Robert Heinlein: The Rolling Stones

"Eh?"

"Did you notice that big tank moored to City Hall? That's Charlie's hole. He's a crazy old coot, rock-happy as they come, and he's a hermit by intention. Used to hang around the edge of the community, never mixing - but with this boom and ten strangers swarming in for every familiar face Charlie got timid and asked could he please tie in at civic center? I guess he was afraid that somebody would slit his throat and steal his hoorah's nest Some of the boomers are a rough lot at that"

"He sounds like some of the old-timers on Luna. What about him?"

"Oh! Too much on my mind these days; it wanders. Charlie runs a sort of a fourth-hand shop, and I say that advisedly. He has stuff I won't handle. Every time a rock jumper dies, or goes Sunside, his useless plunder winds up in Charlie's hole. Now I don't say he's got a scooter - though you just might lease his own now that he's moored in-city. But he might have parts that could be jury-rigged. Are you handy with tools?"

"Moderately. But I've got just the team for such a job." He looked around for the twins, finally spotted them pawing through merchandise. "Cas! Pol! Come here."

The storekeeper explained what he had in mind. Castor nodded. "If it worked once, we'll fix it"

"That's the spirit Now let's go test that coffee."

Castor hung back 'Dad? Why don't Pol and I go over there and see what he's got? It'll save you time."

"Well-"

"It's just a short jump," said Fries.

"Okay, but don't jump. Use your lines and follow the moor­ing line over."

The twins left Once in the airlock Pollux started fuming. "Stow it," said Cas. "Dad just wants us to be careful."

"Yes, but why does he have to say it where everybody can hear?"

Charlie's hole, they decided, had once been a tow tank to deliver oxygen to a colony. They let themselves into the lock, started it cycling. When pressure was up, they tried the inner door; it wouldn't budge. Pollux started pounding on it with his belt wrench while Castor searched for a switch or other signal. The lock was miserably lighted by a scant three inches of glow tube.

"Cut the racket," Castor told Pollux. "If he's alive, he's heard you by now." Pollux complied and tried the door again - still locked.

They heard a muffled voice: "Who's there?"

Castor looked around for the source of the voice, could not spot it. "Castor and Pollux Stone," he answered, "from the Rolling Stone, out of Luna"

Somebody chuckled. "You don't fool me. And you can't arrest me without a warrant Anyhow I won't let you in."

Castor started to explode," Pollux patted his arm. "We aren't cops. Shucks, we aren't old enough to be cops."

"Take your. helmets off."

"Don't do it," Castor cautioned. "He could recycle while we're unsealed."

Pollux went ahead and took his off; Castor hesitated, then followed. "Let us in," Pollux said mildly.

"Why should I?"

"We're customers. We want to buy things."

"What you got to trade?"

"We'll pay cash"

"Cash!" said the voice. "Banks! Governments! What you got to trade? Any chocolate?"

"Cas," Pollux whispered, "have we got any chocolate left?"

"Maybe six or seven pounds. Not more."

"Sure we got chocolate."

"Let me see it."

Castor interrupted. "What sort of nonsense is this? Pol, let's go back and see Mr. Fries again. He's a businessman."

The voice moaned, "Oh, don't do that! He'll cheat you."

"Then open up!"

After a few seconds of silence the voice said wheedlingly,. "You look like nice boys. You wouldn't hurt Charlie? Not old Charlie?"

"Of course not We want to trade with you."

The door opened at last In the gloom a face, etched by age and darkened by raw sunlight, peered out at them 'Come in easy. Don't try any tricks - I know you."

Wondering if it were the sensible thing to do the boys pulled themselves in. When their eyes adjusted to the feeble circle of glow tube in the middle of the space they looked around while their host looked at them. The tank, large outside, seemed smaller by the way it was stuffed. As in Fries' shop, every inch, every strut, every nook was crammed, but where the City Hall was neat, this was rank disorder, where Fries' 'shop was rational, this was nightmare confusion. The air was rich enough but ripe with ancient and nameless odors.

Their host was a skinny monkey of a man, covered with a single dark garment, save for head, hands, and bare feet. It had once been, Pollux decided, heated underwear for space-suit use far out starside, or in caves.

Old Charlie stared at them, then grinned, reached up and scratched his neck with his big toe. "Nice boys," he said. "I knew you wouldn't hurt Charlie. I was just foolin'."

"We wouldn't hurt anybody. We just wanted to get acquainted, and do a little business."

"We want a – " Pollux started; Castor's elbow cut off the rest; Castor 'went on,'Nice place you've got here."

"Comfortable. Practical. Just right for a man with no non­sense about him. Good place for a man who likes to be quiet and think. Good place to read a book You boys like to read?"

"Sure. Love to."

"You want to see my books?" Without waiting for an answer he dared like a bat into the gloom, came back in a few moments with books in both hands and a half dozen held by his feet. He bumped to a stop with his elbows and offered them

There were old-style bound books, most of them, the twins saw, ships' manuals of ships long dead. Castor's eyes widened when he saw the dates on some of them, and wondered what the Astrogation Institute would pay for them. Among them was a dog-eared copy of Mark Twain's Life on the Mississippi.

" Look 'em over, boys. Make yourselves comfortable. Bet you didn't expect to find a literary man out here among these yokels. You boys can read, can't you?"

"Sure we can."

"Didn't know. They teach such funny things nowadays. Quote a bit of latin to 'em and they look like you're crazy in the head. You boys hungry? You want something to eat?" He looked anxious.

They both assured him that they had fed well and recently; he looked relieved. "Old Charlie ain't one to let a man go hungry, even if he hasn't got enough for himself." Castor had noted a net of sealed rations; there must have been a thousand of them by conservative estimate. But the old man con­tinued, "Seen the time, right herein this node - no, it was the Emmy Lou - when a man didn't dare make breakfast without he barred his lock first and turned off his beacon. It was about that time that Lafe Dumont ate High-Grade Henderson. He was dead first, naturally - but it brought on a crisis in our community affairs. They formed up the vigilantes, what they call the Committee nowadays."

"Why did he eat him?"

"Why, he was dead. I told you that. Just the same, I don't think a man ought to eat his own partner, do you?"

The boys agreed that it was a breech of etiquette.

"I think he ought to limit it to members of his own family, unless the two of them have got a signed and sealed contract. See any ghosts yet?"

The acceleration was so sharp that it left both the twins a bit confused. "Ghosts?"

"You will. Many's the time I've talked to High-Grade Hen­derson. Said he didn't blame Lafe a bit, would 'a' done the same thing in his place. Ghosts all around here. All the rockmen that have died out here, they can't get back to Earth. They're in a permanent orbit - see? And it stands to reason that you can't accelerate anything that doesn't have mass." He leaned toward them confidentially. "Sometimes you see 'em, but mostly they whisper in your earphones. And when they do, listen - because that's the only way you'll ever find any of the big strikes that got found and then got lost again. I'm telling you this because I like you, see? So listen. If it's too faint, just close your chin valve and hold your breath; then it comes clearer."