Maria took a bite out of the second half of her sandwich, chewed it thoughtfully, and then noticed the gillie move in its holster. "Would the gillie talk to me?"

"Gillies are only supposed to answer questions."

"Petro said yours does more than that."

The mention of Petro made his jealousy bloom again but Crater remained calm, at least on the outside. "What else did he say?"

"He said you loved that little blob of slime mold cells."

"I don't love it. I don't love anybody."

Maria apparently enjoyed needling Crater. "I would like to ask your gillie a question. Is that all right?"

"Sure, but it won't answer unless I tell it to."

"Then tell it. What's the harm?"

Crater thought it over. He supposed there was no harm, other than general stupidity for Maria to think she could stump the gillie. In fact, he thought it might be fun for the gillie to show off a bit so he said, "Gillie, this girl is going to ask you a question. I give you permission to answer it."

Maria blinked her big brown eyes. "Why did you call me 'this girl'? I have a name."

"I didn't think I should use the first name of my boss."

"Give me something of a break, Crater."

Crater shrugged. "Gillie, Maria"-he pronounced it with some disdain-"is going to ask you a question. Please answer it."

"Gillie," Maria said, "do you think Crater is nice?"

"It doesn't answer personal questions," Crater snapped.

Define nice, the gillie said, crawling out of its holster to Crater's shoulder.

Maria gave Crater a triumphant glance, then said, "Is he kind, brave, and clean? And does he like brunettes?"

The gillie turned a crystal blue and managed to look thoughtful, then said, He is kind. He is brave, though he doubts himself. He generally bathes when he can, but he has at times worn underwear that is not clean. He likes girls, and the color of their hair does not matter.

"How about me? Does he like me?"

"No more questions," Crater growled. For some reason, his face was feeling decidedly hot.

The gillie preened, changing its color to a golden yellow.

He alone can answer.

Maria laughed softly. "Well said, Gillie. So, Crater, do you like me? Not many boys do. They think I'm too bossy."

"Well, I agree with them," Crater said.

"That was an honest answer," Maria said, though she didn't sound grateful. She didn't look grateful either. "I guess we've established at least one thing with your gillie. You don't like me and, guess what, I don't like you either." She raised her chin. "But we're professionals, are we not? We'll continue to work together, me telling you what to do and you doing it."

"Fine," Crater snapped.

"Fine," Maria snapped back. "Pick up our dishes, wash them, and tidy up the kitchen. I'm going to bed."

Crater did as he was told, his lower lip out in grumpy fashion, while Maria climbed into one of the bunks and snapped the curtain shut.

During the dustup between Crater and Maria, Captain Teller kept his eyes focused on his puter screen though he was listening. He was also smiling. "Kids," he said, then shook his head.

He'd have to keep an eye on those two. They liked each other, though they hadn't figured it out yet. He also took a moment to think about something other than the convoy. He was wondering if maybe he'd done enough convoying. He had a fine wife and three marvelous kids in Armstrong City. He also had a nice savings account in Armstrong City stuffed with johncredits. Teresa wanted to invest it in a sundome that could hold a vineyard. She was from the Italian Amalfi Coast and her family had owned vineyards for centuries. Why not one on the moon? With enough water and fertilizer and sun, the grapes would grow, and during the long shadow, they could use sunlamps. She had it all figured out, and Teller was thinking perhaps it was time to follow her dream. After all, how many times could a man cross the moon and come through unscathed? Any man could run out of luck, and Teller figured he'd almost used up his allotment.

But that decision was for later. Now, he had a convoy to get across the moon, a convoy laden with the treasure of the Alpine Valley. He turned back to the puter, plotting his course, calculating the time line.

TWELVE.

Take the point, Crater," Teller said.

Crater was happy to do it, just to get away from Maria and the unhappy glances she kept sending his way. After an hour of driving, he approached a series of craters named after the old states of the original American union. He took them one after the other, Montana, West Virginia, and Texas, then drove down a long straightaway. He opened up the fastbug, just to see what it could do.

Sixty miles per hour, the gillie said.

Crater let off the accelerator. He could have gone even faster, but he didn't know the road ahead and feared hitting a hole or a bump. After an hour of steady driving, the captain called him. "Change out with Maria," he said.

Crater did a u-turn and sped back to the convoy, passing Maria who diverted her eyes from him. Crater turned around and began to pace alongside the leading trucks.

The gillie had been very quiet as if absorbing all the new things it was seeing but, Crater wondered, were they new? The gillie had crossed the moon, probably near this very track, when he was brought across as a baby by his foster parents.

Could it remember that far back? It occurred to Crater he'd never asked the gillie what it recalled about that time.

But questioning the gillie would have to wait. He needed to focus on driving.

Number eleven truck out of line, the gillie said.

Crater checked his mirror and saw the gillie was correct.

He called the driver. "Number eleven, please get back in line."

There was no response and the truck kept coming. The next time Crater looked back, number eleven had passed two trucks. Then Crater saw another truck move into the open lane to the left of number eleven.

Truck number twelve out of line, the gillie advised.

Crater couldn't figure out why the trucks had pulled into the other lanes. After all, Captain Teller had read the official rules of the convoy, and there was one that said there would be no passing. "Truck twelve, get in line," he called. There was no response.

Crater threw the wheel hard over, skidded around, and floored the accelerator to send the fastbug flying back. He zoomed between the errant trucks, then performed the maneuver again, coming up behind them. "Gillie, are they talking on another freq?"

Yes, the gillie said and made the connection.

"Move out, boys and girls!" he heard one of the drivers urge the others. "Race time!"

"Time to stretch it!" another driver called.

"You'll pay this time, Ching Hoo!"

Crater understood. The drivers were racing. "Get back in line!" he demanded. The result was more trucks swerving into the open lanes.

"This ain't nothing to do with you, sonny boy!" came an anonymous reply.

"Yeah, watch yourself, youngster. This is a man's race!"

Captain Teller called, "Crater, why are those trucks out of the line?"

"They're racing, sir," Crater replied.

"Why are you letting them?"

"I'm not, sir. They just started on their own."

"Then stop them!"

Crater wanted to ask the captain how he was supposed to stop the trucks. They were ten times the size of his fastbug and could run right over him. He did the only thing he could think to do. He accelerated past the leaders, then swerved back and forth in front of them in an attempt to slow them down. The maneuver didn't faze the drivers, who bore relentlessly down.

Crater saw a curve ahead and knew he was going too fast.

He slowed, then smoothly accelerated to get around the curve without skidding. As he came through it, he spotted a crack in one of the lanes. Although he'd covered the road on his scout, he'd not paid much attention to any of the outer lanes. Steering quickly, he avoided the crevice which was about eight feet long and looked to be about six inches deep.

"There's a crack in the road," he called to the trucks barreling along behind, but his warning came too late. Truck eleven hit the crack, its front wheels collapsed, and it smashed into the dustway and started coming apart. Right behind, truck twelve slammed into eleven and flipped, its heel-3 canisters tearing loose and raining down on top of it and scattering on the road. The rest of the convoy slid to an abrupt stop, some of the trucks forced into the dust off the road.

Crater turned about, going first to truck eleven where he found the driver's compartment separated from the rest of the truck. The driver within, a big fellow with a blond handlebar moustache, was lying very still, and Crater didn't know if he was dead or alive. "Condition of this driver," he said to the gillie.

Alive. Broken arm. Probable concussion.

Crater drove to truck twelve which had rolled off the dustway and was lying atop a crater rim. The driver's compartment was beneath a pile of heel-3 canisters. "Condition of number twelve driver," Crater asked.

The gillie took a moment, then said, Dead. Driver compartment breach.

Crater muttered an oath stronger than any he'd ever used, then got out and climbed through the debris. By the time Captain Teller and Maria arrived, he had the driver pulled free and lying in the dust. Her name, according to the name patch on her left breast, was Tilly. She was wearing an ECP suit, but she hadn't been wearing a helmet. When the truck flipped, the cab cracked and the big suck got her.

Captain Teller scowled at the sight, then said, "Maria, get the drivers out of their trucks. March every one of them over here to see this."

The driver of truck eleven limped up, holding his arm.

"Think my arm's broke, Cap'n," he said.

"Klum, I'm sorry," Teller said, "because I wish it had been your neck."

Klum took on a sorrowful expression. "Aw, you don't mean that, do you, Cap'n?"

Teller pointed at the woman. "It was your stupidity that killed Tilly." He cut his eyes back to Crater. "Say a prayer for her, Crater."

Crater didn't know why the captain wanted him to say a prayer, but he gave it some thought and said, "Dear Lord, I didn't know Tilly, but I hope You'll take her into heaven. She messed up here at the last but that doesn't matter now, not to her and maybe not to You either."

"I said say a prayer, not write an editorial," Teller growled.

The gillie jumped in. For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, blessed be the Lord thy God who loves thee still. Amen and good-bye.

Teller stared at the gillie, then said, "Well, at least that thing's got some sense."

Maria went from truck to truck, making sure the drivers were all in their ECP suits with their helmets on and properly latched. If they were going to act like children, she was going to treat them like children. She ordered them out of their cabs to gather at the wreckage of truck twelve.

Once all the drivers were standing in front of him, Teller raged at them for a while, calling them every name in the book of evil names, then said, "So now you've managed to kill one of yourselves. Don't give me those innocent looks. I saw most of you start to jockey for position as soon as those two numbskulls decided to race."

"We were just trying to have some fun," a driver said.

Though the man was twice his size, Teller picked him up and threw him, his arms and legs flailing into a small crater.

"My suit coulda unraveled!" he protested, whereupon Teller went after him and tossed him into another crater, this one deeper.

Crater started to walk toward the driver to help him up but Teller said, "Crater, you take another step and you'll find yourself hiking back to Moontown."

Klum meanwhile was trying to lose himself among the other drivers, but Teller grabbed him by his broken arm and dragged him howling back. "This is the Colonel's convoy," he said. "When you signed on, you signed his articles. One of those articles says I have full control of every manjack or womanjill driver in it. The charge is murder, Klum, the evidence is in and weighed, and I sentence you to death."

Klum went pale and held up the hand attached to the arm that was unbroken. "Please don't do it, Captain." The supplicating hand sought out Crater and with it an accusing finger.

"That child there shoulda seen the crack. He was down the road ahead of us and said it was all clear. It's his fault we wrecked.

Otherwise, we'da just raced awhile, then we woulda backed off.

You execute somebody, it ought to be him. Dereliction of duty."

The gillie, turning orange, said, in imitation of some longdead king, Balderdash, this man is clearly a fool and deserves to die.

"Hush, Gillie," Crater said. "I can take up for myself."

Then Klum began to weep and sagged into the dust. Teller said, "Well, there you go, Klum. First, blame a mere boy and then start crying like a snot-nosed baby. You're not worth killing. If any of you pea brains care anything about this piece of trash, you'd best drag him out of my sight. Maria and Crater, get a detail together, gather up those loose heel-3 canisters, and spread them out amongst the trucks. We'll also need a couple of volunteers to bury Tilly."

"We can't take anymore canisters, Captain," Carlos said.

"We're all overloaded as it is."