Running Toward Home

by M B Panichi

  “That’s never a good thing. What’s going on?”

  “Solar flares. Big ones. They’re predicting we’re going to catch it full on.”

  Shaine walked over to his monitors and put the alert up on the main wall screen. She skimmed the reports from the SSA Observatory on the moon. Based on their path around the sun, the full force of the flares’ energy was going to smack right into them.

  Shaine said, “Put an alert out. We need to start battening down after this shift and move everyone into the underground shelter before this hits us.”

  Gohste said, “According to the SSA, we have seventeen hours and fifteen minutes to get to shelter. I’ll check in with Ahmed and let him know what’s going on.”

  Shaine nodded. “Sounds good. Thanks, Ghoste.”

  * * *

  Morgan sat behind the security monitors, flipping through the interior cameras. She was filling in while the rest of the security team monitored the final move of personnel to the underground shelter. The solar storm was ratcheting up. They’d lost all com and net feeds from Moon Base and Earth.

  She glanced up at the red countdown clock displayed on the main ops screen. Three hours, forty-six minutes. Not a lot of time, but they were nearly done transferring all their personnel into the underground shelter. She wasn’t worried about the process. She was more concerned about dealing with the boredom of being stuck underground for a few days.

  Shaine had been flitting back and forth between the security station and talking with Gohste, Ahmed and Garren, who were at the main ops console, coordinating the move and monitoring systems between the temporary dome and the shelter.

  Gohste’s voice carried over the general hubbub, and Morgan looked his way.

  “This is the Mann-Maru Mining Facility, yes.” His fingers flickered over his communications console. He put a hand to his earpiece. “Please repeat. Your signal is breaking up.” He listened again, frowning. “Unified Martian Temple, come in! Do you read? Can you hear me?” With a frustrated curse, he said, “I lost the call. Shaine, I patched the recording through to your station. The Temple colony reported that one of their kids ran off with a personal ground skimmer, maybe an hour ago, maybe two. They think the kid may be headed toward us.”

  Shaine looked up from her terminal with an incredulous expression. “Do they know we’ve got a major solar storm less than four hours out?”

  Gohste shrugged.

  Garren said, “Try to send them a weather update, Gohste. Then they can’t say we didn’t.”

  “Even if it isn’t our problem if they’re that stupid,” Morgan muttered. She brought up the views from the outermost cameras and set them panning the area. “I’ll see if anyone’s within camera range.”

  Shaine ran a hand through her hair. “No way they’d have gotten this far in a couple of hours,” she said. “Not on a skimmer.”

  Morgan said, “We could take a rescue vehicle out and see if we can find them.”

  Del looked up from the security boards. “Great idea, but we don’t have anyone free.”

  “I could go out,” Morgan said.

  Shaine’s eyebrows rose toward her hairline. “I don’t think so.”

  Morgan ignored her and said to Gohste, “Who’s the pilot on call?”

  He tapped a screen. “Mojo’s on.”

  “Tell him to meet me down in the hanger,” she said, pushing to her feet.

  Shaine said, “Morgan, we need to lock down the shelter in three hours. The radiation levels are starting to rise faster. I’ll give you half an hour out and half an hour back. That’s it.”

  Morgan nodded. “One hour,” she acknowledged. “Thanks, Shaine.”

  Shaine pursed her lips, her expression grim, and Morgan knew she wasn’t happy about the excursion. She also knew it was probably the only chance the kid had of staying alive. She headed toward the door.

  “Morg?”

  Morgan stopped and turned back.

  “Be careful, okay?”

  Morgan smiled. “I will. Love you too.”

  * * *

  The rescue transport had room for the pilot and copilot up front. Morgan took the copilot’s seat though she wasn’t able to fly. She could handle the coms and the scanners. She and Mojo wore vac suits on the off chance that they would actually find the missing kid. For the ride out, though, they’d left their helmets and gloves secured in the midship lockers.

  Morgan was glad Mojo was the pilot on call. The tall man was one of the most laid-back guys she knew. His strong, flat-planed face suggested his descent from the South American continent. He wore his black hair pulled into a braid that hung almost to his waist.

  Mojo revved up the engines and Morgan flipped on the com. “Flyer One to base, over.”

  “Go ahead, Flyer One.”

  Morgan recognized Gohste’s voice. She said, “Just letting you know we’re heading out.”

  “Roger that. Good hunting.”

  Shaine broke in, “Watch your time, Morgan.”

  “Got it. Flyer One out.” Morgan tapped off the com.

  Mojo eased the compact rescue transport out of the hangar and opened up the throttle as they passed through the construction-site. He picked up enough altitude for a decent view while staying low enough to see a small personal skimmer. He said, “If the kid’s already been out a couple hours, he can’t have more than three hours of air left if he’s in a standard suit.”

  “Yeah. Not good. I’ve got thermal scanners up, as long range as I can get them.”

  “I’ve got a grid plotted.” He put a flight pattern up on the cockpit HUD.

  “I’m scanning the com channels, too. Hopefully we’ll pick something up.”

  * * *

  Shaine’s voice crackled over the increasingly static-filled com. “Morgan, you need to turn back.”

  Morgan could hear the agitation in Shaine’s voice, but they’d finally got a hint of their runaway, and she wasn’t ready to give up yet. She frowned as she tried to focus the thermal scanners in on the heat indication she’d just picked up. “Just a few more minutes. We’ve got a signal on the thermal scan, a couple minutes from us.”

  “Damn it, the radiation readings are climbing.”

  “Just a few more minutes.”

  Mojo pointed with one hand, the other still on the control stick. “I think I see something. About two o’clock.”

  “Shaine, I think we got the kid! Back in two and two.”

  Mojo swung the transport directly at the target and swore as the skimmer came into view. Riderless, it lay on its side in the sand. “Do you see the kid?” He hovered, slowly pivoting the ship as they visually scanned the area, looking for a suited body.

  “There!” Morgan saw the dull glint of sunlight off a faceplate near a pile of rocks a couple meters from the crashed skimmer. “Put down. I’ll go out.” She sealed the cockpit hatch behind her as she went through to the cabin.

  She pulled on her helmet and gloves, sealed up her suit and checked the suit’s diagnostics a final time before she opened the airlock. Not waiting for the short boarding ramp to finish extending, she jumped down onto the hard-packed sand. She jogged toward the rock near the crashed skimmer. When she caught sight of the suit leg extending past the rocks, she slowed and hoped like hell the kid wasn’t splattered. She stepped around the rock. The vacuum suit was intact, with no frost on the mirrored faceplate. She took in a breath. The suit was probably functioning.

  Morgan knelt by the helmet, frustrated that she couldn’t see the face through the mirroring. She picked up the kid’s arm, looking at the small diagnostic computer on the suit’s wrist. All the basic functions were running in the yellow. She frowned and switched to a more detailed graph mode. Fuck. The suit was nearly out of air and power.

  She got behind the kid and picked him up under the arms. “Mojo, I’m coming in! Kid’s alive, but his suit is gonna crash and burn in about three minutes.”

  “Hurry up, then. Shaine’s bitchin’ at me to get us back.”


  “Got it.” Morgan chastised herself for not thinking to bring a gurney or something with her as she dragged the runaway to the ship. She pulled the body up the short ramp and laid him on the floor, then reached back to shut the hatch. As the airlock sealed, she yelled, “We’re in! Go!”

  The life support system started cycling in the cabin, pumping heat and air into the midsection of the ship. She knew it would only take a couple minutes, but the wait seemed interminable. As she dropped to her knees beside the kid, she felt the transport lift off, rocking as Mojo hit the throttle and picked up altitude.

  She grabbed the kid’s wrist, splitting her attention between the suit diagnostics and the indicators above the hatch, waiting anxiously to pop the suit’s helmet and get the kid some decent air. The suit’s life-support was running in the red now. Clean air was depleted and the unit was recycling what was left in the suit itself. It would be toxic in three minutes.

  The compartment indicators finally flashed green. Morgan ripped off her own gloves and made quick work of popping the seals on the kid’s helmet, pulling it off to reveal a teenaged girl with wildly curly blond hair.

  The girl’s head lolled back. Morgan slapped her pale cheeks. “Come on, wake up!”

  She could feel the girl’s breath, shallow and weak, against the back of her hand. She laid her back down and started unsealing the girl’s suit, talking to her the whole time and wishing she was a medic instead of a mechanic.

  Mojo’s voice came over the compartment speakers, “How’s she doing?”

  “Still out. Trying to get her unsuited so I can see what’s going on. Make sure to pull into the barn, hey?”

  “Roger that. We’re about twenty minutes out. Shaine’s having a fit.”

  “She’ll get over it. Just get us back there.”

  Morgan got the girl’s suit open, pulling back the front panels without actually taking it off her. The suit was basic and didn’t have any biofeedback diagnostics. At least the girl was breathing. She had a solid pulse and some color coming back to her face. Morgan didn’t see any blood or obvious trauma, so she could only assume that she either smacked her head on the inside of the helmet when she went down, or she was out because of the low oxygen content. Maybe both.

  She brushed the girl’s hair out of her eyes. The girl groaned and blue eyes blinked open to look around in bleary panic. Morgan said, as reassuringly as she could, “Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay. We’re headed to the mining site. My name is Morgan.”

  The kid stared at her, and Morgan realized she still had her own helmet on. Shaking her head, she undid the seal and pulled it off, setting it on the floor next to her. “Sorry.”

  Blue eyes studied her face intently. “Please don’t take me back to the colony,” she pleaded.

  “Not if you don’t want to go.”

  The girl nodded.

  “Are you okay? What happened?”

  The girl frowned. “The skimmer hit a big rut in the sand and I caught a cross gust at the same time. I tried to recover, but it dumped. I think I smacked my head.” She lifted her arm, realizing she was still mostly suited. “How did you find me?”

  “We got a call from the colony saying someone ran off. We were searching with a thermal scanner. With the sunspot radiation about to hit us, we figured we should find you before you got your brains fried.”

  The kid looked sufficiently spooked. “Oh.”

  “So, what’s your name?”

  “Um. Friday. It’s Friday.”

  Morgan blinked. “Interesting name,” she commented.

  Friday made a face. “I think it’s stupid. My parents said it’s some kind of ancient literary reference.”

  “Are your parents at the colony?”

  “My parents are dead. My sister dragged me out here. And I’m not going back.”

  Morgan nodded, accepting the hard determination in Friday’s expression.

  The ship lurched, shifting hard to port and up before it settled again. Morgan grabbed at the loose helmet beside her as it slid away. They could hear Mojo’s fluent curses as he wrestled the ship back under control.

  “Morgan, get our visitor strapped in. It’s getting a little dicey with these winds, and I could use an extra set of hands.”

  “Be there in a sec, Mo.” Morgan looked at Friday. “Can you get up, so we can strap ya in?”

  Friday nodded. “Yeah.”

  Morgan got to her feet and reached down to give Friday a hand up. The ship continued to shift under them, but Morgan managed to keep her balance and got Friday settled on one of the trauma beds built into the wall. She secured the girl with four-point restraints and patted her on the shoulder. “Just hang on, okay?”

  Friday nodded. “Thanks.”

  Morgan gave her a grin and turned away to unseal the cockpit hatch and join Mojo.

  Shaine sent them directly into the underground docking bay. Radiation levels had increased frighteningly quickly while they’d been gone. Ops had shifted control to the underground ops center, and all staff were checked into their shelter quarters. Rather than waiting for the docking bay to pressurize and heat up, the maintenance crew hooked up an umbilical to get Morgan, Mojo and Friday into the sealed underground shelter.

  Mojo ducked out of the umbilical first, still suited except for helmet and gloves. Shaine greeted him with a slap on the shoulder. “Good job, Mojo.”

  He grinned at her. “Take it easy on your girlfriend, hey?”

  Morgan and Friday stumbled out of the umbilical just a step behind Mojo. Morgan supported her counterpart, who was taller than she was, with an arm around her waist. Both were free of helmets and gloves. Morgan’s focus was on the girl, who looked around with wide eyes. Morgan said, “It’s okay, you’re safe here. It’s an underground bunker.”

  “And you won’t send me back?”

  “No, I told you that. It’ll be okay.”

  Shaine stepped in front of them. “Jesus Christ, Morgan, if you cut things that close again, I’ll kill you myself.”

  Morgan grinned and pulled Shaine into an awkward hug, kissing her cheek. “I love you too, Shaine.”

  Shaine managed another frown before shaking her head with a sigh and turning her attention to the young woman at Morgan’s side. Morgan patted the girl’s shoulder. “This is Friday. Friday, this is our Head of Security, Shaine Wendt.”

  Shaine looked Friday up and down. “Hello, Friday. Welcome. Are you all right? Do you need to see a medic?”

  Friday shook her head. “I’m okay, as long as you don’t send me back to that hellhole.”

  Shaine glanced at Morgan. “No chance of that while we’re in the middle of a solar radiation storm,” she returned evenly.

  Friday’s sharp blue eyes flashed up. “What about after the storm?” she asked.

  Morgan said, “We won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

  Shaine cautioned, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  Morgan said to Friday, “Let’s get out of this gear and get some food. Then we can talk, okay?”

  They crossed over to the lockers on the far wall. Shaine helped Friday out of her vac suit while Morgan shed hers and ran her diagnostics before stowing it in her locker. Shaine waved a maintenance tech over. “I need you to check Friday’s suit, Mitch. Make sure it’s functioning properly and file the report to my pad.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Shaine shook her head at the ma’am, then shooed Morgan and Friday ahead of her toward the cafeteria. They passed a number of personnel milling about the narrow hallways as they headed further into the shelter’s interior.

  Morgan asked, “Any updates at all as to how long this storm is going to last?”

  “The last report from the SSA said it would last at least four days. The scientists are thinking it’ll be closer to a week. In any case, radiation is breaking up all our com streams, so we’re on our own until it passes.”

  “Well,” Morgan observed, “at least we won�
�t have corporate breathing down our throats for a few days.”

  “Or any news from the outside.”

  Friday looked from one to the other. “Are you both in charge here?” she asked.

  Morgan shook her head. “I’m sure as hell not,” she said. “I’m just a working grunt.”

  Shaine laughed. “I’m Head of Security, so reasonably high on the in-charge list.”

  They strode through a set of auto-opening double doors into the cafeteria. There were several rows of solid plastic picnic tables. The serving counter spanned the back of the room, providing fresh food from the kitchen as well as a bank of automated food and beverage dispensers. A board with the day’s menu written out hung on the wall.

  Morgan grinned. “Looks like burgers and fries if you want live food.”

  The expression on Friday’s face was near to swooning. “Please? All we get are vegetables and processed proteins at the colony.”

  “Burgers it is, then,” Shaine agreed. They got their food and drinks and Shaine guided them to a quiet corner where they could talk without interruption. She had already noticed how Friday watched Morgan for cues and how the girl’s intense, blue eyes scanned the room warily, taking in every detail.

  Morgan dug into her food and Friday followed her lead. Shaine picked up a fry and chewed it thoughtfully. After a few seconds, she asked, “So, what brings you to us, Friday? What made you leave the colony? Were you intending to reach us here? Or had you not thought that far ahead?”

  Friday set her burger down, her expression serious. “Of course I intended to get here,” she said. “I am not stupid.”

  Shaine shrugged, “Just asking.”

  Morgan gave Shaine a curious frown, but said nothing. Shaine sent Morgan an almost imperceptible head shake.

  Friday said, “I had a chance to get out, so I took it. I knew I was taking a chance because of the storm, but I worked out my route and I knew I could make it in time. Even if I didn’t make it, I would rather die than slowly lose my mind in that asylum.”

  Shaine studied her. “That’s a pretty strong statement.”

  Friday’s expression darkened and she pushed her food away. She glared at Shaine and snapped, “If I wanted an interrogation, I could go back to the colony.”