Gwen made an unladylike comment and added, "What about that gun you took away from Sir Galahad?"
"Oh. Hon, I haven't even looked at it. Hand me the stupid hat."
"You're not stupid, Richard, just spiritual. Take a look."
I drew that confiscated side arm from my suit belt, examined it. Then I touched helmets again. "Honey, you're not going to believe this. It's not loaded."
"Huh!"
"Indeed 'Huh.' Aside from that I have no comment. And you can quote me."
I chucked that useless weapon into a comer of the bus and looked out at the other rolligon, now rapidly closing. Why would anyone wear an unloaded weapon? Sheer folly!
Gwen tapped her ear again. I touched helmets. "Yes?"
"The ammo for that gun is on the body, you can bet on it."
"I won't bet; I figured that out. Gwen, if I were to try to search that corpse, I would have to cool the other two first. It's not a good idea."
"I agree. And no time for it anyhow. There they come."
Only they didn't, not quite. The other rolligon, while still some two hundred meters away, swung to its left, made it clear that it was avoiding a collision course. As it passed us I read on its side: Vigilante Volunteers-Hong Kong Luna.
Shortly Marcy called me. "Bozell says he found you but can't reach you by radio."
"I don't know why not. You reached me."
"Because I figured out that you would be on the wrong channel. Midnight, whatever you should be doing, it is a dead certainty that you will always be doing something else."
"You flatter me. What should I have done this time?"
"You should have been guarding channel two, that's what. The one reserved for surface vehicles."
"Every day I learn something. Thanks."
"Anyone who doesn't know that should not be operating a vehicle on the surface of this planet."
"Captain, you are so right." I shut up.
We could see Hong Kong Luna over the horizon many minutes before we got there-the emergency landing pylon, the big dishes used to talk to Earth and the bigger ones for Mars and the Belt, the solar power grids-and it got even more impressive as we got closer. Of course everyone lives underground ... but I tend to forget how much of Luna's heavy industry is on the surface-and illogical that I should forget, since most of Luna's great wealth is tied in with raw sunshine, bitter nights, and endless vacuum. But, as my wife pointed out, I'm the spiritual type.
We passed Nissan-Shell's new complex, hectare after hectare of pipes and cracking columns and inverse stills and valves and pumps and Bussard pyramids. The long shadows carved by the rising Sun made it a picture out of Gustave Dore, by Pieter Brueghel (zoon), orchestrated by Salvador Dali. Just beyond it we found the north lock.
Because of Aunt Lilybet they let us use the small Kwiklok. Bill went through with Auntie-he had earned that-then Lady Dee and her surviving husband crowded in ahead of Ekaterina and the kids. Dear Diana had distinguished herself again by demanding that she be taken to the spaceport rather than to a city lock. Bill and I had not let her bother Gwen with her royal commands, but it had decreased (if this be possible) her popularity with us. I was glad to see them disappear into the lock. And it worked out all right as Ekaterina's husband cycled outward through the main lock just as we were losing our VIPs.
Nigel O'Toole took his family (including that pathetic little body) back the same way, after Gwen hugged Ekaterina and promised to call her.
Then it was our turn... only to find that Tree-San could not be fitted into a Kwiklok. So we backed out and went around to the larger (and slower) lock. Someone, I saw, was lifting down the body from the turret of Hear Me, Jesus and others were unloading its cargo, under the eyes of four armed guards. I wondered what was in that cargo. But it was none of my business. (Or maybe it was-it seemed possible that this cargo had been the cause of carnage and death.) We went into the larger lock-ourselves, bonsai maple, small suitcase, purse, packaged wig, cane, prosthetic foot.
The lock cycled and we entered a long, sloping tunnel, then passed through two pressure doors. At the second door was a slot machine for vending short-time air licenses but it had a sign on it: OUT OF ORDER-Visitors please leave a half crown for 24 hrs. A saucer with some coins in it rested on top of the machine; I added a crown for Gwen and me.
At the bottom of the tunnel one more pressure door let us into the city.
There were benches just inside for the convenience of persons suiting up or suiting out. With a sigh of relief I started unzipping and shortly was fastening in place my artificial foot.
Dry Bones is a village. Lucky Dragon is a small town. Hong Kong Luna is a metropolis second only to Luna City. At the moment it did not look crowded but this was the dead of the night; only night workers were up and around. Even early risers had two more hours of sleep coming, no matter that it was broad daylight outside.
But that almost deserted corridor still showed its big-city quality; a sign over the suit racks read: USE THESE RACKS AT YOUR OWN RISK. SEE JAN THE CHECKROOM MAN-BONDED AND INSURED-One Crown/One P-Suit.
Under it was a hand-written notice: Be smart-See Sol for only half a crown-not bonded, not insured, just honest. Each sign had arrows, one pointing left, one pointing right.
Gwen said, "Which one, dear? Sol, or Jan?"
"Neither. This place is enough like Luna City that I know how to cope with it. I think." I looked around, up and down, spotted a red light. "There's a hotel. With my foot back in place, I can take a p-suit under each arm. Can you manage the rest?"
"Certainly. How about your cane?"
"I'll stick it through the belt of my suit. No itch." We started toward that hotel.
Facing the corridor at the hotel's reception window a young woman sat studying-transgenics, Sylvester's classic text. She looked up. "Better check those first. See Sol, next door."
"No, I want a big room, with an empress-size bed. We'll stack these in a comer."
She looked at her rooming diagram. "Single rooms I have. Twin beds I have. Happy suites I have. But what you want- no. All occupied."
"How much is a happy suite?"
"Depends. Here's one with two king beds, and 'fresher. Here's one with no beds at all but a padded parlor floor and lots of pillows. And here's-"
"How much for the two king beds?"
"Eighty crowns."
I said patiently, "Look, citizen, I'm a Loonie myself. My grandfather was wounded on the steps at the Bon Marche. His father was shipped for criminal syndicalism. I know prices in Loonie City; they can't be that much higher in Kong. What are you charging for what I requested? If you had one vacant?"
"I'm not impressed, chum; anyone can claim ancestors in the Revolution and most do. My ancestors welcomed Neil Armstrong as he stepped down. Top that."
I grinned at her. "I can't and I should have kept quiet. What's your real price on a double room with one big bed, and a 'fresher? Not your tourist price."
"A standard double room with a big bed and its own 'fresher goes for twenty crowns. Tell you what, chum-not much chance of renting my empty suites this late-or this early. I'll sell you an orgy suite for twenty crowns... and you're out by noon."
'Ten crowns."
"Thief. Eighteen. Any lower and I'm losing money."
"No, you're not. As you pointed out, this time in the mom-ing you can't expect to sell it at any price. Fifteen crowns."
"Let's see your money. But you have to be out by noon."
"Make that thirteen o'clock. We've been up all night and have had a rough time." I counted out the cash.
"I know." She nodded at her terminal. "The Hong Kong Gong has had several bulletins about you. Thirteen o'clock, okay-but if you stay longer, you either pay full tariff or move to an ordinary room. Did you really encounter bandits? On the trace to Lucky Dragon?"