Moonful of silver, p.24
Moonful of Silver, page 24
She paced to where Maria stood and slipped Benito’s jacket from her waist, holding it up for her.
Maria pushed her arms through its sleeves.
Nameless moved to Sanchez and unwrapped the coat from where he held it, pushing it into his arms. He holstered the pistol and replaced his own jacket for the captain’s long black one.
“Nameless, don’t . . .” Gabe pleaded.
Sanchez stepped next to the old man and placed a hand on his shoulder. Maria stood beside him. Together, the three of them watched as Nameless spun on her heels, ready to drift away.
“Nameless!” Sanchez called. She paused, twisting back for a moment. “How are we supposed to do this? We’re short on silver to trade and our water will only last so long.”
Nameless smiled. “Don’t worry. Gabe’s got all the tools you’ll need.” She turned and floated down the street.
Tools.
She was sure Gabe would know what to do. He still carried the tool he’d lent her in his breast pocket. If he didn’t make the connection, one of the others would.
She glided towards the MULE she’d left on the outskirts of town. The crowd faded from her, and Gabe’s voice drifted faint through the art-at’s veil.
“But, where will you go?”
Nameless called back, “To spread some seeds. To tell the story of a snake who ate its own tail, and the town who fed it to him.”
And with that, she climbed aboard her hover, donned her helmet, hit the throttle, and sped away from Tranquility V into the unknown—into the endless horizon of silt.
GABE
Present
Gabe pushed out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Was this real? Even long after Nameless had disappeared into dust and shadow, he still watched. Waited.
Stay, he thought. Please stay. But now it was too late. And besides, how could he ask any more of her than she’d already given? Instead, all he’d managed was, Nameless, don’t . . .
Don’t what? Don’t make me responsible for this town. Don’t leave me with a lackey and a gardener and expect me to free these people. Don’t leave. Don’t forget me. There were so many don’ts.
Maria turned to Gabe. “What do you think she meant about tools?”
Tools, she’d said. Tools. It couldn’t be . . . could it?
Gabe removed the tool he kept in his breast pocket and studied it. “Hand me your scanner,” he said to Sanchez.
It took only a moment until his gnarled hands were flicking through the frequencies, scanning the data into his collar.
And there. There it was. Coordinates, and a return key.
Gabe punched return and an ETA flashed across Sanchez’s scanning display. By this time tomorrow Earth-time, whatever supplies Nameless had stashed on this Moon would come back to Tranquility.
He fought back tears, stifled the pain of this moment—the urgency of what remained, of what came next.
There it was. That feeling again. Hope.
Santos santos, would it ever go away? Where was the doctor, and what cure could he prescribe? Hope was a twist in Gabe’s gut. A knife in the stomach. But without it, change was impossible. Hopelessness was stagnation, but Nameless had conquered it. She had given him—given all of them—the prospect of a better future, of a better leader. Hope had been the necessary catalyst that had broken them free, and now was the time for them to use it, and grow. Gabe glanced at Maria on one side and Sanchez on the other. Hope didn’t belong to one person alone. But maybe, together, they could keep it alive long enough for it to spread through Tranquility. Maybe together, they could create enough hope to keep them going. That was the gift she had left them with. A nameless wanderer, the bringer of change, the giver of hope.
Gabe turned to his two fellow captains. Words seemed so small right now.
“Well,” Gabe said, “anyone got any ideas?”
Sanchez laughed. “I was about to ask the same thing. What do we do now?”
“We hope,” Maria answered. “And we give them reasons to hope in us.” She nodded to the crowd who filled Main Street, to the saloon and the half-derelict domes that surrounded it, to where the last of the miners and colonists stood.
Gabe rolled his eyes. “Fine. But I’m not making any speeches. Comprende? I’m too old for this.”
Maria stepped forward to address the crowd, but their eyes turned away as murmured gasps swept among them. The people of Tranquility twisted their necks beyond Gabe’s garage to a cloud of dust that neared, growing on the horizon.
Was it traders? A raiding party?
Sanchez reached for his pistola.
“What now?” Gabe asked.
“I’ll keep the people calm,” Maria said. “You two take the lead.”
Caramba. Gabe closed his eyes and his lips mouthed a silent prayer that whatever stars shone for him, they continued to shine.
“Come on, Sanchez. It’s you and me.”
He marched to his garage with Sanchez at his heels.
Gabe used his goggles and took a closer look at what approached. A caravan of MULEs together with people on foot steadily tramped a path toward Tranquility. The hovers towed pieces of art-ats to blanket them in a shield over the dunes.
“What do you see?” Sanchez asked. “Are they armed?”
They bore no weapons. Not so much as a scanner among them. And they all looked as scrawny as the next—men, women, and children. “No. They’re no threat.”
“Then what are they?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
Eventually, the caravan entered the town, coming to a halt opposite Gabe and Sanchez. Their leader stepped forward. A woman. It couldn’t be . . .
No, you’re seeing things, you old fool. It’s impossible. It can’t be . . .
“Gabe!” she whispered. “Gabe, is that you?”
How? No. It had to be a mirage. How was she here?
“Tell me I’m not dead,” she said. “Tell me this is real.”
“Jo.” Gabe placed her head in his hands, running his fingers through her hair to make sure this was no dream. “Jo! It’s you! It’s really you!”
“Forgive me, Gabe.”—“I’m sorry, Jo!” they both said simultaneously.
Gabe echoed her laugh, and then wrapped his arms around her in an embrace that melted the years away.
Gone from her face was that stern expression he had once fought so hard to expunge. And yet, despite the cycles between their time at Lunar HQ and this moment, she still looked so young. Too young to be responsible for so many.
They broke their hold and Gabe stepped back to allow her space to breathe. “How is this possible, Jo? How did you get here?”
“We’ve come from another town. Serenity II. It was raided not long ago. We should be dead, but when one of the raiders found us hiding, they left us in our hiding spot. We’d have died if we’d stayed. Please. We need water. And food. We’ll do anything.”
Sanchez stepped forward. “This raider—were they tall, lean, with a basalt waistcoat and captain’s jacket?”
Jo nodded. “You know them?”
Sanchez smiled. “They . . . passed through here.”
“Then you can send them a message? Can you thank them for saving us? We owe them our lives.”
Gabe chuckled. “We’ve got more in common than you realize.”
Sanchez signaled the all-clear and Maria joined her two fellow captains at the forefront, stepping between them. She wrapped an arm around Jo’s shoulder and guided her into Tranquility. “Come with me. We have food and water and so much more. Let me show you.” She lifted her voice to the people, “Let me show all of you.”
The newcomers mingled with the colonists and as one, they followed Maria down Main Street and into the dome, to the glasshouse, to the green and the vines and the flowers and the trees. To the impossible future awaiting them.
Gabe smiled as he watched, hardly able to control the beating of his chest every time he glanced Jo’s way. They were hypnotized by the garden. Give him a machine over greenery any day. But still, even Gabe couldn’t deny that it was nice to see a change of color, rather than the boundless silver of the dust.
He left the colonists transfixed by Maria’s work and entered the street to begin the slow, slow work of cleaning up the mess Esteban had left. Of fixing.
That’s how every good mechanic made a start. One step at a time.
He lifted his eyes to the sky. To the white ball of sun that ruled the expanse above. And yet, there was something strange about it. It always hung so still, motionless, but now—was that? Yes—it moved. He blinked the idea away and checked again to make sure he wasn’t going crazy. But there it was, a subtle shift. The slightest change in position.
But that could mean only one thing. Gabe recalled the orientation videos they’d forced on him when he’d started work at LunarCore. The simulations. What it would look like when . . .
No. Jo coming back had already been one miracle too many today. Still, he couldn’t take his eyes from the slowly shifting sun.
He walked to the edge of town, following the trail Nameless had taken. He paced to where he knew the limit of the art-at stopped.
A pause. Another glance skyward. Then he took a larger step.
And another.
And still, he breathed.
Gabe slapped his thigh and stared into the heavens.
Caramba, so it was true! They actually did it. After all this time, they really got it spinning.
As he stood at the threshold of Tranquility, staring back at the domes of Main Street, he felt the knot in his gut release, and something else took its place. Something warm. Something that seemed a lot like comfort.
Ah, so this is hope.
BENITO
Past
“Almost there,” Benito said over the thrum of the two-person hovercycle.
“You said that two clicks ago.” Maria shook her head.
Benito grinned. She’d always told him that a flash of his boyish charm was enough to paste a smile on her lips. But maybe after two Moondays of traveling, his charm tank was running empty. “How are they doing?” he asked.
Maria’s arms clutched her seed satchel. He’d told her to stow it away, but she refused, cradling it for countless clicks as the hover skimmed the crater’s basin. The seeds have to remain as stable as possible if they stand any chance at the colony, she kept saying.
Just a little longer, and she could relax. “They’re doing better than me.”
Benito opened up the throttle and sped even faster across the basin. It leveled off, the pockmarks and craters becoming more sporadic as the silver surface glistened in the white sun.
Lunar HQ felt so far away. And yet, if he closed his eyes, he could see so clearly its white corridors and the greens of Maria’s arboretum. It was there, among the rustling leaves of trees where he’d tapped her on the shoulder and told her about the promotion.
“I made Captain!”
She’d hugged him so hard that if he’d been a dandelion, it would have popped his head off. “We’re finally moving up to Lunar Prime!”
“Not exactly.” Benito scratched the nape of his neck.
Her smile vanished and her hand found its way to her hip. “What do you mean, not exactly?”
“I’m getting the captain’s jacket. Just . . . not where we thought it might be.”
She huffed an exasperated sigh.
Maybe waiting until her trees were about to enter winter wasn’t the best time to perform stunts with their future?
“Where?” she demanded.
“It’s a town called Tranquility V.”
“Tranquility? Where’s that?”
“Now they’ve reached the core, Lunar HQ are just about to pull the last of their miners out. But there’s a town there, and they need a captain.”
“Where?” Her tone bordered on dangerous.
“It’s . . . It’s in the badlands.”
Maria’s cheeks turned the same color as autumn’s burnt red leaves. “The badlands! Benito! You know nothing can grow out there!”
“Just like Lunar HQ knew nothing would grow right here. And you proved them wrong!”
“But it’s different here. There’s water and artificial light. Atmosphere inside the biome. Out there, it’s just . . .”
“Dust.”
Maria’s chest deflated. “Dust. You can’t expect me to grow seeds in dust, Benito!”
He stepped toward her and placed his hand in hers. “I expect you could grow seeds in space if you needed to. Darling, mi amor. What’s the point of us staying here to feed this tiny arboretum when it’s the people out there, in the dust, who need it most? Besides, it’s not like anyone at Lunar HQ needs the meager supplies we can make here—not with all the deliveries they get from Earth. But think about it. If we can make even one tree grow for the badlanders, imagine the difference we could make to their lives. To our lives.”
“No, Benito. I’m sorry, but you and your boundless heart won’t blackmail me into pitying those badlanders and dustheads.”
Her tone was laced in defiance, but the look in her eyes told him that his words had already worked their way in, and there was no unspeaking them.
She shook her head. “You really think we can make a difference out there?”
Benito kissed her forehead. “I know we can.”
She pouted her lips, sulking for having felt reluctant.
“It’s gonna be okay, mi amor.” He smiled. “Now. What do you say? First one home gets the big suitcase?” He bounded ahead of her through the sterile corridors of Lunar HQ.
Now, as he remembered the white walls of the home they’d left, dust was all they could see on every side. Somehow, they’d gone from LunarCore’s premier arboretum to speeding over the last crater between them and Tranquility V on the far side of the Moon.
Benito could hardly breathe with the quantity of silt around him, so what would it be like for Maria? For her bulbs? What future could they make out here for the few seeds she worked so desperately to preserve within her arms?
Snap out of it, Benito. Stop seeing dust when you’re surrounded by silver. No amount of wasteland was going to dilute his belief in her. In them. In the water recycling system they’d built together and hauled on the trailer at the rear of their hover.
They passed an iron tower, the standard LunarCore scaffold that pumped an art-at over the town. And then, growing from the silt, they came to buildings that had once been dwellings to miners, but had begun to collapse under the shaking of the massive drill as it plowed a course for the core.
Benito slowed as he came to a large dome in the center of Main Street—a standard Lunar HQ building. The base of their operations.
A man in uniform waited to welcome them, standing guard at the door.
Benito pulled the hover to a stop and Maria dropped her arms, resting the satchel of seed samples on her lap.
“Captain Benito, sir. It’s an honor to meet you.”
“At ease.” Benito clambered out of the hover and shook the guard’s hand. “The pleasure’s all mine. You wanna show me inside?”
The guard led him into the domed complex. “Doesn’t your . . .” He cast a glance over Benito’s shoulder at Maria, blushing as he drank her in.
“I think the word you’re looking for is wife, amigo.”
“Yes. Of course, sir. Doesn’t your wife want to join us?”
Benito laughed. “Oh, she will. After she’s tended to her babies.”
“Babies? I didn’t see any—”
“Her seeds.”
“Seeds?”
“Plants. Once she’s installed the water pump, you wait. She’ll have sprouts in the ground before you finish our grand tour. I guarantee it.”
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but there’s no soil out here, sir. Just dust.”
“Which means minerals and nutrients and who knows what else in the regolith! Just . . . trust me on this one. She’ll be along when she’s ready.”
“Very well. After you.” He signaled through the door.
Benito walked through a maze of corridors. It followed the typical Lunar HQ design—the way the paths snaked into each other but all led to the center, to his office, and the vast dome beyond it which he’d earmarked as the future greenhouse.
He led the LunarCore guard through the standard turns and wound his way to his new office.
Three drillmen sat around a large desk drinking liquor out of basalt printed cups. They stood to attention and he simply grabbed the bottle and topped up their drinks until it was drained dry.
He raised the empty bottle. “Let’s drink to the challenge ahead, gentlemen. Where there’s challenge, there’s hope.”
The three drillmen and the guard downed their hooch before Benito launched into a standard debrief.
Challenge had driven him here. But it was also what had brought Maria and Benito together. The brash impossibilities made nature so captivating, so alluring. There was purpose in struggle, a life to be curated, and victory beyond the strain. And victory was what Tranquility needed. What the badlands needed. Desperately.
It took a few clicks before the standard handover rigmarole was seen to and Benito could join Maria in the glasshouse that would become her garden. He collapsed next to her on the dust-laden ground.
“You’ve been busy.” He gestured to the barren stretch of silt carpeting the dome. “I would hardly recognize the place.”
She bumped his arm. “Where’ve you been? I had to unhook the prototype all by myself!”
“And you’ve done a great job, mi amor. The new water handling unit feels great.” He breathed in damp air. Damp! Indulging in the few droplets that gathered in beads on his forehead.
“And I even harvested some minerals from the regolith and planted some seeds.”
“I knew you would. Told the drillmen as much.”
She smiled. “You were right, Benito. We can make this work. Perhaps we can pull off a miracle and actually be happy here. Once the glass has had a good polish.”
He leaned close and entwined his fingers through hers.
“Now,” she said. “Are you ready for my first miracle?”
