Mother Moon

by Bob Goddard

  Everyone had been on edge that day, especially Yasmine whose family in Egypt were perilously close to the predicted impact site in Persia. Lian had taken a leaf from Tamala’s book and hugged the doctor before leaving her tiny consulting room. She hoped she had given a little comfort and reassurance, just as Tamala did every time they met.

  “Look, Ngaio. It’s Auntie Lian,” she’d say as she shifted the sling and the little girl appeared from under her arm. “Let’s give her a big hug.”

  Those warm and tender embraces, with Ngaio squealing and jiggling between them, were pure delight. Cuddling and playing with her goddaughter had convinced her she really was a part of their family. As she approached her 33rd birthday, Lian reflected that these past 12 months, despite all the horrors that had come crashing out of the sky, had been the best of her life. Even Santos 2 hadn’t spoiled her mood.

  The second comet impact had been strange, almost a non-event for the watchers at Armstrong Base. Compared to the shocking close-up images of the first one, the distant view of Santos 2 from a cam on top of the mountain had shown only a brief glow at the edge of the brown planet. Then the impact site disappeared as the Earth revolved and there was nothing to see, nothing to do but enjoy the Comet Dust Party and try to forget about what was happening on Earth.

  Will still had misgivings, right up to the moment the band kicked off with a rousing cover of a popular rock song. A few colonists started dancing, the narc patches kicked in and soon the meeting hall was full of gyrating bodies, shining faces and laughter. “I’ll never understand people,” he’d said with a puzzled smile as he led Lian into the throng.

  Next morning there was an ugly black streak staining the lighter brown blanket of dust covering the face of planet Earth. Nadia’s father had reported earthquakes, but not so bad; new eruptions, but not so many. China, it seemed, had got off lightly this time and Lian dared to hope that her cousins in Beijing were surviving.

  To hope that one day she might see them again.

  * * * * *

  Moon, 2088

  Tamala and Ngaio were watching Darren organise two teams for a volleyball game. It was the most popular sport since the new soft sponge balls had solved the problem of uncontrollable flight. Anything tossed or hit into the air in the Moon’s tiny gravity flew several times further than on Earth.

  The same went for the players. Before they built the new sports hall, games played in the western corridor were limited by the tube’s five metre diameter. Even a modest hop to intercept a ball would have the competitor crashing into the ceiling and padded helmets were needed to prevent injury.

  Once the race to build tubes for the farm had eased, Darren and Will had put their heads together to design and build a new sports hall that would double as a function room. By slitting and opening full-sized tubes, then welding them together in situ, they were able to fabricate a plass structure big enough for volleyball, badminton, five-a-side soccer and tennis all to be played at the same time. For major events like the recent party, the new hall was perfect. The colonists could dance to the bands or sit in rows for the stage shows with room to spare.

  The space and light and luxury of this fine new building made Tamala think about her home in Lilongwe. Her parents, her sister Elina and her cousin and family were all crammed into one house. It would be gloomy outside due to the ever-present dust and it would be dark and dismal inside unless they still had a candle or some oil for a lamp.

  The electricity supply had always been unreliable back home. It would have ceased long ago, she knew. Would they still have charcoal for heating and cooking? Would they still have food to eat after all this time? Were they still alive? A wave of panic gripped her as it had a thousand times. The familiar fingers of fear clutched at her heart and made her gasp.

  A squeal and a jolt from Ngaio startled her. Tamala looked down to see wide eyes staring up at her. Her little girl had sensed something was wrong.

  “Oh, Ngaio. My goodness! What were we thinking about?” She lifted the infant up to her chest for a hug of gratitude. “Thank goodness mummy has got you, my gorgeous girl!” Ngaio gurgled and dribbled against Tamala’s neck.

  “Whatever would I do without you to keep me sane?” she said as she started jigging the child up and down gently. “Or without your lovely dad?” Tamala looked over at Darren just as he blew a whistle to start the volleyball match. “Oh, he’s coming now, Ngaio. Big smiles for Daddy,” she said as she discreetly wiped a tear from below her eyes.

  “Hi there, sugar-plum!”

  She loved all the crazy names Darren called her. They made her feel loved and special. The last vestige of her black thoughts evaporated as he landed a smacker on her lips.

  “Howdy nipper!” He ruffled Ngaio’s hair making the child jiggle against Tamala’s bosom. “Badminton starts in ten minutes, so we got time to show you the ropes before they all turn up.”

  “What will I do with Ngaio? Are you going to have her?”

  “Nah. I got a little playpen all fixed up for her. Look over here.” Darren led them over to a circular plass tub at the edge of the badminton court. “It’s where all the balls go when we pack up. She can’t come to much harm in there.” He lifted Ngaio and sat her down in the middle of the waist-high tub. She looked up at them both, waved her arms and squealed.

  “She can have these tennis balls to play with,” he said as he tossed a few bright yellow balls into the tub with her, making her squeal again. “Should keep her busy for a while. Now… grab this racquet and we’ll go and knock a shuttlecock around for a few minutes. Get your eye in before the regulars turn up.”

  * * * * *

  Moon, 2088

  Will couldn’t stop smiling. It was three and a half years since he was last on a motorcycle and now, sitting astride his new Moonbike, hands on handlebars, he felt that familiar sensation of impending fun. He was suited up and all set to take it out for its first shakedown ride. He felt just like the kid with a new toy that Lian said he was.

  It was a modified snowmobile design with a central rubber track providing drive from the electric motor. It had a single titanium skid up front, but Will had included a few extras to cope with the dusty and rocky terrain. Like the long-travel suspension and sturdy leg-protecting crash bars. Nadia had insisted that safety was a priority, but he could tell she was keen to have a ride on the new machine too.

  This was no plaything, however. It had a dual seat so that two could ride the Moonbike to undertake work at remote sites out on the surface. Will estimated its range would be at least double that of their regular buggies. Plus it came with a fan-like solar panel which could be deployed to recharge the batteries in 25 minutes when parked in sunlight.

  It was fitted with panniers and a rear carrier plus a tow hook should it be necessary to pull a small trailer. There was also stowage for six spare air bottles, providing up to 3 hours of additional endurance for a couple of operatives working away from base. He hoped it would be a rugged and practical vehicle providing several advantages over their four-wheeled ones.

  But most of all he thought it would be a real buzz to ride and he was itching to begin. Nadia would be following the test run from her office, watching the images from two on-board cams plus the one on his helmet. Danny Gallagher would be following in a buggy, just in case something went wrong, with his helmet cam providing another view.

  Will flicked the switch and checked the digital readout. The battery was 98% charged. It was time to get going.

  “You all set then, Danny?” The Irishman had just entered the garage workshop wearing his surface suit and carrying his helmet.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be. The question is though, are you sure ye can handle that fearsome beast there fella? Hope you’ve yer brown trousers on!” He chuckled at his own joke and raised his helmet above his head. “Check me, can ya?”

  “Sure,” said Will, swinging his leg over the Moonbike and stepping off.

  He went through the inspection ritual, checking Dann
y’s helmet clamps were closed and his gloves sealed. He read the diagnostic readout on the small screen over Danny’s right collarbone and gave him the thumbs up. Then he hoisted his own helmet into position and had Danny go through the same procedure.

  While Danny keyed the control screen to evacuate the workshop air Will called Nadia.

  “Hello Will. Are you ready to go?” She sounded weary, he thought.

  “Yes, we are depressurising the workshop now. Thought you’d want to test the cams before we get outside.”

  “Okay. Yes. I’ve got the two bike-mounted ones,” she said. “And… yes I’ve got your two helmet cams too. Have you reported to Surface Control?”

  “Danny’s doing that now. I’ll patch us in…”

  “… so yer feeling alright now are yer?” They heard Danny speaking in a soft and sexy voice. Will guessed he was talking to Rachel. “Well that’s good to hear because I’ve got a—”

  “Before you tell us any more, Danny,” Will cut in, “the Governor and I are now on a party call with you, so try to keep it clean and wholesome, there’s a good fellow.”

  Danny turned from the airlock control screen and raised his arms in a gesture of exasperation. “Ah, it seems the whole world wants to listen in to our private chat, Rachel, so I’ll tell yer what I’ve got in store for yer later. Log us out of the garage airlock, me darlin’. That’s me an’ Will heading down towards the landing zone to test his fancy new Moonbike. Should be back within the hour.”

  Rachel acknowledged their trip with barely suppressed giggles then the green light winked on and they pulled the sliding pressure door aside. Will drove his new machine out into the open-sided garage where the buggy was waiting. Danny slid the workshop door shut behind them, locked it and keyed the screen to complete their transfer.

  While he waited for Danny to climb into the buggy, Will wriggled inside his suit to try to find some comfort. He had the Hassan Khouri modification, of course – a folded fluffy towel stuffed inside – but it wasn’t enough. The ISCOM surface suits were always uncomfortable to sit in but especially awkward when sitting astride a central seat, as he was now on the Moonbike. He couldn’t wait for the new suits that were being developed to meet Nadia’s exacting design specification.

  It had been shortly after contact with Earth was re-established, a few months ago, that Nadia had spelled out her vision for a new type of surface suit. She had invited the whole Armstrong community to contribute ideas and suggestions for the technology they’d need to create it. From what he’d seen so far Will reckoned it would be a revolutionary improvement over their existing suits, which owed most of their design to the American Apollo programme from a century earlier.

  Instead of loose fabric that inflated when out on the surface, the new suits would be like a scuba diver’s wetsuit: flexible and close fitting. There would be no liquids or air pumping around – a combination of magneto-caloric and thermoelectric materials would warm or cool the skin as required and turn excess body heat into electricity. The helmet of the new suit would be a plass dome providing 360 degree vision and automatic shielding from excess heat and light.

  Will had been involved from the start and was keen to try it out, but for now he would have to make do with his smelly old surface suit which had been rebuilt after his rescue of Lian a year ago. That thought brought some disturbing memories flooding back, so he was relieved when Danny said he was ready to head off.

  “Okay then Danny boy. Time is… 11.49. First test run on the Moonbike. Here we go.”

  He turned the twistgrip and the machine moved forward smoothly and silently, gathering speed as it headed down the gentle slope towards the great mound of regolith that hid the new sports hall and the vast expanse of cratered and dusty plains that lay beyond. It wasn’t a Harley, but Will definitely felt something of the old thrill...

  * * * * *

  Earth, 1504

  “When did you last sail near Tapu Island, Ben?” Yonaton hoped reminiscing would help take their minds off the fact that the Pelican was visibly closer every time they looked.

  “Ha! As a boy. I was Mammed’s age, maybe fifteen, and eager to do whatever I was told not to do. I took my father’s boat and sailed with Alexis, the tanner’s son, for a dare.

  “We didn’t see any of the famous sea monsters, but we did almost scare ourselves to death. The reefs around the island were deadly and the breaking waves nearly overturned us. We were lucky we didn’t hit the corals and drown. I’ve never wanted to go back there… not until today.”

  “I did a similar stupid thing when I was twelve, trying to show how brave and adventurous I was,” said Yonaton with a cough. “Never got close enough to see if there was a passage through the reefs to the shore. I went with Winson, the blacksmith. He was sick most of the way. When we heard the roar of the surf he was convinced it was those demons in the water, waiting to swallow us.” His words dissolved into a coughing fit. It took him a minute to get his breath back.

  “He panicked and begged me to turn the boat around. To be honest, I was scared stiff too and was pleased to turn back.”

  “I can see it!” yelled Mammed, pointing to a lump on the horizon ahead of them. As they rose with the next wave, the shape of the island’s hills became clear.

  “What do you think, Ben?” Yonaton had turned and was looking at the Pelican, rising and falling in the middle distance behind them and well to windward. “We’re making good speed. Will we get there before they catch us?”

  “It will be a close thing, Yonny, my friend. I would say we will be in among the reefs by mid afternoon. I would also guess they will catch us about the same time. We need some luck.”

  “Then let us set about making some luck,” said Yonaton. “Take the rudder Ben and keep us on a straight course to the windward side of the island. I will trim the sail to see if we can make this little vessel of ours sail any faster. Mammed, please keep the two canoes as empty of water as possible. No sense in dragging half the ocean with us.”

  As the sun started slipping down the western sky the wind freshened and waves began to break over the fragile craft and its crew. The clear blue waters slapped and crashed against the log-canoe hulls, making the cross-beams and their rope lashings creak and groan under the strain.

  Fortified with the last of the food that Lucy had provided for them, the trio sat huddled together on the edge of the windward hull to prevent the gusts from tipping their catamaran over. Their peculiar little craft was pushing through the seas surprisingly well but as the afternoon wore on and the waves grew larger, the Pelican drew inexorably closer.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Benyamin could just make out the faces of the bishops staring back at him. The crash of the Pelican’s bow smashing through the waves was audible over the creaking sounds of their own tortured progress. Ahead the island loomed large and bursts of white marked where the sea vented its fury on the reefs. They were close, but not close enough.

  “They will catch us before we get in among the reefs. I’m sorry, Yonny, my friend,” he said. Then he ruffled Mammed’s salt-encrusted curls. “And I’m sorry that you got dragged into this, Mammed. After all your brave efforts to spring us from the tower, you deserve better than this.”

  * * * * *

  Moon, 2088

  Nadia watched the progress of Will’s Moonbike on her desk screen with a sense of foreboding. It had nothing to do with the new machine or Will’s ability to ride it. It was not events out on the surface or anywhere else on the Moon that concerned her. This deep feeling of dread came from something very peculiar happening on Earth.

  It had been an hour now since her father was due to call, but no call had come. That alone would not be cause for concern. In the five months since their daily calls began there had been occasional days when dust prevented a transmission getting through. But this was different.

  Yesterday when they spoke she could tell he was worried. He’d been unable to get any reply from Paris, London or Dublin that morning
he’d said. Two days before it had been the east coast of America that didn’t answer his calls and before that it was San Francisco that went off air. Japan, China and India had all fallen silent over the preceding days and he couldn’t figure out why.

  It seemed like there was a progressive failure of the undersea cables, but why now? It was ten days since Santos 2 had hit and the worst of the quakes had finished over a week ago. It didn’t make any sense. He’d cut yesterday’s call short saying he wanted to speak to Australia, to see if they were experiencing the same problems.

  “I am sorry Nadusha. This is big problem for me. Communication between communities is what keeps us all going. Your mother sends her love. I will speak again tomorrow at 10.30 hours. Bye bye Printsessa.”

  She thought he’d sounded weary. Even his words were a little slurred, as if he’d found a bottle of vodka. She hoped that was the reason even though he was not a big drinker. He deserved a respite from the unremitting struggle for survival and a reward for his hard work on behalf of the colony.

  Today 10.30 had come and gone. She had waited patiently in her office for over an hour but there was no call and she knew that vodka was not to blame. Something was affecting communications across the planet and she felt frustrated not knowing the cause. Was this a temporary technical glitch or a return to the dark days of last year when months went by without a word?

  She would not tell the others. Not even Yasmine. The snippets of news from her father’s contacts around the world helped keep everyone’s hopes up. If they thought communication might be lost again it would be a huge blow to morale.

  Nadia felt the weight of secrets pressing down on her shoulders. She had told no-one that China’s space programme was wrecked, that the rockets and space planes they pinned their hopes on lay in tangled ruin in the Gobi Desert. Nor could she share the awful knowledge that, in some places, human flesh was sustaining desperate survivors down on the sunless, plant-less planet they had once called home.