"Major!  Major!  Are you all right?"
      Some hint of panic in the kid's voice penetrated.  Major Karen Erhardt stirred, groaned, and opened one very blue eye.  "Only a brain dead twit would ask such a question, Lieutenant.  What the hell happened, anyway?"
      "I don't know!  We got power back, but only for a second."
      "I see."  The aging major extricated herself from the ruin of her seat, looking around at the wrecked control cabin.  "Down," she commented, feeling the lunar gravity under her.  "Nice job, kid."
      "Nice job?" he demanded.  "If you'd been at the controls, we wouldn't have crashed!"
      "If I had been at the controls," she told him, more gently than usual, "we'd both be dead.  Piloting is a job for young reflexes.  Well, the hull is apparently intact.  What's our position?"
     "How would I know that?  None of the instruments are working, and the computer's had it.  No radio, either."
      "Flight recorder?"
      "It's working, but it won't do us any good without the computer."
      She raised an eyebrow and grinned.  "That a fact, Lieutenant?  Why don't you reach over there and open my locker?  You'll find an ancient device known as a slide rule.  With said device, we can extrapolate from our last known position and get a pretty good approximation."
      His jaw went slack.  "You're joking."
      "Not a bit.  Move it.  We've got decisions to make."
      Half an hour later, she looked up from her calculations.  "Okay, here it is.  We're about 120 klicks from Luna City, give or take.  How much air have we got?"
      "For the two of us?  About 47 hours, if I drain what's left in the ship's tanks for our suits.  Tight."
      "Yep.  But possible.  Okay, get moving.  While you're doing that, I'll break out that crate in the hold and rig some way to drag it with us.  Shouldn't be too hard in this gravity."
      "The cargo, for Christ's sake?  Leave it!"
      "No way," she snapped.
      "What's in that thing, anyway?  What could be that important?"
      "You mean nobody told you, son?"
      He shook his head.  "Just that it had to do with the construction of the new hotel in Luna City."
      She chuckled to herself.  "In a way.  It's a body.  A stiff."
      He shuddered.  "Jesus, you give me the creeps!  Okay, let's bury the poor bastard.  But why drag him with us?  Doesn't make sense!"
      "Oh, yes, it does.  Get busy.  We'll have plenty of time to talk about it on the way."
      He hesitated, then shook his head.  "No.  We'll use air that much faster, dragging him along."
      She sighed.  "Lieutenant, I'm taking that crate to Luna City, with you or without you.  You're welcome to try it on your own, with half the air.  Frankly, considering your lack of experience, I don't think you'd make it.  I may not make it, either, but it won't be because I didn't try.  The sooner you come to a decision, the less air you'll burn thinking about it."
      After a long moment, he spread his hands.
      "Good.  Now get with it, mister.  You'd better grab something to eat and drink, as well.  It'll be your last for two days."  She turned and scrambled through the wreckage in the direction of the cargo hold.
      Twenty minutes later, two space-suited figures stood on the surface of the moon, their helmet visors down against the harsh glare of the lunar day.  They had paused a moment to stare back at the wreckage of their shuttle.  The smaller figure shivered.  "Let's move."  She hauled one side of the double harness over her shoulder and waited while he did the same.  He watched while she took a visual bearing on the Earth, then used the width of her fingers to count degrees.  They set off in the direction she indicated.
      "Where did you learn to do that, Major?" he asked her.
      "What?  Oh!  He taught me."  She nodded back toward the crate behind her.
      "You mean you were friends?  Why didn't you say so?"
      She chuckled.  "Because we weren't.  I never even met him, more's the pity.  I wish I had, though."
      "You knew of him, then?"
      "Oh, yes.  His books were required reading in my day.  If it weren't for him, Lieutenant, we wouldn't be here."
      "You mean the crash?  Did he design our ship or something?"
      "No.  Nothing like that.  I meant here on the moon."
      "Oh.  An astronaut?"
      "No, he never made it here himself-- or, at least, not until now.  He was too old, and the selection was pretty tough back then."
      The lieutenant shook his head.  "I still don't understand."
      "I know.  Save your breath for walking just now.  We'll have to rest along the way, and we can talk then."
      The young man took a long hard look at her, though he couldn't see much through her helmet visor.  She'd been an instructor at the academy for the four years he'd been there, secretly called the "Dragon Lady," and with good reason.  He'd been scared witless when he was told that she was to assess his graduation flight.  Now, her harsh breathing told him for the first time that she was an old, old woman.
      They finally moved into the shade cast by a very nasty looking range of mountains.  It was a blessed relief.  They were both ankle deep in sweat, and the lieutenant remembered reading somewhere that dehydration was a major factor in suit work.  It was hard to get rid of heat in a vacuum.
      "Okay, take a break," the major whispered at last.  "You doing okay?"
      "Sure.  You?"
      "Fine.  Careful where you sit.  Your suit is tough, but it can be torn."  She found a spot for herself and sat down.
      "Major?  May I ask a question?"
      "Given the circumstances, I don't think the heavens would open up and swallow you if you called me 'Karen.'  Okay to call you 'Jim'?"
      "Sure!  I didn't even know you knew my name!"
      She laughed.  "Ask your question, Jim."
      "Well-- sorry, but I can't help realizing that you're not exactly young.  I just wanted to know why you're up here."
      "Well, there are other reasons, but the main one is this cargo we're hauling.  It's a promise I made to myself, years ago."
      "Who is he, Karen?"
      "Not a simple answer, Jim.  You see, symbols are the glue that holds a civilization together.  He gave us a good many of those symbols.  He said once that he wanted to die on the moon.  He didn't make it, but he can rest here.  We owe him that much."
      "Owe him?  I don't understand."
      "He was something of a prophet.  He told us how to get here.  Not the engineering, but the attitude.  We didn't make it-- at least not to stay-- until we listened to him.  So we owe him.  He loved it here, although he never stood where we are standing.  It was his whole life."
      Jim frowned in puzzlement.  "How can a man love a place where he's never been?"
      "Oh, he can.  Believe me, he can."  Her voice was slurring a little.  "I'm a mite sleepy, Jim."
      He sat up in alarm.  "Karen, lean forward!"
      One glance at her tank gauge was enough.  He jumped up, almost losing his balance in the light gravity, and began to unstrap one of the spares from the crate they were hauling.  Moments later, a supply a fresh air was blowing into her suit.
      "That was careless of me," she said, after a moment.  "I've been a groundhog too long.  From now on, we watch each other very closely."
      "Yes," he agreed.  He still had a quarter of his first air tank.  He knew that at the rate she was using air, they were already in serious trouble.
      "We'd better get moving," she told him.
      He nodded.  "Karen?  Let me drag for awhile.  You can help again when I get tired."
      "Thanks, Jim."
      For as long as he lived, Jim would never forget that next day and a half.  The ground began to rise steeply, and they headed into the mountains.  There was nothing even remotely resembling a pass, and no time to try and go around the range.  Karen was quite a mountaineering expert, but she lacked the strength to put it into practice alone.  She could tell him what had to be done, though, and he could help her do it.  When he had to touch her, to help her over a rough spot, she felt terribly fragile.  He knew it was dehydration, and he also knew there wasn't a thing he could do about it.  She grew steadily weaker.
      Finally, what Jim feared most happened.  Without a single sound of complaint, while walking along a fairly level stretch, Karen collapsed.  In his own weakened condition, Jim knew that he could carry her a short distance, but he could not carry her and drag that damned crate as well.  She would not thank him for leaving the crate behind to save her, yet he could not make himself abandon the living in order to transport the dead.  With a soft moan of distress, he sank down beside her.
      "Jim," she whispered.  "Go on.  Leave me here.  You can send back help."
      "I can't do it," he murmured.  "I know it's what you want, but I can't do it!"
      "You can't leave him either," she told him gently.  "He is the father of all of us, in a way.  But-- can you tie me to the crate?"
      He sat up, nodding.  "Yes.  But I won't get very far."
      "You won't have to.  See that peak up ahead?"
      "Yes."
      "Get across that, and you can raise Luna City on your suit radio."
      He grinned with a sudden burst of hope.  "Yes, ma'am!"
      An hour later, he struggled over the last bit and saw the huge dome below.  Dropping the harness, he ran back to Karen to tell her.  When she didn't answer, he flipped up her visor and took a closer look.
      She wasn't moving.  And her lips were blue.
      "Oh, God," he cried.  "God, not this!"  His fingers fumbled frantically for her tank.  "Luna City, this is Lt. James Parkinson.  Can you read?"  He snapped loose her bottle, saw what he already knew, and tossed it aside.  "Luna City, Luna City, this is Lt. James Parkinson, can you read?"  There were no more bottles.  "Luna City, this is--"
      "Parkinson, this is Luna City!  Keep transmitting while we get a fix!"
      "Roger, Luna City.  Count follows-- one . . . two . . . three--"  He fumbled behind himself to free his own bottle.
      "We've got you Parkinson!  Help is on the way."
      His suit valve closed automatically as the bottle came loose.  He glanced at the gauge, saw a few minutes of air left.  Attaching it to her suit, he twisted the valve wide open, smiling in hysterical satisfaction when he felt the air hissing into her suit through his gloves.  He pumped frantically at her chest.  "Hang on, Karen," he whispered.  "Hang on!  Breathe!"
      His own breath was coming short and fast.  It tasted stale, and he felt dizzy.  He slid down beside Karen and leaned up against the side of the crate.  The last thing he saw before he passed out was the rocket flare as one of the tiny shuttles took off.
      It was a lot like going to sleep, he decided.  Didn't hurt a bit.

      "Whoa!  Easy, son.  Take it easy!  You've had a rough time."  A hand pushed firmly at Jim's chest, and he realized that he was no longer wearing a suit.  "Don't try to move yet."
      "Karen," he murmured.  "Karen!"
      "She's alive.  Now take it easy."
      "I've got to see her!"
      "Can't.  They've got her on oxygen.  You can see her in a day or so.  Just lie back now.  I'm going to give you something to help you sleep."
      "No!  I don't want to sleep!"
      "Major Erhardt said that if you wouldn't sleep, I should give you this to read."  He picked up a box and placed it on the table beside Jim's bed.  "Be careful with this stuff.  She paid a pretty penny for the original manuscripts, still more to ship them here, and they are very old and fragile."
      "What are they?"
      "She said you would know.  Just read 'em, son.  You have a right to know what you did out there."
      Jim read.  As he read, the hair lifted on his arms and the back of his neck.  Sometime during those hours, he was horrified to realize that tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he couldn't seem to swallow.  Those words would echo in his mind for the rest of his life.

      "The arching sky is calling
       Spacemen back to their trade.
       All hands!  Stand by!  Free falling!
       And the lights below us fade.
       Out ride the sons of Terra,
      Far drives the thundering jet,
       Up leaps the race of Earthmen,
       Out, far, and onward yet--"

       "Oh, my God," he whispered, with feeling.

      The next thing he knew, Karen was grinning down at him.  "Well, pup, they tell me you aren't going to die."
      He groaned.  "Karen!  Christ, it's good to see you!"
      "You too.  They wouldn't let me in here until you were awake.  We need to get you dressed.  You're going home in the regular supply ship.  But first, there is something you have to see."
      "Home?  But . . . what about you?"
      "This is home for me.  That was my other reason for taking your flight.  I'm retiring here.  They tell me I'll live about thirty years longer in this gravity."  She looked away.  "I know what you did for me, Jim.  Thanks."
      The mention of the qualification flight sobered Jim.  "What will happen now, Karen?  Will they give me another chance?"
      She raised her eyebrows.  "Another chance for what?"
      "Another flight."
      She frowned.  "Are you laboring under the delusion that you failed your qualification?  Good grief, Jim, a power failure was no reflection on your piloting skill!  As for what came after, you'll be lucky if they don't turn you into a hero.  And I think--" she added softly, "-- you just might qualify for that title someday.  Now, get dressed.  We haven't got much time.  Strong enough?  Or should I call an orderly to help?"
      "No, no.  I can manage."
      "I'll be waiting outside then.  Move it!"
      He grinned.  "Yes, ma'am, Dragon Lady, ma'am."
      She nodded.  "You've earned the right to call me that."

      They walked to the plaza where the hotel would be built.  The quick setting foundation had been poured while Jim slept.  In the middle of the huge slab, where hundreds of people would stand one day, was an ornate and very beautiful stone.  He walked over to look at it.  It read:

            "LET HIM REST WHERE HE WANTED MOST TO BE

                    ROBERT ANSON  HEINLEIN
                     FATHER OF LUNA CITY"

Kathryn A. Graham is a licensed private investigator, pilot, aircraft mechanic and handgun instructor in Texas. Also a prolific author, she has written numerous articles, short stories and a science fiction novel entitled Flight From Eden.

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