by Greig Beck
He drew in a deep breath – it was desolate and eerie, and he knew from his research that there was a constant wailing noise that was a form of astral static. He just hoped he could block it out.
“Hang onto your hats, people, as I’ve only done this via sim.” Sam grinned.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” Vin smiled at Klara, whose near colorless and unblinking eyes showed her usual lack of humor or emotion.
Small jets fired from different angles of their craft as they gently dropped to the lunar surface. There was a pad close to the base that lit up for arrivals, but now it stayed dark as they were touching down just over a crater rim – a little extra space for security. The coordinates had been locked in, and the computer knew where the landing pad was even if they couldn’t see it.
The lander rotated as Sam worked the two joysticks, intensely focused on his console. “Hundred feet.” His face was tight with concentration. “Struts down.”
Alex knew the pressure he was under. If they got damaged on the way down, the Kennedy Base had a large repair and maintenance room, so repairs were possible, but if they seriously damaged the lander, then that might mean being stranded until another moon shot. Or worse – being injured or killed.
“Forty feet.” Sam’s large hands worked delicately as the wedge-shaped craft eased down toward the landing pad.
“Five, four, three …” They touched at an angle and jolted, hard, as they planted themselves on the moon surface. “And down, two seconds ahead of schedule.” Sam turned and gave a thumbs-up.
Belts were flipped off, and Alex joined Sam at the front of the craft, which had the largest windows. He leaned forward and stared out.
“They look like they still have power. So that’s a good thing,” Alex observed.
“Yep. But no one to greet us and, as most of the structure is below ground, we don’t know yet what shape they’re in,” Sam replied.
“Keep trying,” Alex said.
The other HAWCs crowded in up front, Casey standing just behind Sam to peer around his bulk.
“What happens if we get to the airlock and they don’t let us in?” Vin asked.
“We leave a card and just go home, I guess.” Casey chuckled.
“But we just got here, Mommy.” Vin grinned back at her.
Casey turned. “Don’t ‘Mommy’ me, Diaper Rash.”
“Stow it, you two.” Alex straightened. “We’re going in, the easy way, or the hard way. Let’s kit up and get moving. We’ve got three hours of daylight, then we move to sundown, and the temp drops to about 200 below.”
While the group kitted up, Alex crossed to Marion Martin and Angus McCarthy.
“You guys okay?”
“A little sore. And nervous,” Marion replied, looking up from the pack that contained her equipment. “But also excited. I mean, there’s fieldwork, and then there’s fieldwork, right?”
McCarthy traveled light; probably assuming everything he’d need from an equipment perspective was inside the base. “I’ve missed this place. Been three years now. Can’t wait to see what they’ve done with my baby.” He raised his eyebrows. “Still no contact?”
“Sam?” Alex said over his shoulder.
Sam half-turned in his pilot seat. “Nothing, on all channels. They’re staying quiet, or …”
“Or we assume they’ve been knocked out. That means that we’re the only link back to home right now.” Alex nodded to the youngest HAWC. “Vin, you get to stay here and mind the ship while we’re in the base.”
“Aw.” Vin grimaced.
“No choice. If the base communications were sabotaged, then those same forces may seek to do the same here. That’d blind us as well. This task is high priority, got it, soldier?”
“Yes, sir.” Vin exhaled and turned away.
“And Vin …” Casey raised her chin.
“Here we go.”
“I want this place spotless by the time we get back.” She guffawed.
The young HAWC grinned and gave her the finger.
“That’s enough, Franks,” Alex said. “Or you can take his place doing onboard duty.” Alex knew Vin would do what was asked. If everything was okay, he’d call Vincent in. If not, then their rear was covered.
“Let’s line ’em up,” Alex said.
The airlock was small on the lander and only fit two people at a time. Usually it meant they’d have to relay out, exiting in pairs. But there was a quicker way.
“Everyone, helmets on. You too, Vin, we’re going to flush the ship.” Alex pressed the stud just behind his ear and his visor telescoped up and over his face.
Sam waited with Vin by the controls. “Say the word, Boss.”
Alex took one last look at the team, spending a few extra seconds on Marian and McCarthy, making sure they were ready for the moon surface environment.
“Countdown from three,” Alex said.
“And two, and one … venting ship.” Sam pressed a button on the console and there was a whoosh of gas. The light on his console went red. “Okay, opening inner and outer doors.” Alex, Sam, and Vin watched the team line up as the hatch whined open.
They existed quickly, one after the other, and Alex turned. “Sam, grab the key.”
Sam flipped up a small plate on the console. Underneath was a button and slot. “No offense.” He winked at Vin and pressed the button. A metal card covered in circuits appeared. It was the launch key – the lift-off rockets wouldn’t initiate without it. Sam removed it. He then walked back to hand it to Alex who slid it into a pouch at his waist.
“Better to be safe than stranded.”
Vin grinned behind his helmet. “And here I was, planning to invade Mars.”
Sam and Alex crossed to the hatch and saluted the young HAWC.
Vin waved back and then waited to reverse the airlock process. “Good luck. I’ll leave the comm. link open.” He gave them a small salute.
Alex nodded. “See you when we get back.” He jumped down to the lunar surface.
He touched down and turned slowly – above them the sun shone in a black sky, making small crystals in the purple-gray rock glint and sparkle. Though the surface was well lit, the craggy crater rims and small pockmarks left plenty of shadows.
Alex could just make out the background lunar wail. He pushed out with his senses but even though he could detect no overt life close to them, he couldn’t shake the feeling there was something hidden out there. That put him on edge.
He turned. “Stay sharp.”
Alex led the team over the crater rim and toward the main Kennedy Base airlock. Sam waved at one of the base cameras but when they got to the door it remained closed, and pressing the opening button did nothing.
Alex stepped aside. “Angus.”
The base designer reached into his kit for a T-shaped object and stuck it into a slot underneath the pad. The first turn of the manual key vented gases, and sealed any inner doors, and once done, a green light flicked to orange.
“Opening, now,” McCarthy said and turned the key again.
“Franks,” Alex said.
McCarthy nodded as the light turned red, and the door slid back. Casey went in fast with her gun up. They waited for several seconds.
“Clear,” she shouted from inside.
The team piled in, and spread to the outer edges, checking for any observable risks.
McCarthy tried the internal comms. “Dead,” he said. He manually shut the external door, and then adjusted the internal atmosphere and pressure. Once done, he lifted his visor and sniffed deeply.
“Air’s good.” He pointed. “And the inner doors have power. Also, good.”
The HAWCs retracted their visors.
“Wait!” Alex shouted, but McCarthy had already pressed the inner door opener, and it slid back with a whoosh.
The HAWCs had their guns to their shoulders in an instant and took cover at the door’s edges. But there was nothing but an empty corridor.
“Where is everyone?�
� McCarthy asked. “This base has eighty-two personnel. It should be crowded.”
“Lifeform, remember?” Marion whispered.
They waited, but no one appeared.
“Creepy as all fuck,” Casey said.
“Vin, you read?” Alex asked.
“Yes, sir, all quiet here.”
“Let HQ know that we have accessed the base and are beginning our search. Standby for updates. Out.” Alex signed off. “Angus, where to?”
“They’ve still got internal power, so we’ll try the control room first. Then maybe the rec room, where everyone usually congregates.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Alex replied. “Let’s do our job, people. Franks, take us in.”
“On it.” Casey muscled forward, and with her gun to her shoulder, led the HAWCs down the corridor.
The group followed McCarthy’s directions down the white-paneled corridor. Casey moved her gun barrel from side to side, and behind her the soldiers tried to see everywhere at once. Marion and McCarthy were in the center.
“Got something here.” Casey lifted an arm. “Shit, that’s gross.”
Alex joined her. On the floor were lumps of clothing, mostly shredded, and streaked with something that looked like blobs of oil or blood so heavily congealed it looked a little like black oatmeal.
“Someone take a dump here?” Casey’s nose wrinkled. “Freaking stinks too.”
“Leave it – stay focused,” Alex said. He felt a growing unease in his belly.
“Hard left at the junction,” McCarthy said, softer, and with caution in his voice.
They went around the corner, and in just a few moments, Casey yelled, “Movement!” She pressed herself to the wall, and behind her the HAWCs did the same or went to one knee, guns up.
“Hold fire,” Alex ordered and craned forward. “Come out. Slowly.”
Up ahead there was a doorway, open, and from it some sort of rod with a white piece of material tied to its end was waving up and down.
“Don’t shoot.” The rod dropped, and a pair of open hands followed it out, both held up. Then a small, dark-haired woman appeared. She looked dishevelled and her eyes were ringed from lack of sleep.
She licked dry lips. “Are you the rescue ship?”
“We’re here to help,” Alex said. “Who are you?”
“Mia, Mia Russo, senior biologist; I’m one of the Kennedy Base crew.” She smiled and lowered her arms. “I saw you from the external camera feed. But we couldn’t contact you. I volunteered to come down.”
Marion stepped forward, her hands out. Mia began to back away a little.
“It’s okay, I’m a doctor. I’m just going to look you over,” Marion said and looked deeply into each of the woman’s eyes.
“What’s happened here? Where is everyone else?” Alex asked. “All your comms are down.”
Mia nodded as Marion checked her throat and then shone a small light into one of her eyes. “They are.” Mia talked around the woman. “We lost external communications. Then internal. Then for security, Captain Briggs locked down the external doors to keep it out.” She grimaced. “It didn’t work.”
Casey snorted. “Keep it out, huh? Keep what out?”
“The thing, the lifeform,” Mia said. “Come with me, everyone will be so relieved help has arrived.” She headed down the corridor, stopping once to make sure she was being followed.
“Guess we’ve arrived,” Sam said.
They followed the woman, who slowed down a little and spoke over her shoulder. “We’re in two groups: thirty of us in the rec room, and another twenty in the control room. We all live together now, because safety in numbers, right?”
“That’s fifty people. There’s over eighty crew here – where’s the rest?” McCarthy asked.
“Gone.” Mia pointed. “Control room first. Captain Briggs is there.”
“Gone? What do you mean gone?” Sam asked.
She waved them on. “The captain can brief you.”
She came to the larger than normal set of doors and keyed in her access code to the pad, and then stood back and waved to a small camera set above the door. After another few seconds it slid open.
Casey and Klara went in first, moving quickly with their guns ready, and placed themselves either side of the opening.
“Hol-eeey shit,” Casey whispered, as the rest of the HAWCs plus Marion and McCarthy followed her in.
The HAWCs stood in silence, just looking over the sea of faces. None of the people spoke but stared at the huge soldiers in their silver battle-armored spacesuits as if they were another species.
When Alex walked forward, the group inside seemed to pull back a little. He wasn’t the biggest HAWC, but there was an air of menace around him that radiated power, and danger.
Alex could detect distrust, fear, and also hope. “My name is Alex Hunter, Special Forces, come to assist the Kennedy Base. Where is Captain Tom Briggs?”
“I’m Briggs.”
A stout man with a crewcut came forward, and saluted then stuck out his hand. “And we’re damn glad to see you.” Briggs glanced at the woman who had met them. “Thank you, Mia. What are the evac plans?” he asked Alex.
“That’s not why we’re here,” Alex said. “This base represents decades of work, trillions of dollars in investment, and is strategically critical for our coalition partners. We’re not just walking out on it.”
“Our people are dying, being killed or simply vanishing.” Briggs lowered his brow.” Suicides as well. We need to go home, what’s left of us.”
“Priority is to secure the base first,” Alex replied. “You know as well as I do that if we started an evac, we couldn’t take everyone at once. And it would take weeks or months to fully complete.”
“But we’d be alive,” Mia pleaded. “You have to get us home.”
“And if the environment here isn’t secure, who gets to go last?” He turned to Casey Franks. “We’ll set up CIC here.”
“What?” Briggs’ eyebrows shot up. “You want to make this a combat information center? We aren’t at war, captain. And these people aren’t soldiers.”
“You’re under attack, nearly half your people are gone – either dead or potential casualties – and you’ve created siege centers in the rec and control rooms. You’re at war, you just won’t admit it.”
Briggs exhaled.
“Captain Briggs, why haven’t you brought the comms back up? You have the tools and parts to repair anything here,” McCarthy said.
Another young, bearded man spoke up. “Hi, John Stevens, senior technician. We think the external comms are damaged, and we would need to go outside to repair it.” His eyes slid to Briggs. “But that’s too high risk right now.”
McCarthy frowned. “And the internal ones?”
There was silence for a moment, until Stevens exhaled. “We’re not sure exactly. We think it’s fried, but we can’t really check.” He looked away as his voice trailed off.
“Because the internal comm. unit is in sublevel 2,” Briggs answered for him. “And the team we sent never came back. So, getting volunteers for repairs is a little hard right now. And I won’t order anyone else to do it.”
Stevens grimaced. “We just need to get out, get home –”
Alex held up a hand. “You’ve been radio dark for a long time. I want to see if your other crew members are okay.” He turned. “Roy, Klara, check out the rec room base personnel, and report back. Stay on comms.” He looked to the base captain. “I’ll need one of your personnel with them to ensure the group there know we’re friendlies.”
“Got it.” He pointed to one of their technicians. “Roberts, go with them.” The man looked shocked, and Briggs waved him down. “You’ll be fine, just stay close to these guys.”
Alex watched as the two HAWCs departed and then turned back. “Fortunately, we have our own communications. I want to know everything, so we can fully assess the situation.”
“Let me start.” Mia stepped in front of Alex,
her hands clasped together. “It was me, right at the beginning; I was there with Benoit …” She sighed. “When we found the Russian woman.”
“Where’s this Benoit?” Alex asked.
Mia just stared for a moment, and then slowly shook her head. “Gone; like all the rest.”
CHAPTER 25
Vladimir Lenin Base – landing pad
The Russian Buran-2 lander, designate P23–09, eased down on the pad beside the remains of the Vladimir Lenin Lunar base. It settled on its struts and then the thrusters shut off.
Commander Yuri Borgan stared out through the view screen and shook his head. “Totally destroyed – melted.” He looked down at the console instrumentation. “And still bleeding radiation.”
Igor Stanislov, his second in command, read more data from the instruments. “Within the tolerance levels of our suit protection so not a big problem. But there are no energy readings, no communications, and no life signs. It’s a husk.” He looked up. “So, was it self-inflicted?”
Borgan bobbed his head. “Maybe, but why? That is for us to find out. But I also have some questions for our American neighbors.” He pointed out through the screen. “Look.”
At the far perimeter of the ruined base sat an American-designed crawler, empty. “Seems they paid us a visit, and either walked home or are still inside.” Borgan’s jaw jutted. “And now that the American base has gone dark, I suggest we also pay them a visit … after we see if we can find out what it was they were doing here.”
“Doctor Ivanov.” Borgan called the woman forward.
Doctor Irina Ivanov was their senior biologist for the mission and looked tiny next to the huge soldiers in their combat armor. She came and pushed Stanislov aside and then peered out through the glass, then made a guttural sound in her throat. “We should expect bodies and perhaps survivors with a range of injuries. We won’t know until we’re out there.” Her eyes widened. “Americans?”