by M. G. Herron
The observation room and telescopes had been placed up there purposefully, Amon knew. If the telescopes were installed lower, the crater walls would have blocked part of the sky. But did it have to be so damned high up? Maybe he could ship them one of those moving walkways you find in airports. Or he could have a new Translocator platform installed up here just to avoid the hike.
Amon snorted. When would he find the time?
Walking slightly ahead of them, Stanis, the LTA engineer in charge of the lunar base’s construction, gave them the rundown as they hiked.
“Things have progressed much faster over the past month. The new fabricators are all operational now. The biology and chemistry domes were completed last week. We’ve got enough generators to keep the fabricators running in two six hour shifts. Best of all, the SOLARPulse-1 detection array should be online in the next few days. We just need to get the final satellites into position, run a few basic drills…”
He trailed off and stopped talking when the ground leveled off and the floor swept out into a broad cement landing.
To one side, stairs led up to an airlock that Amon presumed would take them to the observation deck of SOLARPulse-1. On the other side, in place of an opaque tunnel wall, was a startlingly clear floor-to-ceiling window. Three layers of temperature-regulating and radiation-filtering glass looked out over the Tycho crater and the entire lunar base constructed in its sheltering walls below.
His exhaustion forgotten, Amon gazed across the fifty-three mile-wide crater with a feeling of awe, the kind of experience you only get in the presence of natural beauty. Then he turned his gaze below and felt a warm glow of pride in the work he had been a part of.
Below them, grey domes filled the shelves carved into the wall of the crater—of many different shapes and sizes, each built to suit a different purpose. One was a biology lab, another equipment storage, and yet another Dome 2, where the Translocator platform was located, and where they had begun their walk. Each dome was connected to the adjacent structures by tunnels and airlocks, so that if one was breached, it wouldn’t take the whole system down.
“What’s in that one?” Amon asked, pointing to a large dome just below them.
“That’s the dormitory and kitchen,” Stanis said. “One day we’ll be able to house two hundred scientists there.”
About halfway down the curve of the crater, a tunnel veered off to the left of the main grouping of domes. It could only be one thing.
“And that one all the way over there?” Amon asked, though he was nearly certain of the answer.
“The nuclear fission reactor,” Stanis said. “As you know, that’s why we were able to increase the pace of construction. Once the reactor came online, it freed up several of the smaller radioisotope reactors we were using to power individual domes, so those could be used to run additional fabricators. We have to be efficient up here, even with your Translocator.”
A dozen clouds of amorphous dust each indicated a fabricator working two shelves below them. These were the newest sections of the base. Each fabricator churned moon rock into the cellular walls of the domes. The hard stone-like shells protected the inhabitants from radiation and the solar winds that pounded the lunar surface, and also made a sturdy shield against small meteorite impact. The interiors were made of inflatables, like a plastic bubble.
He stared, taken aback by the sight, and silently paid homage to the many strokes of luck and twists of fate that had put him in a position to experience this—man’s first attempt to colonize the moon.
“Being able to see your progress is a powerful motivator,” Dr. Badeux said.
“I figured this window was your idea,” Amon said. “Worth the expense?”
“Without a doubt.”
Amon nodded and turned to look at Stanis. “I’m glad to see it all coming together.”
“We’re getting there,” Stanis said. “It’s still several years before we’re able to sustain anything more than the twenty-five scientists we have on rotation now.”
“And when did you say your NEO research will begin?” Dr. Badeux inquired.
“A few days. Once the satellites are in place, we’ll be able to monitor any small bodies moving around the solar system, with particular attention to NEOs.” Stanis turned to Wes, the least technical among the three of them, to explain the acronym. While Amon had been looking out the window, Wes was typing an email on his phone, apparently disinterested in the tour. But he looked up when Stanis began addressing him directly.
“NEOs are Near Earth Objects, such as asteroids that present a potential existential threat to Earth. Anything larger than 2 kilometers across gets monitored closely from Earth already, but telescopes and satellites installed here will give us a bigger view frame. The latest predictive modeling and hologram controls let us manipulate the view, too, so that we can interact with and examine the solar system in new ways. We’ll soon be able to explore beyond the solar system, to other parts of the galaxy we could never reach before.”
“You fellas deserve a reward for all your hard work,” Wes said, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Have you planned a celebration for the big launch? I bet we could requisition you some comforts if you have any particular requests. Whiskey? Women? What do you say, Enzo?”
He chuckled and jostled Dr. Badeux’s arm, who smiled uncomfortably.
Amon gritted his teeth. Wes’s oily used car salesman attitude grated on his nerves more than usual today.
In the vacuum of Lucas’s absence, the board of Fisk Industries had forced Amon to take Wes McManis on as the Chief Operations Officer. He hadn’t liked it, but Wes ran a smooth enough ship, and he knew the business. He wasn’t the right personality fit, in Amon’s opinion, but he made the board happy because he was numbers and profits-oriented. Every day that passed made it more difficult for Amon to replace him. It didn’t help that Wes was on the board himself as an early investor, a mistake of Amon’s ambitious past that he continued to pay for in stomach ulcers and awkward conversations like these.
“Ah, um,” stammered Stanis. “No, thank you. We’ll have a small celebration of our own. Nothing big.”
“Ah, come on now, I know you Russians like your vodka. Listen…” Wes wrapped an arm around Stanis’s neck and pulled him ahead of the other two to whisper in his ear. They went up the stairs toward the airlock that led to the dome housing SOLARPulse-1.
Amon pressed his tongue forcefully against his bottom teeth and shook his head. “I’d get rid of him if I could.”
“Don’t let him get to you,” Dr. Badeux said. “He means well. He’s just a little abrasive.”
Amon gazed back out the window.
“It’s amazing what we’ve been able to accomplish in a year,” Enzo said. “And it’s all thanks to you.”
“You and Stanis and the engineers building these domes have done all the hard work.”
“We did it together.”
Amon normally kept his nose out of politics, but a question he’d been wondering about came back into his head now. He felt it was safe to broach the subject alone with Enzo. “The Lunar Terraform Alliance has more nations in it than the UN does,” Amon said. “Off the record, have you ever thought about installing something here for planetary defense?”
“Defense against what?”
“Well, large asteroids for one. But who knows? Military operations certainly aren’t my specialty, but what if Stanis and his team do find something else out there, and it’s not friendly?”
Enzo adjusted his glasses and squinted at Amon. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You and Eliana both said that the people she found on that other planet were using stone age tools. And we haven’t sent anyone back there because we don’t want to interfere with their culture, whoever they are. Live and let live, that’s what you said. Right?”
“Right. Of course. But what if something else is out there?” Something we don’t understand. Amon shuddered as he thought of the strange, floating orb the natives
had destroyed on his last visit, and the hologram of the man dressed all in black. They’d left that part out of their interviews with the press. Only those closest to them, and ranking officials at the LTA, knew what really happened to Eliana.
Dr. Badeux sighed. “The truth is that even if we wanted to put some kind of defenses here, the other countries in the alliance wouldn’t allow it. Especially the smaller ones. They worry that if things went awry—if tensions ramped up on Earth for some reason—the weapon would be turned against them. They’d threaten to pull their funding and participation if we even so much as broach the subject, guaranteed.”
“I suppose I can understand their hesitation,” Amon said. You could only trust people until you couldn’t anymore. He wondered what Lucas was doing right now…
“We’re just starting to make real progress here,” Enzo said. “I don’t want to derail it with a pissing contest.”
Apart from the SOLARPulse-1, the rest of the tour was uneventful. When they got back to the Translocator platform, Amon signaled with his transponder, and he, Wes, and Enzo were reassembled in the lab. Wes went back to work, and Enzo excused himself as well.
Amon was pleased to discover that he didn’t experience any of the mild nausea that had once been a hallmark of a successful translocation, even as late in their work as a year ago. Out of habit, Amon walked over to where one of his engineers was manning the holodeck and checked the readout of their translocation.
“Sir,” Jeanine said. After Amon and Reuben, Jeanine was in charge. She had stepped into Reuben’s shoes quite naturally. “The lobby phoned down. Eliana is waiting for you.”
“Oh thank goodness,” he said, checking the time on his phone. They had plans to go see Reuben’s family at the wake later this evening, and Amon didn’t want to be late.
On his phone, Amon saw that while he was on the lunar base, he’d missed a text from Eliana that said she went to the university, then another that said, “I’m on my way!”
Amon hurried up the stairs.
He caught up with Wes as he was exiting through the door beside the security checkpoint.
“Mr. McManis,” Roger the guard said.
“Hey, champ,” Wes said, slapping Roger on the shoulder. Then, as Amon was passing through the door, Wes said, “Hey sweetie, long time no see!”
“Hi, Wes,” Eliana said. “Just waiting for Amon.”
“Yes, ma’am. Have a great night.”
Down the hall, Eliana was pacing back and forth, biting her fingernails and generally making the guards flanking the metal detector nervous and restless.
Watching her pace made him anxious, too, but he couldn’t help the wide smile that filled half his face at the sight of her.
As she turned to face him, her sun-tanned face smoothed and she smiled back. He embraced his wife, settling his hands on her hips and pulling her warm body close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and they kissed.
“Hello to you, too,” she said when their lips finally parted.
“You came just as I was getting ready to leave.”
“Really?”
He smiled helplessly. “No. But I don’t want to be late for the wake. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”
She nodded, and her eyes wandered, gazing past him into the lab, a quizzical expression on her face that Amon couldn’t quite place.
“Do you want to come in?”
“Would that be okay?”
“Just for a minute.”
He nodded to the two guards, and guided Eliana through the checkpoint. As they exited the elevator and walked down the hall to the Translocator lab, her whole body slowly tensed under his arm.
“Are you okay?” Amon said.
As they stepped past the two guards with automatic rifles, she relaxed a little bit. She glanced at the door to the lounge, just left of the entrance.
“I’m fine. It’s just that I haven’t been back here since…you know.”
“Oh,” Amon said. It had slipped his mind. He was down here every day. “That’s right.”
“Go ahead. I’ll wait in your fancy new lounge, maybe make myself something to drink. I’m a bit jetlagged.”
Eliana broke away from him and went into the cozy lounge, past the recliners, to the new kitchen, where she filled a kettle and put it on the stove to boil for tea.
Amon had improved the lounge after his stint living out of the tiny and uncomfortable kitchenette that was there before. The old one had sustained him for two months while he was bunkered down in the Translocator lab. He never wished to repeat the experience, so he’d remodeled to make it much nicer.
The Translocator lab had also been expanded on the other side. On the right wall, a partition with a broad doorway led into a five thousand square foot warehouse space. It was toward the warehouse that Amon now walked, leaving Eliana to her tea.
In fifteen minutes, he had checked the inventory and helped Jeanine power down and secure the Hopper. They had installed a biometric security system earlier that day. Even if someone did manage to get into the locked lab, they wouldn’t be able to power up or use the Hopper without a retinal scan of an authorized person and thumb prints with two-step password authentication from different engineers.
Someone might call his precaution paranoia. That person hadn’t shot and killed a man with a kneecap in his ribcage.
Amon had kept that sordid detail from Eliana on the phone last night. He decided then that he wouldn’t tell her about it at all. Some things are better left unsaid.
Eliana watched from the doorway of the lounge and sipped her tea. When he was ready, she washed her mug and they all left the room together, he, Jeanine, and Eliana. Amon put his hand against a touchscreen on the way out and the massive metal door lowered into place behind him, locking down the lab.
“Amon,” Eliana said when they were back in the car and driving home. She stared out the window as they stopped at a red light.
“Yeah?” he said when she didn’t go on.
She licked her lips. “I don’t know how to say this so I’m just going to say it. I need to go back to Kakul.”
He blinked. The light turned green and he didn’t move. The person driving the car behind him leaned on their horn.
“All right, damn,” he said, accelerating again. He glanced at Eliana as he drove. “Why do you want to go back?”
“We found something in Mexico. I need to verify what I saw in Kakul, to make sure it’s what I think it is.”
“I thought you said you never wanted to go back there again.”
“I didn’t. I mean, I did say that. I don’t want to go back, not really. Your machine scares the bejeesus out of me now. But I have to.”
“Why?”
“I told you, I need to verify something.”
“What is it?”
“A carving we found. It’s a carving of two moons. I was hoping I could find a similar carving there.”
Amon pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not going to be easy to get you security clearance.”
“You brought me in there tonight.”
“To send you back to that other planet. It’s dangerous.”
“Send me through at night,” Eliana said. “I know you work late doing experiments with that meteorite. It will only take a few hours. No one will know.”
“How did you know I was still doing experiments?” Amon said, blushing. He hadn’t told her about that.
“Audrey told me. But don’t change the subject.”
“It’s not safe,” Amon said.
“Of course, that’s why I wanted you to stop doing the experiments.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“What I know is that you told me the meteorites were dangerous and you weren’t going to mess around with them anymore.”
“I have to!”
“Why?” Eliana said, mocking him. “It’s not safe.”
“Because I need to know what it is, and how it works. Because it might he
lp us. And because now someone else has a Translocator, too, and I have to stop them.”
“Even better reason to get rid of it.”
“What if it falls into the wrong hands?”
“Destroy it, so it doesn’t.”
“If I did, then you wouldn’t be able to go back to Kakul.”
She stared at him, considering. “You won’t do it. You want to know how it works that badly. Which is even more reason to send me back. I’ll be your guinea pig.”
She lifted her chin and stared at him. The challenge hung in the air between them.
Amon felt a shudder wash through him. Did he really want to use her as a guinea pig? He considered it…
And immediately rejected the idea. The idea of her going back through again made him want to vomit. No way. He’d seen guinea pigs. They had kneecaps in their chest. They had their organs on the outside. The LTA would say it was irresponsible, though they couldn’t stop him. What would someone like Reagan Gruber say if he got ahold of it?
No way. No how. Not going to happen.
Amon could face any danger as long as Eliana was safe. The possibility of something going wrong and endangering her again was just too much for him to handle.
He gripped the steering wheel with both hands and watched the road. They finally pulled into the driveway of their house.
“It’s not safe,” Amon said. “I’m not sending you back there.” He got out of the car and went inside without another word.
They ignored each other while they got ready for the wake. Eliana’s chill silence made Amon feel guilty. But he couldn’t engage her about it any more. She could be mad at him if she wanted to be. All he cared about was keeping her safe.
An hour later, wearing somber expressions that matched their clothes but had nothing to do with the way they were dressed, Amon knocked on the door of Reuben’s house. Instead of being greeted by a house full of quiet, crying people, as he expected, the door opened on smiling faces and bright colors. The house was decorated in a garish Mardi Gras theme. Reuben spotted them through the open door, hollered a greeting, and ran across the room to drape a dozen bright-plastic bead necklaces over Eliana’s head. She was pulled into the house. A margarita was pressed into her hand. Amon suddenly felt very self-conscious in a dark grey suit with polished black wingtips on his feet.
