by Rick Chesler
He slowed, steadied himself. Allowed himself a look at the terrain just ahead of him, and reflected on the description Armstrong had relayed back to the scientists on Earth.
“The surface appears to be very, very fine grained as you get close to it; it’s almost like a powder…” Too many adverbs, of course. Rather than an astronaut, Burton thought, they should have sent a man of letters to the moon in 1969.
Another foot forward and James dropped onto the surface of Earth’s only natural satellite. Again, he heard Armstrong’s voice instead of his own.
“That’s one small step for man…one giant leap for mankind.” Poor guy, that Armstrong. Responsible for uttering some of the most important words in human history and he got them wrong. He’d meant to say, “That’s one small step for a man…one giant leap for mankind.” The way Armstrong said it made no sense at all. One small step for Man. One giant leap for mankind. Man and mankind were one and the same without that article. That single, solitary letter – that a – had been absent for generations and would remain absent for generations to come.
The next few steps James took came easy, almost too easy. He must have appeared to the others as though he were skipping. He was practically weightless here on the moon, yet maintained every scintilla of his strength.
Cautiously, he turned, admiring the deep footprints he’d left on the moon’s surface.
Then he looked up to see Blake Garner waving at him.
“Congratulations!”
“Thanks.”
Suzette played with the camera for a moment before pointing it in the direction of the LEM. “Ready to shoot.”
Raising his arms in a display of victory, Blake cleared his throat and spoke loudly through his headset.
“We stand today on the edge of a new frontier,” he began.
They waited for more but there was no more to come. Blake simply bounded off away from the LEM with an exaggerated fist pump.
“That’s it?” James said to Suzette, momentarily forgetting Blake could hear. “Isn’t that JFK speaking of the 1960s?”As best she could in her spacesuit, Suzette shrugged.
“He worked on that for days. Every other phrase he threw at me came from Star Trek.”
Blake boldly turned around about ten feet from the ship. “If you have something better, Suzette, write it down and attribute it to me. Otherwise, keep the color commentary inside your own helmet, please.”
“Of course,” she said as Asami Imura started down the steps.
James’ instinct was to rush forward in order to greet her at the bottom, to help her avoid the tumble he’d nearly taken himself, or at least imagined he had. But then he reminded himself that he was here to gauge the safety of the entire experience for future space tourists. It wasn’t his place to physically help people anymore than it was a lifeguard’s job to make sure the pool’s construction techniques were up to code. No, Burton’s job was to observe how things went and then to point out how it could be safer, highlighting any potential dangers he had noticed. Asami was far more graceful than he had been getting down the ladder, though, and before he knew it she was standing there next to him on the moon, definitely not in need of his help.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, as they took in the moonscape, that endless desert of gray. Personally, he thought it was boring as shit. A lot of gray rock, pretty flat but with some hills in the distance.
Well, she is a selenologist after all; this giant rock is her life’s work. James swung back around to face her. “The moon is all it was cracked up to be, I presume?”
“Not the moon,” Asami said, staring intently over his shoulder.
“Then what?” James turned to follow her gaze. “The stars?”
Her gloved hand tightened around his as he stole a glance at the sky and the wondrous blue-green sphere, sitting like an angel on Luna’s shoulder. Asami exhaled deeply, a sound so soft it felt as though her lips were pressed right against his ear. Then she whispered into her headset a single word that made him shiver. Made him question again why in the Hell he had come all the way up here when he had so much to live for down there. Already his mind was getting a little weird, wondering what his wife would think of him holding hands with this woman nearly half his age through a spacesuit.
“Earth.”
Then Martin Hughes stepped down from the LEM and Blake Garner stood in front of their small group and tested his headset again. Once he was certain every one of them could hear, he launched into a well-rehearsed monologue, addressing each of the group by name before speaking while Suzette rolled the camera.
“Welcome to Luna. Eight years ago, Outer Limits began carrying private passengers to an altitude of sixty-two miles, just outside of Earth’s atmosphere, into the blackness of space. For a quarter of a million dollars, ticket holders were able to experience three full days of pre-flight preparation, including how to make the most of their time in microgravity, before setting off on what would surely be the journey of their lives. Saudi sheiks, South American heads of state, Japanese businessmen, international celebrities, and American socialites all witnessed the awe of being a true astronaut, of traveling at speeds of nearly twenty-five hundred miles per hour – three times the speed of sound – before being released from their restraints in order to enjoy a zero gravity environment. But of course, that was just the beginning for the rapidly growing industry of space tourism.”
Blake swiveled his head from left to right, searching the lunar grounds, no doubt still amazed himself by the desolation of the moonscape.
“Today,” he continued, “Outer Limits has taken you – a privileged few – to a new world. The New New World, if you will. With the successful conclusion of this flight, the moon is now officially a tourist destination for almost any individual on Earth with the means to fulfill their dreams.” As James listened, he tried his best to read Blake’s face behind the helmet. The magnate seemed preoccupied, perhaps even dismayed by something.
Yet as he rambled on about the magnificence of the moon, about Outer Limits’ unrivaled focus on safety, his own grandiose plans for stations and bases, housing and eventually amusement parks, his confidence seemed to swell back to normal levels.
Well, normal at least for Blake Garner. Overinflated for anyone else.
“Someday in the near future, the moon will represent more than simply a premiere space experience package. A few men and women and children – this century’s pioneers – will call Earth’s natural satellite their home. Not their home away from home, mind you, but home.”
As James looked around the dry, dusty gray world, he found it difficult to believe anyone would ever want to call this place home, fancy habitat or not. Then again, he never imagined he’d even be standing up here, either, so who knew? By now he felt comfortable enough to move to within a few feet behind Suzette, who had her camera focused on Blake’s helmet. He tried to be surreptitious but swiftly learned that was a losing battle here on the moon. His movements were far too clumsy and exaggerated to manage any kind of stealth. He squinted in order to get a better image of Blake’s facial expressions. Was he calm, in control, or faking it? But what he really wanted was not only to get into Blake’s helmet, but to get into his head. Because...and he wasn’t sure how he knew—call it a flight safety inspector’s sixth sense—he still sensed something was wrong, very wrong. And only Blake seemed to know what that was.
Blake took a step back. “As I am sure our moon scientist, the esteemed Dr. Asami Imura, can attest to you in far greater detail, the world on which we are now standing was most likely formed some four-point-five billion years ago, when the newly formed proto-Earth was struck by another celestial body the size of Mars. That magnificent impact blasted vast amounts of material into orbit around the Earth…”
Blake trailed off for a moment, turning his head to the left as though he’d heard someone calling out from behind him. When he continued, his voice wavered a bit, as though filled with uncertainty and trepidation.
“…which eventually coalesced to form the moon.”
“Is something wrong, Blake?” Martin Hughes stepped closer to the business mogul.
Blake turned to glare again. “Not wrong,” he said at a near whisper. “Just off.”
Burton kept his own face expressionless behind his helmet. He’d mastered his poker face over the decades after learning early on that people would ask What’s the matter? if they saw him make any kind of facial gesture while on an inspection. He didn’t want them picking up on certain things he was noticing either, or they might be corrected before he submitted his report, and contested later. He could tell by looking at the helmets of the others that if there was any kind of reflection you couldn’t see behind the faceplate, but he was taking no chances. Plus, he had to admit, resuming his old work habits had a calming effect on him, even up here on the moon. With six weeks to retirement, he wasn’t about to start breaking old routines now.
Blake turned to face away from the others. “Garner to Pace. Come in, Pace.”
A moment later, Dallas’ voice was in James’ ear. “Pace here. Go ahead, sir.”
“Switch frequencies, Pace.”
“Switching frequencies.”
Their voices cut out of the common loop.
James watched as Blake’s finger pointed in the direction of a nearby crater. According to what he’d read, there were more than 300,000 craters wider than one kilometer on the moon’s near side alone. The great majority of these craters —now named for explorers, scientists, scholars, and artists — were said to be formed by asteroids and comets colliding with the lunar surface.
James stared up at the Earth, which he found after a few seconds to have a dizzying effect on him. Everything he’d ever known was way over there on that little blue marble... He forced himself to look away and then checked his oxygen levels again. They appeared fine, yet his head felt fuzzy, as though he’d just woken from a twisting-and-turning sleep. Perhaps it was from peering up into black space rather than a true blue sky. He lowered his head in an attempt to recover. He stepped back over to Asami and she squeezed his hand again. She bent forward to make eye contact through the helmets. She mouthed the words, “You okay?” He was grateful for her silent communication, not wanting the entire group to think he couldn’t hack it already. He nodded in return and released his grip from hers, pressed his gloved hands against his thighs when the wooziness failed to abate. James’ eyes fixated on the lunar surface, on the ubiquitous gray dust that seemed so unfitting for such a magnificent world.
Like a fiddler crab stirring just below the sand, the gray dust at his feet shifted ever so slightly.
Then abruptly stopped.
Had it even moved at all?
Of course not. There was no breeze on the moon. No atmosphere at all. That fact had caused more than a few feeble-minded conspiracy theorists to claim that no man had ever actually walked on the moon, that the entire Apollo 11 mission was a fake conjured to humiliate the Russians by winning the so-called Space Race. There is a famous photograph of Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin planting the American flag on the lunar surface. In the picture, the flag appears to be waving in the wind. Of course, there’s a simple explanation for this. The 3’ x 5’ nylon flag had been altered by sewing a hem along the top and inserting a crossbar hinged to the flagpole. Had these measures not been taken, the flag would have appeared limp and lifeless, not at all befitting the momentous event.
As his heart rate slowed, James stared at the surface for several more minutes, but nothing moved. He’d been seeing things. Now that the dizziness had faded, his eyes were finally adjusting and the dust appeared still once again.
He promised himself he’d speak to Dallas about his symptoms as soon as he could.
11 | Extravehicular Activity
Caitlin Swain was all too glad to leave the LEM’s control alcove, where Dallas Pace was breaking the news to their boss that they had landed significantly off course. As she stepped into the airlock, she could hear Dallas explaining patiently to Blake Garner, “Absolutely not, sir, we cannot move the lander except for when we take off to meet Paul up in orbit. There is not enough fuel to do so.”
Caitlin shook her head as she pressurized the airlock, which was the size of a walk-in closet with two sealed doors, one leading into the LEM and one to the outside. Move the lander just because the area’s a little different and he won’t be able to give the exact tour he rehearsed for days on end, sure! That’s space travel for you! Deal with it. But as she donned her spacesuit, she grew somber. She was part of the technical expertise Blake had hired, and as such it was her job to help him make this mission a success. It’s precisely because of the fact that Blake doesn’t know what he’s doing that you’re here. So don’t make fun of him, help him. That’s your job.
She snapped her helmet into place and activated the comm system to the frequency Dallas and Blake were using. “...too close to Black Sky’s landing site, damn it! You have to move!”
“Once again, sir, as it is I’m going to need to run thorough diagnostics ship-wide, especially on the ascent stage, to make sure we don’t have another guidance control issue resulting from that lightning hit. That would need to be completed before we can even think about moving the LEM. We’re stuck where we are, sir. We’ll just have to make the best of it.”
Dallas was so calm and in control, Caitlin thought. She wished she could be more like him. She wanted to yell at Blake, You’re lucky we didn’t abort the landing altogether! You should be glad we’re here at all, in one piece! Blake uttered a few choice oaths and then told Dallas to keep him updated.
“Copy that, sir. I’ll keep you posted. Have fun out there and stay safe.”
Caitlin cut in. “Swain here, boys. I’m go for EVA, over.”
“Copy that, Caitlin , you are go for EVA,” Dallas returned.
“Hurry up if you can.” This from Blake. “ We’re behind schedule because of this unfamiliar terrain. And switch back to the common frequency now, but make no mention of the landing screw-up.”
She bit back an acidic reply, something about how the “screw-up” had given him the chance to complete his mission when most astronauts would have either aborted or crashed. Be like Dallas.
“On my way, sir.” She hit a button and the outer airlock door slid up. She sucked her breath in sharply as she took in the mind-blowing moonscape with the Earth suspended above in a tapestry of black. It was much different than even looking through the LEM’s windows. At last she was witness to the “magnificent desolation” Buzz Aldrin had spoken of decades earlier. She waved to the group assembled nearby in a loose circle. Blake returned the gesture first, his wave appearing stiff and exaggerated in the space suit.
A couple of the others were facing away from the LEM. In addition to the Outer Limits logo prominently displayed on the front of the suits, there were large name patches sewn onto both the front and back of their custom-fitted spacesuits. HUGHES appeared to be gazing at the Earth in a trance, while GARNER seemed to be preoccupied with the lunar dirt, along with IMURA. BURTON was watching Caitlin intently. The rest were facing Blake, including CALDERON, who was filming.
The astronaut backed carefully down the ladder and dropped onto the lunar surface with a puff of dust.
“Well hello, Caitlin!” Blake said. “Glad you could join us. Ladies and gentlemen, I believe our Command Module Pilot has a surprise for us. Something not on the itinerary.”
“You bet!” Caitlin took a few steps to the right, walking along the outside of the LEM. She stopped in front of a rectangular flat panel and flipped a switch. “I’m guessing you didn’t know that we had a garage on the lunar lander.” The panel slid to one side to reveal what looked like a storage area of some kind behind it. Inside it was dark, but when Suzette turned the video camera on it, its light revealed wheels, a chassis, and a parabolic dish.
“Walking long distances on the moon is dangerous and consumes more of our precious oxygen,” Caitlin said, squeezing
into the garage alongside the object it contained. “And so, like some of the legendary Apollo missions before us, we’ve brought our own surface transportation.”
Blake nodded his hearty approval, the image of the group gathered around him bobbing crazily up and down in his helmet’s faceplate as Caitlin climbed into the seat of the vehicle. When she looked out on the group, she was pleased to see Suzette pointing the camera her way.
Caitlin pressed a button to activate the vehicle’s electrical system. She turned on the headlights—totally unnecessary and a waste of battery power, but Blake had told her to do it anyway because it would “look fantastic on the video.” She pressed her foot to the accelerator, hearing the faint hum common to electric vehicles, and rolled out of the garage toward the group.
“Behold our very own lunar rover,” Blake said, “or, as I like to call it—the moon buggy!” Outer Limits had clearly been inspired by the original Apollo design—wire wheels, a lightweight frame of aluminum alloy tubing, seats of canvas webbing, and a dish antenna. But there were differences, too. It carried four seats instead of two. And the battery, while weighing less, was a significantly more powerful lithium design. Video cameras were mounted front and rear and a GPS unit sat next to the vehicle’s hand controls.
But Caitlin knew that Blake’s favorite thing about the rover was that Black Sky didn’t have one. An Outer Limits exclusive you’ll only get when you join the premiere space experience tour.
“But don’t worry,” Blake said as he walked past Caitlin in the rover and to the LEM, where he opened a second panel adjacent to the first to reveal another garage. “I know what you’re thinking. There are six of us out here but only four seats.” He stepped in and inside of a minute had parked a second rover beside Caitlin ’s. “That’s why we brought two,” he said, beaming. Outer Limits: 2, Black Sky: 0.