Moonful of silver, p.3
Moonful of Silver, page 3
Nameless nodded.
“Ha! I knew it. The slightest bit of bad tinkering and the connector misfires. It’s why they stopped making them. Too temperamental. Switched to MULEs instead.”
So it had been tampered with. She should’ve been more careful. It was stupid of her to get stuck here. Stupid of her to get stuck anywhere. But especially a place like this.
“You won’t get a Magnetic Universal Levitation Engine breaking down so easy,” Gabe continued, more to himself than to her. “And lucky for you, the switch from one engine to the next is simple enough. Before Moonnight, you’ll be riding out of here on a MULE.”
Nameless smiled at the cheery wonder Gabe expressed as he looked at her old hover like it had fallen from heaven and sprouted wings.
“Now, I can build you a whole new hovercycle. Or refit this one with a simple engine swap. The problem with the swap, of course, is having to rewire the entire combustion system to maglev propulsion, and by the time that’s done, it’d be . . . You know what? You probably don’t want the details. Just the price, right? It’ll cost you the same amount of silvers to patch this one up or build you a hover around the new engine. Your choice. As long as you’re good for it?”
She removed the scanner from her holster and switched it to a payment frequency. Gabe’s collar connected and she slipped a few silvers to his account.
“Woah! That’s too much. Really. You trying to buy my whole garage, or something?”
Nameless smiled again.
Gabe just stared at her, his brown eyes kind and curious. “You remind me of someone I knew once. I know it’s silly, but . . . we’ve never met before, have we?”
She shook her head.
“No. I guess not. I wouldn’t forget a girl who talked as much as you.” He winked, and she laughed. “You’re new to town, right? You got a place to stay?”
Another shake of the head.
“Well, I don’t got much, but if you need somewhere to crash, you’re welcome here anytime. Although, if you’ve got any silver to spare, you might want to see if Captain Garcia can assign you a dome. Depends how dangerous you feel.” He stammered and shifted from side to side, looking over his shoulder. “I mean . . . danger? What could be dangerous around these parts? Santos Santos, why do I open my mouth?”
Nameless stepped toward him and laid a hand on his arm. He returned the gesture with a deep breath and a smile.
“Thanks.”
Silence settled between them, until he pulled away, severing whatever comfort she could offer. Fear filled his face. Fear of what? Of connection? What happened to the last person to console him, if he was this panicked at the slightest show of kindness?
“Don’t distract me, señorita. I’ve got myself some silver. You’ll get yourself a MULE. Let’s leave it at that, shall we, Nameless?”
She nodded, stoic, and turned to leave, replacing her helmet as she walked away.
His eyes followed her into the street. “Hey!” he called after her. “You want a new model or a refit?”
She waved her hand as if to say she didn’t care.
“Ay-ya. Alright, alright. Either way, one MULE coming up.”
She left the garage behind. Whoever sabotaged her hover knew enough to keep her here until Moonnight. And more than likely, they had a reason. What did they want with her? She was just passing through. A stranger. Nameless. At least, they’d better hope that was the case, for their sakes.
Well. She was here now. Might as well see how it played out. Maybe it was time for that guided tour?
An audio alert fired in her helmet, which she accepted. Gabe’s voice echoed from the mic in her hover. “Stupid switch. Where’s the off button? Come on, where are you, my pretty?” She smiled. Probably not the smartest thing to listen to as she set off helmet-first for the den of the guy who owned this town. But the motor fired and the engine mingled with Gabe’s voice until he figured to switch the mic off.
“There we go. Okay, you little rascal. Time we got to work. Come on. Talk to Papa. Talk to . . . Papa . . .”
GABE
Past
“Come on. Talk to Papa.” Gabe fiddled with the diagnostic scanner, its interface remaining blank as he tried to align the sensor node with the drill’s telemetry port. The thick gloves of his space suit hindered his ability to maneuver it in the tight area, but a little coaxing would get the job done. “Come on now. You can do it, niño. I believe in you.”
Gabe glanced sideways at Jo to see if his silly mumbling elicited a smile. Nothing. She observed his work in stark silence. The bangs of her mousy hair hung over the same stony expression she always wore. Her flat brown eyes never sparked, her tight jaw never relaxed, and her thin lips never curved upward. Poor señorita. She was far too serious for someone her age.
She’d been this way since they met on the transport from Earth. After harnessing herself into the crash couch beside him, she’d crossed her arms, frowned, and stared blankly for nearly the entire ride. He’d attempted small talk. When she wouldn’t give so much as her name, he resorted to trying to make her laugh by telling jokes or making up funny stories. Nothing worked. The only reaction he got was a sideways scowl.
What had her past done to shape her like this? He never pressed for an answer, but neither did he give up on trying to soften her. She hadn’t smiled yet but at least she tolerated him more. He knew better than most that every tolerance had its limits. When would hers snap? And how alone would he be when it did?
It wasn’t like he had any other friends on this rock. He was as far from handsome as the Moon was from Earth. Big nose. Thick eyebrows. Weathered skin from laboring outdoors during his younger years planetside. And a puffiness under his eyes that made him seem perpetually sad and tired even though he was the happiest guy and slept as well as anyone. He supposed she associated with him because he was nicer and more trustworthy than the other members of their work crew. But he’d never win a popularity contest. Not when the other workers had abs harder than moonrock.
Still, he was glad Jo wanted nothing to do with that sort—the kind who weren’t chasing a new life on the Moon, but escaping an old one.
A new life. Ha! He would’ve laughed at the idea if he wasn’t already grieving it. Those billboards he used to pass on his way to the factory back on Earth, what had they said? Crafting perfection on another plane. Pffft. They painted life here on the Moon with so much promise, but the advertised luxury belonged only to Lunar HQ’s upper management. Meanwhile, the workforce lived on meager rations in seedy squalor. Drugs, alcohol, violence—all the things you’d find in the dodgy ends of town on Earth. And why wouldn’t they turn to their vices when they realized the perfect life here was as much a myth as it had ever been?
At least he and Jo had one thing in common—a shared desire to stay as far from that scene as their cramped base allowed. About a month ago, he thought they’d finally moved into the territory of friendship.
“How do you not know this?” he’d asked. “Es pan comido. You realign this feed mechanism here, tighten that coupling bolt there, and—boom—she’s back to—”
“Will you keep your voice down?”
He closed his mouth as her gaze flitted about the engineering room. His brows drew down. “Sorry, señorita. I’m only joking. You can do this, no?”
She pressed her lips together and her hard features turned to ice. The longer she didn’t answer, the more Gabe’s eyes grew. He peeked over at a crewman a few yards away, lowered his head, and whispered, “You can’t, can you?”
“If you tell anyone,” she said through gritted teeth, “I will cut your throat.”
He pulled back and waved his hands. “No, no. No need to threaten me. I won’t say nothing. But why do you work here if you don’t understand machines?”
She turned aside with a glower. At first, he didn’t think she’d reply, but after a pause containing an eternity, she faced him once more. “I owe someone on Earth money. Someone dangerous. This was the only job still open on the transport.”
“And they let you on without checking your credentials?”
“I pretended I’d lost them. They were desperate, so . . .” She shrugged.
It was Gabe’s turn to be silent. Several things clicked into place. Machines constantly breaking down. The shoddy repairs. Miguel’s raging tantrum as he stormed about trying to figure out who, for Lunar’s sake, had botched the rotary actuator.
Her tendency to keep to herself made sense too. If she avoided everyone, she wouldn’t have to share her backstory.
“I can teach you.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Please, amiga. Es pan comido, si?”
So now, that’s what he did, whether she liked it or not. Which was why he coaxed the sensor node into realigning with silly talk. Calling it niño, and himself, Papa. “So close, little one. You can do this.”
The task would be much easier under atmospheric shielding, but only the living areas had that. Gabe and the crew worked outside, under an electromagnetic shield that kept out most of the sun’s radiation.
“Come on, you little rascal.” He squeezed his hand to grip the broken connector, his thick gloves compressing his fingers enough to hurt. “I thought we were amigos.”
Jo expelled an exasperated sigh that echoed through the mic. Gabe smiled. If she really hated it when he talked to himself, she could just click off their private comm.
The scanner’s interface finally connected. “Ah-ha!” He pulled back and grinned. “See? No problemo. You only need to sweet talk it a little.”
She narrowed her gaze. “I’m not talking to a machine.”
He chuckled, then flicked his hand. “I know it doesn’t hear me, but talking to it helps me concentrate.”
She half-rolled her eyes and shook her head. Still no smile, but at least she wasn’t curt.
And then, before he had a chance to explain why the actuator had needed a little manhandling in the first place, the ground trembled. They shared a confused look. The Moon didn’t have quakes. He glanced around, spotting a few workers. They swiveled their heads, looking equally confounded.
“What in Lunar’s name was that?” someone asked on the open channel.
“I’m dusted if I know,” another worker replied.
“Oh silt!” Manuel cried as he pointed toward the Earth-side horizon. “Silt! Silt! Silt!”
Gabe’s jaw dropped as moondust billowed from a nearby drilling machine. It made no sound in the atmosphere-less air. The drill shaft leaned over, lowering in menacing slow motion.
Gabe bounded toward the drilling machine, two other workers trailing like balloons on a string. Each bounce took him further, closer, but he might as well have run through water. The lack of atmosphere meant no resistance, yet he moved too slowly.
Everyone shouted curses and yelled for help into the mic, ringing Gabe’s ears. If the adrenaline rushing through his veins hadn’t stifled his thoughts, he would’ve turned the noise down. Everything happened too fast and too slow all at once. His vision tunneled and focused on the shaft as it finally hit the ground and threw out another plume of gray dust.
By the time Gabe reached the area, carbon clung to his helmet. Silt. He wiped it away and searched frantically. Something resembling a boot stuck out from under the machine, and he rushed over to it, only to find an odd-shaped moonrock. He swiped at his visor again. Why didn’t these visors come with wipers, like a car windshield?
He kept looking, poked his head around a mangled stabilizer arm and circled a ground anchor. Movement cut short his relief and twisted it into dread. A body hung from the crushed cab. The torso—with head and arms drooped over the side—lay in one direction, while his bottom half . . . Unable to turn away, Gabe swallowed down the urge to hurl.
The arm twitched. Gabe snapped out of his horror and bounded over. He grasped the hand and squeezed. The suit made it impossible for him to tell who it was until he spotted the nametag stitched to the shoulder.
“Andreas,” Gabe said through the mic to the worker from the Americas. “Andreas, you alright? Answer me, amigo.”
“Help,” the man’s voice was barely a whisper caught in static.
Gabe shuddered. There was no way to save him. The machine pinned him so tightly, only his skin kept the two parts of him together. Pulling him out would kill him. But so would leaving him there.
“We’ll get you out, amigo.” He squeezed Andreas’s hand. “No problemo. Just hang on.”
Gabe held the man’s upper body in place, wrapping an arm around his neck so he wouldn’t dangle. “Who else is in there?” he asked regarding the operations cab.
“No one,” Andreas croaked. He tried to turn his head, but Gabe stopped him from seeing the malformation of his lower half.
“You sure? Nobody?”
“Yeah, just . . .” The man shuddered. “I can’t . . .”
“Hold on, amigo!” Gabe’s voice strained. “We’ll get you out.”
Andreas went limp. Gabe choked back a sob as his helmet sync’d up with Andreas’s collar to check his vitals. He was still alive but his heart rate plummeted. Gabe broke out in a cold sweat as he tried to think of something to do. The ECG line flattened. Gabe stifled a cry. Andreas was . . .
He was . . .
Gone.
It was probably for the best, but Gabe wouldn’t let go of his hand.
Other workers arrived, making exclamations and asking questions, but he had no words. Numbness crippled his entire body. His vision blurred, whether from shock or tears, his muddled brain couldn’t discern. His parents had passed away some years ago and he’d had friends die, but this was different. He’d never been present with death, certainly not a horrific one like this, and it was too much. Andreas had been a sabueso at times, but he didn’t deserve this.
Next thing Gabe knew, he was in a chair. He didn’t remember leaving the grizzly scene, let alone being driven to a dome. And what had happened to his suit? He blinked, wondering at the man before him in a navy uniform and cobalt-striped tie that must be pinned down against the low gravity.
Señor Fernandez wore a hard expression that rivaled Jo’s. He was bulky but not obese. Gabe always thought his thin mustache was comical, but not today. His dark round eyes flashed with distaste as he peered down his nose, puffing his cigar with a bitter twist to his mouth before pressing it into an ashtray. “One of my people is dead,” the bossman said in a gravelly tone.
He didn’t say Andreas’s name. Gabe doubted the man even knew. Fernandez lived under a more sophisticated shield with cleaner air, newer buildings, paved streets.
“Yes, señor. Andreas. I held his hand as he died.”
Not a single wrinkle of sympathy crossed Fernandez’s features. “The cursed drill collapsed! You have any idea how that might’ve happened?”
Gabe drew his brows down. Wasn’t that where Jo had worked yesterday? She’d told him she had it handled. That she didn’t need him looking over her shoulder. It was a simple enough job, after all. And he couldn’t follow her everywhere. He had his own tasks to attend to.
“You’re a mech-leader. Who was assigned to repair it?” the bossman asked, his voice demanding.
Gabe opened his mouth but no words came out.
“You know who it was, don’t you?” Fernandez leaned forward on his elbows, eyes blazing.
Sweat beaded on Gabe’s forehead. His fingers tingled as his heart pattered. “I—I . . .”
“Spit it out, man!” Fernandez yelled. Gabe jumped in his seat. “Who was the last person to touch that machine?”
Jo. It was Jo. “Me! It was me!” Gabe slapped a hand over his mouth. Those weren’t the words he’d intended to say, but he couldn’t take them back now.
A tightness formed between Fernandez’s eyes. His lips pressed together into a tight line barely visible beneath his thin mustache. Gabe gripped the arms of his chair, wishing to run away.
“You.” Fernandez stood with deliberate slowness and leaned toward him with a ferocious stare. “You will make a public announcement claiming full responsibility. I won’t have this company’s name tarnished because of your carelessness.”
Gabe swallowed. The dryness in his mouth scraped against his throat. “Y-yes, señor.”
“Dismissed,” the bossman said. “Permanently. And don’t expect a final paycheck.” He turned back to his computer with an abruptness that brooked no argument.
Gabe sat a little longer, processing. He was fired. That was bad enough, but was that it? On Earth, he would’ve been arrested. “S-señor?” Fernandez shot him a withering look, but he swallowed and continued. “Should I turn myself in to the authorities?”
“There are none here.”
Gabe glanced about. “So where do I go?”
The bossman flicked his hand. “Get dusted for all I care. Just leave my base. And tell that woman on your crew that those two guys can get dusted too.”
Two guys? What was he talking about? But he didn’t have a chance to ask, not with the shade of red Fernandez turned.
Gabe returned to his dome in a daze. His crewmates silenced when he entered. Had they heard? Surely the news hadn’t made it here yet. He tried to catch their gaze but they avoided him. That decided him. If they’d learned he was responsible, the looks would be angry.
He glanced around. “Where’s Jo?”
“She’s gone.” Mirko crossed his beefy arms.
“This was her fault, wasn’t it?” Safina asked.
Gabe turned away from their querying eyes. “They’re letting me go,” he said instead.
No one acted surprised. Had they already suspected he’d been protecting her? Helping her. Now someone was dead. It made sense to fire him too.
He sighed. “When did you last see her?”
Everyone shrugged.
“Haven’t seen her since Andreas . . .” Safina hung her head.
Gabe cleared his throat. “Fernandez mentioned something about two guys looking for her. You know anything about that?”
They shook their heads. Perfect. No answers from anyone. Guess there was only one thing left to do. With hesitant regard for Jo’s privacy, he checked her drawers and rifled through her blankets. He peeked under the mattress too. There was no trace of her. Not even a note.
