I walked to the bar, he stood up to his full six and a half foot height.

     “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said, turning in my direction.

     “Howdy, Michael,” I acknowledged, placing my finger on the blood alcohol sensor, then dialing up a cold draft beer.  “Working hard these days?” I said as I grabbed up my beer and a cold glass, then settled on a couch next to the bookshelf.

     “Hardly working is more like it,” Hammer said.  “TLC headquarters is a long way away. I keep up a steady output, and TLC drops a huge chunk of dough into my bank account.  How hard I work earning that dough is something they just don’t need to know about. “  He chalked up his cue, lined up on a ball and dropped it into a corner pocket.

     After slowly popping the beer open, I carefully poured it into my glass.  “Sounds like an ideal job.”

     “Beats the crap out of your job, old man,” said Hammer with a laugh.  His crew joined in the laughter.

     “And what job might that be?” said an unmistakably female voice from the lounge entrance.  The laughter died like a match in a bucket of ice water, and six heads swiveled as one to stare at the speaker.  It was the brunette from the shower.  She was dressed simply in a grey pullover and slacks, but that only accented her trim figure.

     I rose instantly, moving towards her with my hand extended.  “We meet again.  Allow me to formally introduce myself.  Jed Brown at your service,” I said.

     “Ti Snowdon,” she said, shaking my hand.  “Pleased to meet you.”

     “Can I get you something from the bar, Ti?” I asked.

     “Sure.  I’ll have a club soda on the rocks,” she said.

     “Meanwhile, you can go meet everybody else,” I said.  “The big lug with the dopey look is Michael Hammersmith.”  I went over and dialed up her drink while she shook hands with Hammer and his crew.

     I made my way back to the couch with her drink and a glass of ice cubes, seated myself, then carefully popped and poured her club soda.  I patted the sofa next to me.  Ti drifted over, sat, and accepted her drink.  I held up my beer, said “To new friends”, and took a long pull on it.

     Placing my drink back on the table, I leaned back with a sigh.  “That’s better,” I said.  “Well, to answer your question, Ti, I’m what’s known as a ‘rock-jock’.  Or in more common parlance, a prospector.”

     “What’s so funny about that?” she asked.

     “That’s a good question,” I said.  “Particularly since Michael and his friends are also rock-jocks.”

     “Now just a cotton-picking minute,” said Hammer.  “My official title is Level 4 Moon Minerals Analyst.  In addition to which, I’m a crew chief.  I ain’t no stinkin’ rock jock.”

     “Calm down, Michael,” I said.  “The last thing I’d say is that you and I are on the same level.  We all know that I have to actually work for a living.”

     “Damn straight!” said Hammer.

     “You see, Ti,” I said, turning toward her, “I’m a fairly rare bird.  I don’t work for Trans-Luna Cartel.  I’m an independent.”

     “Really?” she said, raising her eyebrows slightly.  “I find that difficult to believe.  How could you have afforded it?”

     “Frankly, it wouldn’t have been possible before the concept of momentum exchange was perfected,” I said.  “But with technology like the Moon Tether and the Arnold-Kingsbury Spaceport, the cost of transporting cargo has dropped dramatically.  It also helps that the solar repeater satellites are finally in place, beaming solar power from the moon’s poles to any point on the moon day or night, and thus supplying me with relatively cheap energy.  Even so, it took nearly all of a considerable fortune to gear up.”

     “Brown, you are three kinds of an idiot,” said Hammer, “throwing away a fortune to become a rock jock.  I mean, what’s the best that you can expect? Break even?  And you have to bust your hump just to do that much!”

     “You never know, Michael,” I said.  “My dad used to have a picture of a turtle over his drafting table.  Underneath the turtle was this saying: ‘Behold the tortoise: He maketh no progress until he sticketh out his neck.’  Let’s just say I’m a big fan of turtles.”

     I took another pull on my beer, set it down, and pulled the vial from my shirt pocket.  “Speaking of turtles, what do you think of that?” I said, putting the vial on the table.

     “What is it?” said Hammer.

     “What does it look like?” I asked.

     Hammer picked up the vial and held it up to the light.  “Don’t look like much to me. A bottle of sludge?”

     “May I?” asked Ti.  Hammer handed her the vial.  She studied it for a moment, shook it, then studied it some more.  Then she turned towards me.  “Is this what I think it is?”

     I picked up the vial and leaned back against the couch.  “Picture, if you will, the following possibility.  A few thousand years ago, a comet comes sweeping into the solar system.  It nearly gets nailed by a couple of the big planets, but manages to escape.  However, it gets slowed in its mad rush towards the sun by this encounter.   It falls inwards, and is once again nearly nailed, this time by our own humble planet.  Instead, it’s captured by Earth’s gravitational field, and becomes a small moon circling our planet for a time.  Then, a few hundred years ago, it meets its final doom.  It impacts the Moon.”

     “Usually, that would result in a cataclysmic explosion.  But instead, the comet strikes the Moon tangentially.  In fact, it almost missed hitting it at all.  And, as luck would have it, a sizeable chunk of that original comet survived the contact, coming to rest at last against a far crater wall.”

     “Now the wall of the crater, it just so happened, was quite unstable.  As a result of the comet’s impact, most of the crater wall fell down on top of the comet fragment, covering it completely.  By good fortune, enough material covered the fragment to serve as an insulating blanket, thus preserving its several hundred thousand tons of water from evaporation.”

     I put the vial back on the table.  “At least that’s the theory.”

     “You’ve found water on the moon,” said Ti.

     “It would appear so,” I said.

     Hammer picked up the vial.  “This is moon water?” he said.

     “Well, technically, its moon mud,” I said, “but I guess that’s close enough.”

     Hammer placed the vial back on the table.  “Son of a bitch,” he said.  Then he rose to his feet.  He turned to his crew and said, “All right, you bums, play time’s over.  We got work to do.”

     Without another word, he turned and left the lounge, followed by his four sullen-looking crewmembers.

     “That went well,” I said.

     “I take it you two aren’t good friends,” said Ti.  She leaned towards me.  “You realize, of course, that you’ve just told your biggest competitor all your secrets.”

     “Who, Michael?  I’m not worried about him.”

     “Ok,” she said.  “What about me?”

     Oh-oh, I thought to myself.  “Are you a TLC employee?”

     “Actually, that’s not easy to answer.  Technically, no, I’m not.  But you might say I have a vested interest in them.  You see, I’m Mark Snowdon’s daughter.”

     “Would that be the Mark Snowdon that happens to be CEO of TLC?”

     “Yep.  That’s daddy.”

     “Hmm,” I said.  “That certainly puts a new complexion on things.”  I picked up my half-finished beer and swirled it slowly.  Liquids can do strange things in reduced gravity.  “Well, looks like you’ve got me over a barrel, Ti, if that’s the way you want to go with this.”  I looked at her.  “Is it?”

     She smiled.  “I like you, Jed.  I think you’re quite the guy.  And frankly, I don’t think of myself as working for my dad.  So I’m just going to sit this one out.”  She sat back on the couch.  “But I don’t think we can say the same about Mr. Hammersmith.”

     “That reminds me,” I said.  “Excuse me while I make a quick phone call, will you?”  I tapped my wrist to open my connection to Fred.  “Fred, are you able to get back to the ship ASAP?” I said.

     “Affirmative,” said Fred via my implant.  “I’m on my way.  ETA in one point 3 minutes.“

     “Excellent.  When you get there, grab the tagger out of the glove compartment.  I need you to surreptitiously tag the TLC Eight in the parking lot.  Try to hit it in an inconspicuous location.  After that, I need you to activate Silver, and then hang around.  Pretend like your doing a maintenance survey or some such.  You and she need watch out for any attempt to get close.  The bottom line is I don’t want so much as an ant coming near you two until the TLC ship is well away.  I figure they’ll be leaving sometime in the next few minutes.”

     “Okay, boss.”

     I turned back to Ti.  “Sorry about that.  I normally don’t talk business in front of people but I needed to move fast on this.”

     “Not a problem, Jed,” she said.  “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s the tag for?”

     “The tag is just a tiny magnetic leach with a long-range transponder.  I often tag my mobile equipment from a distance so I can keep tabs on it.  The transponder only works for a couple of days, so I have to keep shooting them with my tagging gun.  As for why I’m tagging them, I want to confirm a hunch of mine about Michael’s whereabouts over the next few days.

     “You think he’s going to try to find your campsite, don’t you?” she said.

     “I’m counting on it.”

     She slowly shook her head, which, in the moon’s gravity, had an almost hypnotic effect on her slightly wavy and shoulder-length hair.  “You’re up to something, that’s clear.  But I haven’t a clue as to what that might be.

     “I’m just giving him enough rope, that’s all,” I said.  “But enough about me.  What’s a beautiful, wealthy and intelligent woman like you doing out here on the frontier?”

     She smiled.  “Flattery will get you everywhere.  You must have been quite the lady-killer in your day, Jed. “  She leaned forward, putting her hands on her knees.  “It’s really not a particularly surprising story.  Single child from a wealthy family, more brains than most, gets pretty much whatever she wants but gets bored easily.  But she likes adventure, she likes going unusual places – places like, as you said, the frontier.  Dad really hated the idea of my coming to the Moon, and hated even more the idea of my traveling around alone once I got here. “  She shrugged.  “But the bottom line is he can’t really say no to me any more.  So here I am.  I came in on the last shuttle, and I’ve just been kicking around for the last couple of days – or maybe I should say bouncing around.  I’m having a ball with my Pogo Pete!”

     I grinned.  “One of my better ideas, if I do say so myself.”

     “That was your idea?”

     “Well,” I said, “the hard part was coming up with an energy storage technique. In fact, that storage idea was the little invention that paid my way here.”

     “So you really gave up a fortune just to become a moon prospector,” she said.  “You have to admit it sounds a little, well, crazy – although I’m one to talk.  Don’t you have any family?  What do they think of all this?”

     I picked up my beer and swirled it a couple if times. “You know, Ti, I like you too.  Sometimes you just get a feeling about people.  Something tells you that this is someone you can relax with, even if you haven’t known them very long.”  I took a sip of my beer.  “About 20 years ago I was the happiest man in this neck of the galaxy.  My wife and I had married late in life, but I got in on the ground floor raising her two kids, who both turned out great.  In that and other things, I’ve had my fair share of luck.  Including coming up with a useful idea right about when it was needed most.”

     I sat my beer down.  “My wife and I had thirty good years together before she passed away.  To say that her death brought my universe crumbling around me would be an understatement. “  I sighed.  “On one level, I no longer cared if I lived or died.  But I’ve always had a kind of maverick streak in me.  After a while it dawned on me that if I didn’t really care, why not push it to the limit?  And if I could still do something useful for humanity, well, so much the better.  I’d been futzing around with prototypes of the Pogo Pete, but for obvious reasons the best place to really develop the idea was on the planet where they’d be put to use.  So I gave my two step kids and my various nieces and nephews their inheritances, and I moved to the Moon.  The rest, as the saying goes, is history.”

     Just then, Bill Parks, the stationmaster, came in.  He saw me, broke into a grin, and bounced over towards us.

     “There you are, Jedediah, you old coot!  Come to grace us with your presence, have you?”  He held out his hand for me to shake.  “I see you’ve already met the beautiful Miss Snowdon.  I’d advise you to watch out for him, ma’am.  He’s not nearly as harmless as he looks!

     “So I’ve found out,” Ti said, laughing.

     I stood up.  “I hope you’ll excuse us, Ti.  Bill and I have some wheeling and dealing we need to take care of.”

     Ti also stood up.  “Certainly.  It’s not a problem,” she said.

     I bowed slightly to her.  “It’s been a pleasure chatting with you.  If you don’t mind, maybe we can continue our conversation over dinner tomorrow?”

     She smiled.  “I’ll be looking forward to that, Jed.”

     I turned to Bill. “Well, Bill, shall we go talk turkey?” and left for his office.

     The next day, as Fred and I were finishing loading our cargo into Silver, I got a call on my suit phone.  It was Bill, and he asked me to come by his office as soon as possible.  Something had come up, he said, that I needed to know about.  He didn’t say what it was, but having watched Hammer’s progress with my tracking tag, I knew exactly what was going on.  I left Fred to finalize the loading, and headed in.

     When I got to Fred’s office, he wasn’t alone.  Ti was also there, sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk.  I sat in the chair next to hers.

     “I’ve asked Miss Snowdon to join us.  This concerns the Trans Luna Cartel, and while she isn’t actually an employee…”

     “Jed already knows who I am, Mr. Parks,” she said.

     “Ah,” he said.  Yes.  Well.  Here’s the thing…”

     “You’ve just received a Mayday from Michael Hammersmith and his crew,” I said.

     Both of them turned to look at me.  “How did you…” said Bill.

     “I know exactly where they are, exactly why they’re there, and exactly what happened to them,” I said.  “I also know that they’re in no real danger.  They’re just stuck.  They can’t get out of where they are without help.  Consequently, they’ve been forced to call in a Mayday.”

     “I see,” said Bill quietly.  “Would you mind telling me just how you happen to know all this?”

     “I’d be glad to,” I said.  “As Ti will tell you, I happened to mention a fairly major discovery I recently made to her and Michael yesterday.  Basically, I’ve discovered a source of several thousand tons of easily mined water on the moon’s surface.”

     “Several hundred thousand tons…” said Bill.

     “Of water, that’s correct,” I said.  “Evidently, Michael decided he was going to follow my trail back to my camp.  That would be pretty simple, as you know, since part of the process of trail-blazing means creating and leaving Dots behind you to increase the efficiency of moving cargo in and out.  So basically, all he had to do was follow my Dots.  As to how I know where he is, I took the precaution of attaching a locator to his ship just before he jumped out of here.  I’ve also recorded his journey, if you’re interested.”

     “As to why they’re there,” I continued, “I’d say that’s pretty obvious.  He figured he could get there, stake a claim in the name of TLC, and then let TLC bury me under a legal avalanche.  In effect he’s there to jump my claim.”

     “Judas priest,” said Bill.

     “You also said they were in no danger,” said Ti.  “How is it that you know that?”

     “There’s an old saying: look before you leap,” I said.  “But sometimes that’s not good enough.  I had a feeling someone might try something like this, so I set a kind of trap.  I put a fake Dot on my trail.  Instead of sitting on solid ground, it was held up by a pole.  Anyone who jumps on that Dot would find himself sinking in about 50 feet of finely powdered moon dust.  As a result, the more they tried to jump out, the deeper they’d sink.”

     That’s the first time I ever saw a man’s jaw drop.  I have to say it did my old heart good.

     Later that evening, after Ti and I had finished dinner, we stood in the lounge while I nursed another beer and she drank her club soda on ice.  We stood in front of the wall screen, which we’d set to show the local view, facing the gorgeous globe of a full Earth hanging low in the sky.  The rescue party would be leaving soon, and I’d be going with them, in part to show them the way, but also because I’d finished packing my supplies and it was time to go.

     “So you planned this from the very beginning,” Ti said.  You dangled that bait in front of Michael, and he jumped for it.  Literally.  But what I don’t understand is why.  You don’t seem like the vindictive sort.”

     “Oh, it wasn’t personal,” I said.  “Look at it this way.  I’m a pretty small fry.  The minute I’d announced my find, TLC would have been moving heaven and earth to muscle their way into the action.  Maybe I would have been able to fight them off, using what’s left of my fortune, but then what?  I’m an old man, Ti.  I just don’t have much time left.  Why would I want to waste it in a fight like that?”

     “But now let’s look at the situation as it stands.  A Mayday on the moon is still a big deal, even in this day and age.  It’s something that’s going to grab headlines.  And when it does, the fact that this was all about a huge company trying to rip off a solitary old prospector’s claim is going to come to light.  I’d say that puts me in a heck of a good bargaining position, wouldn’t you?”

     She smiled, then turned back to look at the scene before us.  “So now you’re going back out there.”

     “That’s right,” I said.  “I’ll always go back out there.  And someday, I just won’t come back.  Which is just fine with me.”

     “We’ll miss you when that happens, Jed,” she said.  “You know that.”  She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.  “As I said before, Jed, you’re quite the guy.”

     Later, I climbed the ramp back into Silver and seated myself next to Fred.  “Okay, Fred, let’s close her up.”

     “Aye-aye, captain,” said Fred.  “Did you have a good time at the base?”

     “I did, Fred,” I said.  “I had a great time.  But now it’s time to go home.” I rotated my seat to the proper takeoff angle.

     “Aye-aye, captain”, said my mechanical companion.  “Target Dot alpha three six nine acquired.  Jumping in three, two , one, z…

     The familiar giant hand of my Pogo Pete pressed me down into my seat.

     “…ero.” , finished Fred.  “Hi ho Silver, away!” I shouted.