Wormbender's Circus
Chapter 3

The hours soon passed, and the Moon swiftly loomed large in the glass-aerogel-glass laminated viewports, a topography in shades of grey. The darkened portion was delineated by beacons marking the location of major settlements. They had been there for a century and a half, functioning as lighthouses had done on Earth since time immemorial, even after the introduction of the moon’s own Global Positioning Satellite network, and from the earliest days of lunar colonisation they had been observed from the mother planet, an unmistakeable sign in the night sky that human beings had become a truly spacefaring race.

As the shuttle drew closer, those aboard were able to pick out the unmistakeable rectilinear shapes of human settlements. One of the oldest and largest was Angus Bay, a fjord-like channel leading out of the north-western corner of the Sea of Crises. Originally it had been known as Mare Anguis, the Sea of Serpents, but that name had done nothing for its PR, and consequently it had been corrupted to Angus Bay. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

A system of beacons guided the shuttle pilot through the narrow neck of the fjord. If he could see the red beacon, it meant he was too far to port. If he saw the green beacon, he was, conversely, too far to starboard. If the carefully screened white beacon on the Angus Bay control tower was all that was visible to him, he knew he was perfectly on course.

The shuttlecraft dropped lightly onto its appointed spot on the apron, throwing up a small cloud of dust.

The pilot began his spiel. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Angus Bay Spaceport. The seatbelt sign has now been switched off, and we will shortly be commencing the disembarkation procedure. We would like to remind you to take extra care until you adjust to the Moon’s one sixth gravity, and would ask that you exercise a great deal of caution when opening the overhead lockers, as the contents will have shifted in microgravity. We hope you have had a pleasant trip. Thank you for flying United Selenian Shuttles, and we look forward to seeing you again soon.”

Outside, an assortment of service vehicles were visible, and Sebastian watched them through the lightly blue-tinted window, going about their business. Some were automated, like the baggage cart, while others, like the cranes that dealt with heavy cargoes, were manned, and had pressurised cabs. Those which were confined to the immediate flat area of the spaceport had large balloon tyres, while those which had to deal with the rougher terrain farther afield had wheels composed of separate individually sprung plates, somewhat akin to caterpillar tracks.

A Moonbridge snaked out from the terminal and clamped itself like a remora to the ship’s hull. In seconds the green lights came on, indicating that the seal was complete and the walkway pressurised, and then there was the usual mad bustle to get off. A few first timers hit their heads on the ceiling, and some took advantage of the weighted overshoes which were available for the use of new arrivals within the terminal building.

As he was about to go, Bill turned and shook Sebastian’s hand. “It was nice meeting you,” he said with a smile. “Good luck with your... er...projects.”

Sebastian smiled. “And you with yours.” He was grateful that his cover hadn’t been blown.

But as he made his way off the shuttle and out into the terminal he became aware of furtive glances and whispers, and realised that his cover had never existed. He realised why the very rich organised their own private transportation, but he didn’t know how he could bring himself to simply cut himself off from the rest of humanity like that.

He found a quiet corner of the terminal building to pause and get his bearings. It was a large and impressive two storey building of clear-span construction, built of steel and vibration-compacted and solar heat-sintered lunacrete blocks, decorated with large slabs of greenware ceramic onto which regolith, or ’lith, as the locals called it, had been flocked in swirling abstract patterns. The upper storey, as in most public buildings on the Moon, had a reduced pressure of 9.5 psi, and was given over to food production: sifted ’lith proved an ideal medium for hydroponics. The ground floor had a greater pressure of twelve psi, and functioned as terminal buildings functioned on Earth.

Sebastian had booked a suite at the plush Angus Bay Lunatel, and he found his bags already stowed aboard one of the hotel’s courtesy buggies when he arrived at the front of the terminal building. A small glassy panel on the side of the vehicle swiftly read his irises, and the door flipped open.

As he settled into the inviting leather recliner inside, a soporific female voice said, “Welcome to Angus Bay, Mr. Wormbender. We hope you will enjoy your stay on the Moon. If there is any way in which we can make your stay more enjoyable, please do not hesitate to ask. The Angus Bay Lunatel prides itself on its discretion, however, and your privacy will be respected at all times.”

“Thank you,” said Sebastian, genuinely grateful to be shielded from prying eyes.

The buggy began to move, descending a slight incline which was taking him, he knew, beneath the lunar surface. From the terminus ramp he was carried into a broad boulevard lined with shops and cafes with their tables on the pavement. It was not open air, of course, but with a rich assortment of shrubs and small trees in pots and planters, it was as close as Moon-dwellers could hope to come.

In just a few minutes, he was at the hotel. Check-in was entirely automated, and he was wafted directly along a corridor to his suite. Outside the door, the buggy stopped, and as he stepped out, a small cart was disgorged from its rear, carrying his luggage. Again his irises were momentarily inspected, and then the door to the suite swung open to welcome him.

The walls were all tubular, curving up over his head. Once he stepped out of the foyer, he was in the central part of the suite, with an atrium lined with greenery illuminated by sunwells and tubes carrying light from the surface. The various modules, for sleeping, dining, study and fitness, all branched off from the atrium, and the bathroom was centrally located, as it was waste water that supported the indoor plants. Strategically located at the end of each module was what appeared to be a large window, which was, in reality, the bottom end of a periscope extending up through the ’lith, providing views of the lunar landscape in all directions.

Sebastian flopped onto the couch in the main living area and ordered up a drink. “Yes,” he said softly to himself. “This will do nicely.”

Sebastian hadn’t been to the Moon for a while, so he decided to take in the sights. He rented a sporty little flier and installed a tourist guide programme in its navigational computer. With a picnic hamper provided by the hotel and filled with all manner of tasty morsels, he was ready to set off exploring.

The tour guide took him out of Angus Bay, across the Sea of Crises, the Mare Crisium, and on over the mountains to the northern part of the Mare Insularum. Dominating the area was the thirty-two kilometre Kepler crater. The flier approached at low altitude, sweeping rapidly across the chiaroscuro of its ray pattern that spread over the surrounding plain in all directions, before climbing up over the rim and swooping unnervingly down toward the rough, undulating floor. Without touching the controls, Sebastian was conducted on a swift but all-encompassing tour before carrying on out of Kepler and on eastwards towards Copernicus, whose skyline, Sebastian thought, was even more impressive. As his ship circled the twin peaks at Copernicus’ heart, he intervened to interrupt the tour, and he came to rest close to the centre of the crater. There he sat, eating his lunch, gazing out at the “magnificent desolation” ( where had he heard that phrase before? ), and feeling the sense of dismay and irritation felt by all picnickers when two other fliers arrived in quick succession and landed right beside him. Why did they do that, he wondered, when there was such an expanse of nothingness in which to set their ships down?

In the afternoon, he took in some lava flows and the well-known domes near Hortensius crater, then took in a large detour through the lunar Carpathians, the Montes Carpatus, before returning to Angus Bay, tired but happy.

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