The Rolling Stones Read Online Free PDF Page A

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 visualizing 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. ”
    The other woman urged her along. “Don’t take notice,” she said. “It’s not polite.” She went on, changing the subject. “I wonder where we can buy souvenir turtles around here? I promised Herbert.”
    Hazel turned and glared at them; Mr. Stone took her arm and urged her into the now empty lock. She continued to fume as the lock cycled. “Groundhogs! Souvenir turtles indeed!”
    “Mind your blood pressure, Hazel,” her son advised.
    “You mind yours.” She looked up at him and suddenly grinned. “I should ha’ drilled her, podnuh—like this.” She made a fast draw to demonstrate, then, before returning the weapon to its holster, opened the charge chamber and removed a cough drop. This she inserted through the pass valve of her helmet and caught it on her tongue. Sucking it, she continued, “Just the same, son, that did it. Your mind may not be made up; mine is. Luna is getting to be like any other ant hill. I’m going out somewhere to find elbow room, about a quarter of a billion miles of it.”
    “How about your pension?”
    “Pension be hanged! I got along all right before I had it.” Hazel, along with the other remaining Founding Fathers—and mothers—of the lunar colony, had been awarded a lifetime pension from a grateful city. This might be for a long period, despite her age, as the “normal” human life span under the biologically easy conditions of the Moon’s low gravity had yet to be determined; the Luna City geriatrics clinic regularly revised the estimate upwards.
    She continued, “How about you? Are you going to stay here, like a sardine in a can? Better grab your chance, son, before they run you for office again. Queen to King’s Bishop Three, Lowell.”
    “We’ll see. Pressure is down; let’s get moving.”
    Castor and Pollux carefully stayed out of the discussion; things were shaping up.
    As well as Dealer Dan’s lot, the government salvage yard and that of the Bankrupt Hungarian were, of course, close by the spaceport. The Hungarian’s lot sported an ancient sun-tarnished sign— BARGAINS ! BARGAINS !! BARGAINS !!! GOING OUT OF BUSINESS —but there were no bargains there, as Mr. Stone decided in ten minutes and Hazel in five. The government salvage yard held mostly robot freighters without living quarters—one-trip ships, the interplanetary equivalent of discarded packing cases—and obsolete military craft unsuited for most private uses. They ended up at Ekizian’s lot.
    Pollux headed at once for the ship he and his brother had picked out.