Ice Shadows

by W. R. Heustis

  As noted earlier, this effort seemed to be taking forever. But with each subsequent pull, Raphael inched ever closer toward me. What felt like hours of expended effort ultimately proved effective. I was able to reach out and grab Raphael’s hand. Between the two of us, he was finally able to scramble onto the beams next to me. He gave a thumb’s up signal but looked spent. But even with that, our task wasn’t yet complete. We still needed to get down. I motioned that I would belay the rope and would use the beam next to me to then help lower Raphael to the ground. That, fortunately, went off without a hitch (no pun intended).

  Within the remaining minutes, and once Raphael was safely standing next to the waiting crew, I slowly made my way down the superstructure. But once I was on the lunar surface, I knew I had to face Ted. I had yet to deal with whatever he felt was in order...you know, as far as some sort of punishment for violating his obscenely stupid rules. But before I left, D and the others exchanged high fives. Thank God things worked out as they did.

  Ironically, the moment I entered the airlock, the alarm went off on my spacesuit. I had just enough time to get out of it and then gratefully breathe the life-supporting oxygen in the living module. So Ted? First of all, he was embarrassed. He didn’t say so, but it was obvious. He had made a serious blunder that almost cost a man’s life—one of my men. I was pissed. But I had to contain the outrage. I had to keep my cool knowing that if I didn’t, Ted might become even more devious. The last thing I needed was to be sequestered to my quarters. But then, things turned ugly. When he and I were face-to-face, Ted said that this event wouldn’t have happened if I had done my job. It was my fault that the project was lagging so far behind. He wouldn’t have had to force issues had things been better managed. I held my tongue. I let him go on as if he were some kid on an elementary schoolyard—you know, that just did something wrong but wanted to place the blame on someone else. I felt pity for the poor man. How could an adult not assume responsibility for his actions or decisions? But Ted was doing just that. He even told me he had already informed Lawther. Things were going from bad to worse. I could just imagine the media spin on that one. For all I knew, I had become public enemy number one due to my many questionable exploits and unseemly failures.

  I stood there stone-faced while Ted rambled on. But I wasn’t listening. No, instead, I was peering at the now visible wrist device that held the answer to my question. My only hope was that dealing with that challenge would prove unnecessary. If my speculation was correct, and D was able to work his magic, I would be out of here in less than ten days.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It didn’t take much imagination to assume that if pushed much more, my crew would put Ted in what had been Raphael’s place. They would hang him by his heels and on the same beam that almost took Raphael’s life. They would just leave him there while he screamed and sucked up his remaining oxygen. And even though a part of me would have wanted to see such deserved vengeance, I didn’t want anyone of us being guilty of something we would later regret. Stress along with unfair treatment can cause human beings to act in ways that might not hold up in proper society. Before we knew it, an inquest would happen; some sort of authority would be poking around asking questions. Someone would then have to ultimately pay for an unfortunate and untimely death.

  Behind all of that was a lingering concern about Raphael’s condition. Had he recovered enough to go back to work? Or, instead, had he sustained injuries that demanded medical attention? I didn’t ask Ted. I knew it would be pointless. And my communication link had been severed with the crew. So I was left with nothing more than speculation as to the actual state of things. But a part of me assumed the worst. It was more than reasonable to assume that Raphael had been injured enough to warrant being removed from this god-forsaken satellite. Ted, of course, would challenge that and, worse, even accused Raphael of faking his injuries. I could just see it. That, along with everything else, was but adding insult to injury. Ted was pushing his luck.

  I spent the next few days doing additional surveys and then mapping. I continued to make notes that Ted had no idea existed. By doing so, I was simply adding more ammunition to support my case once I returned home. It was the end of the day and I was about to park the water harvester. But as I drove toward its usual parking spot, I paused, slowed down, and then came to a stop. There, beside my usual set of tracks, was an eight-digit number drawn into the lunar dust. I glanced around to make certain Ted was nowhere in sight. I tapped in the number on my iPad and almost held my breath. I double-checked what I’d noted just to be safe. I then backed up the water harvester and drove over the numbers several times. I knew D had come through. Some way or another, my best friend had given me the clue to my freedom—or so I hoped.

  But even with that crucial piece of information in hand, I still had to sort out a plan of attack. Clearly, I had to gain access to the storage module when Ted wasn’t around. I’m not sure if it was my over-eagerness or what, but curiosity finally got to me. Now that I had what was needed, I wanted to confirm my suspicions. Once parked, and once inside the airlock, I was about to open the door to the storage module when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned only to realize that Ted was peering out his side window at me. I immediately acted as if I were dealing with a part of my spacesuit. I had to cover my tracks. Being impulsive could easily prove to be my undoing. I had to be a lot wiser. I had to pull off something that had the potential to attract a lot of attention if not done with stealth.

  Ted’s schedule was somewhat predictable. Oddly, though, even though D had no idea what I was up to, he kept showing up each morning as he waited for Ted. It was as if D sensed the need for creating a distraction and was up to the task. But I knew D well enough to know that he would get Ted involved in some aspect of the project. It would act as a means of making Ted feel important—even though, in realty, what he was doing might have been meaningless. If you can keep someone like that sidetracked for the day, you can get the actual work done without their meddling or intrusion.

  Knowing all of the above, I went about the motions to make it appear as if I were off on my daily routine. I was acting as if I were working on the water harvester while I waited. D and Ted soon took off together. I waited ten minutes just to be safe. Perhaps it would pointless, but then I acted as if I had forgotten something. I turned around and then entered the airlock leading to our modules. I began making a concerted effort to discern if any security cameras had been set up. Ted was cagy but maybe not that cagy. Nonetheless, I couldn’t take any chances. I had to be wary. I happened to glance toward the side window in Ted’s module and there it was, the telltale sign of an active camera. I saw the small red light indicating it was operational. I had to do something to mask what I was about to do.

  I entered my module. A shipping trunk full of specialized tools was sitting in one corner. One of them was a solar collector. It was shaped somewhat like an umbrella. It was a mobile power source that we often used while working out in the field. When unfurled it took up a wide space. I thought this is it; this will work. It would give the appearance of something legitimate that just happened to be large enough to block the view. And that wouldn’t require more than a few minutes.

  I made it appear as if I were systematically checking the device as I slowly opened it fully in the airlock. As suspected, it worked as envisioned. Once it was set up, I entered the storage module. By now, I had the date memorized. The only issue was that the passcode used five digits; I had eight to work with. But even with that, simplicity, logic, and efficiency had to be in play. Once the digital display lit up, I tapped in what seemed obvious: the day, month, and just the year. But it didn’t work. Seriously? Had I over thought this? Come on, it can’t be this complicated.

  I used a zero this time. 0128...but then what? I just needed one more number. I typed 2 for the year and it worked. In an instant, the case opened with surprising ease. But when it did, I was taken aback by the elegant engineering. The reentry ve
hicle was exceptionally designed. It had an aerodynamic, almost aircraft quality to it. I could only assume that meant it would be beneficial once past initial entry into the earth’s atmosphere. It had a white, hard shell outer covering. What did surprise me was the spacesuit included. It was far more form-fitting and not as bulky as the spacesuits we were currently wearing. It had Velcro closures to make it exceptionally easy to put on. The helmet fit somewhat snugly into the formed space at the top of the vehicle.

  With all of that in mind, and fully realizing that this spacesuit was designed for a specific purpose—or to be put on while still in an oxygen-available environment—using it was going to present a problem. From what I could tell, the vehicle would ultimately supply the long-term oxygen, not the spacesuit. Furthermore, I assumed that the instant the hatch closed and the coordinates had been entered, oxygen would immediately start flowing. But I didn’t know that for sure. It was a best guess until I knew otherwise.

  There, however, was a problem: even if I transported the vehicle on the water harvester, I would then have to get out of my current spacesuit and hastily put on the other one. To be honest, I’d never paid much attention to how long it took to get out of my spacesuit on any given day. But now that I knew this, I could begin practicing. But here’s the second problem: Even if there was the distinct possibility that I could hold my breath long enough to get out of one and then into the other, it wouldn’t make much difference. If this was Earth-side, and this was about something to do with an underwater escape, it might be feasible. This, however, was the moon. You can’t gasp for oxygen that doesn’t exist. It would be a fairly quick and painless way to go. In other words, the moon essentially has no atmosphere. That means it’s a hard vacuum. As human beings, we’re adapted for earth’s atmospheric pressures. We can deal with the depths of the sea with the proper equipment. But in space or, in this case the moon, the existing vacuum is immediately fatal. There was no way an escape could happen without a pressurized spacesuit. But did that exist and I missed it? I wasn’t sure. But it seemed highly likely that those who engineered this device and its accompanying spacesuit knew this was a considerable issue. That meant that until I had more time to examine how the spacesuit and/or helmet functioned, I wouldn’t know for certain how all of this was going to work.

  Now that I knew what I was up against, a bit more than a week remained to figure out if what I had envisioned was even possible? Despite feeling somewhat confident, I wasn’t anywhere near certain I could pull this off. If not, and in my waning desperate moments, my last thought might be about my son and how disappointed he was going to be when I didn’t show up as planned. I soon determined to set those sorts of thoughts aside.

  I carefully closed the lid. I paused for a moment to consider if I were being irrational? But when the situation requires doing something out there, being more than a little bit daring but also crazy works to your advantage. And this was one of those times. I had to make it work; there was no other option.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It took far longer to get out of my spacesuit than anticipated. As noted, I had never paid attention to the time required. But now that I had, and now that I had become aware that it was far more demanding and time-intensive than imagined, I was rapidly losing hope. But then, as if out of the blue, a second thought came to mind: What if I was already dressed in the airlock and simply had to walk out in the new spacesuit to the waiting escape vehicle? I paused to consider the possibility. The obvious challenge was that this would have to happen immediately under Ted’s nose. But then another thought came to mind: What if a more out-of-the-way module was fully activated? If one on the other side of the complex was available and the escape vehicle was placed there, I could launch without Ted realizing what happened. That was workable. It was not only feasible; I was going to make it happen. Now all I had to do was to find a way to get the escape vehicle there without anyone noticing.

  I fell asleep with all of that on my mind. For no apparent reason, the following morning I woke up two hours early. And when I did, it was as if a part of me was seized with the idea that getting an extra-early start meant that I could get places undetected. But I was going to have to be both quiet and sly doing whatever I did. I got in my spacesuit, grabbed the solar charger I’d used yesterday to block Ted’s camera, and was feeling confident enough that the risk was worth taking.

  I knew I had to be efficient with everything I did. I picked up my pace as I went to bring back the water harvester. Once it was parked out front, I entered the airlock. My senses were on high alert. What if Ted got up early and realized my deception? But even if he caught me at this point, I could easily explain it away by saying that I had a more remote location to get to and was leaving early. Fortunately, there wasn’t any sign of Ted. I entered the storage module, tapped in the key code, and then opened the case. Even though the escape vehicle weighed six hundred pounds or more, the lesser gravity environment made lifting it and then carrying it considerably easier. But trying to maneuver something a head taller than me was proving beyond challenging. I held my breath as I entered the airlock. Now I was vulnerable.

  Now enough evidence existed for Ted to lock me up and leave me there. Leaving the airlock required several minutes of waiting. And those were perhaps the longest moments I’d ever had to wait. I kept glancing back at the view window hoping to God that I didn’t see Ted’s eyes staring back at me. The moment the airlock was safe to open, I carefully but intently carried the escape vehicle and then did my best to muscle it on top of the oblong storage tank. Using makeshift tie-downs, I secured the escape vehicle sufficiently enough to make the journey. But as I did, and a disturbing thought came to mind, I realized that the solar charger was still leaning against the window next to Ted’s module. He would see it the instant he either looked out that specific window or else once he came out his door. In either case, it would provoke questioning. Why did I leave it there? Was I becoming absent-minded or was something else going on? The last thing I needed was for Ted to become suspicious. He needed to believe that what I was doing was routine and to be expected. That meant that now that I had the water harvester loaded, I was going to have to wait and take the precious time to go back into the airlock, wait the required moments, grab the solar charger, and then wait once again to leave the airlock. I was beyond frustrated in my...what, lack of foresight? I had to give myself a break. After all, what I was trying to pull off was next to impossible. I needed to focus on the task at hand.

  But before I went through this extra effort, I drove the water harvester to its normal parked position. I then scurried back as fast as I could. If anyone saw the water harvester they might not notice anything different. It’s like the adage: if you want to hide something, do it in plain sight. It felt as if I were trudging through quicksand to finally retrieve the solar charger. But once I did, and once I was on my way to the other side of the building project, I could finally offer a sigh of relief. My only concern was if Ted had seen me. After all, his module did offer a partial view of the area I just left. But again, the risk was worth whatever punitive action might soon follow—that is, if I got caught.

  It took twenty minutes before I was far enough away to feel confident to slow down. At this point, the last thing I needed was for the escape vehicle to get jostled enough to slip off the storage container. If it were damaged in transport and was then forever out of commission, I’d never forgive myself. Even though I had driven over this stretch of lunar soil for months, it was still rocky and filled with potholes.

  I finally reached the furthest most modules from Ted’s. I parked in front. To fully activate a module and its supporting airlock required time, experience, and know how. I’m sure Ted had no idea how to do that. I’d even go so far as to say that I doubted he had ever asked. It was even possible he had no idea how to maintain his car back on earth let alone change the oil. He could attempt to manage people but probably couldn’t do the same for himself. As I write this, I do realize t
hat my opinion of him is heavily jaded. My disdain for him is perhaps misplaced. It’s not so much him as much as those he represents that deserve the contained hostility, the pent-up rage. I shelved my feelings. I let them pass. I had work to do.

  I chose a first-tier module and then carefully unloaded the escape vehicle. I carried it—or delicately dragged it, to be more precise—and then brought it into the airlock and into the waiting module. There were two days to go before launch. As it was, to get a module fully functional typically took a day. The air seals had to be checked. The individual oxygen system had to be monitored to make sure it was operating as expected. Do note that each module came pre-charged with an oxygen supply. All that was required were the solar-powered batteries being at full charge. Once all of that was set in place, and I made note of the module’s designation number, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. As I exited the airlock, I paused to gaze back at earth. And with a wistful feeling, a sense of eagerness filled my heart. In a matter of hours, I would be back on terra firma.

  I spent the rest of the day wandering around a neighboring crater. As usual, I was making notes to support my continued investigation. A nagging feeling kept haunting me. For some reason, I needed to go back to the module where I had stored the escape vehicle. I don’t know why, but it felt as if I had missed something. It took far longer than I would have hoped to return. Without realizing it, I had gone a bit further than seemed possible. But once I was within visual distance of the module, I was disturbed to see someone in the general vicinity. Of course, my first thought was that it was Ted. My imagination was going wild. Naturally, he had seen me and then followed my tracks—being easily distinguished from those of the lift rover. At first, I hesitated to confirm my worst fears. But I was never one to avoid a needed confrontation. If it was Ted, and this was that crucial moment when we were to have it out, I was ready. So I drove on prepared for the moment.