Evacuated
SEXCOMS AT TOP OF RATINGS AGAIN
Cop Shows Distant Second
FREE LUNCH GANG ROUNDED UP IN FLORIDA
Preyed On Handicapped
4.
Moonbase Spacepart. 12:33 P.M.
They were just beginning to admit passengers onto the boarding ramp when Tony Casaway arrived. He had originally been scheduled to carry the vice presidential party on the Micro to L1. But the schedules were in chaos today. He understood that management was trying to move as many people as possible to L1. The comet was coming, and people were excited, the way they got on roller coaster rides when they knew they were in for a deliciously scary time but one that ultimately would be safe.
Tony wasn’t so sure. He’d caught a sense of worry when Bigfoot had brought him in to tell him about his shuffled assignments. Not desperation, by any means. But there had been a tightness in the air. He’d assigned it to the simple fact that Moonbase was going to get blitzed. But it might have been more than that.
Tony Casaway was an old test pilot, which is the best kind. He was different from the other pilots, who’d come to the Moon for reasons he could never understand. They talked a lot about frontiers and going to Mars. Tony came because Gina had gone shopping one day at a supermarket and walked into a hail of gunfire when a couple of goons tried to knock the place over. She was buried in a green hillside outside her native Kansas City, and Tony had gotten as far from that hillside as he could.
The Spaceport, like the rest of the facility, was submerged in the regolith. The hangers and pads were designed to accommodate a multitude of vehicles: the buses that connected Moonbase to L1, and a variety of space trucks and moon-hopping cargo carriers called lobbers that could haul equipment and products between the central complex and outlying factories and research posts.
A group of evacuees were milling about in the passenger lounge while technicians ran preflight checks on the two vehicles—a bus and the Micro—that were scheduled to depart within the half hour for L1. Most were middle-aged movers and shakers, VIPs who’d come to Moonbase for the ceremony. These included an eminent historian, a world-famous sculptor, and two Hollywood types. Wolfgang Weller, the German foreign minister, and his three-person entourage were also here.
Weller was tall and imposing, with cold gray eyes and an imperious manner. He looked annoyed, and Tony wondered whether the source of his irritation was the impending destruction of Moonbase or the fact that he was being herded about with the commoners. He looked like an easy man to dislike. Curious quality in a diplomat.
Or maybe the trouble was in Tony’s mind. He didn’t like high-powered types. They always seemed to need special attention, and to expect people to fawn over them. He made it a point therefore to seem unaware of the rank of any such passenger.
The passengers parted to let Tony through. He strode up the ramp and was greeted inside by Shen Ka-tai, the flight attendant. “Saber’s on board,” he told Tony.
Tony nodded and passed into the snug passenger compartment. There were four seats on either side of the aisle, set in pairs. The nature of traffic between L1 and Moonbase dictated the need for a compact, fuel-efficient vehicle to transport small groups and occasionally single persons. That vehicle was the Micro. Two more microbuses were currently under construction and were to join the fleet within the month.
His passengers were coming in behind him. Weller and three aides, and a family with two kids. Eight people in all. The manifest described the family as tourists and indicated their final destination as London. The two kids, a freckled girl about ten and her slightly younger brother, looked excited.The parents, however, were brusque and nervous. They issued sharp commands to their progeny to sit down, buckle in, and please don’t make so much noise. Tony reassured them, explaining that they’d be safely
SEXCOMS AT TOP OF RATINGS AGAIN
Cop Shows Distant Second
FREE LUNCH GANG ROUNDED UP IN FLORIDA
Preyed On Handicapped
4.
Moonbase Spacepart. 12:33 P.M.
They were just beginning to admit passengers onto the boarding ramp when Tony Casaway arrived. He had originally been scheduled to carry the vice presidential party on the Micro to L1. But the schedules were in chaos today. He understood that management was trying to move as many people as possible to L1. The comet was coming, and people were excited, the way they got on roller coaster rides when they knew they were in for a deliciously scary time but one that ultimately would be safe.
Tony wasn’t so sure. He’d caught a sense of worry when Bigfoot had brought him in to tell him about his shuffled assignments. Not desperation, by any means. But there had been a tightness in the air. He’d assigned it to the simple fact that Moonbase was going to get blitzed. But it might have been more than that.
Tony Casaway was an old test pilot, which is the best kind. He was different from the other pilots, who’d come to the Moon for reasons he could never understand. They talked a lot about frontiers and going to Mars. Tony came because Gina had gone shopping one day at a supermarket and walked into a hail of gunfire when a couple of goons tried to knock the place over. She was buried in a green hillside outside her native Kansas City, and Tony had gotten as far from that hillside as he could.
The Spaceport, like the rest of the facility, was submerged in the regolith. The hangers and pads were designed to accommodate a multitude of vehicles: the buses that connected Moonbase to L1, and a variety of space trucks and moon-hopping cargo carriers called lobbers that could haul equipment and products between the central complex and outlying factories and research posts.
A group of evacuees were milling about in the passenger lounge while technicians ran preflight checks on the two vehicles—a bus and the Micro—that were scheduled to depart within the half hour for L1. Most were middle-aged movers and shakers, VIPs who’d come to Moonbase for the ceremony. These included an eminent historian, a world-famous sculptor, and two Hollywood types. Wolfgang Weller, the German foreign minister, and his three-person entourage were also here.
Weller was tall and imposing, with cold gray eyes and an imperious manner. He looked annoyed, and Tony wondered whether the source of his irritation was the impending destruction of Moonbase or the fact that he was being herded about with the commoners. He looked like an easy man to dislike. Curious quality in a diplomat.
Or maybe the trouble was in Tony’s mind. He didn’t like high-powered types. They always seemed to need special attention, and to expect people to fawn over them. He made it a point therefore to seem unaware of the rank of any such passenger.
The passengers parted to let Tony through. He strode up the ramp and was greeted inside by Shen Ka-tai, the flight attendant. “Saber’s on board,” he told Tony.
Tony nodded and passed into the snug passenger compartment. There were four seats on either side of the aisle, set in pairs. The nature of traffic between L1 and Moonbase dictated the need for a compact, fuel-efficient vehicle to transport small groups and occasionally single persons. That vehicle was the Micro. Two more microbuses were currently under construction and were to join the fleet within the month.
His passengers were coming in behind him. Weller and three aides, and a family with two kids. Eight people in all. The manifest described the family as tourists and indicated their final destination as London. The two kids, a freckled girl about ten and her slightly younger brother, looked excited.The parents, however, were brusque and nervous. They issued sharp commands to their progeny to sit down, buckle in, and please don’t make so much noise. Tony reassured them, explaining that they’d be safely
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