Omega Moon

by Noah Harris

  When I was five years old, I bit a kid. Was that part of this? I don’t even remember the incident, much less why I would do something like that, but it’s part of the family mythology now. And that means it needs to be some sign of my valor or sense of justice or fairness or something. So, the story is that I don’t like bullies and once that became the story, for the rest of my life I didn’t like bullies. They made me what I am by telling stories about what I was.

  When I was twelve, I spent six months in a private hospital. They told me it was a genetic disorder, something autoimmune, and I didn’t ask questions beyond that. I hated being weak, having any kind of defect, especially the idea that I had come to them broken. I don’t know where the idea came from, that I could just be discarded if I didn’t perform, live up to their expectations, but I can’t think of a time when I didn’t believe it.

  When they said I would have to have these shots every month, I didn’t ask questions. I just wanted to be golden again. And at the psychiatrist every six weeks, I tried to be as honest as possible. But these doctors were usually off the beaten path, with wild eyes or wild hair, or operating out of weird cottages overflowing with books and strange scents. Not the kind of doctors an Armstrong would normally recommend. So, was that it?

  You must choose between being a man and being an animal. I thought Father was talking about girls, and as I got older I decided he probably meant being gay. But this, too? I was barely old enough to talk when those lessons started. I thought they were just classes to teach me good manners, but there was a lot more to them than that. More like training than learning. As if I were a wild thing that needed to be tamed.

  And yes, I remember they used to joke about “feral children,” those legendary kids raised by wolves who then had to integrate back into society. I always thought it was just an elaborate, mean joke about how poor my biological parents must have been. But maybe I actually acted like that as a kid.

  I’m getting nervous waiting for Julian and starting to spin out of control. To be sitting in full view of the moon, buck naked, trying to remember if I’m a werewolf or not. As if that’s something you could just forget.

  But until today, I didn’t know a man could make me feel like this, either. I thought being attracted to other men was just something that happened to everybody, or it was a phase I might grow out of, and then I stopped thinking about it at all. Even now, it’s all a little too big to look straight at.

  But if I am gay, and at this point it seems like small potatoes to just roll with that for now, it seems at least as immediate and personal as being whatever Julian and I are.

  You know, I think if anybody could manage, by sheer force of will, to keep from being gay and a werewolf, it would be the child of the extremely WASP Armstrong family. Hell, I might not even be the first Armstrong dealing with either thing. You never know.

  Which means I have a lot to thank Julian Forrester for. If it doesn’t end up getting me killed in the next hour.

  “Hey,” someone barks behind me.

  Before I can even register who it is, my body goes into defense mode. Arms wide, chest heaving, ready for the attack.

  “Get on the fucking floor,” says Sergeant Hellstrom, assault rifle cocked and ready.

  We lock eyes, both wondering if I’m going to do as she says. What will happen if I don’t?

  Buck naked, with my body maybe just a third as swollen as it was, I can feel my face is still pretty wolfed out, so I keep my head down as I crouch, breathing slowly to relax. When I do say her name, I can hear enough panic in my voice. I know better than to engage her further. Julian must be back soon, to tell us it’s okay. Must be right around the corner by now...

  “Sergeant? What are you doing? Are you feeling okay?”

  I can hear it in his voice, that soothing innocent tone that always fools them. Those wide, blinking, beautiful eyes. When I risk a look back, he nods at me slightly, a warning, and his hands are in the air.

  “No, I’m not feeling okay. Ask your boyfriend.”

  I try to be helpful. “Yeah, we surprised each other,” I say lightly.

  “Margot let’s put the gun down. I can explain everything.”

  The sergeant barks out a laugh, still confused and scared. “What, you made him jump me? I saw what I saw.”

  “Which was what? What did you see?” Julian sounds reasonable, not terrified, but caring.

  She shrugs. “He looked crazy. Wild, like an animal. Something’s not right in there.”

  She’s not mentioning hair, or teeth, or muscles. That’s something. I may look more normal than I feel.

  “Alden, why did you attack the sergeant?” I’m horrified for a moment, but when I look up, hurt, he nods again. Play along.

  “Well, I…I heard Pip screaming. And that put me on alert. And then we surprised each other and I just…I wasn’t thinking. I was just worried.”

  “Who did you think it could possibly be? There’s only five of us.”

  I shake my head at them, hoping I can capture that same innocent tone. “Um, whoever hurt Pippa?” Julian nods, as if that closes the case, and I hope the story hangs together.

  “So, instead of figuring out what’s going on with Cortez, we’re in some kind of standoff here? That doesn’t sound right to me. Does it?”

  Margot’s not entirely buying it, but Julian’s hypnotic tone is doing the trick. “You didn’t see his face, Forrester. Cadet. It wasn’t human.”

  Julian nods sadly, and I can tell he’s made a decision. I wonder if he ever really considered letting everybody in on our little secret. It would certainly make things easier.

  “So…we’re all a little on edge. He surprised you, and the way he reacted was obviously a shock. Alden are you feeling alright?”

  I nod again. I’m getting good at lying. She drops the gun, and I slowly turn, rising to my knees. Julian subtly moves himself between us, still speaking in that low, soft tone.

  “Sergeant, can we please drop this? Maybe go help Pippa now? I’ll keep an eye on Armstrong, if you want…”

  She sniffs, looking me up and down, one eye on the cameras at all times. It’s almost funny, how many times she has to reassure herself they’re still turned off. But she knows Julian is strong enough to hold his own, so she relents.

  We walk back down the loop toward the shuttle, in formation. Three abreast. Hellstrom with her assault rifle at the ready and Julian between us, his hand gripping my right bicep tightly. He throws a few comforting smiles my way as we go, but I can tell we’re both still a few shocks behind and spiraling.

  “I am going to take care of you, no matter what. Okay. Alden? You are absolutely safe. No harm is going to come to you today.”

  It’s low enough Margot can hear talking, but not what he’s saying. It relaxes me enough that I can feel her do the same, even from here.

  For a moment, it sounds like he’s telling the truth.

  Spooked and ready to get moving, Captain Harbaugh summons everyone to the shuttle. There’s still a half-hour left before our launch window opens, but it’s a good idea to get us all in the same location as soon as possible. To keep an eye on each other, in the worst-case scenario. To calm Pippa down, in the best case.

  We’re just a few hundred yards from the shuttle bay when the sound of the first explosion reaches us. We’re already suited up, and muscle memory has our helmets on before we even register what’s happening.

  “Data gallery’s just…gone,” Pippa says over the PA from inside the shuttle. She sounds horrified, but not scared anymore. “Guess that leak was more serious than the station thought.”

  A ripple of explosions travels toward us, shaking the floor beneath our feet. It’s impossible to tell which direction they’re coming from.

  “Okay. We need to leave now. Looks like half the station just lost gravity. Which means it stopped turning, which means the torsion is going to twist the station apart around us. Get back here, now!”

  Hellstrom looks at Julian
, and he looks at me. Will I be safe?

  “Margot, will you protect us?” she shrugs. Obviously. All for one, one for all.

  It suddenly makes my heart hurt, to think about Philippa Cortez being scared of me.

  “Sergeant, do you have Alden and Julian? Are they safe?”

  Margot doesn’t take her eyes off my face as she clips out an affirmative.

  “So at least we know Pippa doesn’t want me dead,” I mumble. Nobody responds. But I do take a little comfort in the thought.

  I can see Captain Harbaugh standing at the airlock, waving at us almost angrily, when we finally get close. Hellstrom won’t drop the gun, so Julian won’t leave my side. It all adds up to a much slower approach than he’d prefer.

  “Margot, what the hell?” he asks, when we’re close enough to see his face. He’s stressed out, I can tell that much, but of course he’s holding it together better than the rest of us combined.

  “Sir. All crew members accounted for,” Margot says, staring at the floor. She doesn’t like evading the question, but she must know we don’t have time for a conversation about me.

  “Fine,” he agrees, ushering us into the airlock.

  “Decom in three,” Pippa’s voice says, starting the airlock up. Almost home free. Julian unclips his helmet, and does mine for me when he sees how dazed I still am. That’s twice on this trip he’s had to be in charge, and I know neither of us love it.

  Harbaugh looks at me, concern warring with his usual loving pride. Do I still look strange? Is there still something wrong with me? I’m afraid to take off my helmet, for some reason. Maybe I’ll smell his fear, or Margot’s, and feel disgusting all over again. But he just squeezes one arm, protectively, and gives me a look that says we’ll work it out. Almost smiling, but not quite, that classic Captain Harbaugh light behind his eyes, as if he knows all your secrets and doesn’t mind even one of them.

  It’s the last thing I see before the station rips the airlock apart, blowing the shuttle’s seal and taking us with it. Hellstrom and Harbaugh scramble to get their helmets on as they speed out into space, but they’re moving so fast they’re out of sight almost immediately.

  Julian hangs from the station door beside me, whipping as the whole thing comes apart below us. Fire venting out into the cold and instantly disappearing, all along the station’s rim. Like a million dying stars.

  Our shuttle’s now ragged airlock goes flipping end over end, out into the night. But the shuttle itself…it should be spinning off into space too, propelled in strange directions by that burst seal, the damage throwing it off balance.

  Instead, it’s floating in the air, rockets leveling it out in short bursts. Pippa must be at the controls. Julian raps at my helmet, miming a telephone conversation, and I realize my radio’s off.

  “…no way to get you on board. No way to land with you even if I could. You’d cook in that blown compartment faster than I could land her…”

  Who is she talking to? Is it the sergeant? The captain? Did they make it? I wait for their voices to chime in, but all I can hear is Pippa’s ragged breathing.

  The twisting, dying station dips us low again, and Julian slips for a second, flailing, before I grab him and pull him in close to my chest. We’re hanging off a broken husk, our legs dangling into the abyss as Pippa brings the massive shuttle back down toward us, awkwardly. This time around, I can almost see her through the glass. She’s a frizzy-haired blur at a console, but I can see her shape.

  With no idea what to say or do now, and an hour of oxygen left in my tank, I close my eyes for a moment. Holding Julian tight to my chest, trying to speak through our bodies so she won’t hear me and get scared again. I’m here, I love you, we’re still alive.

  Wishing we were dreaming together, instead of going through this waking nightmare.

  Julian twists himself around in my arms, one hand still gripping the station, but he barely bothers looking into my eyes before he’s nestled into the old comfortable spot, legs wrapped around me, holding me just as tight.

  I’m here, I love you, we’re still alive.

  9

  The Scar

  Julian

  What would Captain Harbaugh have said if I’d been able to go through with it and tell the whole truth? If the station didn’t tear itself apart beneath our feet and fling him out into the stars? Would I have told them what I am? What Alden, apparently, is? What we are?

  We know what Pippa would say, and Margot. At least at first. But I still wonder if his love for us was big enough for that. I can imagine him scratching that chin, the stubble he had by the end, nodding with a look of deep thought before breaking out into that rare, full grin. He loved Margot Hellstrom, for Pete’s sake. Certainly, he could deal with a little lycanthropy.

  There are parts I can’t remember clearly. Enough to know I don’t want to know more.

  The landscape is cold stone, exactly as bright and white and stark as it seems from Earth. Like a black-and-white photograph, with bluish shadows. All across the crater where we landed, space junk is strewn. A third of the waystation, maybe, even with my iffy sense of scale.

  And running through it all, the trench we made when we came crashing down. Sitting still, with no wind to blunt the sharpness, forever.

  I catch myself thinking for way too long, about how long it’ll be before some human covers it over. I hope they do it soon. I imagine doing it myself. Covering that scar.

  We were dangling from the station, thinking as hard as we could about a way to stay alive and coming up empty.

  “Guys, I’ve got an idea,” Pippa’s voice startled me, exploding out from the silence. Alden felt me jump, my legs still wrapped around him, and his eyes popped open.

  “Pippa?”

  She sighed, exhausted at his voice. “Hi, Alden. Sorry about…before.”

  He smiled into space, still bleary-eyed, maybe a bit teary. Blinking fast against her tender voice. “Me too.”

  She laughed at that, a short yip I always associated with surprise. “Lots to discuss. But first we need to stay alive. And for that, I need your help.”

  Alden’s eyes flitted down toward mine, making sure I was alert, and we both nodded.

  “Go ahead.”

  “So, there’s a working airlock on the station that should at least get you into a shielded compartment. It’ll be a challenge, because it’s not…where you are, currently.”

  “Got it,” Alden said, teeth gritting. I knew he was picturing them, just like me, the captain and sergeant, flipping end over end in space. Was that what she was going to make us do?

  “Once you’re in, I’m going to try for a hard landing. Your compartment, and the shuttle hopefully.”

  His eyes narrowed. I watched him puzzle that out. “You’re going to what, shove us?”

  She laughed then, just a bit. A more comfortable, tinkling, regular Pippa laugh.

  “I am going to shove you, yeah. At the moon. But as good as I am, I’m not good enough to aim that well. The moon is big, and I’m small. So, I thought it would be better for you to stay in the station, if you can. Much larger footprint means an easier landing zone.”

  As huge as the shuttle was, any remaining section of the station dwarfed it. But she was right, it would be better to strap into a flaming pile of wreckage than miss the moon entirely.

  “So, you’ll join us? How can you do that if you…”

  She sighed again, and I felt Alden tense up beneath me. After I second, I realized why.

  “Pippa, no.”

  “Julian, yes. I’ve thought it through. If I give you guys one good shove, I won’t have to worry about you or your mass anymore. I can focus on piloting myself into a hard landing with this baby. I don’t have the fuel to drag you there like a tugboat, and I don’t have the confidence to drive you there like a shopping cart. It has to be one big push, and then we’re each on our own.”

  “But you just said you can’t do it.”

  She coughed, voice getting higher
as she gave in to her anxieties a little bit.

  “I can do a lot more if I’m not worried about you. Firing one big shot for you leaves me enough to adjust the shuttle when I get closer on my approach.”

  “Enough?” Alden asked, skeptical.

  “Not really, no. I’m not Margot. But I’m reasonably confident. And it’s the best option. At least this way I won’t have your lives in my hands. Please don’t make it harder than it already is. I’m terrified. I know you’re being sweet and everything, but just cut it out and let me do this, please. You’re not being as sweet as you think.”

  We didn’t know what to say to that, so I’m sorry to admit it but we didn’t say anything at all.

  I could see the section of the station she was talking about, it was the only part still lit up. Everything else had either exploded in flames, pressurized, angry and then dark, or died sparking. An easy jump. I knew we should just do it rather than chat about it.

  “We’re not done talking about this, but it’s…”

  Alden followed my arm, pointing at the section, and nodded immediately. Time to move.

  It was harder than I’d imagined, untangling ourselves from each other where we’d been hanging on. Our bodies didn’t really want to cooperate. Even through two spacesuits, all they wanted was each other, and it was screaming anxiety to pry them apart.

  We braced our feet against that floating steel iceberg together, and two tons of tortured, scorched ingenuity became the floor, for just a moment. Then we jumped.

  As we floated, speeding across the half-mile of empty space between us and the still pressurized cabin, Alden took my hand and pushed it forward, grinning.

  Superheroes. His favorite zero-g pose. We’re not falling, he was saying. We’re flying.

  The wrecked section of the waystation we dropped into was just wide enough to stretch out, just tall enough to stand up. There’s a first-aid kit with enough stuff to make sure Alden’s not injured somewhere I can’t see, but not enough to do anything if he were. Out along the scar, I can see shapes that could be provisions or other supplies, shining in the blinding sun.