Waste of Space

by Stuart Gibbs

  Kira and I shared a wary look, wondering if Chang was trying to trick us somehow.

  “You mean you didn’t put that there?” Kira asked.

  “Of course I didn’t put it there!” Chang exclaimed. “If I was actually going to go through all the trouble to poison Lars Sjoberg, why would I keep the syringe in my room? Especially when there are thousands of other places on this base to hide it? For that matter, why would I keep it at all? To have a memento of the time I tried to kill someone?”

  Kira and I shared another look. The argument certainly made sense.

  “It’s not like it would have been hard to get rid of,” Chang went on. “There’s a hundred separate waste receptacles here. Or I could have planted the syringe in someone else’s room. Or if I really wanted to ditch it, I could have taken it outside after everyone else was asleep and thrown it into a field of moon dust. No one would find it for a thousand years. There are only two reasons someone would leave a syringe with cyanide in it taped to the bottom of a table in their room:

  “One: They’re an idiot. And I am not an idiot.

  “Two: I’m being set up by the real killer.”

  I could actually think of a third reason: Chang hadn’t had time to get rid of the syringe. After all, if he had only poisoned the lutefisk the night before, this made at least a little sense. He certainly couldn’t have left the base with it, because he knew my father was taking me outside for my birthday catch. (In fact, he was the only person besides my family who’d known that.) So he’d hidden it in his room, which was admittedly stupid—but everyone, even geniuses, made mistakes. And now that we’d caught him red-handed, he was simply emphasizing how stupid it was to throw us off.

  I didn’t say any of this to Chang, though. Because I didn’t want his good mood to shift to an angry one.

  Also, it wasn’t a great theory. As Chang had pointed out, even if he couldn’t take the syringe outside, he could have tossed it in the garbage or planted it somewhere else.

  Chang was now scrutinizing the syringe. “Looks like there’s only two prints on this besides the ones I’ve just made, and I’m guessing they’re yours, Kira. Whoever planted it here would have certainly wiped it clean, although we can check.” He tapped the plunger so a tiny bead of the fluid inside formed at the tip of the needle, then gave it a smell. “And that’s definitely cyanide.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s get it to Nina.”

  Chang held up a hand. “Not so fast. I want to know why Nina was so convinced that I was the murderer that she sent you in here scrounging for evidence.”

  “Well, you’ve threatened to kill Lars before,” Kira said.

  “So has almost everyone else here,” Chang pointed out. “So why me?” His gaze shifted my way.

  I thought about keeping what Nina had told me a secret, then decided against it. After all, Nina had blackmailed me into searching Chang’s room. For all I knew, she was the one who had planted the syringe.

  “She has footage of you poking around in the food-storage area last night,” I said. “The same place where the lutefisk is kept.”

  “Oh,” Chang said, not so amused anymore. “I wasn’t poisoning Lars’s lutefisk.”

  “Then what were you doing?” Kira asked accusingly.

  “I was getting some rassolnik,” Chang said.

  “Rassolnik?” Kira and I repeated.

  “It’s a traditional soup made from pickles, barley, and kidneys.”

  “Pickles and kidneys?” I repeated. “That sounds even worse than lutefisk.”

  “It is,” Chang said, making a face. “But Viktor likes it. It’s a Russian thing.”

  “Dr. Balnikov?” Kira asked. “Why were you getting him food at midnight?”

  “Because I was on my way to his room,” Chang replied. “And it seemed like a nice thing to do.”

  Kira and I stared at Chang, trying to make sense of that. Then we looked at each other. Then we looked back at Chang.

  “Are you and Dr. Balnikov a couple?” Kira asked.

  “Sort of,” Chang admitted. “It’s been kind of difficult to start a relationship up here.”

  Suddenly a lot of things made sense. I had known Chang was gay, although it had never been a big deal. I knew lots of gay people back on earth. I had always felt a little bad for Chang—and all the other single people at MBA—because they didn’t have significant others there with them, but it had never seemed to bother any of them: They had known they were going to be single for three years when they agreed to come to the moon.

  I hadn’t known Dr. Balnikov was gay, though. That was a surprise—along with the revelation that he and Chang were seeing each other.

  Kira seemed only moderately surprised herself. “Why’s it difficult to start a relationship?” she asked.

  “There are actually rules against it,” Chang explained.

  “You’re not allowed to date here?” I asked, far more astonished by this than the fact that Chang and Viktor were dating at all.

  Chang explained, “NASA believes that if you start a relationship, and then it falls apart, it could cause stress in the work environment up here.”

  “That’s stupid,” Kira pronounced.

  “Yes,” Chang agreed. “Forcing people to stay single for three years isn’t exactly a cure for stress. And it’s not as if any of the married couples here couldn’t break up.”

  “I’m surprised the Marquezes are still together,” Kira said.

  “Me too,” I added. Dr. Brahmaputra-Marquez and Dr. Marquez argued a lot. They tried to keep it quiet, but it still came through the walls. But then, all the couples argued at times. Even my parents. Living at MBA was already stressful without NASA interfering in people’s personal lives.

  “Anyhow,” Chang said, “stupid rule or not, Nina is still determined to enforce it.”

  “That figures,” Kira grumbled. “Seeing as she’s a machine and all.”

  “Which means Viktor and I have had to see each other on the sly,” Chang continued. “Though even without the NASA rules, we still might have had to keep this a secret. Sadly, Viktor has never felt he could be as open with his homosexuality as I am.”

  I wondered if this was because Viktor was from Russia. I had heard that, in some countries, being gay wasn’t as accepted as it was in America. Although my parents had also told me that when they were kids, America hadn’t been completely understanding of homosexuality either. Back then, gay people hadn’t even been allowed to get married. That all seemed like ancient history, even though I knew there were plenty of people in America who still had a problem with it.

  “So the flowers in your drawers were from him?” I asked.

  Chang seemed caught off guard for a moment, surprised we knew about the flowers, then figured out why. “Guess you guys were snooping through my stuff. Yes, they’re from him. There’s not much in the way of gifts to bring each other up here. The occasional flower. Some Russian soup—even if it’s disgusting. We’re not even allowed to have wine at this base. Although even if it was allowed, I’m sure NASA would find a way to make that crummy too.”

  “You’ve brought him flowers too?” I pressed.

  “Sure. A couple times.”

  Which definitely explained what Chang had been doing in the greenhouse on occasion. And why he’d been sneaking around the moon base late at night.

  Assuming he was telling the truth. It could all be a cover story, although it would be relatively easy to confirm with Dr. Balnikov.

  “Aw, man!” Chang exclaimed suddenly. “What happened to my clarinet?”

  Kira’s cheeks turned pink. “I . . . uh . . . kind of knocked it over.”

  Chang knelt beside the table, looked over the instrument, then heaved a sigh of relief. “Whew. It’s not too bad. I can fix this.” He then gave Kira a hard stare. “Although if I couldn’t, you’d be in serious trouble. It’s very hard to get replacement clarinet parts on the moon.”

  “Sorry,” Kira said. “It was an acc
ident.”

  Chang started putting the clarinet back together, fitting the metal bits that had come off with speed and precision.

  I asked, “So it was just a coincidence that that disgusting soup and the lutefisk were in the same storage bin last night?”

  “Yes,” Chang said, but then something occurred to him. “Or maybe it wasn’t.” He looked to me. “Did Nina tell you why she had footage of me last night?”

  “She went through the security feeds,” I said. “Although that was kind of weird, because when I suggested it to her earlier, she said it would be pointless, because someone could have poisoned the lutefisk weeks ago. But then, when she called me in later, she said she’d changed her mind and decided to look at the footage after all.”

  “I’m betting someone tipped her off,” Chang said. “Probably the killer themselves. They saw me going through the food. And once Lars ended up eating the poisoned lutefisk, they saw it was the perfect opportunity to frame me. So they snuck the syringe in here and called Nina.”

  “But how’d they get the syringe in here?” I asked. “Your door was locked.”

  “You got in here,” Chang pointed out. “So obviously the security system isn’t that secure.”

  “Wait a minute!” Kira exclaimed. “Nina’s the one who unlocked your door for us. That means she could have accessed your room whenever she wanted. So maybe she framed you.”

  Chang paused in the process of repairing his clarinet to consider that. “Maybe,” he agreed. “But anyone with a decent knowledge of computers could hack the locking system. The tech on this base is ancient compared to what we have on earth.”

  I knew that was true as well. One of the many problems with building bases in outer space was that by the time you figured out how to make all your tech strong enough to handle the rigors of operating outside earth, it was already several years out of date.

  I asked, “Hacking the system still wouldn’t be easy, though, would it? Whoever did it would have to be pretty smart.”

  “I suppose,” Chang said thoughtfully. “Although whoever tried to frame me made some pretty dumb mistakes.”

  “Like what?” Kira asked.

  “Well, like I pointed out before, leaving that syringe in my room was a pretty lame frame job.” Chang replaced the last piece of his clarinet and carefully placed the instrument back on his SlimScreen table. “But there’s also the fact that they tried to frame me at all.”

  “Why’s that dumb?” I asked.

  “Because I’m me,” Chang replied. “I have the highest IQ of anyone on the moon by far. That’s been documented.” The way he said it didn’t come across as a boast. He was merely stating facts. I’d seen the reports: Chang had the same IQ as Albert Einstein.

  “If I were actually going to poison Lars like this,” Chang went on, “do you think I’d be so stupid as to let myself be recorded on the cameras while injecting the poison into the lutefisk? Do you think I’d wipe my fingerprints off the syringe with the poison in it and then keep it in my room? And, honestly, if I was going to poison Lars, I would have done it right. He’d actually be dead right now. But whoever did this screwed up and didn’t put enough poison in the lutefisk to kill him. So instead of a dead Lars Sjoberg, we have a Lars Sjoberg who’s even more of a raging bunghole than he was yesterday.” Chang was getting worked up as he said this. His amusement had faded, and he was starting to show traces of his temper. “Frankly, I find it offensive that Nina would even consider that I’d done such a crummy job of murdering someone. And you can feel free to tell her that when you bring that syringe to her.”

  “You don’t want to tell her yourself?” Kira asked.

  “I have better things to do,” Chang said curtly. Then he offered me the syringe, holding only the plunger between his fingers. “Careful not to get your prints on this, or Nina will think you murdered Lars too.”

  I took the syringe from him, holding it the same way he did, so only the tiniest bit of my thumb and forefinger touched it. As I did, my watch buzzed.

  It was an urgent message from my parents: COME TO THE MESS HALL ASAP!!!!

  Good grief, I thought. What now?

  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)

  CONTACT OUTSIDE OF US BORDERS

  Given that the United States occupies less than 7 percent of the earth’s total land mass (and less than 2 percent of the earth’s surface, period) there is obviously a large statistical chance that primary contact with IEL will occur outside the borders of the United States. In fact, given that oceans cover 70 percent of the earth, there is a great chance that IEL will make contact over an ocean at first.I DEXA is extremely prepared for this scenario, and will work with foreign governments to facilitate the first meeting with IEL no matter where it happens. If you happen to be in another country when primary contact first occurs (for purposes of US government work, or even if you are on a fortuitously timed vacation there), proceed with the steps in this manual as if you were still in the United States. The arrival of IEL will have repercussions for the entire world and must be handled correctly. Thus, international boundaries are a secondary concern.

  * * *

  I. If they have spent any time studying us, IEL ought to certainly recognize that humans are the dominant species on the planet and approach on land, though there is always the chance that their first contact will be accidental—a crash landing, perhaps. But given that they will doubtlessly be a different species from us, there are certainly reasons they might choose to approach the oceans first. For all we know, they might try to make primary contact with dolphins.

  16

  FREEZE-DRIED MILK SOLIDS

  Lunar day 252

  T minus 14 hours to evacuation

  “What’s up?” Kira asked as we hurried out of Chang’s residence.

  Chang didn’t follow us. He stayed back in his room. Maybe he really had other things to do, as he’d claimed, though I had the sense that he was so annoyed at Nina, he didn’t want to see anyone else for a bit.

  “Another emergency,” I said. “In the mess hall.”

  From Chang’s door we could see the mess through the corner of the greenhouse. To my surprise, no one seemed to be there. In fact, there didn’t seem to be anyone anywhere in the base. The corridors along the residences were completely empty, as was the rec room across the hall: For once, no one was using the veeyar system. Obviously, everyone could have been on the side of the base I couldn’t see, where the science pod and the bathrooms and the maintenance offices were—or they could have been in their residences—but I couldn’t hear any voices, either, which was unusual.

  I wondered if there had been a new problem with the oxygen system, and everyone had passed out from hypoxia.

  Kira looked concerned as well. “C’mon,” she said, and we ran toward the mess. It didn’t take long to get there. Only a few bounds down the corridor. As we rounded the greenhouse, it became evident that the mess was completely empty—even though my parents had just asked me to come there. The science pod and the gym were empty too.

  Which was very, very unsettling.

  If everyone had collapsed from hypoxia, there should have at least been some bodies around.

  I swung back around toward the greenhouse.

  At which point, almost all our fellow Moonies leaped out from where they’d been crouched at the base of the wall, hidden from view, and screamed, “Surprise!”

  Under different circumstances, the surprise party would have been a very lovely effort on everyone’s part. They had curled pages from the residents’ guide into conical party hats and decorated them festively. They had inflated surgical gloves to make balloons (although with all the fingers sticking out, they looked more like cow udders). They had even made confetti, which Violet and the other kids flung in the air.

  Unfortunately, it wa
sn’t the best day for a surprise party. I was already on edge, worried about oxygen leaks and killers on the loose. So when everyone jumped out and startled me, I screamed in terror.

  So did Kira, who was equally on edge. Both of us leaped several feet in the air, given the low gravity. And I lost my grip on the syringe I’d been holding.

  It flew into the batch of inflated surgical gloves Roddy Marquez was holding and pierced three in one shot. They all exploded with a series of loud bangs, frightening Inez Marquez, who started bawling.

  The syringe itself ended up jabbed in Cesar’s thigh, where it stuck like a dart in a bull’s eye.

  Turns out, Cesar had a fear of needles. He made a surprisingly high-pitched shriek and then passed out, nearly taking Kamoze Iwanyi down with him.

  This stopped the celebration dead. All the Moonies had been about to burst into “Happy Birthday to You,” but no one got past the first syllable.

  Except Violet, who obliviously kept singing. And when Violet sang “Happy Birthday,” she did it as operatically as possible.

  The only Moonies who weren’t there were the Sjobergs (naturally), Chang (obviously), and Nina (who had probably never celebrated anything in her life). Dr. Brahmaputra-Marquez quickly ran to Cesar’s side to check on him and gasped when she saw the syringe. “Why were you carrying this?” she asked me accusingly.

  “Chang found it in his residence,” I said, deciding it wasn’t time to go into the whole story. “It might, uh . . . still have a little cyanide in it.”

  “What?!” Dr. Marquez gasped.

  “The killer planted it on Chang,” Kira said quickly. “To frame him for killing Lars.”

  In all the commotion, she had forgotten that a lot of Moonies hadn’t been told that the poisoning wasn’t an accident. Particularly the children. This revelation was enough to stop even Violet in the midst of her song.

  “Someone killed Lars?” Inez yelped, then started crying even louder.

  “Actually, they only tried to kill him,” Kira said quickly, which didn’t help much.