Read Online A Fall of Moondust by Arthur C. Clarke - Free Book Online
Authors: Arthur C. Clarke
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Barring a miracle, it would be their last.
Miss Wilkins, who was beginning to lose a little of her professional smartness, took
round final drinks for those who needed them. Most of the passengers had already begun
to remove their outer clothing; the more modest ones waited until the main lights
went off. In the dim red glow, the interior of
Selene
now had a fantastic appearance—one which would have been utterly inconceivable when
she left Port Roris a few hours before. Twenty-two men and women, most of them stripped
down to their underclothing, lay sprawled across the seats or along the floor. A few
lucky ones were already snoring, but for most, sleep would not come as easily as that.
Captain Harris had chosen a position at the very rear of the cruiser; in fact, he
was not in the cabin at all, but in the tiny airlock-kitchen. It was a good vantage
point; now that the communicating door had been slid back, he could look the whole
length of the cabin and keep an eye on everyone inside it.
He folded his uniform into a pillow, and laid down on the unyielding floor. It was
six hours before his watch was due, and he hoped he could get some sleep before then.
Sleep! The last hours of his life were ticking away, yet he had nothing better to
do. How well do condemned men sleep, he wondered, in the night that will end with
the gallows?
He was so desperately tired that even this thought brought no emotion. The last thing
he saw, before consciousness slipped away, was Dr. McKenzie taking yet another temperature
reading and carefully plotting it on his chart, like an astrologer casting a horoscope.
Fifteen metres above—a distance that could be covered in a single stride under this
low gravity—morning had already come. There is no twilight on the Moon, but for many
hours the sky had held the promise of dawn. Stretching far ahead of the sun was the
glowing pyramid of the Zodiacal Light, so seldom seen on Earth. With infinite slowness
it edged its way above the horizon, growing brighter and brighter as the moment of
sunrise approached. Now it had merged into the opalescent glory of the corona—and
now, a million times more brilliant than either, a thin thread of fire began to spread
along the horizon as the Sun made its reappearance after fifteen days of darkness.
It would take more than an hour for it to lift itself clear of the skyline, so slowly
did the Moon turn on its axis, but the night had already ended.
A tide of ink was swiftly ebbing from the Sea of Thirst, as the fierce light of dawn
swept back the darkness. Now the whole drab expanse of the Sea was raked with almost
horizontal rays; had there been anything showing above its surface, this grazing light
would have thrown its shadow for hundreds of metres, revealing it at once to any who
were searching.
But there were no searchers here: Duster One and Duster Two were busy on their fruitless
quest in Crater Lake, fifteen kilometres away. They were still in darkness; it would
be another two days before the sun rose above the surrounding peaks, though their
summits were already blazing with the dawn. As the hours passed, the sharp-edged line
of light would creep down the flanks of the mountains—sometimes moving no faster than
a man could walk—until the sun climbed high enough for its rays to strike into the
crater.
But man-made light was already shining here, flashing among the rocks as the searchers
photographed the slides that had come sweeping silently down the mountains when the
Moon trembled in its sleep. Within an hour, those photographs would have reached Earth;
in another two, all the inhabited worlds would have seen them.
It would be very bad for the tourist business.
When Captain Harris awoke, it was already much hotter. Yet it was not the now oppressive
heat that had interrupted his sleep, a good hour before he was due to go on watch.
Though he had never spent a night aboard her,
Miss Wilkins, who was beginning to lose a little of her professional smartness, took
round final drinks for those who needed them. Most of the passengers had already begun
to remove their outer clothing; the more modest ones waited until the main lights
went off. In the dim red glow, the interior of
Selene
now had a fantastic appearance—one which would have been utterly inconceivable when
she left Port Roris a few hours before. Twenty-two men and women, most of them stripped
down to their underclothing, lay sprawled across the seats or along the floor. A few
lucky ones were already snoring, but for most, sleep would not come as easily as that.
Captain Harris had chosen a position at the very rear of the cruiser; in fact, he
was not in the cabin at all, but in the tiny airlock-kitchen. It was a good vantage
point; now that the communicating door had been slid back, he could look the whole
length of the cabin and keep an eye on everyone inside it.
He folded his uniform into a pillow, and laid down on the unyielding floor. It was
six hours before his watch was due, and he hoped he could get some sleep before then.
Sleep! The last hours of his life were ticking away, yet he had nothing better to
do. How well do condemned men sleep, he wondered, in the night that will end with
the gallows?
He was so desperately tired that even this thought brought no emotion. The last thing
he saw, before consciousness slipped away, was Dr. McKenzie taking yet another temperature
reading and carefully plotting it on his chart, like an astrologer casting a horoscope.
Fifteen metres above—a distance that could be covered in a single stride under this
low gravity—morning had already come. There is no twilight on the Moon, but for many
hours the sky had held the promise of dawn. Stretching far ahead of the sun was the
glowing pyramid of the Zodiacal Light, so seldom seen on Earth. With infinite slowness
it edged its way above the horizon, growing brighter and brighter as the moment of
sunrise approached. Now it had merged into the opalescent glory of the corona—and
now, a million times more brilliant than either, a thin thread of fire began to spread
along the horizon as the Sun made its reappearance after fifteen days of darkness.
It would take more than an hour for it to lift itself clear of the skyline, so slowly
did the Moon turn on its axis, but the night had already ended.
A tide of ink was swiftly ebbing from the Sea of Thirst, as the fierce light of dawn
swept back the darkness. Now the whole drab expanse of the Sea was raked with almost
horizontal rays; had there been anything showing above its surface, this grazing light
would have thrown its shadow for hundreds of metres, revealing it at once to any who
were searching.
But there were no searchers here: Duster One and Duster Two were busy on their fruitless
quest in Crater Lake, fifteen kilometres away. They were still in darkness; it would
be another two days before the sun rose above the surrounding peaks, though their
summits were already blazing with the dawn. As the hours passed, the sharp-edged line
of light would creep down the flanks of the mountains—sometimes moving no faster than
a man could walk—until the sun climbed high enough for its rays to strike into the
crater.
But man-made light was already shining here, flashing among the rocks as the searchers
photographed the slides that had come sweeping silently down the mountains when the
Moon trembled in its sleep. Within an hour, those photographs would have reached Earth;
in another two, all the inhabited worlds would have seen them.
It would be very bad for the tourist business.
When Captain Harris awoke, it was already much hotter. Yet it was not the now oppressive
heat that had interrupted his sleep, a good hour before he was due to go on watch.
Though he had never spent a night aboard her,
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