Moonful of silver, p.11
Moonful of Silver, page 11
That’s why we’re up here, isn’t it? To fill the core of the Moon that we’ve chiseled out. Increase its mass. Get gravity working for us and then start it spinning.
Oh really? Is that why we’re up here?
We’re LunarCore, for dust’s sake. Of course it is!
Don’t be so naive. We’re up here to give the people of Earth a chance at expanding into the universe. If we go against the ceasefire agreement and fill the core, we’ll be responsible for starting whatever war you imagine may or may not be happening down there. How do we fulfill our mission statement to expand Earth’s reach into the galaxy if everyone on Earth is dead? Answer me that, huh!
The war started when we agreed to the ceasefire. Come on. You can’t really believe that we’ve been keeping the peace down there, do you? Politicians from Earth East and Earth West have been arguing about who gets control up here because they know that whoever wins will have the resources to dictate the future of every planet. Not just the one down there. It’s been war between them ever since you agreed to let them fight it.
That’s Mallory’s ghost talking. Not you, Ronin.
Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Whatever it is, it’s still true.
Why are you so against even talking about this? You want ideas on how we can stop everyone on the Moon from running out of food and water and slowly starving to death. Here’s one. Fill the core. Get the Moon spinning. The projections show the increase in gravity will hold the artificial atmospheres we’re pumping out across the surface. You know what that means?
It means the Moon will have its own atmosphere.
Exactly. We can stretch supplies to last another month, and by that time, the whole Moon could have an atmosphere able to sustain seed growth. Provided there’s a botanist out there who’s figured out how to grow food on this dustbowl. It could open the floodgates. Give us a chance, at least.
A slim chance. Who’s to say there’s even a seed out there that can grow on this Moon? You really want to take that risk?
You don’t? Isn’t it better to hope for something than for nothing at all?
Hope. Bah! Your chance at giving us hope up here condemns us to death in the process. Let’s say Earth hasn’t broken the ceasefire. What will happen if we do? We’re undefended up here. And even if they choose not to attack, what’ll happen down there? You both know what the death tolls would be. You want that on your conscience?
Only a guilty man uses the conscience as a threat. Why can’t you see that this is the only option?
Starve or eat each other.
I won’t accept that. There has to be another way.
There isn’t. Unless you know more than we do?
. . .
What aren’t you telling us? Why are you so against this?
. . .
This is about you stopping the LunarCore program, isn’t it? That’s why you don’t want to hear talk of Mallory. Why’d you really cave in to Earth’s demands?
. . .
Toku?
. . .
TOKU?
. . .
NAMELESS
Present
It was over before the hover’s dust settled. Nameless had perched on her saddle and listened to the whole thing.
The screams of villagers and colonists rang out, changing from fear to pain and then, to silence. That same silence that stalked her across the badlands—the silence of a dead world. The soundtrack of death.
Collars zapped. Electricity burst, choking people until they collapsed. Esteban and his henchmen moved through the colony with rapid efficiency, mowing down everything in their path.
When the silence became total, all she could gauge was the odd footstep, and then Esteban’s voice rang out across the street.
“Diego, Ramone—you two start clearing these bodies. The rest—you know the drill. Water first, and then we load the silver and whatever else we can. Comprende?”
A caravan of, “Yes, Boss,” followed, and the henchmen dispersed.
The last rider—Sanchez—stayed by his hover. His eyes were the youngest of the bunch. No wonder he’d been picked as lookout. He’d parked his ride away from the town, scouting the horizon for any sign of followers. That meant the rear of his craft faced the colony, and gave Nameless’s nanocam a clear view of the devastation wrought by the raid.
Bodies lay in floating powder. So many. All charred around their necks, where their collars had burned holes in their heads.
Diego and Ramone lifted the townsfolk’s remains and pushed them into rows.
“Why’ve we always gotta do this job?” Diego moaned. “It’s never us who get to find the silver and the water. It’s always—Diego, go sort the dead.”
“Just be grateful this isn’t you we’re sorting out,” Ramone said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You heard how fast that stranger was on the draw? When those traders came to town? And you were gonna scan her!”
“No. I was gonna scan her in the back. And I still would!” Diego blustered. “You saw what she did to my whiskey.”
“Her whiskey.”
“Whatever. Someone needs to show her what happens when people disrespect us. When they treat us like dust.”
“Like the captain getting us to throw these bodies down the mine?”
Diego clapped. “You’re finally learning, amigo.”
Ramone stopped, his back straightened like he’d been nailed to a pole. “You don’t mean it. He’s the captain. Esteban doesn’t need to respect us.”
“Keep thinking that, and see where it gets you.”
“Alive and with plenty of booze to go around—that’s where it gets all of us. And don’t you forget it.”
Alessandro and another henchman glided into view carrying tanks of sloshing water on their back. A third man appeared pushing a crate of silver bars that glistened in the white sun.
Esteban was the last to rejoin his crew. “You still not disposed of these yet, Ramone? What have you been doing?”
“Working!” Diego answered. “It’s not easy. Bodies are awkward to move around, especially when they’re dead.”
“Less chat and more action. Or is all that fresh saloon whiskey making you slow?”
Diego’s face reddened. “Why do we even need to get rid of these, heh? It’s not like Lunar HQ would care if we left them to—”
“No!” Esteban yelled. “Don’t you even think it. We dispose of every body. Every body. You hear me?” His eyes grew wild as he stilled in an unnatural way.
“But—”
Esteban drew his captain’s pistol and pointed it at Diego.
There were no words. Only silence. It stretched for an eternity as the others stood by, absorbed by the tension of the moment, guessing at what would snap first—Diego’s temper or Esteban’s trigger.
And then Diego’s shoulders slumped and he hunched to work.
Esteban holstered the pistol. “Don’t ever question an order again. We clear?”
“Aye,” Diego mumbled.
“Aye what?”
He clenched his fists. “Aye, sir.”
Esteban twitched, releasing whatever manic energy had possessed him. “That’s better. Sanchez. Any sign of movement?”
“Nothing,” the boy called, voice cracking with uncertainty. The same nervousness was written on the face of every henchmen as they regarded their leader with a cocktail of apprehension and suspicion.
“Good,” Esteban said. “As soon as these bodies are gone, we ride.”
They all nodded and busied themselves in helping move the dead.
Alessandro stepped close to Esteban. “Was that really necessary, sir?”
“Don’t start with me, amigo.”
“I just don’t want the men to lose their—”
“Careful how you finish that sentence.”
Alessandro placed a hand on Esteban’s shoulder. “We all respect you, Captain. We all trust you.”
“Then you’ll make sure every single body is gone, won’t you? Now get your hand off me before you lose it.”
The lackey returned his hand to his side, shook his head, and joined the others.
Nameless screenshotted the image of the loot they’d packed. Silver bars. Water tanks. The trailers they’d hauled here on their hovercycles now crammed full.
Then she fired up the hover, turned it back the way she’d come, and opened the throttle as far as it would go.
BY THE TIME HER SOLAR-hover drifted into Tranquility V, Nameless had almost emptied it of power.
But she didn’t have the luxury of conserving its energy when speed was the only factor that mattered. Following at a distance was all well and good—but a decent head-start was hardly security against Esteban and his crew spotting her on the horizon.
Her mind buzzed as she pulled into Gabe’s garage. She’d been running computations based on how much juice she was burning, how much adrenaline she needed and how bad the crash would be when it hit, all while memorizing the look of those silver bars.
Gabe appeared from the rear of the unit, his smile beaming brighter than sunlight. “Nameless! You’re back! Santos santos, have I got a MULE for you!”
Nameless parked the hover with the others and climbed down, her thighs burning. Adrenaline caused her hands to shake as she slipped off her helmet.
“Nameless! You okay?”
“Tools?” she asked.
“You want to fix something? Later. It can wait. Let me show you the new hover.”
“Tools!” she insisted, her look as stern as her tone.
Gabe huffed a sigh, wiping his oil-stained hands on his rags. “You gonna tell me what you need them for?”
She shook her head. “How long until nightfall?”
“Not long. A few clicks. Why?”
“No time. Tools. Where are they?”
He rubbed his stubbled chin and clacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Ay-ya, amiga, what are you trying to do to me? They’re in the container.” He nodded to a compartment on the side of his unit.
She floated over to it. A keypad kept it locked.
“Biometrics will open it for only me.” He connected his collar to hers, and relayed the frequency to the keypad. It bleeped and the latch opened.
“Thank you,” she said. She pulled a couple of tools from the belt and pocketed them, then closed the container up.
“You want to see your MULE?” he asked.
“Soon. Let’s get through Moonnight first. Okay?”
“You won’t go anywhere until Moonday?”
Moonday. The town slept through the entire Lunar night—two weeks, Earth time. Thanks to the collar, a fortnight-long sleep was possible, but that wasn’t her plan. “Promise,” she said.
He smiled. “Alright. I trust you. Just don’t mess things up around here too much. Y’hear?”
She glanced at the piles of junk and nodded.
IT WAS ANOTHER CLICK before the hovers sped into town towing their ransacked supplies of water and silver. Nameless watched them through her visor from her room. She tracked them as they pulled into Main Street, past Gabe’s garage, along the terrace and into a unit connected to Esteban’s dome.
Sanchez was the second to park, and she got a clear view of the trailers that rolled in behind him. Alessandro unhooked them. He took charge of the loot and tanks of water. Then the lights extinguished and the unit went dark. A door closed and the hovers were left alone.
So Alessandro was responsible for the loot. Perfect.
She removed her helmet and extracted one of Gabe’s tools, analyzing it as she passed it between her hands. It was a little crude, but it would do the job. Besides, finesse was overrated.
Outside her window, the light faded as quickly as it came. There was no twilight. No dusk. No transition from day to night. There was only darkness and light on the Moon, the curtain between them so thin that it did not draw—it was simply there one moment, and gone the next.
The switch to Moonnight blackened everything as the town powered down under the art-at. That invisible energy shield would retain enough heat to keep them from freezing until the sun returned, but with the light gone, the only real glow glistened from below—in the dome where Maria tended her garden. Nameless paced to the window and surveyed the scene. Maria brushed the soil, letting her hand linger as artificial light danced off the dew. Beyond the glass threshold of her prison, Esteban stood staring like she was on display—an exhibit for his amusement. He stayed, transfixed by her, for the best part of a click before Alessandro appeared at his side. Esteban dismissed him with a wave, and then he left Maria too. She removed the jacket that perpetually hung from her hips, propped it on the ground, curled up and laid her head on it. The light switched from white to red, and the greenhouse rested in a crimson haze.
Nameless counted down the clicks, toying with Gabe’s tool. How many silver bars? How many crates of water? She reviewed the screenshot she’d snapped and the footage of the hovers in the garage. Then, when the whole town had slept for the best part of six clicks, she secured her helmet, fastened her jacket over her waistcoat, pumped a gush of adrenaline through her collar, and opened the glass panel of her bedroom.
She slipped onto the ledge and hooked her rope to a magnetic anchor, lowering herself slowly in the thin gravity. The cold gnashed at her extremities, but her collar compensated, increasing blood flow and regulating her temperature. Plus, the thick Captain’s jacket insulated her, helping to stave off the worst of Moonnight.
Instead of descending straight to the glass dome below, she shimmied down the tower of apartments one level at a time, winding a path to the bedroom window of whoever occupied the rooms beneath her own. Her visor scanned the interiors one by one.
Sanchez slept like a toddler, his butt in the air as he faceplanted his pillow. Ramone tossed from one side to the next, working his basalt blanket into a pile, probably dreaming of how he was going to stop Diego from walking into a scanner. And there—three levels down—slept Alessandro. He lay on his back, motionless as a mummy in the crypt.
Nameless planted her feet on the ledge and activated the locking mechanism on Alessandro’s window. Keyed in the Lunar Standard override. A hiss of air escaped the room as she lifted the panel and climbed inside, shutting it tight and sealing herself in. Her visor misted with condensation. In one fluid motion, she removed her helmet and drew her scanner.
Alessandro lay undisturbed. The colony was shut down for a fortnight of darkness, and the collar of Esteban’s right-hand man would keep him from waking until the sun returned. How else was a person supposed to recover from the constant wakefulness of a Moonday, pushed to their limits for two standard Earth weeks while the sun baked the crater with its presence?
Nameless should have been resting. Recovering. Not risking an overdose of adrenaline and all the paranoia that collar-fatigue brought. But instead, she was here, scanner at the ready, silently creeping toward Alessandro as he remained unconscious before her.
She worked through frequencies and tuned into the collar around his neck. It boosted the thin air of the colony, enhancing the oxygen he took in, allowing him to breathe deeply. His mouth drooped open and his unhurried breaths kept him quiet as Nameless tapped through the firewalls of his collar. There.
Settings. Profile Details. ID credentials. View ID.
A string of numbers unique to Alessandro’s collar appeared across her scanner, and she copied them exactly. She accessed her own collar and entered in the same sequence. So long as he didn’t move from this room, it would now register on all the colony’s systems with Alessandro’s ID. Duplicated IDs would flag an alarm. But she had enough time to do what was needed, provided he kept sleeping.
A snore broke the quiet. His chest rose and fell.
Yeah, she’d have enough time.
Pocketing her scanner, Nameless left the bedroom and exited the apartment, riding the elevator down the tower unit to ground level.
So far, no alarms.
She wiped the mist from her helmet and put it back on, switching the visor to alert her to any motion in the corridor beyond.
Nothing. Empty.
Nameless tracked the cameras. They were all pointing at the lobby, not the hallways inside the complex. Why bother with cameras when collars could be traced just as easily? Well, provided one didn’t know how to spoof a collar. Not that any sane person would have attempted it. Hacking a collar was like juggling with grenades. Besides, overriding an ID meant losing your own unique codes, and functionality would go quickly along with it. Wasn’t like there were many pockets of atmosphere thick enough to breathe if your collar started shutting down. If Nameless hadn’t already hacked her own and scrubbed the data, she never would have thought to try it.
She stepped through the hallways on a path to Esteban’s office, and swiped her way in. The lights flicked on automatically.
She found the pinhead of her nanocam and scooped it from the floor, returning it to her tin. Then she sat behind the desk and pressed the paperweight. The room lowered. Gears whined as she sank down to the viewing platform, once again face to face with the rim of that giant hole, stretching all the way to the Moon’s core.
But she wasn’t drawn by that depthless void. Instead, she ran her fingertips along the polished metal floor. It shone as she traced the linings of the panels, the seams that stitched it all together. And then, toward the center, she came across a bump that was scuffed a fraction more than the rest.
She removed Gabe’s tool from her pocket and scooped the panel up. Behind it, a safe door. Credentials and combination lock.
The safe scanned her collar. The first of two lights flicked from red to green.
Dust covered the numbers on the lock. All apart from the first four. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?
She tapped 1 2 3 4 and the second light turned green.
The door opened into an underground vault. Inside, silver stacks lined the walls, and containers stood beside two barrels brimming with water.
On the wall, a unit fed pipes into the barrels, sucking water from them in a slow drip to filter through the colony. A screen showed recycling levels, and the next time a barrel refill would be needed. There was enough here to keep the colony going for months. So why the raid? Why take the risk unless you were desperate or unhinged? And it didn’t seem like Esteban was lacking for water. Maybe it was something else he was desperate for?
