OxCrimes

  The ‘strong leadership skills’ that had been so high on the recruiters’ list were almost laughable, all things considered. The crew did not really need a leader. They just needed to be told what to do. The company could have saved themselves the money spent on devising tests and questions meant to assess Dixie’s management qualities. And she could have done without the stressful interviews conducted by men and women in pricey suits. Interviews that had nothing to do with her technical expertise, crammed with questions about largely implausible scenarios. She couldn’t hide behind her top grade degree and impressive CV while she struggled to come up with one insightful answer after another. A complete waste of time.

  ‘David? Can you hear me? Why would you want to go there? It’s over an hour’s drive. On high propulsion.’

  ‘I’ve been picking up odd signals. They’re coming from there.’ ‘Odd’ could mean anything, here on the moon. David’s voice gave no hint as to what he meant by it.

  ‘What do you mean, odd?’ Dixie sat up straighter in her seat.

  ‘Just odd.’

  Dixie did not press the point. A signal coming from a base abandoned over five years ago was odd enough in itself. She would sound stupid if she made him explain himself in more detail, more so if she asked whether the message had been a plea for help. It couldn’t be the same thing she had heard. But who knew? ‘I’m coming with you. Pick me up by airlock bay 5.’

  A very still silence followed and Dixie wondered if they had been cut off. ‘You don’t have to. It’s probably nothing.’

  ‘I agree with you there, but I want to come anyway. We can discuss the schedule for the next days on the way.’ She listened to his breathing and thought it sounded almost relieved. Not that you could tell much from breathing. ‘Airlock bay 5. I’ll be there in ten minutes, ready for pickup.’ After making an unsuccessful attempt to reach the control station down on earth to let them know she and David were going over to Base-1, Dixie turned off the headset and made her way upstairs. Long distance communications were obviously still down.

  The spacesuit felt clammy and cold, as always. Before she had tried one on, the seamless, skin-tight one-pieces looked sleek and light. In reality they were anything but. This one now smelled of the regolith dust it had collected during her last outing. It was the smell of something singed, as if the grey sand covering the moon’s surface were ashes from a massive fire. The smell of a billion-year-old inferno. Dixie shook the particles off in an attempt to disperse the odour. She lay the suit down and undressed; then began the lengthy process of putting it on, reminding herself that she could now count down the number of times she would be forced to wear it. Five, maybe six times more. She would need to go out once or twice to conduct measurements. The final time she would have to wear it would be a week to ten days from now, when the shuttle arrived to pick them up. Once back on Earth she would shred it, not have it mounted in a frame at company headquarters like other mining operation captains. Unless she changed her mind on the trip home and began to view it with fondness. The sort of strange nostalgia that time whipped up even for negative experiences.

  On the way from the equipment room to the airlock she passed the station doctor, a man around twenty years her senior. His qualifications far exceeded what was required of him and having access to the personnel files of her staff, Dixie knew the reason for his peculiar career choice. It had nothing to do with the money on offer; the man had administered an unapproved drug to his patients and some of them had died. This job saved him a public trial and the humiliation of almost certain incarceration. The company had more clout than most political or bureaucratic organisations and had used it to get the man on board in exchange for making his judicial problem evaporate. Dixie and the doctor exchanged empty greetings and the man went on his way, the white medical coat he wore slapping the air behind him. Like everyone else on the team he was a quiet man, although he always seemed to be in a rush to go somewhere else within the small confines of the base. Dixie couldn’t help but feel he was running away from the past, hoping if he could keep moving quickly enough it would not catch up with him.

  She entered the airlock and waited for permission to open the outer door. She checked the small monitor on her sleeve, reassuring herself that the suit was airtight and her helmet properly sealed. She heard the click of the mechanism in the door through the globe dulling her senses, and engaged the opening process. She stepped outside and the airlock closed behind her. The heat outside wrapped itself around her body, malevolently welcoming her back from the confines of the underground bunkers. The suit’s cooling system kicked in and it immediately ceased to be an object of hatred. A few of the brighter stars glittered weakly in the black sky, now that the sun had begun to wane at the horizon. She felt insignificant and vulnerable, as always when outside. Life’s place was on Earth.

  Dixie got into the seat next to David who acknowledged her presence with a nod of his helmet-clad head. His suit was clunkier than hers as he spent more time outside and needed more protection. She closed the hatch-like door behind her and the vehicle lifted itself from the ground and began to propel itself forward, silently. The lack of atmosphere made generation of sound impossible, communication with those outside only possible through radio-waves. Even the colossal miners moved, crunched and boiled the ground without so much as a creak or rustle.

  The vehicle picked up speed and soon the greyish landscape started to blur. A green light blinked in the dashboard, indicating that the inside of the vehicle now contained breathable air. This released the lock on their helmets and both Dixie and David removed them. Her shoulders rejoiced without the weight. ‘Tell me about the signal.’

  David did not turn his head. He stared at the endless grey regolith spread out before them and the silhouette of the abandoned base in the far distance. ‘It wasn’t very clear.’ She did not have to see his face to know he was lying. Maybe not lying but leaving something out. Much like her. It wasn’t as if she was telling him anything.

  ‘How can a signal be coming from there? The place has been abandoned for five years now. The power can’t still be on. It should have run out soon after it was abandoned.’

  ‘I don’t know. I was wondering if the collector beam might have passed over their receiver during the dismantling process and set the system going again.’ Mirrors that collected sunlight were situated in various locations along the perimeter of the mining area. They reflected the light onto a single spot where it was further projected via a collector beam to a receiver situated beside the station. It was meant to act as an emergency energy source, providing the station with enough energy to operate life-saving systems within the base if the helium-3 power generator broke down. No one ever spoke of what would happen if the generator malfunctioned during the thirteen days of darkness. It was not good for morale. If she ever came across any of the leadership interviewers she would suggest they add that question to their artillery. ‘It’s the only explanation I can think of and it seems to make sense.’

  Dixie shrugged. ‘Possibly, if the old systems are still intact.’ She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the five-point harness securing her in place pinching her shoulders. ‘But if the beam merely passed over the station, the power wouldn’t have been on for long.’

  ‘Well, that fits with the signal. It only lasted a very short time. It repeated itself twice, both times while we were working on the collector apparatus with the projector positioned in the direction of Base-1, so I think my theory holds.’

  ‘And what did you hear?’

  ‘A voice. Not particularly clear.’

  ‘A voice?’ Dixie did not sound as incredulous as she had hoped. ‘A human voice?’

  ‘A man’s voice.’

  ‘But that’s impossible. There’s no one stationed there. There can’t be.’

  ‘Could be an old signal. Something they put on the air before shutting down.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘I don’t know. Why does an
yone do anything?’ David stared straight ahead and his hands were steady. He seemed perfectly sane. ‘I must have misheard the words though.’

  ‘Why? What did they seem to say?’

  ‘Base-2. We are not going back. I repeat, we are not going back.’ David swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed twice up and down before disappearing under the helmet brace collar of his suit. ‘I might have misheard that bit. But the rest was crystal clear. He said: Help us – please help us.’

  Dixie said nothing. So her ears had not been playing tricks on her after all. Two people could not have an identical aural hallucination at the same time. Or could they? No, of course not. She wondered if she should tell him she had heard part of the communication, but decided not to. It wouldn’t make any difference. ‘Well. Maybe we will find an explanation when we get there.’

  ‘Maybe.’ David didn’t sound optimistic. For the remainder of their journey they discussed what needed to be done before they left. When that topic was exhausted they switched to discussing the decisions they now faced regarding the homes the company would arrange for them, interior furnishings, gardening, vehicles and whatever else their hearts desired. Dixie was happy to hear she was not the only one already tired of the endless lists and photos they were being sent. There had even been one containing a selection of pets. That one she hadn’t bothered opening. She didn’t need a pet. She needed time to adjust, then time to find someone to love. Someone with whom to share all the perks of her new life. In that respect David was better set up than she was; he had a wife and two children waiting with increasing impatience for his return, while all she had was a set of rather undemonstrative parents and a much younger brother she hardly knew.

  They made the last ten minutes of the journey in complete silence. David reduced the vehicle’s speed and they watched solemnly as the entrance of Base-1 came into view. It looked dusty and had taken on the colour of it surroundings. Grey. The round airlock looked like an open mouth. Open to let out a scream. Don’t leave me here. Take me with you.

  ‘Shall we get out?’ David stared out of the arch-shaped window while he spoke. His face showed no emotion but a small tic had overtaken his right eye. A sign of stress. He cleared his throat and replaced his helmet. Practised finger movements clicked and pressed in all the right places until the suit gave a beep to say he was safe to disembark. Dixie did the same, although less nimbly. Her beep sounded as an echo of his. They turned on the communication systems and passed test words between them until satisfied everything was working properly.

  When they emerged, the same heat enveloped Dixie’s body as outside Base-2. Her heartbeat increased when it seemed as if the suit’s cooling system wasn’t going to engage, but went back to normal when it did. She licked a droplet of sweat from her upper lip. She was not going to die here. Not when home was so close she could almost smell it. They moved towards the airlock until they stood facing it, neither seeming to want to touch the outdated mechanism. It felt as if they were about to desecrate a grave or a holy place. One not meant to be revisited. ‘Do you think it will open?’ Dixie almost hoped David would say no. If they found anything inside, it wasn’t going to be a nice surprise.

  ‘I think so. It’s obviously a bit different than ours, being over ten years old, but the workings are the same. There should be a manual lever somewhere.’ David ran his hand over the various switches. He tried two before he found the correct one and the two of them used their combined strength to nudge it into an open position. They then did the same to pull the huge hatch towards them until they had secured an opening large enough for them to squeeze through without snagging their suits. As soon as they entered the dark enclave behind the steel the lights on their helmets and suits automatically turned on and they were able to see the other airlock hatch opposite the first. Again they struggled to open it, having to disengage a lock that was meant to keep it closed while the outer hatch was open. Neither of them wanted to make the task easier by closing off their way out.

  Stepping though the second opening was hard. Not physically but mentally. The lights on their suits were not powerful enough to light up the corridor in front of them and Dixie couldn’t help but feel that something disturbing was hovering just outside the reach of the lights, stepping silently away as the pair of them proceeded further and further inward and down into the underground chambers. The few objects lying around caused shadows to dance enticingly around them, daring them to continue on this fool’s errand. ‘Should we go back?’ David had stopped, looking around as if he expected non-existent aliens to attack from the darkness.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind.’ Dixie smiled but it did not stick. They had come all this way. ‘How about we check the communications room and leave it at that? A recording would have to come from there if the emergency generator system had anything to do with that strange message. Individual devices wouldn´t be hooked up to that.’

  David agreed, though he didn’t look thrilled. He was probably only going along with her because she was above him in the pecking order as leader of the crew. A leader who had yet to discover if she had any leadership skills. Their progress was slowed down with every step, each one more difficult to take than the previous. They passed the nursery and stopped to peer through the glass wall separating it from the corridor. Inside the plants that had striven to produce oxygen and fresh food for past crews had lost all colour; dead and dried out like ghosts of the lush vegetation that had once filled the space. ‘Shit.’ The word spilled out of Dixie’s mouth without her having intended to give away how disquieting she found the sight.

  ‘Yeah. Shit.’ David’s voice became more agitated. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Look over there.’ He pointed to a tangle of leaves and stems. Dixie strained her eyes and saw what had so disturbed him. The sole of a shoe was discernible amongst the dead vegetation. And the shoe was at the end of a leg, clad in what had once been a white spacesuit.

  ‘Fucking hell.’ Dixie exhaled and stepped away from the glass. There were more shoes, feet, hands and even faces hidden in the tangles now that she knew what to look for. ‘What’s going on?’

  David seemed to have no answer. He looked away and pointed ahead. ‘If the layout is the same as at Base-2 the communications room should be just ahead. Shall we see if we can find an explanation there?’ He turned back and looked at the footprints they had left in the fine dust covering the floor of the corridor. It was obvious which way he really wanted to go.

  ‘Yes.’ It was the opposite of what she wanted to say. But she had to. She didn’t want him to remember her as a coward. She even made sure to keep one step ahead of him. The pleading voice found its way into the forefront of her mind and she had to remind herself over and over again that she was not actually hearing it, simply recalling the words. Help us. Please help us.

  The door to the communications room was finally in front of them. The engraved lettering on the sign marking the door had become flush with the panel, filled up with the same grey dust that covered the floor. Neither of them was able to blow it away because of the helmets. Dixie reached out and slid the door to the side, fully exposing the darkened room behind it. She gasped as the beams from their suits and helmets lit up the space. The equipment and screens placed on the walls and standing around on various tables looked old-fashioned and clumsy compared to their newer, sleeker versions. But neither of them wasted any time pondering the advance of technology.

  It was the man sitting in front of the main radio that had their full attention. He was dead, of that they could be certain. He had succumbed with open eyes, now shrivelled into his head that had fallen over the back of the chair. He stared blindly at them, neck taut and mouth agape like some sort of deranged contortionist. ‘I know that man.’ Dixie made no attempt at keeping the horror from her voice. ‘I know who he is.’ Even the sunken eyes and mummified nose could not disguise his face. It was the captain of the last Base-1 crew, the crew that had supposedly died during their transportation back to Earth. Dixie’s senses hei
ghtened for the first time in months and the picture in front of her became crisper and clearer than before. She could even hear the rustling sound her body made against the inside of her spacesuit. She stepped in and walked up to the man. David stayed behind and watched as she picked up a sheet of paper lying on the desk in front of him. She used her fingers to dust the page and read what the man had written. Just before he died, alone and abandoned by those that placed him here. The company. The fucking company.

  Dixie read the words, digesting the letter’s content in its entirety. ‘We’re not going back, David. We will die here. Back at Base-2. Most of us in the nursery, where we’ll think we can hold out until help arrives. But none will come.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ David still stood in the doorway, his face behind the helmet’s dome a grimace of stunned disbelief. ‘What does it say?’

  ‘The company left them here. Cut off all communication and just left them. There was never any shuttle. It was probably too expensive and better for the bottom line to make up a story about them dying on the way over. No matter how high the compensation they paid the relatives, it would always be a thousand times cheaper than sending a special mission over to get them.’ Dixie placed the letter carefully back where it had lain. Maybe someone else would find it later. Someone who could get the message across. She certainly wouldn’t be able to. Its contents would die with her, here on the moon. Under a black sky. She looked away from the page. ‘They were the last crew in this station. The other crews that preceded them went home because they took the seats of those that were sent over to replace them. But these poor bastards didn’t need replacing. Any more than we do. Shit.’

  ‘I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it. You’re making this up.’

  ‘Of course I’m not. I’m not an idiot.’ But perhaps she was. She had swallowed the whole spiel. But then again, why wouldn’t she? The company made every effort to keep them in the dark. Sending them pictures of houses they would never live in and pets they would never stroke or feed. ‘I’m telling you. We’re dead men walking.’