by Stuart Gibbs
“We are?” Violet asked.
“NASA considers children’s safety their number one priority,” Dad said. “Our family will go with Kamoze and his parents on one rocket, while the Marquez family will go with Kira and her father on the other.”
I was quite sure that our priority had less to do with NASA’s concern for our safety than it did with NASA’s concern about the agency’s image. It would look pretty bad if they allowed grown-ups without children to return to earth before children. Especially if something went wrong at MBA in the interim and the children died. I didn’t want to bring that up in front of Violet, though. Instead I said, “And the Sjobergs are okay with waiting?”
Mom and Dad looked to each other awkwardly, then back to Violet and me. “The Sjobergs don’t know what’s going on,” Mom confided.
“They don’t?” I asked. “They’re going to have a cow when they find out.”
“They’re going to have four cows,” Violet agreed.
“That’s why they haven’t been told,” Dad said. “Although there is nothing they can do about this. Part of the contract they signed to come up here stated this emergency-return system very clearly. No matter how much they complain, they’ll have to wait.”
“We’re simply hoping to cut down the amount of time in which they can complain,” Mom said.
“So when are they going to be told?” I asked, then thought to add, “When were you going to tell us?”
“Tonight,” Dad answered. “We didn’t want to alarm anyone until we had to.”
“And you sent us to school?” I chided. “On our last full day on the moon? My birthday?”
“The idea was to keep you distracted,” Dad said. “Although we all felt you should be aware that your final evening here would be your final evening. So you could say good-bye to the place.”
“That’s why you took me outside this morning?” I asked.
“Yes,” Dad said. “It seemed like a shame to let you come all this way and never get the chance to play catch on the lunar surface. Plus, we didn’t have a present for you.”
“What about me?” Violet asked angrily. “I never got to play catch on the lunar surface! Or do gymnastics. Or anything.”
“You’ll get some time out there tomorrow,” Mom told her. “On the way to the rocket. Maybe you can do some cartwheels then.”
“Okay!” Violet said, her anger instantly gone.
Dad stood suddenly. “That reminds me, Vee. We need to check your space suit to make sure it still fits you nice and tight. We should probably do that right now.”
Violet leaped to her feet, already excited about the next day. “Do you think I’ll be the first person to ever do cartwheels on the lunar surface?”
“I think Neil Armstrong might have done a few,” Dad replied. “And a round-off.”
“Daddy,” Violet said sourly. “You’re lying.”
“Maybe,” Dad admitted, and then they slipped out the door, leaving only Mom and me in the room.
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you earlier,” Mom said. “Believe me, we wanted to. We didn’t like keeping this a secret.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. Then, since Violet wasn’t around, I asked, “Is it really safe here, with the oxygen levels dropping?”
“We should be okay until tomorrow,” Mom said. “And even the people who have to wait for the next rockets will be fine. After all, over half the other humans will be gone. So they won’t be depleting the oxygen as quickly. In fact, they might even end up with more oxygen after we leave.”
“But they still all have to evacuate? One or two people couldn’t stay behind and keep the base going?”
“Why do you ask?”
I looked around our residence again. “It just seems like a shame. Abandoning this base after so much work.”
“Leaving a skeleton crew behind has been discussed. But NASA has decided it’s not worth the risk. What if the oxygen levels dropped to dangerous levels and it became too late to mount a rescue mission?” Mom walked to our single, small bureau and began taking the clothes out of it, already starting to pack for the trip home. “Space travel is hard, Dash. Harder than all of us hoped it would be. I know we have these dreams of leaving our galaxy and even visiting other planets someday. But that really might not be possible. Even if we could build a rocket that could travel that far—or go warp speed—our bodies might not be able to handle it. We are acutely evolved for our own planet. Except for that tiny little spot, the rest of the universe is absolutely toxic for us.”
I found myself thinking about the conversations I’d had with Zan. She had indicated this was the case for species other than humans as well, though she’d never been specific about her own. When I had showed her space movies like Star Wars and Star Trek, she had always pointed out how ludicrous it was that every planet the heroes visited had the exact same atmosphere and gravity as earth. She had originally found this hilarious, believing it to be a joke.
Although it now occurred to me that, no matter how much I had prodded Zan, she had never admitted whether or not any species could actually travel between planets.
“Besides,” Mom went on, “just because we abandon this place doesn’t mean it’s a failure. We made it eight months—and we could still come back.”
“We?” I asked, worry creeping into my voice.
“I mean other people could come back,” Mom corrected. “Different lunarnauts. Once NASA determines what’s going wrong here and how to correct it, we could send some people back up to repair the base and get it going again. But I promise you, our family won’t be coming. We’ve already done our time on this rock.”
I sighed, relieved, then asked, “Have there been any side effects of having the oxygen drop?”
Mom paused in the midst of cleaning out the bureau, like I’d caught her off guard.
“There have,” I pressed. “Haven’t there?”
“Possibly,” Mom agreed. “It’s nothing severe. . . . But even a slight decrease in the amount of oxygen can have effects on people. Physically, it can be a bit harder to do exercise. Our hearts might beat a bit faster. We might find that we feel short of breath on occasion.”
I thought back to the past few days. “I haven’t felt anything like that.”
“Well, you’re young. Some of the adults have had issues. And then there’s the psychological effects, which might even be stronger. Loss of concentration. Lapses in judgement. Increased irritability.”
“Sounds like the Sjobergs have had oxygen deprivation since they got here.” I was only joking, but as I thought about the last few weeks, I realized that the effects of oxygen depletion had been evident. My fellow Moonies had definitely been more irritable with one another. I had chalked that up to being trapped together in a relatively small moon base, but oxygen deprivation seemed to be an even better explanation. I also realized that I had been more irritable, especially with Violet.
“If you think the Sjobergs have been bad so far,” Mom said, “wait until they find out they don’t have priority on the rockets home.”
I imagined what Lars Sjoberg’s reaction to that would be. He had been clamoring to return to earth for weeks, but there had never been available seats on a rocket for him and his family. Now two empty rockets were going to arrive, and he still wouldn’t have seats on them. He would go ballistic. “I feel sorry for everyone who gets stuck here with them after we’re gone.”
“No kidding. Someone might end up dead.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, Mom gasped. “Oh my. That was a poor choice of words. I wasn’t even thinking about the poisoning. I was just . . .” She looked at me. “Your father says you know the truth.”
“I know someone did it on purpose.”
“I don’t think you should investigate. No matter what Nina says. In a little more than a day, we’re going to be gone from here. The last thing you need to do is put yourself in danger.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I said. “I�
�m playing it safe as can be until I get on that rocket tomorrow.”
Mom smiled, then returned to packing. It didn’t look as though it would take her very long. We hadn’t been allowed to bring much to Moon Base Alpha to begin with.
I probably should have helped her, but I was still processing everything I had just learned. MBA was losing oxygen. It was potentially dangerous, which was scary, but because of it we were evacuating. I would be leaving the moon soon, more than two years before I was supposed to. The news was so incredible, it didn’t seem real. . . .
And yet I also felt a pang of regret. It wasn’t like I wanted to stay, but at the same time, the way it was all ending seemed wrong. Like we’d failed.
Plus, there was still a murderer on the loose.
I wondered if that could have had anything to do with the loss of oxygen. If a slight drop in oxygen ramped up people’s irritability and impaired their judgment, then maybe someone who normally would have never considered murder might have suddenly done so. Or taken a risk when they wouldn’t have otherwise.
Or maybe it was the upcoming evacuation that had forced someone’s hand. Lars Sjoberg had sworn that he would destroy the lives of a lot of his fellow Moonies. All that had stopped him from doing it already was that his lines of communication with earth had been cut. But once he got back to earth, there would be little to stop him from trying. It was possible that someone—if not multiple people—didn’t want to give him the chance.
Once half of us evacuated the next day, we would be abandoning the crime scene, possibly forever. There was a better than 50-percent chance that the killer was heading back to earth—fourteen of the twenty-five Moonies would be on the first wave home—and even a possibility that the killer would be on my rocket with me. After all, Dr. Goldstein had been the one with the apple seeds, and now they were gone. And Dr. Goldstein had proven herself somewhat conniving before. Or maybe Dr. Iwanyi had done it; he hadn’t liked Lars either.
On the other hand, there was an almost 50-percent chance that the killer would be stuck back on MBA with Lars. Which might give them another chance to kill him—or give Lars a chance to get revenge.
Whatever the case, it seemed like there were still a lot of scenarios in which something could go wrong.
As it turned out, things were going to get far worse than I had ever imagined.
Excerpt from The Official NASA Procedures for Contact with Intelligent Extraterrestrial Life © National Aeronautics and Space Administration, Department of Extraterrestrial Affairs, 2029 (Classification Level AAA)
ESTABLISHMENT OF A SECURE PERIMETER
In the case of physical manifestation of IEL, a perimeter around the affected area must be immediately established to keep distance between the IEL and the public, thereby minimizing the threat of accidental contact and potential ensuing panic and/or large-scale public gatherings. The simplest way to do this is to declare that there has been a gas leak or other equivalent disaster,I then evacuate any locals “for reasons of their own safety.” Use your federal powers to enlist the local police, but of course do not tell them the true reasons for establishment of the perimeter. The actual size of the perimeter will most likely be based on the size of the area of physical manifestation, though as a rule it is good to give yourself a half mile of distance on all sides.
* * *
I. Other disaster options include (but are not limited to) downed power lines, brush fires, flooding, and rogue grizzly bears.
10
SERIOUS GAPS IN INTELLECT
Lunar day 252
T minus 22 hours to evacuation
Once word got out that we were leaving Moon Base Alpha, school was canceled for the day. The adults all realized that we kids wouldn’t be able to concentrate on our classes—and that we could be better used helping with the evacuation procedures.
It didn’t take long to pack our own things for evacuation, but prepping the rest of MBA was a great deal of work. Lots of delicate scientific equipment had to be carefully packed, while other experiments had to be configured to continue running while we were gone. Since the second wave of rockets would only be a week behind the first, we also had to begin prepping all the remaining equipment for “hibernation mode,” and there was a great deal of equipment: evaporators, rehydrators, air-circulation systems, maintenance robots. Most of us had our hands full helping out.
Meanwhile, Roddy Marquez was spending his last day on the moon the way he’d spent every one of the 251 days before it: playing veeyar games. Now that we didn’t have school, the rec room was wide open.
Although I was worried about the depleted oxygen, overall I was happier than I’d been in weeks. Months, maybe. I had been expecting to spend another twenty-eight months on the moon. Now, in only a day, I would be leaving. Suddenly, all the things that had made life miserable on the moon didn’t seem so bad, because I wouldn’t have to experience them much longer. My lunch of rehydrated pepperoni calzone may have been lousy, but at least it was probably my last lunch of rehydrated pepperoni calzone. A visit to the space toilet was far less awful knowing that I would only have to visit it a few more times.
Assuming the evacuation went off properly.
I had lived on the moon long enough to know that things there rarely worked out exactly as planned. I could only hope that this would be an exception, that the rockets would arrive on time, that there wouldn’t be any malfunctions, and that nothing would get worse with our air supply before we left.
I had just polished off that hopefully-the-last pepperoni calzone when Zan appeared. I was in the mess hall, putting my garbage in the recycler for what was almost the last time.
Zan instantly gleaned that I was in a far better mood than usual from reading my emotions. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“We’re evacuating the moon tomorrow,” I told her, doing my best not to say it out loud.
“Why?” Zan asked, understandably surprised.
I glanced around the mess hall, which was a bigger hive of activity than usual. “Let’s talk about this in my residence,” I said. I could see Violet helping my parents in the science pod, so I figured our room would be peaceful for once.
“All right,” Zan said.
I quickly dumped my used food packets in the recycler, then hurried through the base to our room, and told Zan everything I knew about the evacuation along the way.
“I can’t believe you’re going,” she said, once I’d closed the door behind us. “This must be quite a present for your birthday.” While she sounded happy, there was something I couldn’t quite read beneath the surface. The interface of our emotions went both ways when we were in contact, although I wasn’t quite as adept at reading hers as she was at reading mine.
“Is something wrong?” I asked her.
“It’s nothing to be concerned about. You might not have enjoyed being here, but this moon base is special to me. It is the only place I have ever communicated with humans.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t contact me when I’m back on earth, right?”
“I have had contact with life on earth before.”
“Hold on. I thought Dr. Holtz was the first human you ever spoke to.”
“Who said I could only speak to humans?”
I sat down on an InflatiCube, surprised. “You’ve communicated with life that wasn’t human?”
“There are millions of different life forms on earth, Dashiell.”
“Yes, but most of them aren’t very good at conversation.”
“That’s true,” Zan admitted. “However, I felt it was worth trying to understand them when weighing the fate of your planet. After all, their lives hang in the balance too. I don’t talk to them, exactly, but I can experience what they do.”
“And what do they experience?”
“It varies. Your elephants and dolphins have an astonishing array of emotions. In fact, they feel some things even more strongly than you do. Whereas a wildebeest doesn’t seem to have much on its
mind except grass.”
“You’ve been inside the mind of a wildebeest?”
“Yes. And moose and honeybees and tiger sharks and sea otters and dozens of other animals. I must admit, the otters were quite fun.”
“Did the animals understand what you were?”
“Even less than you do.”
Something about that statement struck me as a bit insulting. “Zan, are you saying that I don’t understand what you are?”
“That’s correct.”
“Well, that’s not my fault! You’ve barely told me anything about yourself!”
“I know. And as I promised you, I am going to try to rectify that. That’s why I have come to you again today.”
“Really?” My annoyance quickly gave way to excitement.
Zan sensed this. “However, I have to warn you, I still won’t be able to answer everything you want to know about me.”
“Why not?”
“Because you won’t understand it.”
“You can’t even try?”
“It wouldn’t be worth our time.”
I wondered if I should feel insulted by this, too. “Is this because I haven’t been able to figure out how to transmit my thoughts the way you do?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“What do you mean?”
Zan sat down across from me and looked directly into my eyes. Her eyes were so blue I almost felt lost in them. “Have you ever heard of Fermi’s paradox?”
“Sure. The idea is that if there are hundreds of millions of planets in our galaxy, then the probability is that at least one of them should have intelligent life. So Fermi wondered why we hadn’t heard from anyone yet.” This was the sort of thing that got discussed quite often at mealtimes at MBA. Obviously, I had a whole new perspective on it lately.
“Exactly. Dr. Holtz told me about it. The truth is, there are actually billions of planets in our galaxy, and thousands of them have intelligent life. So I suppose the question for you is: Why have none of us contacted you until now?”