The Moon Platoon

by Jeramey Kraatz

  “Adults are the worst,” Hot Dog muttered.

  “Except Elijah,” Drue said.

  “Dude, Drue, we all think Elijah is cool, but you are seriously one step away from stalker-level obsession.”

  “Not all adults are bad,” Benny said. “My dad was the best.”

  “I dunno,” Drue said. “My father’s a senator, remember? He’s, like, superpowerful.”

  “Being powerful isn’t the same as being good,” Jasmine said, filling a leaf of lettuce with roasted vegetables.

  Hot Dog hadn’t taken her eyes off Benny. “Tell us about him.”

  “Well . . .” He didn’t know where to begin at first, and then the words flooded out. “He was amazing. The whole caravan could be depressed and he’d cheer us all up somehow, find some way. The worst possible catastrophes could happen, and he’d find some good in them.” He slowed down. “But then water was getting short, and we kept hearing rumors about some untapped aquifer out in Death Valley. There was supposedly enough water that we could settle down there for good and stop moving. He led a scouting party out there but . . .” Benny stared down at the abundance of food in front of him and the beads of moisture on the side of the water pitcher. “Those stories you hear about the gangs roaming the Drylands? A lot of them are probably fake. But not all of them. Death Valley was a trap.”

  He went quiet, along with the rest of the table. A few moments passed before he looked up at everyone else. They were still staring at him.

  “Whoa, hey,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No,” Hot Dog said. “I’m glad you told us.”

  “What about . . .” Jasmine started.

  “Your mom.” Drue finished her thought for her.

  Benny shook his head. “I don’t really remember her that much. Most of what I do is probably stuff I made up anyway. I have two little brothers, though. And a grandmother. She’s great. Takes real good care of us.” He took a deep breath. “And when I’m back, I’ll be able to take care of all of them.”

  Across from him, Jasmine smiled, but the others stayed quiet.

  “Anyway . . . What’s your all-powerful senator dad like? And your mom?” Benny asked, ready to focus the conversation on anyone else and figuring Drue would have plenty to say.

  “Being a Lincoln is great,” Drue said. “An honor. My ancestors helped found America and fund, like, the revolution or something. I’ve got a lot to live up to.”

  “You didn’t really answer his question,” Jasmine said.

  “Oh. Right. Well . . . Being a senator means you’re really busy. And my mom’s on the board of the biggest nonprofits in DC, so she’s got a lot of responsibility, too. I think she does stuff for desert refugees, even.”

  “Oh, I get it,” Hot Dog said. “Your parents got tired of having you around so much, so they bribed Elijah to make you the hundred and first EW-SCABer.”

  Drue squirmed in his chair across the table before piling more food onto his plate, muttering something about the pesto being too salty. Hot Dog chewed on her bottom lip, her eyebrows furrowed together.

  “Oh,” she murmured, looking down at the napkin in her lap. “Sorry.”

  Suddenly the trays lifted off the table, floating toward the kitchen.

  “Oof,” Benny said, trying to get the table’s spirits back up, or at least distracted. “I’m stuffed.”

  “Stuffed?” Iyabo asked, finally breaking from her argument with Alexi. “You know that was only the appetizer, right?”

  By the time Benny had made it through the subsequent selection of exotic fruits, vegetarian baby back ribs, and a chocolate tart with essence of elderberry that had been wafted through a cotton candy mist, he could barely speak, let alone move. Almost everyone must have felt this way, because by the end of the meal the only person who was talking was Iyabo, who recounted an urban legend about a group of Taj builders who’d gone insane and now stalked the dark side, kept alive by some sort of cosmic radiation. On especially dark nights, she said, their skeletal forms would roam the outside of the Grand Dome, clawing at it, trying to get back in—the tattered remains of their space suits floating in decaying strips behind them.

  Benny hung on her every word, looking forward to terrifying his brothers with the story when he got back to Earth. By the time Iyabo was done, dinner was over. Benny’s full belly, combined with everything he’d been through that day, caused him to basically collapse on the bed when he returned to his suite.

  The mattress beneath him may as well have been a cloud, far softer than anything he’d ever felt. He slept deeply, dreamlessly, still dressed in his space suit and lying on top of the covers. He might have slept that way all night, facedown, if the bed hadn’t started to vibrate.

  He stretched, trying to shake off sleep. As he sat up, dim accent lights powered on at the bottom of the walls, casting a faint glow in the room around him. The clock by his bed said it was after three in the morning. His body seemed to be trying to pull him back into sleep.

  Then he remembered the asteroid storm from earlier, and he leaped from the bed, darting over to the window.

  But there were no rocks crashing against the Grand Dome. Everything outside was quiet, unmoving, peaceful.

  He could still feel a slight vibration through the plush carpet, though. He was about to chalk it up to some kind of weird byproduct of being on the Moon or a fancy sleep aid, when suddenly there was a stronger shaking for a split second.

  Something felt wrong.

  Not knowing what else to do, he darted out into the hallway, half expecting to see Ricardo yelling at everyone to evacuate to the lower levels.

  But there was only Hot Dog.

  She stood in front of one of the wide hallway windows dressed in pajamas and a shiny pink robe, blond hair slightly disheveled.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She jumped, letting out a yelp, and then twisted around, arms raised like she might smack him. Once she saw it was just Benny she relaxed a little.

  “You scared the crap outta me,” she said, glaring.

  “Sorry.” He rubbed his eyes.

  She let out a long sigh. “It’s cool. I just thought I was the only one up.”

  “No. Wait, why are you awake?”

  “I’m more of a power napper than a real sleeper,” she said. “I’ve been playing flight sims on the giant screen in my room for the past few hours. Then my eyes started to burn, so I figured I’d take a break.”

  “So the shaking didn’t wake you up?” He was only now starting to think clearly, and began to second-guess why he was out in the hallway to begin with.

  “Oh, that?” She pursed her lips in curiosity. “To be honest, I thought I was still feeling aftershocks from my last virtual run. This place has killer 5D immersion environments.”

  “No,” Benny said. “It’s real. I think.”

  “Meh,” Hot Dog said, shrugging. “Probably a generator or something. Who knows what kind of stuff Elijah’s got down in the basements.”

  “I guess . . .” he murmured. Maybe the vibrations had been coming from the room next door, someone playing video games late into the night. “You’re probably right.”

  Hot Dog turned back to the window.

  “I can’t believe any of you can sleep. We’re on the Moon, Benny.”

  “Turns out traveling through space is kind of tiring,” Benny said.

  Hot Dog looked at him. “The Drylands must be worse. Hot. Dusty. Too much sun. And that’s coming from someone who really likes to be outside on a summer day in Texas.”

  “You get used to it, though it’s nice to wake up without sand in my pockets.” Benny shrugged. “What’s Texas like?”

  “Pretty lame. Crowded. At least where I am in Dallas.”

  “Whoa, so you’re in a legit city.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I know what you’re probably thinking, but the cities aren’t all shiny skyscrapers and clean streets. There are plenty of gross parts.”

  “You spend a
lot of time at the arcades, though, right? That’s how you know the sims so well?”

  “I spend a lot of time anywhere that’s not home,” she said, a hard edge to her words. “There were some free science museums I used to go to a lot. One had a great sim arcade. That’s where I learned to fly. Then people started complaining I was always there and I got asked really nicely to not come back so much.”

  “That’s dumb.” Benny wasn’t sure what else to say. “You don’t have any systems at home, I bet, huh? I mean, I’m lucky I had a crappy HoloTek.”

  She let out single laugh. “No. No systems. My parents . . .” Her voice got quiet. “They’re not like your dad was. They spend most of their time yelling at each other about how there’s no money. Or how if all the people from California and the other states wrecked by the drought hadn’t moved to the cities, they’d be able to afford to live in a nicer place. About anything, really. They assume I can take care of myself, which is kind of funny since it’s not like they can find jobs. So I stay outside or sneak into movies or hang out with friends. I don’t think they notice much.”

  Benny nodded slowly. “You’re hoping you get to stay up here, huh?”

  She let out a laugh.

  “Aren’t we all? After hearing everyone talk at dinner, it sounds like having bad or missing parents is almost a requirement for winning the EW-SCAB.”

  “Except for Drue.”

  “No, I think he’s included in that.” She twisted her lips to one side as she nodded to herself. “The way he was talking . . . Let’s just say I understand what it’s like to try and make excuses for your mom and dad. I used to do the same thing.”

  Benny thought about this for a second. Before he could respond, an unexpected yawn took over.

  “Jeez, didn’t mean to bore you, Benny,” Hot Dog said.

  “No, it’s not that,” he managed to say. “I just—”

  But Hot Dog was already heading back toward her room, laughing a little and waving a hand to dismiss him. “Go back to bed, Love. I’ve got a fleet of enemy pilots to shoot down, anyway.”

  Too tired to put up a fight, Benny did as he was told. Back in his room, he noticed a glimmer beside his bed. The hood ornament had fallen to the floor. He picked it back up and set it on the nightstand. He was just starting to wonder what kind of gaming environment could cause so much shaking when sleep conquered him once again.

  13.

  Benny’s suite came to life with lights, music, and a simulated sunrise on the wall the next morning, signaling that it was time to get out of bed and meet up with his group. He quickly discovered that a hot shower was perhaps the greatest pleasure in life he’d been missing out on in the Drylands. Afterward, he threw on a new space suit—fresh clothes being yet another unthinkable luxury—and made his way to the Mustangs’ common room. After breakfast, they spent the morning designing custom Space Runners on their HoloTeks based on never-before-produced prototype models and getting their first taste of weightlessness in a zero gravity chamber on the first floor.

  It wasn’t until lunch—loads of pizza—that Benny had time to think about what had happened yesterday. And all over again, he was worried. What did the asteroid they discovered mean for the Taj? For Earth?

  When he found himself behind Jasmine in the pizza line, he was quick to bring up the strange rocks.

  “I can’t stop thinking about them,” she said, lips drawn down in a frown. “I still want to get the sample we have analyzed. There’s something . . . I’m sure Elijah is on top of this, but I’d like to know for sure what these things are.”

  “Yeah.” Benny piled food onto his plate, trying to remind himself that the smartest man in the galaxy had this under control. “Well, if we ever get a break from all our scheduled stuff, we’ll figure it out, okay?”

  Jasmine smiled and nodded. “Deal.”

  She sat with Iyabo and a few other Mustangs. Benny was going to join them, but then he saw Drue sitting by himself and plopped down by him instead.

  Drue grinned. “Honestly, I could eat this for lunch every day for the next two weeks and be just fine.”

  “I’m totally with you on that,” Benny said.

  A few minutes later, Hot Dog came over.

  “Hey,” she said, taking a seat beside them. Benny watched as she glanced over at Jasmine, who sat across the room. The girl nodded to her, eyebrows raised, like she was mentally pushing her to continue. Hot Dog smiled nervously at Drue. “I just wanted to thank you for coming out to get me yesterday. And to say . . . you know . . . I’m sorry about what I said last night.”

  Drue stared back at her, unmoving for a few beats.

  “Said about what?” he finally asked. Then he took a massive bite of pizza. “Have a seat. This cheese is supergood. I bet they make it here.”

  Hot Dog sat down with them, and that was the end of that.

  Eventually Ricardo took to the little stage in the common room again, a glint in his eye.

  “I hope you’re fueled up,” he said, “because we’re about to go to war.”

  Before any of them could ask what he was talking about, their leader was out the door. Benny and the rest of his teammates tried to keep up as they jogged through the halls of the Taj.

  He led them to the place he had referred to as the “virtual gaming room” the day before, which Benny guessed was the size of a football field—maybe a little bigger. Gray rubber lined the floor, walls, and ceiling, and the whole environment had the faint, acrid smell of electronics.

  Ricardo spoke again.

  “This afternoon you’ll have the chance to prove you not only have what it takes to be here but that you’re the most capable of the four groups on the Moon. This is where we see what you are made of. I won’t accept anything less than your best.” He leaned against one of the walls. “Your space suits have microscopic antigravity units sewn into them—the same technology that makes a Space Runner fly. When combined with the state-of-the-art holographic environment systems in this room, the suits create simulated pressure points. An easier way of looking at it is like this: if a hologram of a ladder appears before you, you’ll be able to climb it thanks to the suit’s ability to affect the gravity around you.”

  “And if you’re hit with a holographic bat, you’ll feel it,” Jasmine said.

  “Exactly,” Ricardo said.

  “How can I get some sneakers with this tech built in?” Drue asked as he inspected the seams of his space suit. “Now I see why Pinky said I had to wear this today.”

  Several of the rubber tiles slid out of the wall, revealing a rack holding dozens of shiny silver gloves. A murmur of awe-filled confusion filtered through the EW-SCABers.

  “What you see before you are multipurpose gaming manipulation units,” Ricardo continued. “Outside of this room they’re useless, but inside they’re capable of punching through boulders in one simulation and shooting lasers in the next. For this game, they’ll be gravity gloves.” He grabbed one and slid it onto his right hand. A blue band lit up across the knuckles. “Point one at an object and press the side button, and you’ll be able to move your target in any direction. Observe.”

  A holographic duplicate of his red Space Runner appeared a few yards away. Still looking at the group before him, he held out a palm and made a big show of making a fist, smashing his thumb against his index finger. When he lifted his arm, the car began to rise, then move side to side and back and forth, following his motions. Eventually he let his thumb off the button, and the Space Runner fell fast, crashing against the floor and turning into a cloud of light particles.

  “Any questions?” Ricardo asked.

  A few beats passed before everyone started talking at once.

  “I want a pair!”

  “What are we doing with them?”

  “Do they come in other colors?”

  “These are awesome,” Drue said to Benny. His eyes were big and shining. Benny recognized the expression—it was the same look his little brothers had any ti
me he or his dad had brought home something new for them from a scouting trip.

  After explaining the finer points of using the gloves and how to adjust the direction of the gravitational force, Ricardo began passing them out, one per person. Benny slid his on. When the knuckle band lit up, he couldn’t help but grin. All around him, the group buzzed with excitement, several Mustangs throwing quick punches into the air.

  “Your objective today is simple,” Ricardo said as he armed his group. “In a few moments, you’ll find yourself on a planet far, far away where hostile robotic life-forms have taken over. In order to win, you’ll have to protect yourselves and your teammates from all the enemies seeking to destroy you. Take them down instead.”

  Three glowing red hearts appeared over each of their heads.

  “Whoa,” Benny said, reaching up and running his hand through the holograms.

  “Your enemies are armed and don’t like you on their turf,” Ricardo continued. “Get hit three times and your glove dies. You’re a ghost. Out of the game.”

  Ramona took out her EW-SCAB HoloTek and started tapping on it.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Ricardo said to her. “I assure you that if you try to cheat in this game, Pinky will power down every electronic device within your reach before you can say woot.”

  Ramona sucked her teeth. “Über lame.”

  “Let’s do this,” Hot Dog said, pulling a pink band from her pocket and tying her hair back into a high ponytail. She flashed a smile at their leader. “Are you gonna be joining us?”

  Ricardo shook his head. “No. You’re on your own, but I’ll be watching. Don’t make me look bad. I’ll start the simulation in fifteen seconds. He tapped a HoloTek and then was floating in the air above them, taking a high observation point.