Author : Subsplot
Alex carefully swung his arms back, making sure he kept his posture right and his hips level. The head of the gold club reached past its apex, and then smoothly but with some force he brought it back in a graceful arc that lifted the ball cleanly of it it’s makeshift tee, spinning it up and away from him. ‘Yep,’ he thought to himself, ‘that’s a good drive, it probably even reached escape velocity. Shame this suit gets so encumbering’.
His partner, chief pilot of the mining support vehicle, watched the ball zip away towards the lunar horizon before returning his attention to the sensor readouts of the flat-backed floater rig.
“I’m pretty sure these environmental conditions are considered cheating,” he remarked over the intercom. “Who brings a club and balls as their luxury items anyway?” Lex gestured at his face plate with the club in a mock show of anger, his intercom erupting in a burst of white noise.
“You, my friend, don’t know your history. The first missions here used golf to prove the laws of gravity. The simple physical model anyway.”
“Those twentieth century Neanderthals played golf! Did they have time between trying to kill each other? What are you aiming at, anyway?” Lex could tell by the tone in his colleague’s voice that he wasn’t really interested in the answers. Still, it wasn’t as if they had anything important or pressing to do so he decided to indulge him, as much to wind him up as anything.
“Golf is a truly ancient pastime, the sport of gentle men of all ages,” he mocked, “and I’m aiming at that piece of junk with the old flag on the Tranquil Sea. I stuck some piping and a location signal in the ground, there’s now a proper hole and I always know its direction.”
“Why? I mean, why trip over there?”
“Slight detour. I was doing some physical checks on a group of surface sweepers, I don’t know, was curious. It must be an old piece of junk, it’s a national flag, the United America’s I think. Pretty good way point actually, you should add it in to your template. I’ll give you the signal frequency.”
“Now who doesn’t know their history.” The driver laughed as he maneuvered over a particularly large crater rim, locking on to the atom forge contained deep at its center. “It’s a US flag, planted on one of the first ever missions, the junks some sort of landing strut, there’s already a locator there.
Lex started. “You mean I’ve been smashing golf balls at a piece of ancient heritage!”
“And desecrating a national flag. I hear they used to kill people for that.” More chuckling, Lex threw his partner an evil side glance as he lifted the gold cover on his face plate, the shadow in the crater making it less then helpful now.
“Who in mercy lands on the Tranquil Sea. There’s nothing there.”
“Think that was the point, makes a good soft landing. Space in case you overshoot.” Lex looked over his shoulder again in the direction of his makeshift green.
“You’re not going to tell control, are you?” Lex was suddenly nervous. This was less than the professional behavior expected of the Luna surface teams and his group liked to believe they were more than that, made a point of being the best, efficient, safe, consummate professionals.
“What’s the point, in one sixth of a G it’s not like you’re going to have dented it. Doubt you’ve even hit it.” Lex gave him another spiteful glare.
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