Hazel kept her eye on the spool; it had started to revolve. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it all worked out. You’ll see.’
‘Eh? What do you mean? Are you intending to write more episodes? I’m tempted to go limp and let you struggle with it — I’m sick of it and it would serve you right. Galactic Overlords indeed!’
His mother continued to watch the spinning spool in the telephone. At highspeed relay the thirty-minute spool zipped through in thirty seconds. Shortly it went spung! and popped up out of the socket; Hazel breathed relief. The episode was now either in New York, or was being held automatically in the Luna City telephone exchange, waiting for a break in the live Luna-to-Earth traffic. In either case it was out of reach, as impossible to recall as an angry word.
‘Certainly I plan to do more episodes’ she told him. ‘Exactly seven, in fact.’
“Huh! Why seven?’
Haven’t you figued out why I am killing off characters? Seven episodes is the end of this quarter and a new option date. This time they won’t pick up your option because every last one of the characters will be dead and the story will be over. I’m taking you off the hook, son.’
‘What? Hazel, you can’t do that! Adventure serials never end.’
‘Does it say so in your contract?’
‘No, but —’
‘You’ve been grousing about how you wanted to get off this golden treadmill. You would never have the courage to do it yourself, so your loving mother has come to the rescue. You’re a free man again, Roger.’
‘But —’ His face relaxed. ‘I suppose you’re right. Though I would prefer to commit suicide, even literary suicide, in my own way and at my own time. Mmm… see here, Hazel, when do you plan to kill off John Sterling?’
‘Him? Why, Our Hero has to last until the final episode, naturally. He and the Galactic Overlord do each other in at the very end. Slow music.’
‘Yes. Yes, surely… that’s the way it would have to be. But you can’t do it’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I insist on writing that scene myself. I’ve hated that mealy-mouthed Galahad ever since I thought him up. I’m not going to let anyone else have the fun of killing him; he’s mine!’
His mother bowed. ‘Your honor, sir.’
Mr Stone’s face brightened; he reached for his pouch and slung it over his shoulder. ‘And now let’s look at some space-ships!’
‘Geronimo!’
As the four left the apartment and stepped on the slideway that would take them to the pressure lift to the surface Pollux said to his grandmother, ‘Hazel, what does “Geronimo” mean?’
‘Ancient Druid phrase meaning “Let’s get out of here even if we have to walk.” So pick up your feet.’
III — THE SECOND-HAND MARKET
They stopped at the Locker Rooms at East Lock and suited up. As usual, Hazel unbelted her gun and strapped it to her vacuum suit. None of the others was armed; aside from civic guards and military police no one went armed in Luna City at this late date except a few of the very old-timers like Hazel herself. Castor said, ‘Hazel, why do you bother with that?’
‘To assert my right. Besides, I might meet a rattlesnake.’
‘Rattlesnakes? On the Moon? Now, Hazel!’
‘ “Now, Hazel” yourself. More rattlesnakes walking around on their hind legs than ever wriggled in the dust. Anyhow, do you remember the reason the White Knight gave Alice for keeping a mouse trap on his horse?’
‘Uh, not exactly.’
‘Look it up when we get home. You kids are ignorant. Give me a hand with this helmet.’
The conversation stopped, as Buster was calling his grandmother and insisting that they start their game. Castor could read her lips through her helmet; when he had his own helmet in place and his suit radio switched on he could hear them arguing about which had the white men last game. Hazel was preoccupied thereafter as Buster, with the chess board in front of him, was intentionally hurrying the moves, whereas Hazel was kept busy visualising the board.
They had to wait at the lock for a load of tourists, just arrived in the morning shuttle from Earth, to spill out. One of two women passengers stopped and stared at them. ‘Thelma,’ she said to her companion, ‘that little man — he’s wearing a gun.’