Stolen Worlds

by Bob Blink

  Glen thought back to the briefings and the mission profile for their trip. Their destination, Fermi Crater, was roughly a third of the way around the moon in terms of longitude, and was currently enjoying its fourth day of sunlight. Nine and a half days from now it would transition into night. Their mission would be far easier to accomplish if the target was enjoying daylight, which meant they had at most nine days to reach the crater. Eight days would be better. Eight would give them a day and a half at Fermi to investigate before nightfall when they had to begin their journey home, which happily would be entirely in sunlight as they chased the tail end of the day westward. If they were late, the mission would likely fail. There would be no waiting through the two-week night for the sunlight of the following day. They lacked the supplies, little things like oxygen and power, to do so. Also, they couldn't make the trip back to Shackleton entirely in the dark. The fuel cells used a lot of resources and they only carried enough to power the vehicles running fully on the fuel cells for seven days. Some of those days would be used on the trip toward the crater, and even then, seven days was too little to make a one-way trip anyway.

  As they headed away in the dark, Glen wished they could fast-forward a couple of days. The sun line was heading toward them, moving westward at roughly thirteen degrees of longitude a day. That's why it would be five days before the base saw the sun. But they were headed eastward at almost the same rate; thirteen degrees a day in longitude, as well as heading northward at the same time. As a result of the combined motion, they were scheduled to cross into sunlight in about two and a half days. That would put them on solar power, the travel would be safer, and they would all feel better. That's not to say all would be rosy. Instead of negative two hundred and fifty plus degrees outside, temperatures would rapidly transition to positive two hundred and fifty something, plus vacuum, of course. The environment would be deadly the entire way. But he'd feel better when they could see better. At least this first section of the mission that was in the dark was in an area that was better known. Many exploratory missions had been made over the past couple of years, some as much as two days travel from the base, so the route they intended to follow was not a complete unknown like much of the later part of the trip.

  Later it would be different. In a couple of days they would travel beyond where any human had explored before. They would be in unknown territory. There would be flats, hills, mountain ranges, and craters. They wouldn't have the luxury of backtracking and taking an alternate path. Their schedule didn't allow for that. They needed to get to Fermi Crater on schedule, get the scouting completed, and get started on the way home, or they wouldn't make it back.

  He couldn't help thinking how ill-prepared they were for something like this. They'd have to hope the maps made of the unexplored backside made from satellite images over the past two years were accurate. Yes, they were military officers, and yes they'd been given a certain degree of training. But that had been on Earth. Even the M16's were something they had fired and qualified with, but none of them were really skilled in the use of the weapons. And while they could handle a bit of backwoods travel, that had been on Earth as well. Not in a place like this. They were really scientists. He was a geologist for heaven's sake. What it came down to was the simple fact that the human race was at risk, and they were expendable. Intelligence was needed, and virtually any risk was worth the chance of learning something that could give humans a chance. He couldn't help wishing he wasn't one of those offered the opportunity to be a hero.

  Communications with the base would be another issue. For a while they would be able to communicate directly, but then line of sight would be lost. That meant the link had to be closed by satellite. There were a couple that orbited the moon, mostly scientific information gathering birds. All had a communications channel, but they weren't always in sight, which meant communications would be spotty. If they got into trouble they would have to wait until one of the spacecraft was in a position that it could access both them and the base, or send a message that it would store, and transmit down once it had communications coverage of the base, and then get an answer back the same way. Coverage really hadn't been planned with the back of the moon as a priority. The matter was even more complicated by the nature of their mission. While everything was encrypted, they didn't want to give themselves away by radio beams. Coming down to them was easy. The satellites broadcast in a wide beam omni pattern that was always on with telemetry as well as communications traffic. No one could tell there might be someone listening where they were. Transmissions, however, had to be concealed, so they would uplink via a tight beam laser. That was good except only one of the satellites had the capability of receiving the laser signals, further limiting their access.

  Navigation was an issue as well. There was no magnetic field that could be used, and there were no radio towers to provide a reference. They'd have the stars, and the inertial guidance system in the vehicles, but Glen felt those could be inadequate given the vast distances they were attempting to cross. He felt small and insignificant.

  But none of these things were what really bothered him. What bothered him was the dust. Moon dust. He knew that it was going to be their single greatest enemy. The powdery residue left from countless meteor impacts that was electrostatically charged silicate, glass basically, and existed everywhere in varying thicknesses across the surfaces of the moon. It clung to everything. It was mildly poisonous, and abrasive as hell. It was blamed for the failure of multiple probes over the years, and had been clearly identified as being responsible for the failure of multiple mechanisms at the base since going operational. And they couldn't avoid it!

  At the base there were special rooms to help get rid of the stuff that clung to spacesuits and gear when they returned from an outing on the surface. The shops had special equipment to get the stuff off and out of the vehicles. Even then, they were only partially successful. At the moment the moonbuggies were almost free of the damned stuff, but they had no means of cleaning them until returning, which meant the stuff was going to get inside and spread around every time they went outside for something. And they would need to do that. Even changing drivers would require them both to go outside. Getting supplies from the trailers meant another trip onto the moon's surface and into the stuff.

  He wondered how long before it would be spread around inside to the point it would be difficult to eat without some of the cursed stuff getting into the food. And what about the electronics. It was said the stuff could short out gear, even though the electronics were sealed as well as possible and coated with insulating epoxy. And what about the moving parts of the buggies themselves? The dust was known to be extremely abrasive. It was a silicate with bits of micro-glass. Buggies had parts failures, and that was with frequent and regular removal of the stuff. How much would get into critical places and gradually wear some important part down and finally disable their transportation? They didn't have the means to repair them out here, and they sure as hell weren't walking to where they needed to be.

  Even the guns they had brought along were at risk from the stuff. The M16 had a history of not liking to be fouled. Well, it was going to get covered in moondust if they needed to use the damned things, and he couldn't help but wonder just how long before they jammed up and ceased to fire. Field stripping and cleaning a rifle while in a spacesuit in an environment that was nearly 100% covered in the offending material was not likely to be very effective.

  "There's our turn," Boyd said noting where the tracks split and headed in two directions, one down to the caves that were currently being studied and the other in the direction that would take them northeast toward the far away crater that was their destination.

  "Don't overshoot," Glen warned sarcastically.

  That was another thing. A speed of ten to fifteen miles per hour was hardly breathtakingly fast. In fact, one wanted to get out and push. And that was as fast as they were going to go, hour after hour, day on end. He knew he was going to be insane by
the time they arrived.

  Boyd looked over at the Major. They had been friends for some time, but the Lieutenant was very much aware that Glen was fed up with life here on the moon, and wondered how he was going to handle the trip ahead of them. He didn't know what Glen was thinking about, but the stern look on his face indicated he wasn't happy, as had the extra careful check and recheck of the gear before they set off, even after the crews had completed the checklist earlier. Boyd wasn't all that juiced about what they were doing either, and fully expected that not all of them would be making the trip back, even if they didn't find a group of hostile aliens that could disintegrate them all with some kind of beam weapon.

  He shrugged, uncomfortable in the heavy spacesuit. There was nothing they could do about most things. The suits they could take off, and either switch into the light traveling suits as opposed to the heavy work suits they had started with, or even go without anything if they felt they trusted the seals on the buggies. Glen had dictated they would stay in the heavy suits until they had sun, fearful the dark could lead to problems that might require hurried action outside of the vehicles. Sun was a bit over two days away.

  It was going to be a long trip, Boyd decided.

  Chapter 14

  Backside of the Moon

  Six Days Out from Shackleton

  Major Morales had hoped they would make better time. Looking at the map on the iPad and the distance they had to cover, they would do well to make it to their destination by the end of the eighth day. If anything slowed them down, they will have failed their mission. Overall they were tired, gritty, tense and bored, all at the same time.

  At least they were in the sun. That helped a lot. The daily chore of switching tanks for the power cell was no longer required, although they still had to change out the oxygen tank twice a day. The moonbuggy was equipped with two of the twelve hour tanks, so that when one ran dry, the other automatically picked up. That meant a quick change out wasn't absolutely required, but it was prudent not to leave an empty tank in place too long, so that meant two trips outside each day. The windows were being run with a healthy tint to block the brightness of the constant sun.

  They were finally wearing the lighter suits, and for two of the three buggies the occupants ran with their helmets off, but close at hand. Buggie #2 had run into a deep patch of dust and gotten stuck a couple of days back. The resulting effort to get it moving again had several unfortunate consequences. Enough of the abrasive and sticky stuff had gotten inside the vehicle that the communications antenna pointing system had frozen up and was no longer functional, leaving them with two vehicles capable of contacting the base. Even worse, Paul Cameron had been exposed to a substantial quantity of the stuff and now had badly irritated eyes and a perpetual cough with some internal bleeding of the lungs that he coughed up. His breathing was ragged, and the wide spectrum antibiotic that base had suggested he use hadn't done anything to improve his condition thus far. With the inside of their vehicle filled with a bit too much of the powdery dust, Steve Reed, the other occupant had chosen to wear his helmet full time for fear of becoming similarly afflicted.

  It was almost time to switch drivers when disaster struck. Major Morales had been driving, four hour shifts which he was beginning to believe were too long, but anything shorter meant more trips outside.

  "Look out!" Boyd shouted, and pointed to the pothole in the darkened area that Morales had believed was just another shadow. As the sun was moving toward the horizon they were getting longer and darker shadows that made close attention to their path more critical.

  The warning call came just a bit too late. The right wheel of their moonbuggie slammed into the rocky opening causing the vehicle to tip and bottom out on that side. Momentum caused it to keep moving forward momentarily, but the worrisome crunch of bending metal accompanied the sudden, jolting stop that ended forward motion.

  "Shit!" Morales cursed.

  He tried to back the vehicle up, but the rear wheels spun uselessly, the left rear being tilted high enough it wasn't getting traction, and the right rear slipping in the soft dust.

  Boyd had already alerted the remaining two buggies of their problem over the short-range communication net they were using. They didn't use anything with much range lest they alert whatever enemy might be listening out here.

  "We better change suits," Glen ordered, and the two men started the lengthy and uncomfortable process of shedding the vacuum suit they were wearing and climbing into the already dirty and much bulkier work suits that would be more resistant to damage and possible leaks while they worked to get the vehicle freed again. Because of room constraints, this had to be done one at a time, which further extended the time required. In the other vehicles, a similar dance was in progress.

  "That doesn't look good at all," Lt. David Welch noted. The wheel was down to the frame in a rocky hole that had been hidden by the shadow from a large boulder that had most likely been thrown into the spot when the medium sized crater off to their right had been formed by a meteor impact a very long time ago.

  Boyd nodded in agreement. While the expensive tires looked to be in good shape, the suspension was twisted, suggesting the axle was more than likely bent, or possibly snapped. To be certain someone would have to get down, crawl around in the dust, scoop as much out of the way as possible, and try and have a look.

  "Let's see if we can lift it," Morales said.

  Moon gravity was a lot less than Earth's, but the access points were few, and only three of them could gain purchase to try and lift, and then the weight of the heavy vehicle was clearly against them. Gene Lee had thrown down a blanket and was kneeling so he could see as they managed to lift the tire about a foot. The light from his LED flashlight told the story.

  "Set it down," Lee said. "It's snapped. There's no way we can fix this bastard out here."

  Morales stormed off a few feet uttering a collection of choice expletives, then turned back and gave marching orders.

  "Boyd, you are going to ride with Steve and Paul. I'll be riding with Gene and David. From here on it'll be three of us in each vehicle. It's gonna be crowded and uncomfortable, but we've got no other choice. Let's get the stuff we can use and transfer it out of the broken vehicle as fast as we can. Paul, while we are doing that you contact base and inform them of what has happened."

  It took them another hour to get everything relocated and secured, and as they prepared to climb back into their respective vehicles, Morales asked, "What did base say?"

  "They suggested that we didn't break another one," Paul replied sarcastically.

  Morales nodded. They were crowded now. If they lost another vehicle there would be six of them trying to fit into a four person vehicle. Someone was going to have to walk. While ten miles an hour wasn't a fast pace, on the moon, in a pressure suit, trudging through the often deep dust simply wasn't going to work. Then there was the little matter of eating and sleeping.

  No one had mentioned, but he knew it was on everyone's mind, that they were now down to one communications link back to base. The broken vehicle was one of the two working systems, and they were going to have to leave it behind. Salvaging the frozen mechanism might conceivably be possible, but the time would be such that their mission would be a failure, and they might not make it home anyway.

  No one brought up the idea that base might send another vehicle or two to help. This had all been discussed in detail during the planning phase. It had taken them more than six days to get this far, and with preparations it would take more than seven days for help to arrive. That would mean night would have arrived, and they would be stuck through the long cold two weeks, which was one of the failure conditions. No, help couldn't get here in time. They'd have to risk whatever came, and they weren't yet to the site, which was technically the half way point.

  And, of course, they had lost more of the critical time needed to get to Fermi Crater before dark.

  "No more stops," Morales warned. "With three in each vehicle we
have two to handle driving and support while the third person sleeps. It won't be comfortable, but we can make up time this way. I don't want to die out here but I'd really hate to die and not have completed the critical part of the mission, which is to see what is at that damn crater."

  Chapter 15

  Backside of the Moon

  Fermi Crater

  They had made up lost time, dodged a few additional obstacles and had made it to their intended location with about five hours of daylight remaining. It had been apparent well before they closed on the crater that something indeed was there. A slowly shimmering cloud seemed to hang over the crater, and while initially it didn't seem like anything distinct, as they drew closer it became more and more apparent that what they were seeing was some kind of cover over whatever was in place within the crater itself.

  They parked in the shadow of a small mountain. The shadows were getting long as the sun dipped toward the horizon, and they would have to complete their observations, then get back on the road if they were to catch up with the moving sun line. They actually could move a greater distance than the sun in a given day, so long as they kept on the move the full twenty-four hours. If they moved sixteen like they had in the beginning, they would basically match the receding sun, and Morales didn't want that to be the way they made their way home. For one thing, the shadows had proven treacherous, and he didn't want to risk some anomaly leaving them behind in the dark. He'd like to have a day or more of margin so they could stop if necessary, and not almost immediately be overtaken by darkness.