They knew I was coming. You don't dock to HQ without them knowing it. The entire TAC security force, all three of the brutes were waiting for me when I stepped through the airlock. They typically work in shifts, I guess they didn't want to miss out on this entertaining event.
I expected them to handcuff me and shuffle me directly to the brig, but they formed up around me and escorted my butt to Harding's office.
Thomas Harding, the penultimate Boy Scout stood behind his desk with a scowl that would make a drill instructor proud. I could tell he was upset, but I couldn't help but admire him. Harding is an honest, hardworking, fair minded guy. I'll be sure to remind him of those finer qualities if I have the chance. He was about to send me to the brig, to prison on Earth or worse, but I couldn't make myself fear him.
He was too damned good looking. He must have had a babyface till his mid-thirties. I bet he can't grow a real beard with that smooth skin wrapped over his high cheekbones. His cleft chin and straight nose remind me of that old actor, Jude Law but taller. Harding is at least six foot two with neatly trimmed dark brown hair slicked down and he is strac, that's military lingo for looking sharp. His uniform had sharp creases in the right places, his blouse had so much starch it looked like it would break if bent. I couldn't see his shoes, but I've seen them before. They'd be shined to a mirror finish.
I saluted him. I'm never been in the military, but I couldn't help myself.
"Sit," he said gruffly.
I sat and stared up at him until he sat.
"Why are you back, Frank?"
"Why is everybody asking me that?" I complained.
"We had an understanding that working on the moon was not in your future."
"I came back for love," I can't lie to that face. "I love it up here and with the hotel and tourists there will be so many opportunities," well maybe half a lie.
"I won't ask you because I know how you got up here. Being a stowaway on a Cruiser can land you in prison for decades."
"I'm the victim here. I should never have been fired. I was provoked. You know me, I'm not a violent person. He wasn't hurt that bad. We could have worked it out." I was pleading for my life.
I mentioned that I wasn't well liked by my co-workers. Well, there was one guy, Russ Crane. For some reason I rubbed him the wrong way. I get that our personalities didn't mesh, but this guy couldn't let it go. I tried to appease him by sitting as far away from him as possible, but that wasn't enough. Granted we were working in tight quarters. Older domes like the one we worked in are cramped. Like I said, I was good at my job and tried to make it fun. Maybe it was the fact that I talk to myself when I work that got under his skin. I admit it, I can get enthusiastic and loud. Hey, we all have our faults, but I got the job done.
That day we were working on the huge hotel dome. This was the largest dome ever built on Luna and it had some complex cuts and angles the way it intersected with another dome. There are technical terms like corbelling, lintels, squinches and apparently tons of math involved, but I don't pay attention to those. I build by the numbers. To assemble a structure, we follow a diagram on the screen and place numbered preformed blocks of different shapes and sizes into assigned locations. A monkey could do it. I had eight pups running from the base up the hill to the mid-level hustling blocks, dropping each one in its slot, like a puzzle.
Things got testy when Russ dropped a block in the wrong slot, and it got stuck. Pulling it out and replacing it slowed him down, so I used one of his pups while he was struggling with his bad drop. I don't know why he got so angry. He wasn't using it, and I gave it back. Anyway, things got heated. He got up in my face spouting hell and fury like an angry lion, then he shoved me, so I decked him. He fell back and cut his head on the desk.
Blood streamed out like an open spigot. Not my fault, head wounds are like that. They look worse than they are. A couple stiches later, he was fine, but he pressed charges for assault, and I was hauled in front of Harding. He knew about the strife amongst us wranglers, now for some reason all the heat was coming down on me. I was the best wrangler SSP ever had on Luna and I was fired. I begged to keep my job, but two days later I was launched off Luna with orders not to return.
Harding looked at me in weird way that sent tingles up my back, scary tingles. "Did you know that two days after your departure Russel Crane stepped out of an airlock to take a moon walk wearing only his boxer shorts?"
"Oh dang. You can't hang that on me. It was a bump on his head."
"I'm not saying you're at fault."
"Oh, okay good. The guy took a moonwalk in his boxers, eh. How far did he get?"
"About twenty feet. Not bad considering it was an especially cold night, One-twenty-five K," Harding said.
"One hundred twenty-five degrees kelvin, dang that's what, minus 230 degrees Fahrenheit? That's popsicle weather. Why would he do that? He won. I was gone. He must have been the hero of the wrangler crew."
"We learned later that his wife had left him. Apparently, he'd been having marital problems. It might explain his aggressive behavior toward you," Harding said lowering his head.
"See, not my fault. The entire episode was a misunderstanding, just like I said. Does this mean I get my old job back? You'll send a message to SSP explaining everything, right?"
"Frank. There are no openings for bot wranglers." Harding said talking slowly. I get nervous when he does that, like he thinks I won't understand what he's saying. I don't think I'm gonna like what's coming next.
"You took a trip to the moon without authorization. Cruiser rides cost two hundred fifty thousand per passenger, you have no employer and no funding. A good lawyer might get the criminal charges dropped but how do you plan to make restitution?"
I slumped in my chair. A short walk in my boxer shorts doesn't sound bad right now. My face heated up. There's no mistake, I'm in deep this time.
"I know I screwed up. I was desperate. I did whatever it took to get back. I have no family. There's nothing for me on Earth. This is where I belong."
"I heard you and Gus saved Dr. Bloch's life."
"Oh, yeah. You heard about that already?"
"When someone blows a hole in a dome, I tend to hear about it. You saved his life."
"Gus pulled him in. I was, I mean yeah Gus and I, we saved him," I said.
"I also heard you took control of builder bots, without authorization to patch his dome."
"Oh, sorry about that. My log-in still works! The dome lost pressure. He was going to freeze or suffocate. Either way he was a goner."
"I need people on base who can think under pressure. Things are likely to get chaotic when tourists start showing up." Harding is confusing me. Am I going down for hitchhiking to the Moon or what?
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you got a raw deal. I could use a man who can think on his feet. That does not excuse you for your illegal trip back, but I'll give you the opportunity to work off the restitution."
"You're offering me a job?" I asked carefully.
"You'll work as a member of TAC. Without pay, for as long as I tell you."
"What's my job? What will I be doing? Will I quarter with the TAC team?"
My head was spinning. I wasn't going to the brig. I wasn't being sent back. I work for TAC. I can visit Wanda with my head held high like a man with purpose.
"Until I think of something else, you're my rover driver. I believe you are already acquainted with it. There's no room to quarter here and nothing free until the new domes open on the mid-level, so you'll quarter in Beresheet six, the habitat is clean and functional."
"We're done for now. See my adjutant. He'll get you sorted."
I didn't hesitate. I leapt out of the chair and was headed for the door when Harding interrupted me.
"This is your lucky day Frank. Don't make me regret my generosity."
"I won't sir. Thank you, sir."