by Bob Goddard
“Yes! Thank you, Nadia.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper: “I don’t dare ask for two, in case they start to suspect something.”
“They wouldn’t give it to you anyway. Fruit juice is the first thing to get rationed. At current consumption the dried concentrate will run out in three weeks. From tomorrow it will be diluted to half strength and the following week it will be half the quantity too. So make the most of it while you can.”
Tamala took a long gulp. “Aaah, that is so good. Thank you for thinking of me Nadia.” She took another sip, then said: “Crowded in here last night, wasn’t it? How do you think the launch party went down?”
“Oh, it was good. Everybody seemed to be in high spirits and, thanks to God, the launch was faultless. The mission seems to be progressing according to plan.” Nadia frowned and continued. “Speaking of high spirits, I noticed one group who seemed to be laughing and talking rather loud. Did you notice?”
“Yes, I did. They were sitting over in the far corner.” Tamala nodded towards the far end of the Lunchbox’s tubular hall. “They were all scientists, too. Do you think they had been drinking something?”
“More likely they’ve cooked up something narcotic in the labs. It’s happened before and not so surprising. People are cooped up in this place, far from their home and family. They look for release of some kind.” Nadia sighed. “If there was a drug to make everyone happy without affecting judgement and performance, I would prescribe it for all of us. But there are too many risks up here to have people spaced out and not thinking straight. Look what happened yesterday.”
“Do you think Mr Magrini was high on something?” Tamala looked concerned.
“No. I asked Doctor Rozek to test him for stimulants when she checked him over. She said there was nothing unusual in his blood stream, apart from raised testosterone level.”
Tamala laughed: “I thought he seemed rather randy for someone with a broken arm!”
“He was enjoying having four women fussing over him.” Nadia smiled. “Yasmine gave him something to reduce the swelling and that seemed to calm him down.”
Tamala giggled, then looked serious again. “The only suggestion I can make for mood boosting is for everyone to take more exercise. A good workout will decrease stress hormones like cortisol and increase endorphins. Then there is yoga and meditation, of course, which are naturally calming. I’ll need some help running more classes if everyone signs up for them though. We can only fit 20 people in the little meditation room.”
“Yes, they are good suggestions, Tamala. Everyone should do at least one hour’s hard exercise each day. A lot of them spend the hour talking to the person on the next machine and don’t even work up a sweat. It is not surprising they struggle when they return to Earth.”
Tamala’s brow furrowed as she thought. “Perhaps we need some competitive sport here so that there is a better incentive for people to work up a sweat?”
“Yes, I would love to provide a soccer pitch, a tennis hall and a squash court. We don’t even have room for table tennis. Any space we can create at the moment is needed to grow more food. That’s the problem.”
“Hmm.” Tamala savoured a mouthful of porridge while she considered a solution. “Hey, how about the corridor tubes? Will uses them as a running track first thing in the morning, before anybody is about. I’ve seen him.”
“That’s a good idea, Tamala. We can’t disrupt access to the farm during the day, there would be safety issues. Perhaps we can arrange football or something in the evening, when corridors are empty. Why didn’t I think of it before?”
“Perhaps necessity is the mother of invention?” Tamala smiled her big, white-toothed smile. “Maybe that’s what those science boys were thinking when they invented their narcotics.” Tamala looked thoughtful for a moment. “I can ask Doc Rozek to include a test when she is doing her monthly health checks on the scientists. See if we can find out what it is they are taking and who is involved.”
“That would be useful, thank you. I don’t want to come down too hard on them, especially at the moment when everyone is feeling stressed. But we can’t have them taking drugs and working outside in the crater. Much too dangerous.”
Nadia looked over her shoulder. “I don’t see Lian this morning. She is usually one of the first in for breakfast. And she wasn’t at the launch party last night either. Is she all right?”
“She will be having a lie in, Nadia. I took her to see Doc Rozek last night and she gave her a couple of tablets to help her sleep. Lian hadn’t slept at all the night before and was in a pretty bad state by supper time yesterday. You must have noticed how fragile she was at our meeting in your office?”
“Yes, I did. I was afraid she was about to crack up.” Nadia looked puzzled. “What do you think is the problem?”
“Well, Lian had a very strict upbringing and has devoted her life to her country and The Great Chinese Dream. Since she’s been here she has begun to question some of the certainties of her life back home. And now with this comet thing she feels she has been deceived and then deserted by her government.
“She tried to speak to her parents on Friday night but neither of them would accept her calls. It’s no wonder she couldn’t sleep. She thinks the government has told her mother and father not to speak to her anymore and that she won’t be able to go home again. Can you imagine what that feels like to a woman who doesn’t have any other friends?”
“My God, that is awful. What can we do to help her?”
“We need to be her family, Nadia. We have to give her emotional support and let her know that she is loved. Otherwise I think she will, as you say, crack up.”
* * * * *
Moon, 2087
Will was pleased with the way the morning had gone. It looked like the new farm tube would be ready for planting earlier than he had predicted. He liked to deliver jobs ahead of schedule, but with the current rush to get everything done yesterday, it was especially good to get ahead of the game.
He had left the fitters to it and jogged to the cavern to check on plass production. There it occurred to him they could haul the thin-wall tubes to the garage for cutting and free up the plass plant. The ‘garage’ was a rectangular man-made cave in the side of Mt Malapert. It consisted of a large open-fronted space where vehicles were parked, plus another ten-metre section of workshops behind a pressure door, where servicing and repairs could be carried out at full atmosphere. There was no reason, thought Cooper, that cut sections of plass tube couldn’t be brought inside here. It would be much easier than manhandling a few at a time through the tiny airlock at the plass plant.
He was tucking in to a plate of risotto and reflecting that the morning had gone well when Nadia called. Four of the ‘Mooncation’ tourists had offered to help and she wanted him to meet two of them in the Lunchbox to discuss how they might assist engineering. While he ate, he was working out how to decline the offer without causing offence. The last thing he needed was a couple of rich holidaymakers getting in the way when his engineers were trying to speed up production. He was still trying to think of the appropriate words when he saw the tall, slim figure of the Governor enter the canteen and turn her spiky-blond head towards him. Behind her were two shorter women with dark hair. As they headed for his table, he recognised them from their introductory tour of the engineering facility a month ago.
“Oh no,” Cooper groaned under his breath. “Two women! Why does she do this to me?” But he put down his fork, stood up and put on his best welcome smile.
“Will Cooper.” Sokolova gestured towards him. “Will, this is Marina Wong Shee Kai.”
“A pleasure, Ms Kai. You’re from China, right?” He reached out to shake her hand.
“Please, call me Marina. I come from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia,” She gripped his hand firmly. Cooper’s smile faded as he realised he had fallen at the first social hurdle.
“And Neelam Kapoor, who comes from India,” said Sokolova, pointedly.
&nbs
p; “Pleasure, Ms Kapoor.” He shook her hand. She gave him a faint smile of sympathy.
“Will is Head of Engineering here at Armstrong Base,” said Sokolova. “He will be grateful for any help you can give to his department.”
Jeez, thought Cooper. Don’t I get any say in the matter?
Instead he said, “Please, ladies. Do sit down,” and gestured to the bench seat opposite. He sat and pushed his plate to one side.
“Please, Will, finish your lunch while we are talking.” Sokolova was frowning at him now.
“Oh, that’s okay,” he said. “I was about done anyway.”
“No. Finish your food, please,” said Sokolova. “We can’t afford waste. When food is rationed, we eat everything on our plate.”
He felt like a naughty schoolboy as he dragged his plate back in front of him and reluctantly picked up his fork. Cooper decided to regain control of the meeting. “Look, it’s kind of you two ladies to offer to help an’ all, but I really don’t think—”
“We need all the help we can get, Will.” Sokolova cut him off and shot him a fierce look. “Marina and Neelam have knowledge and skills that could help production for the colony. I want you to hear what they have to say.”
“Oh. Okay then.” He knew he wasn’t going to win a battle of words with Sokolova. But what had happened to her ‘we work better if we don’t fight’ speech from this morning? He would never understand women.
“Please, Mr Cooper,” said the Indian woman, Neelam. “We know you are under a great deal of pressure at the moment. You are probably thinking that you don’t want two female tourists getting in the way.” She smiled. He raised his eyebrows. Had she read his thoughts?
“Marina here,” she gestured towards the Malaysian woman sitting next to her, “runs her family’s communications business, one of the biggest in the world. She oversees the latest electronic film technology that keeps them ahead of the competition. We understand the difficulty with component production here on the Moon. But if anybody can help you to make what you need, Marina can. So do listen to her.”
Cooper said nothing but his jaw muscle twitched.
“I don’t have her technical expertise.” Neelam smiled and her brown eyes twinkled. “But I have introduced production line improvements across my company’s vehicle plants throughout Asia. Three times in the past year alone. So maybe I can help speed up production for you here?”
“Well, erm...” He didn’t know how to reply.
“I perhaps shouldn’t say this.” She hesitated a moment. “But when you kindly showed us around the manufacturing plant a month ago, I saw several ways to increase production.”
Cooper took a deep breath, leaned back and folded his arms.
“Oh, please don’t be offended, Mr Cooper.” She had read his expression like a book. “We are all impressed with your work here at Armstrong Base. But you have been here for quite a while, I think?”
“Two and a half years.” He growled. He was proud of his time on the Moon, but when he said it, it sounded like he was admitting to a jail term.
“Well you see, Mr Cooper, during that time technology and production techniques have moved forward quite a lot. In ways you couldn’t hope to match here on the Moon.” She smiled at him. “We only want to help you solve some of the problems you are facing. It is not a criticism of any kind, believe me.”
There was a silence, broken by Sokolova getting to her feet. “I will fetch drinks. Coffee for everyone?” They all nodded and thanked her.
It was the Malaysian woman’s turn to speak. “Mr Cooper?”
“Please, call me Will.”
“We were due to go home tomorrow, Will. Now it looks like we are going to be here for two months instead of one, twice what we paid for. It is only fair that we contribute something for our extra time here.
“If I can help with some of the components that the Governor tells me you desperately need, then I won’t feel like the guest who has outstayed her welcome. I hope you will allow me to do something useful for the colony?”
“Yes, of course.” He realised any other answer would be churlish. “If you really can help create some of the components we need, bearing in mind our very limited resources here, then I would be delighted.”
“And how about me?” asked Neelam. “Will you let me help you improve production efficiency and speed up the output from the little manufacturing units?”
“Well, sure. If you really think you can?” He looked up as Sokolova placed a tray of drinks on the table. He thought he detected the trace of a smile.
6. The Tower
Earth, 1504
Yonaton coughed and pulled his knees up to relieve the aching numbness in his buttocks. He had been sitting too long on the cold stone floor of the round tower’s top chamber, watching the patch of sunlight climb the opposite wall while Benyamin dozed beside him.
The rectangle of light had changed from bright yellow to warm orange before fading away as the sun sank, out of sight, into the western sea. The only window was out of reach, set high in the wall above the heads of the two men. Besides the cheering sunlight, it also cast the shadow of its four iron bars. A chilling reminder of where they were and the impossibility of escape. Beyond the bars was a giddying sheer drop to the rocks far below, where the sea crashed and sucked noisily.
Over the past six days they had taken it in turn to stand on each other’s shoulders and gaze longingly through the rusting vertical bars at the watery world outside. The sea, the sky and the shrieking gulls that soared over the harbour reminded them of everything they had once enjoyed and now had lost.
It was his curiosity that had got them caught and incarcerated. All these weeks later Yonaton still agonised over his recklessness, but no amount of remorse could rewrite the past and set them free. Ben had brushed off his apologies. He, too, wanted to know why the Cardinal hated the carved stones so much that he travelled to distant lands to destroy them. What possible secrets could these ‘Signs of Satan’ hold?
They had both been struck dumb by the appearance of the Cardinal and his henchmen at the burial site. During the long, miserable sea voyage south that followed, Yonaton and Benyamin learned why they had been caught. How it had taken the Convertors half a day to launch, row and drag their boat against the fast-flowing ebb tide. All to bring the suspicious Cardinal to the spot where Mammed was engrossed in climbing a cliff. Once he had been silenced, it had been easy to follow the footprints and sneak up on the two mariners as they squatted in the grave-pit, copying the carved symbols from the stone.
Now, more than a month later and charged with necromancy and heresy, they were manacled and chained at the top of the round stone tower which stood at the entrance to Loming harbour. Mammed had been released because he knew nothing of their activities at the burial site. In fact the Cardinal called him a simpleton when turning him loose, which only made the lad seethe with hatred for him all the more.
The heavy chain that shackled Yonaton and Ben to each other by their right wrists was threaded through an iron ring set into the wall high above, just beneath the window. It meant they could both sit with their backs against the wall, but with their right arms stretched painfully taut above them. Or one could lie on the unforgiving stone floor if the other stood and reached upward.
For the past week they had explored every combination to try to ease their aching bones and relax their tired bodies. But for much of the time they sat, as now, hanging by one arm in agony, desperate to move but unwilling to disturb the other’s few minutes of precious sleep.
Yonaton coughed again. This time Ben stirred, raised his head and blinked in the deepening gloom. “So… I missed my last sunset,” he mumbled disconsolately.
“Sorry Ben. You were snoring so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you. Hold on, I’m getting up... aaahh... if I can.” Yonaton winced as he pulled on the chain to raise himself off the stone floor.
“Agghhh,” grunted the navigator in reply, as the chain rattled through the
ring above and wrenched his tortured shoulder and elbow once more.
“Smallest Moon tonight as well,” Ben grumbled, once he’d got his breath back. “Soon be too dark to see a thing.”
“You mean, there’s something in here you want to spend the night looking at?” Yonaton’s chuckle became a cough as he struggled to get to his feet. “It must be me! I must look a fine sight after four weeks locked in the hold of my ship and another week chained up in here.”
Benyamin squinted up at him as the old man tried to straighten his back and stand upright. He’d never seen the captain look this bad, even after their longest voyages when they’d spent months at sea. His matted hair and beard almost hid his dirt-smeared face. Only the whites of Yonaton’s eyes showed there was a live human being in there.
And he had lost a lot of weight. While imprisoned on their ship, Mammed and the crew had smuggled chunks of bread and scraps of meat to them. But since they had arrived back in Loming and been locked up in this tower, they had eaten nothing. The Cardinal’s jailors allowed them only a bowl of water twice a day, but even that wasn’t guaranteed. Earlier that evening the broken-nosed thug called Gorbel had volunteered to carry their water up the winding stone staircase to their cell.
“’Ere you are, boys,” he said with a sadistic laugh, as he placed the wooden bowl in the centre of the floor, where they couldn’t hope to reach it.
“Enjoy yer last night on Earth.” He chuckled as he clumped his hefty hob-nailed boots back to the door.
“Go to hell, Gorbel,” muttered Benyamin.
“Not me!” He stopped and turned back to the two sailors. “I get a place in ’eaven for cleansing the world of scum like you. It’s you what’s goin’ straight to ’ell, wrigglin’ on the end of a rope, tomorrer mornin’. We got three bishops ’ere to witness the ’angin’ and after that, they elect the Cardinal as our Pope. Gonna be a good day, tomorrer, hehehe.”
They heard him laughing as the bolts clanged back in place and his heavy boots rang echoing down the stone staircase. In the two hours since, the silent bowl of water had mocked their dry mouths and cracked lips, heaping extra misery on them, just as Gorbel had intended.