The space between the jagged rocks squeezed the LunaScoota, and Mary had to maneuver the machine delicately around the opening, being careful not to damage any of it. When she cleared the wall and drifted down the other side into an adjoining rock-filled crater, she again cycled through her infrared filter.
In the distance, less than a thousand meters away, a grey shadow appeared in her visor unlike the density of the surrounding rocks.
Kate?
She pushed on the throttle and flew toward the object.
Kate lay sprawled on her back in the dust beside a smattering of boulders. Mary ditched the scooter and leapt toward her. The green bio-light blinked on Kate’s visor, showing the integrity of the envirosuit was intact and that oxygen circulated. Still, when she attempted a bio-link, the connection remained elusive.
Way too much damage.
Kate’s arm bent awkwardly just above the wrist, but other than that, she saw no other apparent breaks. She had to establish a link to assess her injuries and life signs, but the remote access and direct line port weren’t functioning at all.
“Kate, can you hear me?”
No response. The impact must have knocked out comms.
She didn’t want to move her without more information about her physical condition, but with limited oxygen and time melting away, Mary needed to get her to the Rossian ship and find a way inside, into the void they’d imaged. Tackle the crisis in small steps.
First, I have to find that ship.
Then, through the amber visor, Kate’s eyelids fluttered.
“Kate?”
She heard nothing with the comms down, so she motioned for her to lie still, but Kate tried rolling onto her side, failed, and slouched back down. Then she mouthed something and chinned the controls. Suddenly, her visor lit up and static from her radio filled Mary’s helmet.
“Kate?”
Her breathing rasped through her helmet audio, ragged and labored. She finally established a bio-link and her vital signs scrolled across Mary’s visor. She studied them and grimaced.
“Tell me what you need.”
Kate grunted and mumbled in a slurred voice. “My ribs. . . are broken. Wrist. . .”
“I see it. You’ve got a clean break right through the radius and ulna if I were to guess. On a scale of one to ten, how much pain do you feel?”
“I’m drugged up, Mares. . . so a two.”
Mary placed her hand on the side of Kate’s helmet, and she instinctively turned her head toward it, despite the distance between them. “I’ve got to get you to the Rossian ship. Can you move your legs?”
“Yes, but. . .”
“Quiet now, just rest.”
Mary bounded to the scooter and ripped the restraints securing their equipment in the cargo hold.
“Mares. . . what are you doing?”
“Making room for you.”
She hauled out the useless radio cables, tools, extra solar panels, and the portable excavator.
Kate lifted her head. “Not the. . . the excavator. You’ll need that. For the ship.”
“I can’t get you in there with it, so I’m leaving it behind and I’ll just have to dig with my hands and whatever else I can find.”
“No, don’t do that. Leave me here. Save yourself.”
She finished her prep of the cargo hold and returned to Kate. She knelt down beside her. “Let’s be clear. I’m not leaving you.”
Kate winced and struggled to prop herself up on her side. “You must. Look, I’m useless now. . . I’m done. But you still have a chance. Go. . . go without me.”
Maybe this could work. If I can access that ship, find help somehow, then return for Kate.
She reasoned it out, but the option didn’t sit well.
“Sorry, I’m taking you with me.”
“Don’t, please. Go. . . now. Come back for me. . . later . . . if you must.”
Mary stood up and hesitated.
“Go!”
Atteberry
Luna’s monochrome surface provided a stark contrast against the pitch black sky as Echo assumed a standard orbit. It reminded him of the old historical film he’d seen at one of the Astronomical Society’s presentations back home, showing grainy images of brownish-yellow craters as mapping satellites passed overhead. The Moon looked far more beautiful over the Pacific on a clear night than up close, but nothing compared to the artistry of Earth.
“We’ll be above the Aristoteles mine site in a few minutes, sir.” Captain Powell stood on the bridge, hands folded behind him, studying the main viewscreen. Carter, Atteberry and Esther joined him from their stations. “There’s been no further EM signals from here.”
Atteberry asked, “Aren’t we landing?”
Carter hesitated. “Let’s take a fly-by first and see if Kate and Mary are there. Captain Powell, standard procedures.”
“Understood.” He turned to Quigg. “Initiate automated hails on all known Aristoteles frequencies. Jenson, maintain present altitude and commence scanning patterns. Life signs will be too difficult to detect from here, but keep looking for any kind of fresh debris, scooter tracks, or other evidence that Kate and Mary are there.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Atteberry fidgeted, his hands pulling on his cheeks as he watched the main viewer. Esther placed a hand on his arm. “It’ll be okay, Jim. We’ll find them.” Her warm eyes comforted his dark thoughts though he knew damn well the chances of them still being alive were slim. But, he smiled and admitted to himself that being with her on this ship with him as he searched for his daughter and friend, felt right.
“Aristoteles coming into view, Captain,” Jenson announced. “Adjusting for geostationary orbit.”
The abandoned mine complex blended in to the lunar landscape so well that it took Atteberry a few moments to distinguish the lines of the outbuildings and the curves of the main habitat. A beacon and damaged solar array drew his eye and revealed the habitat.
Powell moved closer to the main viewer. “Zoom in on that, Mr. Jenson. Magnification 10.” The screen flickered, and the habitat was unmistakable now. “Clear up that focus, please.”
“Aye, Captain, working on it.”
The Echo’s high-powered scanning cameras shifted, and the images resolved to such a clarity that Atteberry felt he could reach out and touch them.
Evidence of human activity abounded. Numerous scooter tracks scarred the area, and someone had cleaned at least a couple of the large solar arrays of dust.
Carter, arms folded across his chest, asked, “Captain Powell, are these trails and such recent? I understood that footprints could last millions of years on the moon’s surface.”
“I’d say it’s a mix of old and new, sir.” He pointed to an area in the mine fields. “See all these tractor prints? They look new, but these are already several years old. However. . .” He circled the front section of the habitat. “The scooter trails here are definitely fresh.”
Atteberry broke in. “How do you know, Captain?”
“The mine operations didn’t use LunaScootas. They relied on rovers since their lower speeds and greater hauling capacities made them far more practical for this kind of in situ operation.” He turned to face Atteberry and raised his eyebrows. “But someone’s been shuttling around. See how they crisscross the whole area? How they take off toward the outbuildings here. . . and here?”
“We’ve got to land!” Atteberry grabbed Carter by the arms. “They’re still down there!”
Carter pushed him back. “Stand down. They may have moved on.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you see the scooters anywhere? Unless they’re parked in the buildings, it appears they’ve gone somewhere else.” He nodded at Powell. “Am I right, Captain?”
Powell hesitated and studied the images from Luna. “It’s a mystery. I suppose they could have taken the machines inside an outbuilding, but why they’d do that makes no sense.”
Esther, standing beside Attebe
rry with hands on hips, said, “If they needed electrical or computational power, they may have rigged something up inside.” She moved closer to the screen and studied an area that jutted out from the habitat’s core. “Something’s happened over here. See the damage? Perhaps they brought the scooters in here, but I’d bet they’re at an outbuilding.”
She turned to Carter. “There’s only one way to know for sure, Clayton. We need to land.”
He scowled. “No.”
Atteberry panicked. “We’ve got to go see. They could be in there on their last breath. Please, for the love of God, Clayton, take the ship down and let’s check it out.”
“Can’t do that.”
“What the hell is the matter with you?”
“Stand down, Mr. Atteberry!” Carter’s voice boomed over the hum and white noise of the Echo. “I don’t want to waste my time chasing ghosts.”
Atteberry’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped, mouthing silent words. Powell and Jenson averted their attention back to their stations. Automated hails and telemetry data whispered in the background.
“Clayton!” Esther grabbed him by the arm and pulled him aside. Then she wrapped an arm around Atteberry’s shoulder. He lowered his head, stunned.
Carter said, “I’m—I’m sorry, Jim.” He paused a moment, then regained command. “Still, we’re going to have some seriously nasty cruisers on us any time and my priorities are salvaging my tech and finding that alien ship.”
Atteberry stared at him. He grabbed the back of Quigg’s seat and leaned into it. “I thought this was a rescue mission.”
“The needs of the many. . .”
“Don’t give me that crap. I get it. Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good. But the people involved make their own sacrificial decisions, not some mine boss or ship’s captain or anyone else. You have no right to play God.” Atteberry fought hard to keep his emotions in check, but they leaked out all around him.
Carter stared him down, clearly not interested in changing his mind, and the ensuing tension filled the bridge. Ishani and Dub had joined them at this point and assumed positions behind their CEO. Atteberry knew Dub’s only role on this ship was security and hauling heavy crap. He clenched his fists and watched the big man.
Esther moved forward. “Clayton?” Her voice, though warm, carried an authority that he had not noticed before. “If Kate and Mary are in that habitat, we have to get them.” She turned to the co-pilot. “How long would it take to land this craft?”
Jenson looked at Captain Powell, who nodded at her to proceed. “Only a few minutes.”
Esther returned her gaze to Carter who fumed stoically in the center of the bridge. “Please, Clayton, let’s go see. We’ll know immediately if they’re there, or if. . . they’re still alive.”
“No, Esther. We don’t have time.”
She threw Atteberry a glance and pursed her lips. “This isn’t the kind of relationship or partnership I can support, Mr. Carter. You’re the boss here, and no one questions that. But we have a moral obligation to find those women before anything else.” She moved closer to him. “Please, Clayton, let’s go see, then we’ll take care of the salvage and look for the alien ship.”
“In a godless world, Esther, morality is fluid. It means nothing more than a bowl of soup.” He grunted. “But I hear you. That said,” he chewed his lip, then shifted his gaze to Atteberry. “I won’t tolerate this talk-back on my ship again, understand?”
Atteberry sighed, burying his outrage, and nodded.
“Do you, Esther?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Carter stared at the Aristoteles mine site on the main viewer. “Captain Powell. . . take us in.”
Mary
Plumes of dust kicked up from the LunaScoota as Mary rose and guided the machine away from the crash site en route to the alien vessel. Kate remained behind, propped up on the rocky surface. She kept telling herself that Kate’s reasoning was sound: she’d stay so Mary could get to the Rossian ship, find a way in, then return for her. It would save time, but the primary benefit was maintaining space in the cargo hold for the portable excavator to clear the area around the hull.
One small step.
Her helmet audio crackled to life. “Keep in touch, Mares. Let me know what you’re doing.” Kate’s voice faltered and was barely readable.
“Roger.”
Mary didn’t plot the new course in to the scooter’s guidance system until she’d cleared the major rock wall. No sooner had she done this than the mysterious blue light appeared again on the horizon, aligning itself with the coordinates of the alien vessel.
The scooter vibrated underneath her as she flew it around the craters and debris field, but despite the progress, Mary felt sick.
You can’t leave her behind.
She eased up on the throttle and hovered over an open, patchy area between several large boulders. Logic didn’t help. Reason didn’t work. No matter how she teased out various scenarios, the over-riding fear of what would happen if she failed to enter the ship crushed her.
“Kate, I’m coming back.” She nudged the throttle, retracing her path through the danger zone to the crash site.
“No . . . don’t. Save yourself.”
Mary ignored her, and within a few minutes, she grounded the scooter near Kate and immediately hopped out and unlashed the excavator from the hold.
“You’ll need that. Don’t. . .”
She knelt beside her. “How much pain are you in now?”
“My whole arm throbs from the broken wrist. My. . . my ribs hurt like hell if I try sitting up. Definitely an eight even with the pseudophine.”
Mary paused for a moment. Traveling in the back of the cargo hold on the portable seat lacked the cushioning and security of the pilot chair—she knew from having done it earlier. No other options presented themselves.
“You’ll have to juice up for the ride to the ship.”
“No. . .”
“Don’t argue. It’ll be tricky clearing the debris field and the hold isn’t designed to carry people, let alone injured ones. Hit the juice and let’s go.”
Kate ordered up another blast of air-borne narcotic then sank into the dust.
Getting her into the cargo hold challenged everything she’d learned during her training about rescue protocols. With the extra dose of painkiller, Kate’s body relaxed into dead weight, and although she was thin and wiry and in a 1/6th gravity environment, moving her arms and legs so as not to exacerbate her injuries took time and considerable effort.
Finally, she lay Kate down in the hold and strapped her in with makeshift tethers.
“Sorry to leave you on your back, but I don’t want any more pressure on your ribs. You’ll just have to stare into the black abyss until we reach the Rossian ship.”
“Mm.” The extra shot of painkiller had reduced Kate’s voice to a series of grunts and wheezes. Mary figured she must be so out of it she likely didn’t know where she was at this point.
She fired up the scooter, pulled out of the dust, and hovered for a moment over the crash site. “We’re heading out now, Kate, you and me.”
“No. . . leave me here. . .”
Mary ignored her and shuttled her way through the debris field, buffeted by massive rock walls and boulders, following the glow of blue light shining like a bauble in the dark. She focused all her attention on manipulating the craft through the danger zone, speeding up where possible, but mostly keeping it slow until she could open the throttle again on clear moonscape.
“Mary. . . I have to help Martin.”
“Hm? Who’s Martin?”
“I have to help him. . . before he. . .”
She drifted in and out of consciousness. Mary remained silent and concentrated instead on exiting the danger zone and arriving safely at the Rossian ship. As she approached the vestiges of the rock field, she hovered in place a meter off the ground for a moment, and wriggled around to check on Kate. She still lay in the hold in
the same position as Mary had left her earlier, bio-signs functioning almost normally except for the lower heart rate and presence of heavy narcotic in her blood.
How much of that juice did she take?
“Mares?”
“Yes.”
“Leave me here, sweetheart. I’m so ugly. . . so broken. Say. . . say hi to your dad. I always . . . loved him.” She wept freely now.
“I’m not leaving you.” She couldn’t tell if Kate was hallucinating, but with that much juice, no one could remain lucid for long.
“Let me go, let me go. . .”
“I won’t ever leave you.”
Mary faced forward again, nudged the throttle and cruised over the edge of rocks and out of the danger zone. The only features standing between her and the Rossian ship now were ancient basalt flows, the odd outcrop, and fields of dust.
“Let me. . . sleep.”
She pulled back hard on the throttle and the scooter lunged into motion.
“. . . what I am now. . .”
Fifteen minutes to the site. Then half an hour’s worth of oxygen to dig.
“. . . don’t forget me. . .”
TWENTY-NINE
Esther
The only other ship she’d flown capable of space flight and landing on planets or asteroids was the Gordon Bennett. That happened years ago shortly after she joined the TSA, and that boat wouldn’t measure up to half of the Echo’s capability.
It’s amazing how far we’ve come in two decades, despite the political upheavals.
She often wondered what the world could have accomplished if the United States circa 2070 had remained intact, but Esther understood history: no nation, no movement, no empire lasted forever. The breakup of the USA was inevitable, and even the founding fathers understood the fragility of dreams, so the only question facing them was: when?
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