Moonful of silver, p.17
Moonful of Silver, page 17
Maria leaned back in her chair. Despite her earlier numbness, the weight of her predicament fell over her. No longer just a shroud, it was like a thick shadow threatening to engulf her.
“What about the stranger?” she asked. The woman had rescued her from one horror. Would she save her from another? “I’ve seen her collar, the way it’s scratched. Would she be willing to help?”
“Ohh. Nameless is . . . well, she . . .”
“Will she help?”
Gabe shrugged. “I’d like to think so. But there’s something about her I can’t quite put my finger on. She’s dangerous—no doubt—but maybe . . . if I asked her nicely.”
“Just talk to her. Tell her about me and see if she’s sympathetic. And if so, ask her. Will you, old friend?”
Gabe looked down.
Get a spine, Gabe! Maria filled her lungs and placed her hands on his to steady his shaking. “If she can help, you should come with me.”
Gabe snapped his gaze up. “Come with you?”
She grasped him harder, as if she just had to press hard enough and some of her courage would transfer into him. “Why not? I have family Earthside. I can put in a good word. They’ll find work for your skills.”
“Ay, no. I won’t do this for myself, señorita. But I will do it for you.” He squeezed her hand. “And for Benito.”
She closed her eyes. Gracias a Benito.
“Gracias for the tea.”
She smiled. “Anything to settle your stomach.”
“Ay-ya. My stomach is in knots. It’ll take more than tea. You take care, señorita.”
He stood and left. Every escape attempt since her first had been made solo. She didn’t dare involve anyone else. But now, with Gabe and the stranger, might she have a chance of actually pulling this off?
And that’s when she felt it. Some strange spark inside her gut. Was that . . .? Yes. She almost laughed at recognizing it—the sensation that had abandoned her so long ago. The slightest twinge of hope.
LUNAR HQ
[Redacted]
Reset command? Why do we need to reset the system?
It’s the only way to initialize the original core prompts.
You didn’t know about that, Jimbo? Kickstarting the core program means resetting every collar and LunarCore system to its original settings. Can’t initiate something as big as filling the core while there are stray bits of code floating around in the system.
But won’t that—
Cause havoc? Probably.
What about all the systems that rely on that code?
What’s the matter? Cold feet?
No. It’s just . . . isn’t there another way?
Afraid not. If it makes you feel any better, history is governed by sacrifices. You’re becoming a part of history.
Great.
Don’t feel so bad. The effect will be instantaneous. A simple reset. It shouldn’t take much to put any quirks to the systems back into place once it’s done.
Even in the badlands?
Especially in the badlands.
Should we warn them, or . . .?
We do this now, or not at all. Understand?
. . .
Jimbo?
Alright.
Good. Tell me, what do you know about samurai?
Samurai? Never heard of him.
It’s not a person. Not exactly.
It’s an ideal. Back from more honorable times. Used to be a big part of Earth East, when things like history mattered. I always liked them. What about you, Ronin? You heard of the samurai?
Of course! I wouldn’t be called Ronin if I hadn’t.
That’s right. A wandering samurai with no master. Ronin.
Okay. Slow down. What has this got to do with anything?
A samurai was an ancient kind of warrior. They had these swords so sharp they could slice moonrock in two. But above all, they were bound by a strict code of honor.
If they committed an act of dishonor, they would fall on their sword and take their own life.
That’s stupid.
No less stupid than living with a guilty conscience.
Mallory Montoya was the last samurai. She fell on her sword. Do you think starting up the core makes us samurai? Are we warriors, holding a weapon sharp enough to slice up the Earth?
If it makes you feel better, we can be samurai.
Sure. I’ll toast to that. To samurai.
To samurai.
To samurai.
Ahhh. Alright then. I’m booting up the system now. A few swipes of code and this will all finally be over.
NAMELESS
Present
A knock on the door bolted Nameless upright. She slipped from her room to the spacious apartment. How many clicks had it been since she’d left Ramone buried in the glasshouse? Enough for him to be missed? However long it had been, her aching muscles objected that it wasn’t long enough.
She made her way to a mirror and tidied up her face, scraping the blood from where it crusted below her nose. Looking more presentable, she opened the door to leave but found Sanchez waiting for her.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Nameless stepped back and gestured for him to enter.
He paced to a chair, thought better than to sit, and rocked on his heels. Skittish as a moondog in heat.
“Drink?” Nameless asked.
“No. Thank you.” Sanchez shook his head and bit his lip.
She pulled up a chair and reclined. “Problem?”
His chest heaved as his breathing sharpened. “I . . . I saw you.”
Saw her? When? Where? Nameless eased into her chair as far as she could, feigning nonchalance. She really didn’t want Sanchez’s next words to turn him into collateral damage.
“What were you doing in the garage? It was you by the trailer, wasn’t it?”
She held his gaze, saying nothing. His face was a cocktail of disappointment, confusion, and fear. Tormented. All muddled beneath the thin veneer of anger that kept him rocking on his heels.
“Why?” he asked. “Why sabotage Diego and get him killed?”
So he thought this was about Diego. Moving up the ranks. Of course he’d think that—it’s how he’d been raised. Taught to consider only what was advantageous to himself.
“I didn’t sabotage Diego,” she said. “He did that to himself.”
Sanchez blew a long breath. His hands balled into fists. “I was almost glad we didn’t bring him back. He made me pack a bottle of whiskey for him before every raid. Like I was his personal lapdog. And you know what? He never once said thank you. But not even Diego deserved to be left out there in the dust. All this time, I’ve been trying to puzzle out why. If it wasn’t to punish him, then what? Why turn water to dust? What’s the play here? Huh?”
“I could ask the same thing,” Nameless said, cool as the crater’s shade.
Sanchez stopped fidgeting. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “You could have ratted me out. You didn’t. And now you’re here. Why, kid?”
“Don’t call me kid. I’m not a kid, alright? Everyone around here treats me like I’m . . . Like I’m just . . . I’m not a kid.”
“There are worse things to be called.”
Sanchez grunted. “You don’t know me, okay? What I’ve been through. I tried kindness, and you know what I learned? It didn’t pay. So I watched Esteban and copied him and I hated every minute. Then you came along, and I thought . . . never mind. It doesn’t matter. This was a mistake.” He walked toward the door. To tell Esteban what he knew? To keep quiet? Which was it? Could she afford to let him leave?
She reached for her scanner. “Kid!”
He was one step from the exit when he stopped and turned.
“Thanks,” she said.
His shoulders sagged. “Esteban wants to see you. Says he’s got an announcement to make.” With that, Sanchez stepped through the door—still alive—while Nameless dropped her arm and sank back into the chair.
NAMELESS STEPPED INTO the lobby where a crowd gathered amidst the damp drapes and moldy fabric.
There were too many she didn’t recognize. Some from the saloon she’d seen before. Sanchez in the corner. A couple more of Esteban’s goons. Even Gabe hovered by the door.
“Anybody seen Ramone?” a voice asked.
The answer got lost among the voices and the hubbub of conversation.
Esteban appeared with his largest smile plastered over his face. He waved and called for quiet, and an obedient hush descended.
“Mi amigos,” he boomed, “it has been too long since we heard laughter in Tranquility. Tonight, we break this silence. We feast. We dine. And we laugh.”
“What’s the occasion?” someone yelled from the crowd.
Esteban grinned even wider somehow. “Look who has come to join us.” He gestured to the hall beyond the lobby as a figure stepped cautiously forward, captain’s jacket around her waist, dark hair flowing over her chest.
Maria.
The crowd fired up like the pistons of an engine, applauding the sight of her outside of the glasshouse in perfect synchronicity.
She carried a basket filled with fruit. Fresh, healthy. The colors ranged from bright to pastel, like a still-life painting between her hands.
The crowd swelled in a surge that yearned to move toward her. Was she always such a magnet for the people of Tranquility? But Esteban motioned them back, giving her room, and they submitted to his gesture.
Maria approached him and set the basket down, not looking up to meet the colonists in the eye.
Esteban reached for her hip to pull her next to him, but she shrugged him off and took a position near the doorway.
“Well, let’s eat, shall we?” he said. “Take what you like and make your way to the saloon. We have as many supplies as you need, and it won’t cost you a shaving of silver. Enjoy yourselves, mi amigos.”
Men and women inched to the fruit and scooped up a piece each. They took it in turns shouting their thanks to Maria, and she gave each a small smile, although she never looked their way. Not once.
Until Gabe.
The old mechanic bent down and selected an apple. A real apple. Red and bright and smooth and shining as any that grew on Earth. He tipped his hat toward Maria and she met his eyes. There was something between them. Something unsaid. But it went far beyond a simple thank you or welcome back.
Gabe retreated and left the emptying lobby, drifting to the saloon across Main Street. There were only Maria, Esteban, and his goons remaining.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Esteban asked. “Dig in. You’ve earned it.”
“Boss,” Sanchez started, and Esteban huffed a sigh through his perpetually smiling lips.
“Yes, Sanchez?”
“Where’s Ramone?”
Esteban looked around, over his shoulders, back through the corridors. “How should I know?”
“It’s just—”
“Sanchez,” Esteban interrupted. “Eat. Enjoy yourself. We’ve been through a lot lately. But you’ve proved loyal through it all, and you deserve the best. You all do. Especially you, Maria.”
She stomped through the lobby to leave the compound, ignoring Esteban with a coldness that could make ice seem hot. She passed Nameless, flashed her the briefest glance, then floated out the door toward the saloon.
Esteban seethed a grunt, but kept his lips firmly set in that sickening grin. “Look. I know I’ve been distracted lately. But we’re close, compadres. We’re so close to getting everything we ever dreamed of. Just a little more work, a few more recruits, and we’ll be kings of the Moon. Wait and see.”
Sanchez nodded, grabbed a piece of fruit, and left. They each took their turn, Nameless last.
As she floated toward the saloon, she heard a kick and the tumble of fruit as it scattered across the floor. And then Esteban left the compound and followed.
THE TAVERN WAS AS LIVELY as when Nameless had first arrived. People mingled, tables filled, and the bot-tender behind the bar was always moving to fill the next glass.
Maria lingered in the corner. Esteban loomed close to her, but kept a few paces away.
Nameless stayed at the bar, nursing a half-empty whiskey glass. Gabe joined her.
“You still here, eh?”
Nameless smiled at him.
“Santos santos. Maybe there’s a reason, huh?” His voice hushed as he leaned to her ear. “Nameless. I need to speak with you.”
“Not now. Too many eyes.” She glanced around the room and Gabe followed suit.
“But it’s important. Nameless, I—”
“Not now.” She downed the last of her drink and handed the old man her fruit. Then she stood and passed Sanchez, who hadn’t stopped staring at her this whole time.
There was no warning for what came next. No sign that the mirth among the colonists was about to be broken. No rumble of thunder before the lightning struck. While the people drank and ate and even laughed, Esteban should have joined them. But he didn’t. He waited and watched, and Maria never gave him the decency of a single glance. The captain’s face tightened. Where was his thanks for all of this? Where was his invitation to come closer, to engage in a conversation, to allow him a moment in the same space as her without treating him like a rabid moondog?
Esteban hedged toward her. He reached for her arm. Just one touch. One simple, light, innocent touch to bring her to the reality of now, and not lose her to some dream of a yesterday that was gone. But as he brushed her arm, the same fire Nameless had witnessed in Maria’s eyes flashed once more, and she slapped him across the jaw.
The slap was louder than the hubbub of the saloon. It ground everything to a halt. Every eye riveted on the captain and his brother’s wife.
He held his cheek.
She held his gaze.
And then he disarmed all the rage and hate with that ridiculous artificial grin. “We have happy news to share,” he said. “And we’ve been waiting until now to tell you. But Maria here has agreed to be my bride. Isn’t that right, darlin’?”
She scowled and poised to strike him a second time, but he tapped the scanner holstered at his hip, and she stayed her hand. Her face reddened, and without so much as a word, she stormed out of the saloon, back to the safety of her glasshouse.
The atmosphere in the bar eased with her departure. But there were no shouts of congratulations. No hint of celebration. If anything, this party just became a wake.
And, despite her better judgment, Nameless hoped there wouldn’t be a death to accompany it.
“Nameless,” Gabe said from behind. “We need to talk.”
She cast another glance around. The eyes were still there. Watching. Sanchez, still stalking her every move.
Then there was Gabe, and the desperation on his face.
She sighed and pulled up a seat. “Alright, Gabe. Talk.”
ESTEBAN
Past
The armored hovertruck kicked up a gray cloud of dust as it bounded over the surface. A line of mushroom-like plumes disappeared over the short horizon, leaving a trail that’d be followed if Esteban and his crew hadn’t killed everyone in the caravan.
The truck bounced again, jarring Esteban’s teeth, but he still couldn’t stop grinning. His men whooped and chattered through the comms, celebrating the success of their latest raid.
The men had doubted him about doing this during Moonday. Night made more sense for stealth, they’d argued, but the darkness added an element of danger for themselves too. Even with night vision, they didn’t always see a drop until it was too late. The light might enable their victims to spot them coming, but the short horizon gave little time to react. Today’s success proved him right.
The truck slowed as it entered the colony. External sound returned under the dome, causing feedback in his earbud. He removed his helmet and relished the uninhibited applause.
They stopped in the main square. Esteban jumped from the vehicle, the regolith from his clothes creating a hazy fog. Someone smacked him on the shoulder and he flinched. Even amid all this excitement, he couldn’t escape the jumpiness that’d plagued him these past few weeks.
He forced his unease aside and enjoyed his success as a handful of colonists joined the celebrations. Handshakes, high-fives, and back claps were shared with exuberance. The adrenaline leftover from battle faded into tingling jubilation. Esteban was on top of the Moon, finally getting the recognition he deserved.
“It went well?” Sanchez asked.
“Is the Moon silver!” Esteban replied, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “We got enough food to last a month, fresh water, and a cargo full of supercapacitors!”
People clapped, but he’d expected more. He flung his arms wide. “Come on! Supercapacitors. They’re not just for providing the power to make a cup of coffee. We can sell ‘em. We’re talking dineros, real silver!”
Eyes widened but they still lacked enthusiasm. “Enough to buy new suits for everyone,” he added. People nodded but he wanted more than mere appreciation. “And enough booze to last a lifetime!”
A new set of cheers broke out. Esteban indulged in the smile plastered across his face. Funny how the promise of booze kept a whole colony from revolt. No need to tell them he had no intention of giving it to them. They’d have to purchase their drinks like anyone else. Perhaps one free glass, but it depended on how quickly he resold the supercapacitors.
Should be easy enough. He might even end up selling some back to the colony he looted them from. They’d balk, sure. But there wasn’t much of a law on this rock. Weapons held more sway than a badge, and Esteban’s crew had plenty. People could buy or starve. That was the rule they all abided by, and it had worked for Tranquility V so far.
Esteban planted his hands on his hips and looked over the excited crowd. Taking over Benito’s colony was the best thing he’d ever done. He’d never experienced such camaraderie before. Well, if camaraderie meant praise.
Two men and a woman leaned against a dome nearby, talking among themselves while throwing him insipid glances. Not a single one offered a congratulatory nod or smile. The woman’s lip curled as she returned her attention to the men. One man wagged his head, then spat off to the side.
“What about the stranger?” she asked. The woman had rescued her from one horror. Would she save her from another? “I’ve seen her collar, the way it’s scratched. Would she be willing to help?”
“Ohh. Nameless is . . . well, she . . .”
“Will she help?”
Gabe shrugged. “I’d like to think so. But there’s something about her I can’t quite put my finger on. She’s dangerous—no doubt—but maybe . . . if I asked her nicely.”
“Just talk to her. Tell her about me and see if she’s sympathetic. And if so, ask her. Will you, old friend?”
Gabe looked down.
Get a spine, Gabe! Maria filled her lungs and placed her hands on his to steady his shaking. “If she can help, you should come with me.”
Gabe snapped his gaze up. “Come with you?”
She grasped him harder, as if she just had to press hard enough and some of her courage would transfer into him. “Why not? I have family Earthside. I can put in a good word. They’ll find work for your skills.”
“Ay, no. I won’t do this for myself, señorita. But I will do it for you.” He squeezed her hand. “And for Benito.”
She closed her eyes. Gracias a Benito.
“Gracias for the tea.”
She smiled. “Anything to settle your stomach.”
“Ay-ya. My stomach is in knots. It’ll take more than tea. You take care, señorita.”
He stood and left. Every escape attempt since her first had been made solo. She didn’t dare involve anyone else. But now, with Gabe and the stranger, might she have a chance of actually pulling this off?
And that’s when she felt it. Some strange spark inside her gut. Was that . . .? Yes. She almost laughed at recognizing it—the sensation that had abandoned her so long ago. The slightest twinge of hope.
LUNAR HQ
[Redacted]
Reset command? Why do we need to reset the system?
It’s the only way to initialize the original core prompts.
You didn’t know about that, Jimbo? Kickstarting the core program means resetting every collar and LunarCore system to its original settings. Can’t initiate something as big as filling the core while there are stray bits of code floating around in the system.
But won’t that—
Cause havoc? Probably.
What about all the systems that rely on that code?
What’s the matter? Cold feet?
No. It’s just . . . isn’t there another way?
Afraid not. If it makes you feel any better, history is governed by sacrifices. You’re becoming a part of history.
Great.
Don’t feel so bad. The effect will be instantaneous. A simple reset. It shouldn’t take much to put any quirks to the systems back into place once it’s done.
Even in the badlands?
Especially in the badlands.
Should we warn them, or . . .?
We do this now, or not at all. Understand?
. . .
Jimbo?
Alright.
Good. Tell me, what do you know about samurai?
Samurai? Never heard of him.
It’s not a person. Not exactly.
It’s an ideal. Back from more honorable times. Used to be a big part of Earth East, when things like history mattered. I always liked them. What about you, Ronin? You heard of the samurai?
Of course! I wouldn’t be called Ronin if I hadn’t.
That’s right. A wandering samurai with no master. Ronin.
Okay. Slow down. What has this got to do with anything?
A samurai was an ancient kind of warrior. They had these swords so sharp they could slice moonrock in two. But above all, they were bound by a strict code of honor.
If they committed an act of dishonor, they would fall on their sword and take their own life.
That’s stupid.
No less stupid than living with a guilty conscience.
Mallory Montoya was the last samurai. She fell on her sword. Do you think starting up the core makes us samurai? Are we warriors, holding a weapon sharp enough to slice up the Earth?
If it makes you feel better, we can be samurai.
Sure. I’ll toast to that. To samurai.
To samurai.
To samurai.
Ahhh. Alright then. I’m booting up the system now. A few swipes of code and this will all finally be over.
NAMELESS
Present
A knock on the door bolted Nameless upright. She slipped from her room to the spacious apartment. How many clicks had it been since she’d left Ramone buried in the glasshouse? Enough for him to be missed? However long it had been, her aching muscles objected that it wasn’t long enough.
She made her way to a mirror and tidied up her face, scraping the blood from where it crusted below her nose. Looking more presentable, she opened the door to leave but found Sanchez waiting for her.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Nameless stepped back and gestured for him to enter.
He paced to a chair, thought better than to sit, and rocked on his heels. Skittish as a moondog in heat.
“Drink?” Nameless asked.
“No. Thank you.” Sanchez shook his head and bit his lip.
She pulled up a chair and reclined. “Problem?”
His chest heaved as his breathing sharpened. “I . . . I saw you.”
Saw her? When? Where? Nameless eased into her chair as far as she could, feigning nonchalance. She really didn’t want Sanchez’s next words to turn him into collateral damage.
“What were you doing in the garage? It was you by the trailer, wasn’t it?”
She held his gaze, saying nothing. His face was a cocktail of disappointment, confusion, and fear. Tormented. All muddled beneath the thin veneer of anger that kept him rocking on his heels.
“Why?” he asked. “Why sabotage Diego and get him killed?”
So he thought this was about Diego. Moving up the ranks. Of course he’d think that—it’s how he’d been raised. Taught to consider only what was advantageous to himself.
“I didn’t sabotage Diego,” she said. “He did that to himself.”
Sanchez blew a long breath. His hands balled into fists. “I was almost glad we didn’t bring him back. He made me pack a bottle of whiskey for him before every raid. Like I was his personal lapdog. And you know what? He never once said thank you. But not even Diego deserved to be left out there in the dust. All this time, I’ve been trying to puzzle out why. If it wasn’t to punish him, then what? Why turn water to dust? What’s the play here? Huh?”
“I could ask the same thing,” Nameless said, cool as the crater’s shade.
Sanchez stopped fidgeting. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “You could have ratted me out. You didn’t. And now you’re here. Why, kid?”
“Don’t call me kid. I’m not a kid, alright? Everyone around here treats me like I’m . . . Like I’m just . . . I’m not a kid.”
“There are worse things to be called.”
Sanchez grunted. “You don’t know me, okay? What I’ve been through. I tried kindness, and you know what I learned? It didn’t pay. So I watched Esteban and copied him and I hated every minute. Then you came along, and I thought . . . never mind. It doesn’t matter. This was a mistake.” He walked toward the door. To tell Esteban what he knew? To keep quiet? Which was it? Could she afford to let him leave?
She reached for her scanner. “Kid!”
He was one step from the exit when he stopped and turned.
“Thanks,” she said.
His shoulders sagged. “Esteban wants to see you. Says he’s got an announcement to make.” With that, Sanchez stepped through the door—still alive—while Nameless dropped her arm and sank back into the chair.
NAMELESS STEPPED INTO the lobby where a crowd gathered amidst the damp drapes and moldy fabric.
There were too many she didn’t recognize. Some from the saloon she’d seen before. Sanchez in the corner. A couple more of Esteban’s goons. Even Gabe hovered by the door.
“Anybody seen Ramone?” a voice asked.
The answer got lost among the voices and the hubbub of conversation.
Esteban appeared with his largest smile plastered over his face. He waved and called for quiet, and an obedient hush descended.
“Mi amigos,” he boomed, “it has been too long since we heard laughter in Tranquility. Tonight, we break this silence. We feast. We dine. And we laugh.”
“What’s the occasion?” someone yelled from the crowd.
Esteban grinned even wider somehow. “Look who has come to join us.” He gestured to the hall beyond the lobby as a figure stepped cautiously forward, captain’s jacket around her waist, dark hair flowing over her chest.
Maria.
The crowd fired up like the pistons of an engine, applauding the sight of her outside of the glasshouse in perfect synchronicity.
She carried a basket filled with fruit. Fresh, healthy. The colors ranged from bright to pastel, like a still-life painting between her hands.
The crowd swelled in a surge that yearned to move toward her. Was she always such a magnet for the people of Tranquility? But Esteban motioned them back, giving her room, and they submitted to his gesture.
Maria approached him and set the basket down, not looking up to meet the colonists in the eye.
Esteban reached for her hip to pull her next to him, but she shrugged him off and took a position near the doorway.
“Well, let’s eat, shall we?” he said. “Take what you like and make your way to the saloon. We have as many supplies as you need, and it won’t cost you a shaving of silver. Enjoy yourselves, mi amigos.”
Men and women inched to the fruit and scooped up a piece each. They took it in turns shouting their thanks to Maria, and she gave each a small smile, although she never looked their way. Not once.
Until Gabe.
The old mechanic bent down and selected an apple. A real apple. Red and bright and smooth and shining as any that grew on Earth. He tipped his hat toward Maria and she met his eyes. There was something between them. Something unsaid. But it went far beyond a simple thank you or welcome back.
Gabe retreated and left the emptying lobby, drifting to the saloon across Main Street. There were only Maria, Esteban, and his goons remaining.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Esteban asked. “Dig in. You’ve earned it.”
“Boss,” Sanchez started, and Esteban huffed a sigh through his perpetually smiling lips.
“Yes, Sanchez?”
“Where’s Ramone?”
Esteban looked around, over his shoulders, back through the corridors. “How should I know?”
“It’s just—”
“Sanchez,” Esteban interrupted. “Eat. Enjoy yourself. We’ve been through a lot lately. But you’ve proved loyal through it all, and you deserve the best. You all do. Especially you, Maria.”
She stomped through the lobby to leave the compound, ignoring Esteban with a coldness that could make ice seem hot. She passed Nameless, flashed her the briefest glance, then floated out the door toward the saloon.
Esteban seethed a grunt, but kept his lips firmly set in that sickening grin. “Look. I know I’ve been distracted lately. But we’re close, compadres. We’re so close to getting everything we ever dreamed of. Just a little more work, a few more recruits, and we’ll be kings of the Moon. Wait and see.”
Sanchez nodded, grabbed a piece of fruit, and left. They each took their turn, Nameless last.
As she floated toward the saloon, she heard a kick and the tumble of fruit as it scattered across the floor. And then Esteban left the compound and followed.
THE TAVERN WAS AS LIVELY as when Nameless had first arrived. People mingled, tables filled, and the bot-tender behind the bar was always moving to fill the next glass.
Maria lingered in the corner. Esteban loomed close to her, but kept a few paces away.
Nameless stayed at the bar, nursing a half-empty whiskey glass. Gabe joined her.
“You still here, eh?”
Nameless smiled at him.
“Santos santos. Maybe there’s a reason, huh?” His voice hushed as he leaned to her ear. “Nameless. I need to speak with you.”
“Not now. Too many eyes.” She glanced around the room and Gabe followed suit.
“But it’s important. Nameless, I—”
“Not now.” She downed the last of her drink and handed the old man her fruit. Then she stood and passed Sanchez, who hadn’t stopped staring at her this whole time.
There was no warning for what came next. No sign that the mirth among the colonists was about to be broken. No rumble of thunder before the lightning struck. While the people drank and ate and even laughed, Esteban should have joined them. But he didn’t. He waited and watched, and Maria never gave him the decency of a single glance. The captain’s face tightened. Where was his thanks for all of this? Where was his invitation to come closer, to engage in a conversation, to allow him a moment in the same space as her without treating him like a rabid moondog?
Esteban hedged toward her. He reached for her arm. Just one touch. One simple, light, innocent touch to bring her to the reality of now, and not lose her to some dream of a yesterday that was gone. But as he brushed her arm, the same fire Nameless had witnessed in Maria’s eyes flashed once more, and she slapped him across the jaw.
The slap was louder than the hubbub of the saloon. It ground everything to a halt. Every eye riveted on the captain and his brother’s wife.
He held his cheek.
She held his gaze.
And then he disarmed all the rage and hate with that ridiculous artificial grin. “We have happy news to share,” he said. “And we’ve been waiting until now to tell you. But Maria here has agreed to be my bride. Isn’t that right, darlin’?”
She scowled and poised to strike him a second time, but he tapped the scanner holstered at his hip, and she stayed her hand. Her face reddened, and without so much as a word, she stormed out of the saloon, back to the safety of her glasshouse.
The atmosphere in the bar eased with her departure. But there were no shouts of congratulations. No hint of celebration. If anything, this party just became a wake.
And, despite her better judgment, Nameless hoped there wouldn’t be a death to accompany it.
“Nameless,” Gabe said from behind. “We need to talk.”
She cast another glance around. The eyes were still there. Watching. Sanchez, still stalking her every move.
Then there was Gabe, and the desperation on his face.
She sighed and pulled up a seat. “Alright, Gabe. Talk.”
ESTEBAN
Past
The armored hovertruck kicked up a gray cloud of dust as it bounded over the surface. A line of mushroom-like plumes disappeared over the short horizon, leaving a trail that’d be followed if Esteban and his crew hadn’t killed everyone in the caravan.
The truck bounced again, jarring Esteban’s teeth, but he still couldn’t stop grinning. His men whooped and chattered through the comms, celebrating the success of their latest raid.
The men had doubted him about doing this during Moonday. Night made more sense for stealth, they’d argued, but the darkness added an element of danger for themselves too. Even with night vision, they didn’t always see a drop until it was too late. The light might enable their victims to spot them coming, but the short horizon gave little time to react. Today’s success proved him right.
The truck slowed as it entered the colony. External sound returned under the dome, causing feedback in his earbud. He removed his helmet and relished the uninhibited applause.
They stopped in the main square. Esteban jumped from the vehicle, the regolith from his clothes creating a hazy fog. Someone smacked him on the shoulder and he flinched. Even amid all this excitement, he couldn’t escape the jumpiness that’d plagued him these past few weeks.
He forced his unease aside and enjoyed his success as a handful of colonists joined the celebrations. Handshakes, high-fives, and back claps were shared with exuberance. The adrenaline leftover from battle faded into tingling jubilation. Esteban was on top of the Moon, finally getting the recognition he deserved.
“It went well?” Sanchez asked.
“Is the Moon silver!” Esteban replied, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “We got enough food to last a month, fresh water, and a cargo full of supercapacitors!”
People clapped, but he’d expected more. He flung his arms wide. “Come on! Supercapacitors. They’re not just for providing the power to make a cup of coffee. We can sell ‘em. We’re talking dineros, real silver!”
Eyes widened but they still lacked enthusiasm. “Enough to buy new suits for everyone,” he added. People nodded but he wanted more than mere appreciation. “And enough booze to last a lifetime!”
A new set of cheers broke out. Esteban indulged in the smile plastered across his face. Funny how the promise of booze kept a whole colony from revolt. No need to tell them he had no intention of giving it to them. They’d have to purchase their drinks like anyone else. Perhaps one free glass, but it depended on how quickly he resold the supercapacitors.
Should be easy enough. He might even end up selling some back to the colony he looted them from. They’d balk, sure. But there wasn’t much of a law on this rock. Weapons held more sway than a badge, and Esteban’s crew had plenty. People could buy or starve. That was the rule they all abided by, and it had worked for Tranquility V so far.
Esteban planted his hands on his hips and looked over the excited crowd. Taking over Benito’s colony was the best thing he’d ever done. He’d never experienced such camaraderie before. Well, if camaraderie meant praise.
Two men and a woman leaned against a dome nearby, talking among themselves while throwing him insipid glances. Not a single one offered a congratulatory nod or smile. The woman’s lip curled as she returned her attention to the men. One man wagged his head, then spat off to the side.
