“I thought we’d lost you guys,” she said into Hot Dog’s shoulder.
“You know, so did I for a minute there,” Hot Dog replied.
“Woot, woot!” Ramona said behind Jasmine, holding two thumbs up.
“Jazz, you’re kind of crushing me,” Benny said.
She laughed and let them go. Behind her, Drue pushed through the crowd until he was standing in front of Benny.
“Took you long enough,” he said with a smirk. Then he raised his fist to chest level.
Benny hit his own against it. “We got held up. Thanks for taking out that alien ship earlier, by the way.”
“Yeah, well, now that my Space Runner’s damaged, I’m totally claiming one of the newer models.” His eyes fell on the gold device wrapped around Benny’s palm. “Whoa, dude, where’d you get that driving glove?”
Benny held open his hand, staring at the strange alien device. In the shock of everything, he’d almost forgotten about it.
“We’ve got a lot to talk about,” he murmured, his mind reeling as he wondered what they could learn from the alien technology. How they might be able to use such a thing against the Alpha Maraudi in the future. If it would work outside of the asteroid ship—how it even worked in the first place.
His thoughts were interrupted as the five Pit Crew Space Runners raced into the Grand Dome, parking in a row off to the side of the Taj. Ricardo was the first out, bursting from his car and stomping toward the garage. He peeled his driving gloves off, throwing them onto the ground. Sahar and the Miyamura twins followed him.
“Ricardo,” Benny yelled, but the Crew member just kept walking. Benny started after him anyway. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to the leader of the Mustangs—were there even Mustangs anymore?—but he thought he should say something.
Pinky stepped in front of him. Even though she was a hologram, Benny came to a halt, almost falling over himself to keep from running into her.
“I wouldn’t,” Pinky said. “Give them some space. Especially Ricardo.”
Benny stared at the woman. Her lips were curved down in a grim frown, eyes somehow wet, despite an inability to actually cry.
“I’m sorry about . . .” he started.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Though, for a few seconds I was considering having Ramona lock up the baser parts of my personality.”
“Can’t have that,” Trevone said, coming up beside them. “I think Elijah likes the full you.”
“Trevone,” Benny said. “You saw what happened. Elijah’s . . .”
“You don’t know that man like I do.” He let out a sad laugh. “He’s never been the kind of guy who’d pull a stunt he couldn’t take credit for later.”
“You mean you think he’s still up there?” Drue asked, coming up to Benny’s side, Hot Dog and Jasmine in tow. “On that ship?”
“That might be worse than being exploded,” Hot Dog said.
“I’m just saying maybe we shouldn’t count him out completely,” Trevone said.
“Sure,” Drue said. “No big. Just the most famous man on Earth maybe dead, maybe taken prisoner by aliens.” His eyes grew wide. “If he’s alive and we save him, he’s going to owe us so much.”
Benny looked at Trevone, trying to figure out whether or not he actually believed this, or was just trying to keep everyone from freaking out.
Trevone must have noticed.
“What?” he asked. “You’re the one who’s been spouting all that stuff about there always being hope.” He turned to Pinky. “What’s the latest on the alien ship?”
“It’s far away from our radar,” Pinky said.
“We’ll have to discuss whether we prioritize tracking it or reestablishing communications with Earth,” Jasmine added.
“What if I just carve a big SOS into the Moon?” Drue asked. “Problem solved!”
“You’d just get people hurt if they tried to come help us. There are still asteroids in the space between us and Earth.” She raised a hand to her head. “Which is another thing we need to deal with.”
“What if I explained the situation? I could write really small.”
“Drue,” Hot Dog said. “Shut up.”
“I’ve sent word about what’s happening to the kids underground,” Pinky said. “There’s a lot of conversation down there right now. Some of them want to stay hidden. Others think it’s time to come back topside.”
“What’s your next move?” Trevone asked, turning to Benny.
Benny looked around. Everyone was staring at him. Pinky. Trevone. The EW-SCABers. His teammates.
His friends.
And then he looked up at the sky. Far above them, the sun was shining on the Earth. People were going about their lives. The caravan was on the move. His family was maybe wondering what he was doing up at the Taj, still blissfully unaware of everything that was happening.
He wished his father were there to tell him what to do next.
And then he realized he already knew. He’d known before he’d even gotten to the Moon, when he was sitting on top of his family’s RV in the Drylands, staring into a camera.
“We finish what we started,” he said. “We keep going. We save the planet. Somehow. We’re the smartest, bravest kids in the galaxy, right? We’ll figure out a way.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Hot Dog said with a grin.
“I agree,” Jasmine said. “Well, not a plan exactly, but that’s something we can work on.”
“Together.” Drue nodded.
“Yeah,” Trevone said, but there was something hesitant in his voice. He was looking up at something. Benny turned to see that he was staring at the window into Elijah’s private quarters.
Ricardo Rocha stood there with three other shadows behind him.
“There is one more thing,” Jasmine said reluctantly. “A couple of the smaller ships from the asteroid broke away from the rest of the formation during the fight. They appeared to be heading in this direction, but we lost track of them.”
“What?” Benny asked.
“Likely scouts,” Pinky said. “But the ships are cloaking themselves somehow.”
“Keeping tabs on us.”
“Or,” Jasmine said, “since they couldn’t take down the Taj with their asteroids, they’re looking for another way to destroy us now that they know we’re a real threat.”
“If they find the underground tunnels, they might try to attack us through a back door,” Drue said. “Like, from the other side of the Moon. That’s what I’d do.”
“The dark side is the most likely hiding spot if they wanted to land and maintain stealth.”
“I’ll reinforce gravity fields along any entrances to the tunnels,” Pinky said. “And we can set up secondary laser defense measures.”
“Okay,” Benny said. “So, we should probably track those ships down at some point.”
“At least they’re far away from the Taj,” Hot Dog said. “There’s no one they can hurt on the dark side.”
Trevone and Pinky looked at each other.
“Actually,” Trevone said. “That’s not exactly true.”
Acknowledgments
First and foremost I have to thank everyone at Harper who made this book a book, especially my brilliant editor, Tara Weikum, who I am so lucky to be working with, and whose guidance turned this story into something so much richer and bigger than it was when she first read it. To the rest of the team at Harper—publicists, sales and marketing, the incredible copyeditors who had to suffer through my elementary understanding of outer space: thank you, thank you, thank you. You have my unending gratitude for all of your incredible work on this book.
No one would be reading these acknowledgments if it weren’t for James Frey and Greg Ferguson at Full Fathom Five, who gave me the keys to the Lunar Taj and helped me bring this book to life. I can’t thank you both enough for your support and patience over the years. Thanks, too, to Eric Simonoff and Alicia Gordon at WME for having faith in the series and getting it
into the right hands.
A huge thanks to Mike Larocca, Joe Russo, and Anthony Russo at Getaway Films, who believed in this story when it was in its infancy and were instrumental in shaping it.
I can’t express enough gratitude to my agent, Molly Jaffa, for her constant reassurance, honesty, advice, and general, incomparable awesomeness. You’re a hyperdrive engine, keeping me afloat.
Thanks to Antonio Javier Caparo for this amazing cover art.
Thanks to Drue Davis for letting me steal your name, even though you’re so unlike the character in the book. There’s no one I’d rather be stuck on the Moon with.
Thanks to my soul sister, Julie Murphy, for your friendship, advice, snapchats, and afternoon delivery pizza. I’m so thankful for our coven and whatever black magic brought us together.
Thanks to Rachel Carter for all the long telephone calls about everything and nothing and the occasional horrors of the writing process.
Thanks, Phil Richardson, for keeping me sane as the Space Runners began to take flight and for coming up with “Moon Platoon,” which I then stole and ran with.
Thanks, too, to friends who put up with missed birthday parties, canceled dinner plans, and unanswered messages while I worked: Bethany Doherty, Kyle and Rachel Williams, Jeff and Aly Yale, Tyler Cochran, Charlotte Hogg, the Stroud family, and everyone else who I am, embarrassingly, leaving out. Also, thanks to author friends such as Samantha Mabry, Soman Chainani, Jenny Martin, and so many others who have always been willing to listen as I talked plot problems for what was likely the hundredth time. Special thanks, as well, to the Texas librarians and educators who have been (and continue to be) an invaluable group of men and women supportive of me and other authors, and who have worked so hard to get books into the hands of young readers.
And finally, thanks to my family, always. Especially my new nephew, Jax, for reminding me why I do what I do. I can’t wait for you to reach the Moon.
About the Author
PHOTO BY DRUE DAVIS
JERAMEY KRAATZ is the author of the Cloak Society series and a graduate of the MFA writing program at Columbia University. He’s actually pretty scared of outer space. Jeramey lives in Texas, where he sometimes teaches, sometimes writes cartoon scripts, and is always up for queso. You can find him at www.jerameykraatz.com or on Twitter @jerameykraatz.
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Books by Jeramey Kraatz
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Credits
Cover art © 2017 by Antonio Javier Caparo
Cover design by David Curtis
Copyright
SPACE RUNNERS #1: THE MOON PLATOON. Copyright © 2017 by Full Fathom Five, LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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ISBN 978-0-06-244597-1
EPub Edition © April 2017 ISBN 9780062445995
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FIRST EDITION
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