Good Night Ocean by Mark Jasper

Author:Mark Jasper [Jasper, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Animals, Sea Stories, Juvenile Literature, Children's Stories, Marine Life
ISBN: 9781602190368
Publisher: OUR WORLD BOOKS
Published: 2009-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

four

It was deliciously pleasant to drift, restrained by the buckles and pads, and spin soft coils of illusion. Zero-g did that. Below, the random splotchings of craters wheeled, each slipping below the arched horizon before he had memorized it. An old friend lost without a farewell handshake; memory of a million such. When shaking hands, remember your manners, Nigel, take off your glove first (cold snatching at your fingers) . . .

His mind wandered.

Which wasn't right, he told himself. He should stay alert. He was not here for the view. Nor did segmented tanks of high-energy fuel ride to the side of him, above, below, aft, for his own amusement. They waited for their signal, the soft percussion of a button, to apply the bootheel and send him straight into history.

Or into the abyss beyond Earths web, he thought. Hipparchus Control—awesome name for six sheet-metal huts buried in twenty feet of dust—had been a touch vague about the margin of error they had allowed for getting him back. Maybe there wasn't any.

Off to his right the northmost rim of Mare Orientale slid into view, slate-gray sheets of lava cooled in their convulsions. The craters center lay a good fifteen degrees south of his near-equatorial orbit, but even at this low altitude he could see the marching mountain ranges that curved away from him, inward, toward the focus. He wondered how big the rock had been that caused that eerie effect: crests of ancient waves that froze into mountains. An enormous bulls-eye in the moon's ribs. Assassins knife. Death from an asteroid, a brother of Icarus—

"Hipparchus here," a voice rattled and squeaked in his ear. "Everything's okay?"

Nigel hesitated a moment and then said, "Shut up."

"No, its okay. We've calculated it out. We're both of us in the moon's radio shadow, as far as the Snark is concerned. It can't pick up any of this."

"I thought we weren't taking any chances."

"Well, this isn't exactly a chance." The voice sounded a bit peevish. "We just wanted to see how things're going up there. We don't get any telemetry. You could be dead for all we know."

He couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he let it go. The radio man—who was it, that short fellow, Lewis?— seemed to think he was just making a neighborly call. The phones crackled and sputtered in his ears for a moment while he waited out the other man. Finally the voice came, a little stronger.

"Well, we have a good fix on the time, anyway. About five hours away. Squirting the scoop to your LogEx now."

There was a hum from the electronics beside him as the computer absorbed the orbital data. He was sure it was Lewis now; the man was addicted to jargon.

"Have you rechecked your missiles?" Lewis said. "Yes. Uh, roger."

"We just had a squirt from Houston to remind you about priorities. Any piece of it is better than nothing, so hold off on the nuke if you can."

"Roger."

"Feeling okay? You've been up there over a day now, it must be getting cramped.

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