THE MOON IS A HARSH MISTRESS by Robert A. Heinlein

I pulled my helmet back into shade. “Ballistic control, O’Kelly Davis now at Drill Gun George. Near it, I mean, about a hundred meters,” Figured Mike would not be able to tell how long a cord I was using, out of kilometers of wires.

“Ballistic control aye aye,” Mike answered without argument. “I will so inform HQ.”

“Thank you, ballistic control. Ask HQ if they have heard from Congressman Wyoming Davis today.” Was fretted about Wyoh and whole family.

“I will inquire.” Mike waited a reasonable time, then said, “HQ says that Gospazha Wyoming Davis has taken charge of first-aid work in Old Dome.”

“Thank you.” Chest suddenly felt better. Don’t love Wyoh more than others but–well, she was new. And Luna needed her.

“Ranging,” Mike said briskly. “All guns, elevation eight seven zero, azimuth one nine three zero, set parallax for thirteen hundred kilometers closing to surface. Report when eyeballed.”

I stretched out, pulling knees up to stay in shade, and searched part of sky indicated, almost zenith and a touch south. With sunlight not on my helmet I could see stars, but inner pert of binox were hard to position–had to twist around and raise up on right elbow.

Nothing– Hold it, was star with disc . . . where no planet ought to be. Noted another star close, watched and waited.

Uh huh! Da! Growing brighter and creeping north very slowly– Hey, that brute is going to land right on us!

But thirteen hundred kilometers is a long way, even when closing to terminal velocity. Reminded self that it couldn’t fall on us from a departure ellipse looping back, would have to fall around Luna–unless ship had maneuvered into new trajectory. Which Mike hadn’t mentioned. Wanted to ask, decided not to–wanted him to put all his savvy into analyzing that ship, not distract him with questions.

All guns reported eyeball tracking, including four Mike was laying himself, via selsyns. Those four reported tracking dead on by eyeball without touching manual controls–good news; meant that Mike had that baby taped, had solved trajectory perfectly.

Shortly was clear that ship was not falling around Luna, was coming in for landing. Didn’t need to ask; it was getting much brighter and position against stars was not changing–damn, it was going to land on us!

“Five hundred kilometers closing,” Mike said quietly. “Stand by to burn. All guns on remote control, override manually at command ‘burn.’ Eighty seconds.”

Longest minute and twenty seconds I’ve ever met–that brute was big! Mike called every ten seconds down to thirty, then started chanting seconds. “–five–four–three–two–one–BURN!” and ship suddenly got much brighter.

Almost missed little speck that detached itself just before–or just at–burn. But Mike said suddenly, “Missile launched. Selsyn guns track with me, do not override. Other guns stay on ship. Be ready for new coordinates.”

A few seconds or hours later he gave new coordinates and added, “Eyeball and burn at will.”

I tried to watch ship and missile both, lost both–jerked eyes away from binoculars, suddenly saw missile–then saw it impact, between us and catapult head. Closer to us, less than a kilometer. No, it did not go off, not an H-fusion reaction, or I wouldn’t be telling this. But made a big, bright explosion of its own, remaining fuel I guess, silver bright even in sunlight, and shortly I felt-heard ground wave. But nothing was hurt but a few cubic meters of rock.

Ship was still coming down. No longer burned bright; could see it as a ship now and didn’t seem hurt. Expected any instant that tail of fire to shoot out, stop it into a dido landing.

Did not. Impacted ten kilometers north of us and made a fancy silvery halfdome before it gave up and quit being anything but spots before eyes.

Mike said, “Report casualties, secure all guns. Go below when secured.”

“Gun Alice, no casualties”–“Gun Bambie no casualties”–“Gun Caesar, one man hit by rock splinter, pressure contained”– Went below, to that proper phone, called Mike. “What happened, Mike? Wouldn’t they give you control after you burned their eyes out?”

“They gave me control, Man.”

“Too late?”

“I crashed it, Man. It seemed the prudent course.”

An hour later was down with Mike, first time in four or five months. Could reach Complex Under more quickly than L-City and was in as close touch there with anybody as would be in-city–with no interruptions. Needed to talk to Mike.

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