The Man Who Broke the Moon

by Michael James Ploof

  “Charlie…”

  “You chose Melissa, and I get that. But she’s gone. And now ...now you’re choosing pain over me. Now you’re choosing misery and self-loathing.”

  “Goddammit, Charlie, this isn’t about you!”

  Jason regretted the words as soon as he spoke them, but it was too late. The damage was done.

  “No,” said Charlie, pinning on her badge. “This isn’t about me, it's about you, just like everything else in your life.”

  She left the room, and Pal 2000 took her place. The robot looked from Jason to Charlie, and then back again, and his emoji face blushed coyly. “I apologize for the interruption, Captain.”

  “Leave before I kill you.”

  Pal 2000’s face turned to one of confusion and fear. “Sir—”

  “Get out!” Jason screamed, throwing a bottle at Pal 2000 as he retreated.

  The bottle hit the wall instead, but surprisingly, it didn’t break. He picked it up, noticing it was still a quarter full. With a sigh he screwed off the cap and tipped it back until it was empty.

  Chapter 12

  A Little Help From a Friend

  “Captain, your XO is here to see you,” came the voice of Pal 2000.

  Jason woke with the bottle under him and groaned. He painfully rolled and pulled the empty glass from his lower back and collapsed back to the floor in a flash of pain. Not all the push-ups in the world could stop Father Time. Jason knew it, and he feared the day that even the push-ups became hard.

  Jason dragged himself to his feet and shuffled to the bathroom to take a piss. He frowned when he felt the draft on his ass. Turning, he saw he had ripped his pants at some point before falling asleep. With a sigh he looked in the closet. The only other clothes were a women’s fleet uniform.

  “Sir, should I tell your XO that you are having a personal moment?” came the voice of Pal through the comm.

  “Yeah, and tell him to come in anyways.”

  “Sir, is that a joke?”

  “Yes, Pal ...let him in sixty-nine seconds from now.”

  “Sir, why sixty-nine seconds?”

  Jason wrestled the women’s pants on. The waistband was fairly loose, but the legs were hopelessly tight, and in other parts, there wasn’t any room at all. He wrestled with the crotch of the pants, grunting. “Ugh, another joke, Pal. Just shut the hell up.”

  “Ah yes, very funny, sir. Until next time.”

  “Until next time, Pal.”

  He finally got the pants in a tolerable position and brightened the lights. He hated being in space. None of the lights felt the same as the sun down on Earth. Down there it was his favorite part of the scenery. It was warm, cozy, the right shade of bright as he liked to call it. In space things shone differently. Not only were all the lights on the ship some type of fluorescent, but even those outside of the ship seemed to glow with an alien light due to the filters on all the windows.

  “Permission to enter, Captain?” It was Erik.

  “Permission granted. Just come in, Erik, we aren’t on the clock. Hell, I don’t intend on being here much longer.”

  The door opened, and in strode Erik Andal, Executive Officer to the legendary battleship Zeus. He was older than Jason and walked with the same old military stiffness. Erik was old-school, one of the few people in the entire fleet with the same appreciation for what Jason considered the finer things in life—women, booze, and kicking ass.

  Erik raised a bushy black eyebrow at Jason's choice of garb. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, Jake.”

  Jason sighed loudly. “Not you too. Jesus Christmas, what don’t you people get? I’m out. Sorry, man, but I’m out.” He looked at the floor and put his hands on his hips.

  Erik knew him better than most people. They had both been cadets together and had gone through all the same campaigns. They both had been competing for command of the ship, and when Jason was selected, Erik had been extremely gracious. It hadn’t mattered to Erik that he wasn’t leading, he had devoted himself to the fleet, and the bond he and Jason shared made him the best XO Jason could have hoped for.

  Jason didn’t respect any man more than he respected his XO, and that’s why he couldn’t look Erik in the eye.

  His old friend sat facing the window and gazed at the moon. “Funny thing. I’ve seen with my own eyes the man named Jason Eriksson stare down the barrel of a blaster and tell the guy at the other end to go to hell. I’ve seen that same man quiet a room full of cadets with nothing more than his gaze. I’ve seen that same man pull the trigger a hundred times without looking away. Even when we did that.” Erik pointed out the window at the moon. “But you can’t even look at me right now.”

  “I’ve got a bad hangover, don’t worry ’bout it. I just need a damn drink.”

  Erik gestured to the chair next to him and pulled out a flask. “One more before you leave then?”

  “A few more before I leave,” said Jason with a grin.

  Even sitting down, even drinking, Erik’s posture was perfect. He wore his uniform as neatly as was possible, his tie in a perfect double Windsor, his colors shining his history. This man liked to shoot his whiskey, and he smirked at anyone who could only sip it. He drank only hard liquor and smoked a cigar on the most special of occasions, one of them being the anniversary of the death of the moon. He, like Jason, had been hardened not only by the worst misfortunes of everyday life, but by the worst misfortunes a military man can endure without dying. They had experienced much of life together and both bore terrible scars. Jason had lost his family, and Erik had his time in Korea. Two years as a POW.

  Erik’s brow furrowed as he thought. “So, Jake, I heard you went to the loony bin for a bit. How was your visit?”

  “It was great, you should go sometime. They’ve got the best drugs this side of Mexico City,” Jason replied.

  “I’ve been a few times myself. Two times were pleasant, but the third time I went things were bad. I went real nuts that time. All the nurses were men. I hated it, couldn’t even look at old saggy nurse tits.”

  They both burst into laughter, and it was the first time Jason had felt at ease in a while.

  They drank and talked about the past, and a bit about the present, Pal, the ship, and the latest in slow-motion bouncing boob videos.

  When a comfortable silence fell, Jason looked contentedly out into space. A calm washed over him, compliments of the alcohol now racing through his bloodstream.

  “Captain, all I have to say about the mission is this: Maybe we are the worst people in history for what we did, and if so, then why shouldn’t we go? So what if this is a suicide mission? Maybe we’ve got a chance to gain redemption. Better us than some poor puts with a mortgage. We both drink for a reason, Jake.”

  Jason closed his eyes and furrowed his brow in thought.

  Erik doubled down. “And what if we are some of the best men in history? We saved the world. We lost everything. We gave everything and now the world despises us. Now they want to use us, after what they did to us? That’s not fair, we deserve to sit on an island and get fucked up. Right, Jake? I would love to visit you on the islands. But I couldn’t live with myself if I did that. Maybe we are the best and maybe we aren’t ...but it's better us than somebody else. For better or for worse, this is our toll to be paid, and you know it.” Erik rose and left with a salute.

  Jason barely registered his XO’s departure. He was too busy staring at the words on his bedroom wall.

  Chapter 13

  Unexpected Visitors

  “You leave in a half hour, sir,” said Pal 2000.

  Jason turned from the window and sighed. “What?”

  “You requested to leave, and the admiral has granted your request. Your ship leaves at o’—”

  “I get it, man, back off.”

  Jason stood on shaky legs beside the bed and looked through the porthole at Redemption.

  “What day is it?”

  “It is Monday, June 28, 2055.”

  “A
ll right…” Jason tried to get his bearings. His head pounded and spun, but he had been here before. “Got any painkillers?”

  “Sir, I am approved to administer a number of different—”

  “Gimme something for a headache,” said Jason, hand out.

  “On a scale of one to ten, what is your pain level?”

  Jason glowered at Pal 2000. “Ten.”

  Pal 2000 did a double take, and Jason thought he was gauging his sincerity. Nonetheless, the robot handed him a small beige pill.

  “That should be taken with food and—”

  Jason swallowed it, washing it down with spit, before shouldering past Pal 2000.

  “Show me to my hangar,” he instructed the robot.

  Like a chaste dog, Pal 2000 led the way.

  They came to the bay door he would be leaving through, and Jason put down his bag on the floor and moved to the large, circular window. To the right, Redemption sat in the hangar, silver, gleaming, and terrifying.

  “That will be all, Pal.”

  “Sir?”

  “Scram, brobot.”

  “Sir?”

  Jason turned. “Get the hell outta here.”

  “Sir, do you see that?”

  “What?”

  Jason turned as Pal hurried to the window. “That,” he said, pointing at a shimmering point of light curving around the Earth.

  “Report!” said Jason, leaning in to better make out the brilliant streak of light. It seemed to be coming straight for them.

  “Sir, I cannot identify the source, but it is headed straight for the ...get down!”

  Pal 2000 tackled Jason to the floor, and an explosion rocked the space station.

  The golden light of the hangar was replaced by ominous red flashing beacons. A whooping alarm began to echo through the corridors. Jason struggled to see past Pal 2000’s flailing arms, and he managed to catch a glimpse of the Redemption ...just before it exploded.

  “Warning. Warning. Warning,” the robotic female voice reported through the intercom with none of the urgency that would have laced a human’s voice.

  “Report!”

  “Something has destroyed the Redemption,” came Pal 2000’s fearful voice.

  “No shit, Pal! Bring me to a hangar with a fighter docked and ready to go,” said Jason, trying to untangle himself from the overbearing robot.

  “Sir, the admiral.”

  “Listen up, private! You want to be a part of my crew, then you better learn to listen. You hear me?”

  “I apologize, sir, but my programming requires me to—” Pal cut himself off then, and for a few seconds stood motionless, his HUD turning into a loading symbol.

  “Pal, what the hell are you doing?” said Jason.

  Pal’s face returned to normal then, and he squared back on Jason. “I apologize, sir, the admiral seems to have disappeared from the ship. Scanners can find no sign of him. I will bring you to the hangar.”

  Jason swore and took off after the overzealous robot, struggling to keep up as Pal 2000 raced down the corridor, slid down a ladder, and raced up another hallway. Pal stopped eventually, and Jason skidded to a stop at the entrance to a busy hangar. His mind was racing. He had known the admiral for a long time. He had never loved the man, but they had developed a mutual respect and a closeness that enemies in war might. He’d shared a drink or two with the man and had killed his son, and now the admiral was missing. In this fight he could easily end up dead.

  “Pal, any news on Mark’s bodyguards?” asked Jason, with a glint of hope.

  “They appear to be gathered in the admiral’s quarters, sir.”

  “Okay, give me a minute!”

  “Nice of you to join us!” said Mae as she dropped into a Freedom Eagle.

  Another explosion rocked the space station, and Jason cursed.

  “Sir, we should report to the command tower for duty.”

  “Pal, shut up and let me think. We need to get to the command tower!”

  “Sir, I just said that.”

  The command tower began the count for the fighters to depart. Jason hated countdowns. After what he did to the moon, how could he not?

  Five, four, three, two, one...

  The count reached blastoff, and the ships roared out of the hangar. With a grunt Jason headed up the utility ladder heading to the deck of the command tower, glancing back at Pal while he climbed. He didn’t like relying on elevators in a fire fight. He reached the top of the ladder and strode to enter command. Two guards at the door stopped him.

  “Do you have clearance, sir?” said the guard on the left, eyeing Jason and his lady pants up and down.

  “I am Captain Jason Eriksson.”

  “Holy shit,” said the guard on the left. “You’re the Man Who Broke the M—”

  “I’m a captain, kid, and I expect a goddamned salute,” said Jason.

  The guard smartly snapped his heels together and gave a crisp salute. Jason glanced at his wings and read the name Smith.

  “You’ve got a big mouth, Smith. Someday it’s going to get you in trouble, trust me.”

  “Sorry to bother you, sir,” Smith said with another crisp salute.

  With a satisfied chuckle Jason walked into the command tower.

  To the average person, the inside of the tower might have seemed like chaos, but Jason could immediately recognize that this tower functioned like a well-oiled machine. Analysts were working to identify the enemy fighters while the head engineer shouted out the most relevant diagnostic reports. There were twelve people in total on the bridge. All of them moved in harmony around the central hub, where the best defensive commander Jason had ever met sat at his battle station.

  The commander was a small and fierce Brazilian man named Jose Silva. He had dark hair and dark eyes. There always seemed to be a flare of something deep in the man’s eye, and Jason had always thought his gaze was something, like a strange combination of a robot and a predator. His intellect was intimidating, but luckily, he was as loyal to the fleet as Erik Andal himself. They all both been cadets at the same time and Jason and Jose had developed somewhat of a rivalry before diverging to separate branches. Then they became two of the best commanders in the world, Jason, the best offensive coordinator and ship captain, and Jose, the best defensive coordinator. Both on the same team. The men and women who came up through the ranks with them had once even called them fire and ice.

  Jason grinned at his old rival and friend. The man was shouting orders and looking at the shared screens of every one of his subordinates. In his left hand was a stylus he used to navigate the Augmented Reality display he preferred to use. In his right he held his lucky rabbit's foot. The nearest analyst glanced at Jason with contempt.

  “Nice pants.” One of the cadets snickered from his station as Jason passed.

  Jason rolled his eyes and shouted, “Yo, Jose, this little bastard is giving me shit about my clothes!”

  Jose snapped to attention and looked at Jason, at first confused and then smiling broadly.

  “Ah, Captain, how nice of you to join us. And here I had heard you were some washed-up piece of shit!” With that Jose began laughing maniacally. His crew glanced around and went back to their work, barely fazed. Jose usually seemed unstable. Jason was one of the few who knew it was an act. Jose said he liked to keep his crew on their toes, otherwise they would grow slow in between attacks. Jason thought it was hilarious.

  “I am, Jose. I just decided to wash up on your deck.”

  A blast rocked the station, and Jason was pushed back into the snickering cadet.

  “Report!” Jose bellowed.

  “That was a big one, sir. Shields at 70 percent,” said one of the women from her station.

  “Get the fuck out of my chair,” Jason told the young man who had laughed at his pants.

  The young man almost tripped and fell when Jason flung him, and he glanced at Jose with a look of surprise.

  “You should be honored,” Jose told the indignant young man. �
��That’s Jason fucking Eriksson who just took your seat. But you can sniff it later. For now, give him whatever he needs.”

  It had been only a few minutes since the initial blast, but it seemed like a century. Jason had forgotten the focus that always accompanied battle. And the adrenaline. He had missed it.

  “Ass sniffer!” Jason shouted. “Give me a layout of the ship and all the most vulnerable places of attack as well as a real time 3-D radar of the fight out there. The quick version!”

  The cadet stumbled over himself for a moment before quickly snapping back to focus. “Sir, yes, sir!”

  Just then Pal 2000’s voice entered the comm. “Hello, Captain! I cannot gain entry into the command hub, but I can still assist you remotely.”

  “That’s great, Pal. Just keep the line clear until I need you. In the meantime, try to find the admiral through the ship’s systems. We have no idea what kind of fighters those are, so better assume that whoever this is has more hidden up their sleeve, maybe the admiral himself. I’d like to find him if he isn’t dead.”

  “Until next time, sir.”

  “Pal, you don’t have to say that every time we say goodbye.”

  “Yes, sir, I do. And besides, don’t you miss me already?”

  Jason chuckled and switched to the pilot’s radio and was greeted by the confused voice of Mae.

  “...never seen anything like it! I can’t get a line. This thing is like a ghost. Mission control, do we have a handle on what we are dealing with?”

  Jose’s voice entered the com system. “Negative. We can’t run any scans. We do know that this enemy has capabilities many classes above ours. If they are operating with these offensive capabilities, I would guess they can’t power a shield. I’m betting a few hits will get them.”

  “That would be great if we could see them long enough to even aim!” yelled Mae.

  Jason shared a look with Jose, and the little man nodded back, engaging his mic. “Either way, it’s time for a little fire and ice. Crafts A-F join channel 5. Crafts G-N join channel 6. Let’s have some fun.”