Heinlein, Robert A – Expanded Universe

which precipitated carbon dioxide as calcium carbonate. The purified air continued

through dry sodium hydroxide, removing water vapor.

“The kid on watch makes sure the oxygen replacement is okay,” Sam went on.

“If anything went wrong, he’d wake us and we’d scramble into suits.”

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Mr. Andrews shooed them to bed. By the time Bruce had taken his turn at the

sanitary unit and found a place to lie down, the harmonica was sobbing: “Day is done

Gone the Sun. . .”

It seemed odd to hear Taps when the Sun was still overhead. They couldn’t

wait a week for sundown, of

course. These colonials kept funny~ hours. . . bed at what amounted to early

evening, up at one in the morning. He’d ask Sam. Sam wasn’t a bad guy-a little bit

know-it-all. Odd to sleep on a bare floor, too- not that it mattered with low

gravity. He was still pondering it when his ears were assaulted by Reveille, played

on the harmonica.

Breakfast was scrambled eggs, cooked on the spot. Camp was struck, and the

troop was moving in less than an hour. They headed for Base Camp at a lope.

The way wound through passes, skirted craters. They had covered thirty miles

and Bruce was getting hungry when the pathfinder called, “Heel and toe!” They

converged on an air lock, set in a hillside.

Base Camp had not the slick finish of Luna City, being rough caverns sealed

to airtightness, but each troop had its own well-equipped troop room. Air was

renewed by hydroponic garden, like Luna City; there was a Sun power plant and

accumulators to last through the long, cold nights.

Bruce hurried through lunch; he was eager to start his two-man hike. They

outfitted as before, except that reserve air and water replaced packaged grub. Sam

fitted a spring-fed clip of hiking rations into the collar of Bruce’s suit.

The Scoutmaster inspected them at the lock. “Where to, Sam?”

“We’ll head southeast. I’ll blaze it.”

“Hmm-rough country. Well, back by midnight, and stay out of caves.”

“Yes, sir.”

Outside Sam sighed, “Whew! I thought he was going to say not to climb.”

“We’re going to?”

“Sure. You can, can’t you?”

“Got my Alpine badge.”

“I’ll do the hard part, anyhow. Let’s go.”

Sam led out of the hills and across a baked plain. He

hit an eight-mile gait, increased it to a twelve-miler. Bruce swung along, enjoying

it. “Swell of you to do this, Sam.”

“Nuts. If I weren’t here, I’d be helping to seal the gymnasium.”

“Just the same, I need this hike for my Mooncraft badge.”

Sam let several strides pass. “Look, Bruce-you don’t really expect to make

Lunar Eagle?”

“Why not? I’ve got my optional badges. There are only four required ones

that are terribly different:

camping, Mooncraft, pathfinding, and pioneering. I’ve studied like the dickens and

now I’m getting experience.

“I don’t doubt you’ve studied. But the Review Board are tough eggs. You’ve

got to be a real Moon hand to get by.”

“They won’t pass a Scout from Earth?”

“Put it this way. The badges you need add up to one thing, Mooncraft. The

examiners are old Moon hands; you won’t get by with book answers. They’ll know how

long you’ve been here and they’ll know you don’t know enough.”

Bruce thought about it. “It’s not fair!”

Sam snorted. “Mooncraft isn’t a game; it’s the real thing. ‘Did you stay

alive?’ If you make a mistake, you flunk-and they bury you.”

Bruce had no answer.

Presently they came to hills; Sam stopped and called Base Camp. “Parsons and

Hollifield, Troop One-please take a bearing.”

Shortly Base replied, “One one eight. What’s your mark?”

“Cairn with a note.”

“Roger.”

Sam piled up stones, then wrote date, time, and their names on paper torn

from a pad in his pouch, and laid it on top. “Now we start up.”

The way was rough and unpredictable; this canyon

had never been a watercourse. Several times Sam stretched a line before he would let

Bruce follow. At intervals he blazed the rock with his hammer. They came to an

impasse, five hundred feet of rock, the first hundred of which was vertical and