The receptionist provided Crater with a tilt of her head and then told him to sit. This he did on one of the hard mooncrete chairs positioned around the tube wall while the receptionist proceeded to ignore him. It was deathly quiet, save the faint whisper of the ventilation system blowing the scent of something organic and sweet-Crater couldn't identify it- through the hidden vents in the ceiling and floor, and the occasional click of the receptionist's fingers on the keyboard of her puter.

After precisely one hour, the receptionist looked his way and said, "The Colonel will see you now." She rose as Crater did, her duty apparently to open the ornate door to the great sanctum. "Colonel, he's here," she announced, followed by the Colonel's parade-ground voice booming, "At last he's arrived!

Send him in, Diana, send him in!"

The receptionist stepped aside to let Crater pass, the big door swinging shut behind him with a soft click. Crater was instantly in awe of the Colonel's office. Paneled in a warm brown with patterned faux woods and a floor cushioned by a soft, green carpet, it was not like anything Crater had ever seen. Alongside a massive desk were enormous globes of the Earth and the moon, both set on stands made of what appeared to be bronze. There was also a gilded placard on the front of the Colonel's desk that said De inimico non loquaris sed cogites which Crater recognized as Latin and meant-if the instruction he had received from a former Latin professor turned heel-3 miner meant anything-Do not wish ill for your enemy; plan it.

The Colonel was seated on a stool in front of the moon globe. "Do you like maps, Crater?" he asked. "I have been contemplating the geologic map of the nearside northern hemisphere, which includes most of the present civilization of the moon. Come over here. I want you to have a better look."

Crater came closer and peered at the gray globe. It had black letters on it identifying the craters, mountains, plains, rilles, and settlements. It was so beautiful Crater wanted to touch it, but he didn't dare. "Our planet," the Colonel said.

"Magnificent, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"What do you know of it?"

There were many experts on the moon, and Crater had been taught by a few of them at the Dust Palace. "Well, the moon's surface is about 14.6 million square miles, a little smaller than Asia on Earth," he recited. "In terms of volume, about fifty moons could fit inside the Earth. It has a complex geologic structure including mountains, rilles, basins, all covered with a rubble of rock fragments and dust we call the regolith."

"And your namesake, the craters," the Colonel added.

"True is, sir. Craters represent the bombardment history of the inner solar system."

"Very good. Now, tell me. What kinds of rocks are on our little planet?"

"Three kinds, sir. Basalts, anorthosites, and breccia. Basalts are the lava rocks that fill our basins, anorthosites are the bright rocks that make up our highlands, and breccia are composites, mostly caused by meteor, comet, and asteroid impacts."

The Colonel's eyes warmed. "You've learned your lessons well. I will have to compliment her royal highness Q-Bess for tending to your education. But what did she and her lodgers teach you of Earth?"

"Of its geology, sir?"

"I was thinking more of the history of the people who live on it."

Crater formed his thoughts around the stories he'd been taught by various tutors over the years, then answered, "As far as what we call Western Civilization, I know the Egyptians seemed to get things started, then there were the Greeks who figured a lot of things out about math, and then the Romans who were ruthless but great organizers and engineers, and then there were the dark ages, which really weren't all that dark because a lot of wonderful cathedrals got built. All that was followed by the Renaissance where people started to throw off superstition like their belief in witches and wizards and the evil eye and stuff, and then came the rise of European countries and then the United States and Russia too. The industrial revolution happened and then all the world wars and then people started flying into space. During all that time, China, Japan, and the Asian countries were working on their civilization, and Africans and the other nation states of the Americas were trying to figure out where they fit in, and then there were all the civil wars and little wars everywhere when the old nations began to fall apart and turn themselves into smaller countries. And then a lot changed when the moon started to be mined and settled. It's complicated, isn't it, sir?"

"Oh yes, Crater. Very complicated. But history is going somewhere, that much is apparent. Past is prologue as they say, so if we know history, we might predict where it will all end up. You've never lived anywhere other than the moon, have you?"

"No, sir."

"Many people on Earth hate the way we live here amidst our ancient lava flows and rubble, Crater. Did you know that?"

"No, sir. Why would that be?"

"Jealousy, pure and simple. We live free. No one on Earth does. They are all controlled by governments, most of them with a very heavy hand. Oh, there's been some improvements with the new countries, but even they have their tax man with his hand out." He fondly studied the moon globe a little longer, then turned in Crater's direction and asked, "Do you like living in Moontown?"

"I love living in Moontown, sir." It was an honest admission.

"I believe you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Do you know why I've asked you to visit me?"

"Are you going to fire me for driving a shuttle without a permit?"

The Colonel stared at Crater for a long second, then laughed heartily. "No, no, Crater, not at all. I should give you a medal for that, and maybe I will someday when I have nothing better to do. After all, you saved me having to rebuild a maintenance shed and hire a bunch of new orangutans. No, I called you in because I want you to understand something."

The Colonel tapped his finger on the globe at Armstrong City, which was the main settlement built near the first landing of humans on the moon, then trailed his finger northwestward. "I have in mind a great project, Crater. A monorail across our storied wayback. It will begin or end at Armstrong City, depending on your point of view, then travel northerly through the Sea of Tranquility, skirt the Plinius Crater, cut across the Sea of Serenity between the Aristillus and Autolycus Craters, then proceed to a depot a few miles from Moontown.

If constructed, it would be a true wonder and allow a safer and more economical delivery of Helium-3."

Crater, who knew a great deal about engineering since he had been taught by the best ones to show up at the Dust Palace, thought it would be a difficult proposition to build anything as complex as a monorail through the wayback. But he supposed if anybody could do it, it would be the Colonel.

The Colonel moved to his desk and sat, then waved Crater to a leather upholstered chair in front of it. Crater had never sat in such a fine piece of furniture. He carefully lowered himself into it, feeling its softness form around his rump.

"Unfortunately," the Colonel went on, "there are obstacles.

One of them is that the monorail would cross most of the Sea of Serenity, which is Russian territory. They don't want it because they are in league with General Nero, I fear, who opposes my attempts to modernize lunar transportation. And without the Russians on board, the Earthian money men are loathe to fund it."

"Why don't the Russians want the monorail, sir?"

The Colonel took on an expression of distaste. "Because they are idiots, fools, misanthropes, vodka-swilling, nineteenthcentury nincompoops! Excepting the Czarina, of course, but she's heavily influenced by the louts who purport to advise her, louts who are paid under the table by our dear General Nero."

Colonel Medaris, after a brief period of contemplating his own words, continued with what Crater considered a most peculiar question. "Crater, how are you at subterfuge, lying, being underhanded, that kind of thing?"

Crater, believing the Colonel had a good reason for everything, thought the question over. "Not very good. Q-Bess always catches me every time I try to tell a fib."

The Colonel nodded. "Not surprising since that lady's been known to tell a fib or two herself. Nobody in Moontown can cook the books quite so well as our Q-Bess." He chuckled. "I admire her majesty's audacity, though. How about any of those misbegotten denizens of the Dust Palace? Any of them ever teach you to lie, cheat, that kind of thing?"

Crater decided not to mention Petro and replied, "Doom and Headsplitter taught me how to fight dirty, sneak up on people, knock them on the head, although I've never actually done it and I don't really think it's right to fight that way."

"How about Asteroid Al?"

"As far as I know, nobody scrapes a straighter path than Asteroid Al."

The Colonel shrugged. "A straight path, Crater, can also go through an unproductive field, but that's a never mind. If someone asked you, what would you say you were good at?"

It was a hard question since Crater didn't think he was particularly good at anything. Still, he needed to answer so he said, "I guess I'm a pretty good scragline picker, and I know fourteen languages so I'm okay at that, and I can play a few musical instruments, and maybe I'm a fair mechanic too."

"I've heard you're better than fair when it comes to machines. Tell me, are you loyal to my company?"

"Why, yes, sir. I wouldn't have a home or a job without it."

The Colonel pretended to ponder Crater's answer for a moment, then pointed at a display on his desk. It was a glass dome and within it was a gray splintered rock about the size of a man's fist. "I collect artifacts of the movement into space.

That is my most treasured one, an actual rock picked up by Neil Armstrong after the first moon landing and carried back to Earth. It cost me a pretty penny. What do you think of it?"

Crater peered at the rock, which looked just like any one of the thousands of such rocks he'd popped out of conveyor rollers. He considered a pleasant lie, couldn't manage it, and said, "It's a rock, sir."

The Colonel chuckled at Crater's response but then his expression turned grave. "Crater, I have a proposal for you. It's simple, really. I would like you to take a job as scout with the Medaris Convoy Company. You'll work for Captain Teller and journey with the next heel-3 convoy to Armstrong City and, once there, go up on the Cycler and retrieve a package with a very important space artifact and bring it back to me. What do you say?"

Crater was startled by the Colonel's proposal and didn't know what to say. Seeing what he took as confusion, the Colonel said, "This artifact is more than a collectible. It has much to do with the future of Moontown or I wouldn't ask you to do this job for me. You see, Crater, if I sent someone after this thing, someone clearly dispatched to the Cycler to pick it up, there might be some bad men who'd try to stop him. So here's what I'm thinking. What if someone they didn't suspect went after it? Do you understand?"

Crater didn't understand. "I like working on the scrapes, sir," he said.

"I know, Crater, but it's a ruse. Do you understand what that is?"

"A trick or a deception," Crater replied. He felt like he'd just lost a battle in a war he didn't even know he was fighting.

"Precisely," the Colonel said. "So what do you say? Besides doing me a great favor, it might be just the adventure for a young man. Wish I was your age again. I'd be out of here and on that fastbug scouting for the captain faster than you could say the name of my great-grandmother, Penny High Eagle Medaris."

Crater, who'd read the historical accounts of the Colonel's ancestor, said, "She was a prodigious woman, wasn't she, sir?"

"Yes, she was, Crater, and she would approve of what I'm asking you to do. She loved the company she and my greatgrandfather formed, out of which all of the present Medaris family companies were spawned."

The Colonel held every card. If Crater refused, he might lose his job or be kept as a scragline picker for the rest of his life. "I guess I can do it," he said slowly. "But can I come back and get my old job afterward?"

"Why of course!" The Colonel smiled tenderly at the boy.

"You are a first-rate lad. I always knew that. That's why I let you stay at the Dust Palace after your parents-that is to say your foster parents-passed. I don't think you had a defender in my company. They all said you should be sent to Armstrong City to fend for yourself but I said, 'No, this lad's a survivor, that's what he is, and smart as paint. Let him stay, let Q-Bess raise him-she has but one child, the Prince of Wales or Petro or whatever he's called-and she loves children.' So I solved another problem to everyone's satisfaction."

The Colonel looked pleased with himself, then said, "Now, Crater, get thee to the company administrative office and tender your resignation. Then seek out Captain Teller who will take you on as a scout."

It was all too fast. Crater was already scared, and he hadn't done anything yet. The Colonel took no notice, saying, "There's another thing I am going to ask you to do. My granddaughter, Maria? She and I are joint owners of the convoy company. Like all Medarises, she knows the best way to run a company is to learn it from the inside. She has decided, therefore, to be a convoy scout on a few runs. I'm against it, but she has me twisted around her finger. That's true for just about anybody she meets, so watch yourself, eh? A convoy across the moon has significant dangers. Captain Teller is quite competent, but Maria is headstrong and more than a little arrogant about what she can and cannot do. Things can happen out there. You will be working alongside her and I expect you to keep her safe. That, of course, includes giving up your life for hers if necessary. Agreed?"

Crater didn't know what to say. Look after Petro's new girlfriend? He supposed he could do that, especially since Petro wouldn't be around. "Of course, sir."

"Splendid. However, presuming you don't die in defense of my granddaughter, your next most important duty is to get to the Cycler Elon Musk on time. If you don't, there may not be another opportunity to acquire this artifact. I've already tried twice but had to call off the show. Don't let me down, Crater, hmmm?"

"I'll do my best, sir."

"I expect you to do better. Now, the convoy leaves in two days. It will take approximately ten days-twelve at most- to get to Armstrong City. So if it's twelve, the Elon Musk will rendezvous with the elevator's ferry one day after that. By my calculations, um, sixteen days from today I expect you to be on the Cycler. Got it?"

"Fifteen days, sir, and I won't fail you. Maria will be protected and I will get to the Cycler on time."

"It's all set then," the Colonel said. "Off you go."

Crater rose, searched his muddled thoughts for something adequate to say, finally settling on a pallid "Thank you, sir," and left the office. To his surprise, the sheriff was in the waiting room. The gillie was with him in its holster and he handed it over. "How'd it go?" the sheriff asked.

"I'm not sure," Crater said.

"Was the Colonel smiling when you left?"

"Smiling, sir? I'm not certain. Should he have been?"

"No, of course not. A silly question. Well, on your way, lad."

After Crater left the waiting room, the sheriff went inside to see the Colonel. "Your receptionist called and said you wanted me to visit after Crater, sir."

The Colonel was still at his desk. "I was going to congratulate you for finding him. Now I don't know," he said.

"I'm sorry, sir. Did he not prove to be good, honest, naive, and loyal?"

"Perhaps too much."

"Shall I look for someone else?"

The Colonel took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. "No. I need him. But have I done the right thing?"

The question startled the sheriff. "The right thing, sir? I don't know much about right things. Now, if you asked me about the expedient thing, that I could advise."

The Colonel allowed a small, sad smile. "Do the names George Taylor Grange and Lawrence Zummer mean anything to you?"

"Why, yes, sir," the sheriff answered. "They are employees of yours, stationed in Armstrong City, and recently deceased.

Their files crossed my desk. Natural causes, I believe?"

"So we allowed everyone to believe. Both were murdered.

Grange got it with an elk sticker in June. Zummer was poisoned in September. I had assigned them a particular duty.

They were to go up to the Cycler and retrieve a certain artifact.

The same artifact I'm sending Crater after."

The sheriff processed that information. "Who killed them?"

"I have no idea. There are many candidates but I really don't know. All I know for certain is I'm sending that fine, innocent boy on a mission that may get him killed. No, will probably get him killed. What say you now, Sheriff?"

"One does what one has to do, sir."

The Colonel nodded. "One does, indeed," he said, though he allowed himself a brief pang of regret, then rejected it as unworthy. What was one orphan, even one as smart and good as Crater? The Colonel allowed himself to relax. He'd done the right thing, the only thing to be done. It was for the good of his family and their various enterprises, which meant it was for the good of the moon.

When Crater arrived at the Dust Palace, he found Q-Bess with both a smile on her face and a tear in her eye. She held up her reader. "Crater, it says here you've quit the mining company and joined the convoy company. Is it true?"

When Crater said it was true and that he was to be a scout on the next heel-3 convoy, she took him into her arms for a big hug. "Oh, my darling boy," she sobbed through a proud smile.

"Don't get yourself killed out there, but do good. Do real good!"

"I'll make it back, Q-Bess," Crater swore. "And I'll do good too," he added, although he had his doubts about both propositions.

Part Two.