by Bob Goddard
Nadia stepped up to the airlock door as proximity lighting winked on. She checked the status of the lock chamber and the waiting room on the service screen. The former’s near-total vacuum told her the lock’s inner door was airtight and the pumps were not leaking. The waiting room air pressure was at 0.98 bar and the air quality was perfect.
She tapped the screen to release the locking mechanism then turned the wheel to withdraw the internal bolts. It took a firm push to un-stick the silicon seals and let the last thin wisp of air escape. Stepping over the high door sill she ducked her helmeted head inside then twisted to bring her other leg in.
All the airlock doorways were awkward for a tall person wearing a cumbersome surface suit and both were bones of contention. The airlock doors were made in Poland to an ISCOM specification. The engineering was fine, they were just too damn small!
The suits were made in India. The awarding of contracts was both political and commercial. ISCOM handed out the juiciest ones to the countries that contributed the most funding and an Indian company had come up with one of the cheapest bids. There was nothing wrong with the suits exactly, but they smelled unpleasant and were clumsy and uncomfortable to wear for hours on end. How did the crater workers put up with them day after day? There was no alternative, so they moaned and grumbled and stuffed towels inside like Hassan did. If she ever got the chance she would redesign them from scratch.
At least they were better than the low-pressure suits the Apollo astronauts had to wear when they were here, she thought. All those hours spent pre-breathing oxygen and struggling into inner cooling suits – like leotards laced with pipes – must have driven the Moon pioneers mad.
While she waited for the pressure to reach atmosphere in the chamber, Nadia vacuumed her boots and suit legs to remove the Moon dust that stuck to everything like talcum powder. She also sucked up some patches of dust left by the previous users of the airlock, tutting to herself irritably. There was no excuse for laziness. With four pipes connected to the great emptiness outside and a thumb button to open their valves, it was easy to obey the wall screen’s instruction to clean up.
She knew it was human nature to cut corners and shirk duties but it frustrated her that here on the Moon, where lax behaviour could prove fatal, the colonists couldn’t overcome their primal instincts.
The green light winked on, Nadia stepped into the waiting room. She unlocked and lifted her helmet visor to sample the air – it smelled sweet enough – and to save her suit’s supply.
It looked neat, tidy, empty. Nadia could almost sense the excitement and relief of the last group of departing colonists. It felt like an energy suffusing the room. She shook her head to dispel the notion. They were long gone, back to the comfort of family and loved ones. Back to blue skies, green fields, trees and rivers, oceans and beaches. Little had they known when they left that the world they were returning to would soon be plunged into crisis.
How were they coping, she wondered, with the upheaval and distress? With the new religions that were springing up by the hour and the other forms of fear? Among the reports in today’s news the most alarming was the conspiracy theorists’ claim that the comet impact was all a huge lie. It had been fabricated, they said, to empty Western Europe ready for takeover by a secret world order.
The result, predictably, was some refugees returning to their homes. Perhaps a million or more, according to one news channel, had chosen to believe this latest malicious fantasy and would pay with their lives. Nadia had cursed the wickedness and stupidity of mankind and turned her screen off. She couldn’t face any more.
There was no point in dwelling on it now either. She continued her inspection, checking the toilet and the water dispenser where passengers could take their last pre-flight sip. All seemed clean and orderly and ready for the next outgoing group, whenever that might be.
It was a relief to find the waiting room in a sanitary condition after the events of this morning and Doc Rozek’s exhaustive clean-up job in Unit 35. Nadia had lectured the whole colony in her midday update on the need for cleanliness, hygiene and strict adherence to all maintenance schedules. Now, more than ever, their survival depended on everyone fulfilling their duties to the letter.
She had saved her real anger for the Unit 35 workers who had each left the job for another to do, with potentially disastrous consequences. Their negligence could have killed everyone at Armstrong Base. It wouldn’t take a fatal disease, just a slightly more infectious one. If half the colonists were unable to work for a week or so, any hope of reaching self-sufficiency before they ran out of food would be lost.
They had been shocked at her fury. The three that were in isolation tents – another had tested positive that morning – plus the three who’d escaped it, were reeling from her verbal onslaught when Doc Rozek had stepped in and reminded Nadia that the sick ones needed rest. Maybe she’d overdone it, but if word got around that the Governor was breathing fire over health and safety, it wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Nadia checked her comm: 16.47. Not long before the regular meeting in her office at 18 hours, so she couldn’t dally. She still had to check over the Lunar Transfer Vehicle, tucked away in its shelter on the other side of the complex. And then the tank store, where fuel, water and compressed air were sitting in bowsers awaiting the next flight.
Forty minutes later she settled herself into the seat of the buggy, her inspections complete. She drove slowly out of the landing zone heading up the dusty slope towards Armstrong Base. Nadia was taking her time because she was using the return journey to call her father and ask him some technical questions about building a second LTV. But from his tone of voice she could tell immediately that something was wrong.
10. An Angry Young Man
Moon, 2087
Tamala was winding up her report towards the end of a successful Governor’s meeting. Surprisingly successful, all things considered.
Tamala thought Lian seemed more composed, detailing the status of crops and seeds, meats, fish and fungi. For once she didn’t heap blame upon herself for the infectious outbreak even though it had occurred in the Biosphere. All the same there was a great sadness about the Chinese woman, as if all the spirit had been knocked out of her.
Will had then given his report. He was working on so many different tasks, Tamala wondered how he kept track of them all. Or how he understood these engineering miracles in the first place. Despite the burden heaped upon his shoulders, the Californian appeared to be coping, although he too behaved as if he had half his mind in another place.
It was not surprising. They were all worried about their families, friends and lovers back home, constantly aware that a great menace hung over them, darkening their days and feeding their nightmares. At least she had the comfort of Darren sharing her worries and caressing her cares away in the shelter of her single bed. Plus she had the thrill of a new life growing inside her, the sum of all the joys and ecstasy she and Darren shared between them. She wanted to tell all her fellow Lunies: “I’m having a baby! I’m full of love! There is a future!” but Nadia had sworn her to secrecy.
She worried about her family, of course, but less so since she learned they had been comet-proofing their house. Elina had told her they had been excavating the tiny cellar, creating a living and sleeping space in what had been their cool-store room. Their father had been trading charcoal for tinned and dried foods and their mother was busy bottling and preserving enough fruits and vegetables to withstand a siege.
Her cousin, his wife and two young children had moved in with them and their help with preparations was a blessing. “Don’t worry, Tamala, we’ll be fine,” she’d said. All Tamala had to do was to keep safe and well and bring her husband and new baby to join them in Malawi at the earliest opportunity. That thought had been a comfort to her all day.
As for comforting others, Tamala told the meeting she had doubled her yoga and meditation classes. One of her long-term participants had agreed to help, so the real problem was
space. The two main religious groups were also vying for prayer time in the tiny room. Could they, perhaps, use the top end of the western corridor tube for religious purposes, like the ball sports were utilising the lower part?
“Yes,” said Nadia. “Do it, please.”
Something’s wrong, thought Tamala. She accepted that suggestion without even thinking about it, let alone giving Will or Lian a chance to comment.
“Anything else, Tamala?”
“No, that’s all for now.”
“Very well. See yourselves out.” It was a curt dismissal, even by the Governor’s standards.
“Tamala?”
She turned back from the door to see Nadia looking at her with troubled eyes. “Can you spare a few minutes to help me with something, please?”
The Governor sat down and indicated that Tamala should do the same.
“On the way back from the landing zone less than an hour ago I called my father to ask him some technical questions about building a second LTV.”
“Okay. What’s the problem, Nadia?”
“Oh, nothing to do with that. It was my father who had the problem. Earlier this afternoon my mother, who is at home in St Petersburg, had a visit from two armed thugs sent by Grigoriy Lanimovskiy, father of our idle tourist, Andrei.”
“Oh my God!” Tamala’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes like saucers. “That’s terrible, Nadia. Is she okay?”
“Fortunately my father, who is still at the ISCOM offices in Darmstadt, had listened in on a call made by Andrei to his father after visiting you this morning.”
“Goodness!”
“Yes, I know that colonists’ calls are strictly private, but my father was aware of the boy’s anger at being asked to work. He’s also aware of Grigoriy Lanimovskiy’s reputation for… what shall I say… for persuading people to do what he wishes.”
“You mean, with threats, Nadia?”
“Yes. Threats and worse. The rich and powerful in my country believe they can get away with anything. And usually they can.”
“So, what happened? Is your mother all right?”
“She is fine. Before the two gunmen arrived, my mother had some other visitors: Spetsnaz special agents. My father has many friends in the military.” She smiled, briefly.
“Oh, gosh.”
“They were hiding in the apartment when the thugs forced their way in. They recorded it all and arrested the men without any shots being fired.”
“Thank goodness for that, Nadia.”
“Yes, thanks to God. And thanks to my father listening in to that call. He heard Lanimovskiy senior saying he knew how to make me feed Andrei ‘with caviar from a silver spoon’. He guessed it would involve my mother who was alone in St Petersburg.”
“How awful! What did they intend to do to her?”
“Abduct her. Use her to pressure me with threats against her life. One of the men who seized her said: ‘You’re going on a little holiday, courtesy of Mr Lanimovskiy.’”
“She must have been terrified, Nadia!”
“Then the Spetsnaz appeared and disarmed them. They picked up another one waiting outside the apartment also. The Moscow police arrested Grigoriy Lanimovskiy a few minutes later. The police had been looking for evidence against him for some time. The recordings of the vidcall with his son and the attempt to kidnap my mother were all they needed.”
“So, will this awful man face justice and go to prison? Or is he powerful enough to wriggle out of it?”
“With the Spetsnaz involved it is unlikely he will escape justice. But it’s not him I’m concerned about.”
“No?”
“It is his son, Andrei, who we will have to deal with here on the Moon. That’s why I need your help, Tamala.”
“Of course. What can I do?”
“I would like you to be present when I call him into my office in a few minutes from now.”
“In case he gets violent?” Tamala sounded worried.
“Ha! No. In case I get violent. I could snap his fat neck like a twig and I am almost angry enough to do it.” Nadia looked down at her desk and chuckled grimly at the thought.
“No, there will be no violence, Tamala. I need you to witness and adjudicate. I am personally and emotionally involved, so my judgement will be compromised. You, I hope, can take a dispassionate view. Your psychology skills will be invaluable.”
“Okay. So what do we have to do?”
“First, we have to tell him what has happened. His comm has been blocked from off-base calls so he doesn’t know his father is in custody. Then we have to tell him what his future options are. I am committed to the lives of every single person here at Armstrong Base. That is my first duty. But he will be a very hungry young man before I feed him if he refuses to work. I hope he will see he has no other choice.”
Andrei Lanimovskiy entered Nadia’s office with a triumphant smirk on his face. He was surprised to find Tamala sitting there, but his knowing smile said “I’ve won!”
“Nu, teper’ vy nakonets opomnites’!” He said. So, you have come to your senses at last!
“No,” said Nadia firmly. “This interview will be conducted entirely in English. Tamala is here to record what is said and agreed between us.” She raised her eyebrows, cocked her head and waited.
His smile faded to puzzled annoyance. “You come to senses! Now I eat!”
“Not just yet, Mr Lanimovskiy. Your father’s attempt to abduct my mother has failed and your father has been arrested by the police.”
“Yerunda! Ty vresh’”
“In English please, Mr Lanimovskiy. You are being recorded, remember?”
“Rubbish! You tell lies.”
“Very well. Let me show you the latest news from RT. You won’t have seen it because your comm has been partially disabled by ISCOM.” She turned towards her window screen where a video-clip of a news presenter began to roll. “It is the English language broadcast, but you should be able to follow it.”
“Breaking news! Body parts business oligarch Grigoriy Lanimovskiy was arrested this evening in connection with a failed kidnapping attempt in St. Petersburg. The attempted abduction had targeted Tatiana Sokolova, wife of military hero and Roscom chief Sergei Sokolov. It was foiled by Spetsnaz special forces who were acting on a tip off. They overpowered three gunmen at the scene and the police are now holding them for questioning.
“In a carefully co-ordinated action, the multi-trillionnaire Lanimovskiy was arrested as he left his Moscow business premises a few minutes later. Moscow’s organised crime squad are said to be leading the enquiry.
“Now to the comet crisis and experts this evening are saying…”
Nadia stopped the video and turned back to the visibly-shocked young man.
“So. Your plan to abduct my mother and threaten me has backfired. Your father has been arrested instead. My sources tell me the police have a large file of similar cases against your father to investigate.
“When you return to Earth you can expect to be arrested as an accessory. Your vidcall to your father from earlier today has already been passed to police. Your days of idle luxury are over, Andrei Lanimovskiy.” She stared him straight in the eye.
“Poshla na khuy!” He spat an obscenity and stormed out, slamming the Governor’s office door hard enough to rattle the flimsy room and its contents.
“Goodness, Nadia!” Tamala broke the echoing silence first. “What an angry young man!”
“Yes,” growled Nadia. “Maybe I should have snapped his neck… it would have been much more satisfying.”
* * * * *
Moon, 2087
Lian Song sat alone in the canteen, nursing a cup of cold coffee. Will had made small talk to keep her company, both expecting Tamala to show up any minute. Neither could guess what was keeping her in the Governor’s office. Finally Will had excused himself and gone to call Ginny, leaving Lian to reflect on another strange day in her increasingly peculiar life.
She had spent the afternoon s
howing Carlos Ferreira the full operating system for the Biosphere and her plans for its expansion. He now seemed less like a mega-rich space tourist, more like the deputy head of the Biosphere. He had an air of authority that inspired confidence and had taken on her duties when she was recovering from Tuesday’s attack. Lian couldn’t exactly say why, but she felt an urge to bring him up to speed on everything under her control. Just in case.
After speaking to her mother this morning she felt estranged from her parents, as if they lived in a different world from her. Chengdu seemed like an alien planet. Lian thought about her work at the Sun Yat-sen University. She couldn’t imagine herself fitting in there. Or anywhere else in China. What had happened to her?
She stared at her reflection in the plass tabletop. She still looked the same if you ignored the black eye and swollen jaw, but Lian knew she had changed from the one who had stepped aboard the Shenlong Spaceplane 20 months ago. If China was no longer her home, where could she go?
“Ah, Lian. Thanks for waiting for me.”
She looked up to see Tamala’s beaming smile, but couldn’t find it in her heart to smile back.
Undaunted, Tamala slid into the seat opposite. “We think we have problems Lian, but they are nothing compared to what Nadia and her family have been going through. Her mother was almost kidnapped today by Russian gunmen!”
“Oh! That is awful! But why?”
“I will tell you all about it, Lian. Nadia says there’s no secret now that it is all over the news.”
* * * * *
Moon, 2087: Thursday, 13th February
Will Cooper awoke to his comm’s insistent bleeps and reached over to slap it into silence. But for once he didn’t roll out of bed for his customary press-ups and early morning run. After a night of fitful sleep and lurid dreams he was left with the uncomfortable feeling that he was missing something, some simple truth, perhaps? He lay on his cramped bunk and sifted through his thoughts to try to remember what it might be.