Sixteenth Watch

by Myke Cole

  “I do say so, but I appreciate your counsel regardless.”

  She turned back to the glass, satisfied, her own argument mollifying the churning worry in her stomach, but not by much.

  When their next shift dragged on without an alarm, Chief kept his peace. Oliver guessed he knew he didn’t have to say anything, and he was right. Her stomach was a clenched fist, her bolt of inspiration seemed a fool move. You don’t know enough about conditions out here. Maybe you should renege and get back in the simulator. She’d lose face with the crew, and it would feed the rumor mill on post, but maybe it was for the best. But the spike of the idea remained firmly lodged. The team was not gelling in a training environment. The reality of radio calls and contested boardings had always worked in the past. No, she would trust her gut. Operations on Earth’s blue water could not be so different than those on the 16th Watch. People were people, wherever they were.

  She bit down on the discomfort, the sensation of the ticking clock, counting away the precious hours until Boarding Action was upon them.

  The crew was practicing drawing and firing sidearms against a simulation screen when Oliver finally couldn’t stand the boredom any longer. “You know Boarding Action is going to come with some fame,” she said. “Bright lights, cameras. Magazine interviews. You psyched for that?”

  The crew looked over at her, blinking.

  “It’s not a trap, guys,” Oliver said. “I’m genuinely curious. I’m looking forward to a chance to tell the cameras about the guard and what we do. Counter some of the Navy’s messaging.”

  The four of them were quiet for a bit, then to Oliver’s surprise it was McGrath who cleared his throat. “Flecha had… has a husband, ma’am,” he said. “Kariawasm was waiting for his parents to set up a marriage.”

  “Fuck that,” Pervez said. “My mom wanted to do that for me, I told her to pound sand.”

  “Yeah, well,” McGrath said, “Kariaswasm was into it. He wasn’t like you.”

  “You got that right,” Pervez said.

  McGrath didn’t take the bait. Looked at Oliver instead. “I’m really looking forward to telling the world about Flecha and Kariawasm, ma’am. Telling what they did and how they died. Telling everyone that we’re out there for them. And I always pictured maybe Flecha’s guy would see that. That would be pretty cool.”

  “That would be outstanding,” Chief said.

  “It certainly would,” Oliver said. “How about you, Chief?”

  “Oh, my family’s back on Earth, ma’am. Kid’s in college now. But she was over her old man a long time ago. I’m with McGrath. I want the world to know about our dead. Your husband, too, ma’am. I want to shine the spotlight on them.”

  “That’s noble, Chief.”

  “Honestly,” Pervez said, “I bet they’re sick of the spotlight.”

  Chief turned an angry eye on Pervez, but she only straightened under his gaze. “They’re heroes,” he said.

  “With all due respect, Chief, from everything you’ve told me, that’s the last thing either of them would ever have wanted to be called.”

  Oliver had to stifle a laugh. She’s absolutely correct.

  Chief looked crestfallen, and Oliver could tell he knew Pervez was right. “It’s different when… you die.”

  “I dunno,” Pervez said. “I think it’s like boss said when she came on board. It’s who’s alive that matters. I’ve got two little girls on Earth with my ammi. They’ll be watching. I want them to see their ammi kick a hole in the world. Know that I left it wide open for them. If it turns into sponsorships or a sweet gig when I get out that I can use to pay for their college? I’ll take it. But mostly I want them to know that they can win. You gonna tell me that Kariawasm and Flecha wouldn’t have wanted that?”

  Chief looked at his lap and said nothing, but Oliver could see the vein twitching at his temple.

  “What about you, Okonkwo?” Oliver asked.

  The engineer looked so panicked by the question that Oliver had to resist the strong temptation to let him off the hook, but she pushed it away and waited silently. At last he sighed, glanced over at Chief. “Of course I want to do it for the ones we lost, like McGrath said.”

  “Of course,” Oliver said, “but you don’t have any plans for after? Big thing like this could make some changes in your life.”

  Okonkwo shrugged, was quiet for so long that Oliver began to wonder if maybe he wasn’t going to speak at all. “There’s my nne nne. She raised me. She wanted me to become a priest. She ’bout killed me when I joined up here. I’m still not sure she understands what I do. Even if we lose, I wouldn’t mind her seeing it. Just so she could understand.”

  “Understand what?” Oliver asked.

  Okonkwo shrugged again. “Why it’s worth it. Why once I got to do this, I could never be happy as a priest. I’m sorry those people died,” Okonkwo continued speaking to Oliver, but his eyes were on Chief, “but in a way I’m happy for them. This is the greatest job in the world. If you have to go, what better way than this?”

  CHAPTER 10

  The President backed off a statement last Tuesday that he was considering using an executive order to limit the space elevator to military transport only for a period of five years. The move is widely seen as a reaction to China’s completion of a second space elevator dedicated entirely to military transport. While succumbing to the backlash which included harsh criticism from tech titans including Apple, Tesla and IBM, the President warned the move would give China a significant military advantage on the Moon. “The ability to move troops and materiel into low-Earth orbit on a continual basis will put the US position on the lunar surface at risk long term, and weaken our position in ongoing negotiations to amend the 1967 Outer Space Treaty.” Russia announced Thursday they are nearing completion of their first space elevator, though they have denied charges by both the US and the EU that it is primarily intended to move military equipment into low-Earth orbit with the ultimate goal of increasing their presence on the Moon.

  PRESIDENT BACKS OFF MILITARY GRAB OF SPACE ELEVATOR, ASSOCIATED PRESS

  Alice called that night. “Hey, mom! Wanted to check in. Lunar day can be rough on people who aren’t used to it.”

  “Please,” Oliver snorted, “I did port security in Um Qasr. It was like 114 in the shade.”

  “Mom. It’s over 250 outside.”

  “Same thing.”

  “That is not the same thing. That is 136 degrees of difference.”

  “I didn’t realize my daughter was a math teacher.”

  “And I didn’t realize my mom can’t do simple subtraction.”

  “Not only does it not bother me, but I’m going to be getting out in it. I’ve got the team on radio calls.”

  “The team, mom.”

  “I am part of the team. I am leading from the front. I’m riding with them.”

  “You are? But you’re an admiral.”

  “I am, and my primary responsibility is getting these people ready. Running radio calls is going to do that.”

  Alice didn’t answer for so long that Oliver wondered if there was some problem with the line.

  Maybe the extreme heat had more of an impact than she had thought. “Honey? You still there?”

  “I dunno,” Alice said, “you’re a big girl, mom. I don’t want to tell you what to do.”

  “Hell, Alice. You’re a big girl, too. If you’ve got something to say, just come out and say it.”

  “You know I love you, but are you sure this isn’t you just wanting to get back out there? Look, I know I went a little crazy when dad died. This worries me. What if you wind up mixing it up out there? You could get hurt.”

  “I’m with the best we have, honey,” Oliver said, and immediately regretted the words. Being with the best we have didn’t help Tom. She pushed the thought away. “Your old mom still has a few tricks up her sleeve.”

  “I know, and part of my motives are selfish. I’m really looking forward to you getting done and com
ing out here. I don’t want you getting hurt… I’m sorry, it’s selfish.”

  But Oliver’s heart was revving at the naked need she heard in her daughter’s voice. “Not selfish at all, honey. I’ll be OK, and I’ll be with you before you know it.”

  “I’d been thinking of maybe moving my stake to Lacus Odii. Some of my friends say the distribution line is cheaper if you’re shipping from there.”

  “Honey,” Oliver interrupted, “do you know what Lacus Odii means?”

  Oliver could almost hear Alice roll her eyes on the other end of the line. “Lake of hate. I know, mom. I don’t control the name. I assure you there’s nothing hateful about it. It’s one of the nicest stretches on the Moon. You should see how the soil glitters when it catches the starlight.”

  “Won’t it be super expensive to move your stake?”

  “Yeah, it will. But maybe it’ll be worth it? I just need to sit down and crunch the numbers. I’m not… I’m not great with that kind of stuff.”

  “Not such a math teacher now, are you?”

  “Mom, please don’t.”

  “Just don’t make any moves until I can get out there. This is one short tour. It won’t be long.”

  “I won’t mom. Just make sure you’re doing this to get the team ready,” Alice said, “and not being driven to it by…”

  “By what?”

  “By baggage. By demons. By dad dying, and you retiring and me breaking up with Matt and moving out here to start over. By Adam being a distant asshole. By being new to outer space. By… by everything, mom. I just want you to move deliberately.”

  Oliver felt her throat swell. She’s worried about you. When you were in command as long as Oliver had been, it was easy to forget that people could still do that. “Thank you, sweetheart. I am. I promise you that I am.”

  But she thought about it after they said their goodbyes, and wondered if she was telling the truth.

  When the alarm did finally sound, they were just walking into the ready room after the morning meal, their gear all safely stowed in their lockers. “PIV reported at LMGRS coords in plotter. I say again PIV reported. SAR-1 launch.”

  Person-in-vacuum. The team exchanged a brief look before racing to the lockers, tearing out their gear, and throwing it on. “Slow is smooth, smooth is fast,” Chief reminded them. “We’re not going to help anyone if we go off half-cocked and get ourselves hurt. Take your time with your gear and boat checks.”

  In ten minutes, they were ready to go, and radioed their ops normal and green GAR status to the watchstander even as they were firing the longhorn’s belly-thrusters and rising up into the lunar day.

  The surface blazed with sunlight, the regolith gleaming. Earth was a glowing green-blue wedge off their port quarter, shining nearly as bright as a star. The longhorn’s glass and their hardshell visors were all fully smoked, and Oliver still found herself squinting as Pervez ducked the boat’s nose and got them moving to the plotter coordinates as fast as she could. “Easy, BM1,” Chief cautioned.

  “They’re only calling PIV if there’s a suit integrity issue, Chief,” Pervez said, giving the aft thrusters a long burn. “We already lost ten minutes getting out the door.”

  “Got it,” Chief said, “and we’ll all have suit integrity issues if we crash into another vessel or hit a meteoroid too hot. I gave the same warning to your predecessor a hundred times, and it was always for a good reason. I’m not asking you to deploy sails. Just take her easy.”

  Oliver could hear the sucking sound over the radio as Pervez bit her lip, but she didn’t add any more thrust.

  Then the radio call’s source came into view and Pervez cursed, firing their bow thrusters and slowing them to a drift. Oliver watched Chief pause as he presumably squinted through the quartz-glass. “Jesus Christ.” A click as he toggled the radio to the SAR watchstander. “SAR control, SAR control, this is SAR-1.”

  “SAR control, go ahead.”

  “SAR-1 is on scene. Request call status change to BIV, DOA.” Body in vacuum, dead on arrival.

  The heat of the lunar day made the surface hot, but without an atmosphere to contain heat, the nude corpse was still frozen, draped across the thermal shield-collector atop what Oliver presumed was the person’s hab. It was a newer model, half-sunk into the regolith, passive-cooling conductors ribbing the sides like retracted spider legs.

  “Jesus,” Okonkwo whispered. “You think he was murdered?”

  “Probably a suicide,” Chief said. “Happens out here.”

  They watched in silence for another moment. “I’ve tried hailing the hab’s emergency channel. Nobody’s home.”

  “Fuck,” Chief breathed, toggled back over to the SAR controller. “We’ll need a crime scene team. I’ll mark the body’s position and collect imagery.”

  “Roger that,” came the controller’s response. “MPPD has been contacted and are en route. They’ve requested you recover the body for transfer.”

  “Roger that, 1 PAX to EVA.”

  “1 PAX EVA, roger.”

  “Let me do it, Chief,” Okonkwo said, already punching out of his restraints and moving to the longhorn’s access hatch.

  “I’ll take lookout watch,” McGrath unclipped the duster from over his seat and moved to stand in the open hatch with the weapon slung. Pervez brought the longhorn down to just above the surface, fired thrusters to keep the vessel steady as Okonkwo jumped out, bounded toward the corpse. They watched silently as he paused, the suit’s camera photographing the area, feeding the imagery back to the longhorn’s on-board evidence computer.

  At last he hauled himself up the hab’s side by the conductor tube, uncoiled the personal winch from the hardshell’s waist and looped it around the corpse’s waist. He gave an experimental tug, then got an arm around the corpse as it floated free, rigid as a marble statue. “Guy’s frozen through.”

  “Any idea how he…” Chief began.

  “It’s suicide,” Okonkwo said. “Guy wrote it on his chest.”

  They dragged him back through the hatch and strapped him down to the casualty couch. Oliver looked at his face, eyes open, expression blank. He’d either been high as a kite when he’d exited the hab’s airlock, or else so bereft that there was no emotion left in him. Oliver had recovered hundreds of bodies back on Earth, and their expressions had been uniformly tortured. Something about the blankness, the dead-stare of the eyes beneath the thin skim of ice the freezing cold had made of his body’s own moisture, was far more unsettling than anything she’d seen before. For the first time since she’d arrived on the Moon, she was left with the unsettling sense of the universe’s vastness, and her own tiny insignificance in the face of the yawning void all around her.

  The man had written on his chest and abdomen with what looked like spent mechanical lubricant, turned black from the filth of long use:

  Too bright

  Too dark

  Too much

  No job

  No girl

  No more

  “Jesus,” Chief breathed. “Poor bastard.”

  “The sea doesn’t care about you.”

  “No,” Chief agreed, “it sure doesn’t.”

  MPPD met them halfway in two cruisers, one police interceptor and one ambulance, both clearly patterned off the Longhorn. They effected the transfer and were settling in to their questions when the SAR alarm fired again. “SAR-1, SAR-1, this is SAR control. Vessel DIW reported at coords in your plotter.”

  MPPD waved them off, and Pervez punched it hard again as they pivoted out toward the EEZ, looking for the vessel “dead in the water.”

  In turned out to be a commercial six-pack attached to a mining operation that had burned up all its propellant too far from a maser lane to get back underway. “Jesus, guys,” Chief said over the hailing channel. “You have to be more careful about your fuel. Are your suits solid? It’s not too far for you to get a couple of cans. Or you could just call surface-tow. You didn’t have to put in distress hail. We’re busy with
…”

  “Yeah, that’s the thing,” came the pilot’s voice over the hail, thick with the wad of chewing tobacco they clearly had thrust into their cheek. “We got somebody real sick on board. Real, real sick.”

  “OK,” Chief said, “I’ll EVA to you with a first aid kit. Are they stable?”

  “Nah,” the pilot answered. “They’re good. They’re just… you know, real sick.” Oliver could almost hear the smile in their voice.

  “That’s a bunch of bullshit,” Pervez said on the longhorn’s private channel.

  “Yes,” Oliver agreed, “it is. But the law is the same out here as it is on Earth. They say they’re sick. We have to tow.”

  “Goddamnit,” Chief muttered. “OK, Okonkwo, rig for side tow. Pervez, bring us up alongside. McGrath, get onboard with the skipper and find me a damn violation. If they’re going to do this for us, we’re going to damn well make them pay… Oh, sorry, ma’am. That is, if you’re OK with going on a boarding…”

  Oliver waved a hand as she punched out of her restraints. “It’s fine, Chief, but you’re not going to find any violations. I can promise you that.”

  “Yeah, well. Doesn’t hurt to check.”

  As Oliver had predicted, they didn’t find any violations, and the crew was silent as they gave the vessel the free tow they’d sought back to SPACETACLET to be refueled at government rate. The alarm was already firing again as they undid the towing straps – this time for an amber alert. Oliver knew it was a false alarm when the vessel made no attempt to evade them, and sure enough the call turned out to be from an angry ex-wife upset at the father legally taking his daughter to see his parents. They were barely back to base when their fourth alarm of the day went off, this time for an uncontrolled bleed that turn out to be mostly controlled after all.

  By the time they were back at base for real, they’d missed both their afternoon and evening meal and the crew’s mood was dark. Oliver surveyed them, unable to see their faces through the smoked glass of their helmet visors, but their posture was unmistakable. This wasn’t working. SAR-1 needed to be SAR-1, responding to the worst disasters the Moon could throw at them. She was suddenly conscious of her time bleeding away again. This might be training them for patience and perseverance and acceptance of routine, but that would only make them better SAR operators, not more likely to win at Boarding Action.