Space Case

by Stuart Gibbs

  “Hmm?” asked Dr. Howard, who’d been staring off into space. He looked around and seemed to notice for the first time that Kira was missing. However, he didn’t seem concerned about this. “Oh, she’s off exploring her new home, I suppose.”

  “That shouldn’t take long,” I muttered. “This place isn’t big.”

  “That’s one of the things I like about it,” Daphne said cheerfully. Other than Violet, Daphne is the only person who seems continually thrilled to be at the moon base. Unlike Violet, though, Daphne is fully aware of all the base’s faults; she simply doesn’t care. “It’s cozy here, don’t you think? Much nicer than a big, empty moon base.”

  “Yeah!” Violet said. “I like it here too!”

  No one else seconded the thought.

  I wondered if Kira was off trying to hack the computer somewhere. This was probably the best chance she’d have. With everyone in the mess, she had the rest of MBA to herself.

  Across the room I caught sight of Zan, sitting at a table with some of the other temps who’d come in that day: two solar-panel contractors and a woman who I hadn’t been introduced to yet. While the others chatted, Zan caught my eye and gave me a quick wink, letting me know we were still in this together.

  Dad turned to Dr. Howard. “You ought to track Kira down. There won’t be another meal like this for a while. She really shouldn’t miss it.” He pointed toward the kitchen, where Nina, Chang, and Mr. Grisan were busily preparing dinner: actual, honest-to-goodness hamburgers.

  They couldn’t grill the burgers at MBA, of course. We can’t have any open flames, as they’d suck up all our precious oxygen. And if the base catches fire, there isn’t anywhere else for us to go. So the burgers were all cooked back in Houston (where they really know their grilling) and then vacuum-sealed in plastic sheets. These look weird, like huge meaty button candies, but the plastic preserves the flavor amazingly well. Now our chefs were microwaving the burgers as quickly as they could—and serving them up with sides of relatively fresh carrots, pickles, and coleslaw. The Sjobergs had selfishly demanded to be served first, even before the kids. They’d just received their dinner, and the smell of cooked meat was intoxicating. My mouth was watering so much I was worried I’d drool on the table.

  Virtually everyone else in the mess was equally mesmerized, eagerly waiting the moment when they’d get their food. Dr. Howard, however, had already checked out mentally again. “Hmm?” he asked once more. “Kira? Oh, I think she’s a vegetarian.”

  “You’re not sure?” Mom asked, surprised.

  Dr. Howard shook his head, smiling vacantly. “Who can keep track of what a twelve-year-old girl likes and doesn’t like?”

  There was a soft ping and then my smartwatch displayed a text. It was from Eliza Bock: How’s your new girlfriend?

  “Dash, no messaging at dinner,” Mom said.

  “I know.” I didn’t feel like responding to Eliza anyhow. I pretended to turn my watch off, while actually setting it to silent mode.

  I glanced toward the Sjobergs, my stomach grumbling. The entire family was making a disgusting show of enjoying their food, groaning with delight at each bite and smacking their lips. “This is absolutely exquisite!” Sonja announced. Her lips, which had been overinflated by a plastic surgeon back on earth, were now painted red with barbecue sauce, making her look like a tropical fish. Lars Sjoberg and his children only grunted in response, not even lifting their heads from their plates.

  A microwave dinged. Everyone else in the mess turned toward it expectantly, like dogs who’d seen a squirrel. Now that the Sjobergs had claimed their burgers, the base children got priority on the next round. Mr. Grisan set the burgers and slaw out on plates, and then Nina and Chang delivered the goods. Nina brought two plates to our table, acting nice and friendly, as though she hadn’t spent the entire day chastising me. “Here you go!” she announced to Violet and me. “Enjoy!”

  She took a step away, then looked back and asked, “By the way, Dash, have you done your video log yet?”

  I’d forgotten all about it, but I stayed calm and lied convincingly. “I’m still working on it. I’m taking my time to give you exactly what you asked for.”

  Nina’s eyes narrowed briefly, like she knew I was lying and wanted to bust me, but then she smiled and said, “Thanks. I’m looking forward to seeing it.”

  As annoyed as I was with Nina, I still could have hugged her for bringing me that burger. I’d never seen anything as delicious in my life. My salivary glands immediately went into overdrive.

  Mom, still angry at Nina herself, glared after the base commander as she headed back to get more burgers. “Look at her. Acting like she’s Mary Poppins after the way she treated Dash today. I ought to report her to NASA for overstepping her bounds—”

  “Now, now,” Dad cautioned, “This has been a rough day for all of us. And I’m sure Nina is under far more stress than everyone else put together.”

  “She didn’t have to take it out on our son,” Mom groused.

  Before eating my burger, I looked to everyone else at the table. So did Violet. Unlike the Sjobergs, even she had manners. “Can I start eating?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Dad said. “Both of you, dig in.”

  “Oh boy!” Violet cried. She snatched her burger off the plate and took a huge bite.

  “Anyone want a bite of mine?” I offered.

  “Well, aren’t you the gentleman,” Daphne said. “Go on ahead now. I’ve been waiting weeks for this. Another few minutes won’t kill me.” She then winced, embarrassed. “Ooh. Bad choice of words, right? Given the events of today. I didn’t mean to be so callous. . . .”

  “We know you didn’t,” Mom said.

  I launched into my standard procedure for eating fresh food, trying to make it last as long as possible. I sliced off a thin sliver of burger and rolled it around in my mouth. It was incredible. The flavor was so overwhelming it almost made me woozy.

  Across the room, Chang Hi-Tech placed burgers in front of the Marquez kids. Roddy pounced on his before it even hit the table and crammed half of it into his mouth in a single bite.

  “Did Chang ever work with Dr. Holtz before they both came here?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Dad said. “They collaborated on a project at NASA a few years back.”

  I slipped another sliver of hamburger into my mouth. “Did they like each other?”

  Mom looked at me curiously. “Why do you ask?”

  I shrugged, trying to appear as though the thought had only popped into my head that moment. “I don’t know. Chang hasn’t seemed that upset about Dr. Holtz.”

  “That doesn’t mean he isn’t upset,” Mom informed me. “You know how macho Chang is. He’s probably afraid of letting his guard down. But I can assure you, he liked Ronald as much as anyone here.”

  “Er . . . not quite,” Dad said.

  Mom and Daphne turned to him, surprised. Dr. Howard didn’t; he was staring at something on the ceiling.

  “What do you mean?” Daphne asked.

  Dad lowered his voice so no one at the surrounding tables could overhear us. “Chang claims Dr. Holtz stole an idea of his.”

  “When?” Mom asked.

  “About five years ago,” Dad replied. “Chang had some idea about how to improve human oxygen consumption in space. Don’t ask me to explain it. I can’t. It’s way too complicated. Anyhow, since Chang isn’t a biologist, he approached Dr. Holtz with the idea—and the next thing he knew, Dr. Holtz was presenting the idea as his own.”

  Daphne gasped. “I can’t believe Dr. Holtz would ever do something like that!”

  Dad shrugged. “I’m only telling you what Chang said. I can’t imagine Dr. Holtz stealing someone’s idea either, but I have just as much trouble imagining Chang making up the story.”

  “It must have been a misunderstanding,” Mom said.

  “That’s my guess too,” Dad agreed. “Whatever the case, though, I’m sure it’s all water under the bridge. I don’t think
NASA would have brought both Dr. Holtz and Chang up here if there was still bad blood between them.”

  I wondered if that was true. Maybe Chang had simply pretended to have forgiven Dr. Holtz, not wanting it to prevent him from going to the moon. But was a stolen idea really worth killing a man over? That seemed ridiculous, but then people were doubtlessly killed for ridiculous reasons all the time.

  “I’m sure it’s all forgotten,” Daphne suggested cheerfully. “How could anyone stay angry at Dr. Holtz? He was such a sweetheart!”

  “Maybe, but he still had his share of people who didn’t like him,” Dad said.

  Daphne looked like a child who’d just been told there was no Easter Bunny. “No!”

  “I’m not saying he deserved any of it,” Dad went on. “But no matter how good a person you are, when you work in academics or at a big, political place like NASA, there are going to be people who don’t like you. Even Dr. Holtz had enemies.”

  “Like who?” I asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

  Before Dad could answer, there was a commotion across the room. Roddy Marquez was choking. In his attempt to devour his burger as quickly as possible, he had apparently forgotten to chew. Now he was red-faced and wheezing, desperately signaling that something was jammed in his gullet.

  “Ooh!” Violet cried happily. “Charades!”

  “He’s choking!” Mom corrected, and then she and Dad rushed to Roddy’s aid.

  Half the room was doing the same thing. Every single person at MBA had to take courses in basic first aid. (Even Violet, though she mostly just played house with the CPR dummy.) There is probably no better place to nearly choke to death.

  Chang got there first. He snaked his tattooed arms around Roddy’s waist from behind and gave him a quick, sharp jab in the solar plexus.

  A hunk of meat the size of an egg rocketed out of Roddy’s mouth, sailed halfway across the room, and nailed Lars Sjoberg in the face.

  Lars had been too busy gobbling his own meal to pay attention to anything else, even the near death of another person, so he didn’t even see the partly chewed burger coming until it hit his forehead with a wet splat. Startled, Lars shrieked and toppled backward off his inflatable chair, upending the dinner table en route. All the Sjoberg family’s food—including the entire tub of coleslaw Patton had demanded—pitched into the air and then landed on Lars.

  If this had happened to anyone else at MBA, the rest of us might have reacted with concern. But since Lars Sjoberg had spent the last few weeks coming up with new ways to prove he was the biggest jerk in the universe, we all burst into laughter instead. Even Nina, who I’d never seen laugh before.

  Lars scrambled to his feet, flushed in embarrassment, coated in coleslaw, Roddy’s hacked-up hamburger still clinging to his face like a meat barnacle. “This is not funny!” he screamed at us, which just made the whole thing even funnier. Everyone laughed harder, and Lars seethed so angrily I thought the meat on his head might start frying. “That does it!” he roared, then wheeled on Nina. “I’ve had it with this horrible place! I want my money back!”

  Nina stifled her laughter in surprise. “Er . . . I have no authorization to do that. As far as I’m aware, Mr. Sjoberg, your contract said there would be no refunds.”

  “The contract also said this would be the adventure of a lifetime!” Lars pried the hunk of masticated meat off his head and threw it against the wall, where it stuck fast. “Instead it’s been torture! Our accommodations are hideous, the food is repulsive, and you have all been terrible hosts! I’ve had enough. When the rocket returns to earth in two days, I demand that my family and I be on it!”

  Back at the Marquez table Roddy had quickly recovered from his near-death experience—and was currently throwing a fit, as he’d hocked up a good portion of his hamburger and now wanted a new one. His mother was trying to calm him. “There’s only one hamburger per person,” she told him.

  “That’s not fair!” Roddy wailed. “I only got to eat half of mine!”

  “Next time try chewing your food,” Cesar told him. “Like this.” He took a bite of his own hamburger and made a show of enjoying it to his brother.

  Roddy screamed with frustration and dove across the table, grabbing for Cesar’s burger. Cesar casually slammed Roddy’s face into the table and pinned him there, then continued to eat while his brother squirmed helplessly.

  “Lots of entertainment here tonight,” Dad said to us.

  Across the room Nina was facing down Lars Sjoberg. “You know I can’t send you back,” she said. “All available seats on that rocket are filled. You’re not scheduled to leave for another three months.”

  “Then bump some people!” Lars demanded.

  “Yes, Nina!” Chang cried. “Please, bump someone. The sooner we get rid of the Sjobergs the better.”

  Everyone in the room chimed agreement—except for the temps scheduled to go back on the rocket, who looked horrified by the idea that they might end up stuck at the station for another three months.

  This embarrassed and enraged Lars Sjoberg even more. “You can’t keep me here against my will!” he told Nina. “I am one of the most influential men on earth!”

  “I hate to break it to you,” Chang taunted, “but you’re not on earth anymore.”

  At the Marquez table, Roddy squirmed loose from Cesar’s grasp and—aware he wasn’t going to get any of his brother’s burger—ran for his pre-chewed chunk of meat, which was still stuck to the wall.

  “Roddy, no!” his mother cried, grabbing him by the collar. “Don’t you dare eat that!”

  Meanwhile Lars was staring Nina down. “I want to be on the next rocket home,” he told her. “Make it happen—or I can make your life very, very difficult from now on. Not just here, but back on earth as well. I have many friends in high places.” With that he spun on his heel and stormed out of the mess, his family right behind him.

  There was a moment of stunned silence, and then everyone who didn’t have a hamburger yet began clamoring for one. Maybe they all felt that Lars’s threat had been an empty one. Or maybe their desire for fresh meat trumped any concerns about Nina. But with the Sjobergs gone, the atmosphere in the mess became even more festive than before. Only Nina seemed concerned.

  And me. I was concerned too. If Lars Sjoberg had murdered Dr. Holtz, he’d just found an excuse to get himself off the moon quickly. Or at least he was trying. I could understand why. If Lars Sjoberg was guilty, as long as he stayed on the moon he was trapped. But if he could get back to earth, he was so rich and powerful that his lawyers could probably fight off any attempt to bring him to justice.

  Across the room Roddy wriggled free of his mother’s grasp and snatched the chewed burger off the wall. He was about to cram it into his mouth again when his mother tackled him. The two of them rolled around on the floor, grappling for the ball of half-eaten meat. “For goodness sake, Rodrigo, have some dignity!” Dr. Brahmaputra-Marquez yelled.

  “No!” Roddy cried. “I’m too hungry!”

  My smartwatch vibrated. I was so on edge that I jumped, startled by the sensation. I checked it and found a text from Kira.

  Found what you were looking for. Come see. My room. Now.

  Excerpt from The Official Residents’ Guide to Moon Base Alpha, © 2040 by National Aeronautics and Space Administration:

  AIR LOCKS

  There are two exit points at MBA: the main air lock and the emergency backup air lock. The main air lock is the primary access to and from the lunar surface, whereas the emergency backup air lock should never, ever be used unless 1) immediate evacuation from MBA is necessary and 2) the main air lock is blocked and/or nonfunctional.I

  Use of the main air lock is limited to those lunarnauts with official, sanctioned duties upon the lunar surface (i.e., maintenance, research, or transit to and from the launchpad). If you do not have sanctioned duties on the lunar surface, please stay away from the main air lock. The main air lock is not a toy! Tampering with it could jeopardize
your life—as well as the lives of your family and friends at MBA.

  * * *

  I. Rest assured, however, that such an occurrence is extremely unlikely. The Hamilton XP-50 air lock at MBA has been subjected to years of stress testing at NASA and during that time has had a 99.9995 percent success rate!

  LAST WORDS

  Lunar day 188

  After dinner

  Kira opened the door to her residence the moment after I knocked on it, then yanked me inside and locked it behind us.

  “What took you so long?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I came as soon as I got your message,” I said.

  “I texted you five minutes ago.”

  “I had to excuse myself from dinner. And . . . there was pie.”

  Kira arched an eyebrow. “Pie?”

  “I haven’t had pie in months,” I told her. “And this was apple. My favorite.” I produced a plate with a slice from behind my back. “I brought you some as well. I figured you’d be hungry, seeing as you skipped dinner.”

  “I was working on our project.” Kira accepted the pie from me and eagerly took a bite. Then she made a face.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “This pie isn’t very good,” she said.

  “It’s not?” I was genuinely surprised. To me the pie had tasted incredible. “Wow. My taste buds must have really deteriorated up here. If you don’t want the pie, I’ll eat it—”

  “No,” Kira said quickly. “You were right. I’m starving. I got all wrapped up in this and totally lost track of time.” She pointed toward her SlimScreen table with her fork.

  I quickly sat down there. “So you found the footage of Dr. Holtz?”

  “I did.” Kira pulled up an InflatiCube beside me, her eyes wide with excitement.

  “That’s amazing. You must be some kind of computer genius.”

  “Not exactly. I kind of cheated.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you told me Roddy had already figured out how to hack the system . . . so I tracked him down this afternoon and asked him how to do it.”