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Flight
Luna II, The Moon
October 16, 2200; 18:12 GST
A banner plastered with the words, "We'll miss you, McDonald," hung over the back wall. People milled around the tiny reception hall as they wished Herman a safe transfer to Mars.
Peter leaned against the wall and sighed. "We're a man down now; what do you say, Dathan?" He held a hand out to the analyst.
"But, I'm not a pilot," he replied.
Conroy snorted. "Not a pilot? Those acrobatics you pulled off during the new Tiger prototype flight were enough to convince me that's not true."
"All right." Dathan smirked. "But if I put in for a transfer, you have to convince my lab supervisor. Changing her opinion is like mixing set cement."
"Send me her e-mail address; I'll talk with her," Peter said.
With a smile Dathan took Peter's offered hand and gave it a firm shake. "Never thought I'd call you boss. Barely a month in, and no one would know you weren't stationed here since they built the place."
Peter laughed. "Gotta say, it's feeling more like home." He paused.
"What?" Dathan said.
"I have to make sure. Your… condition won't endanger the rest of the squad?" Peter eyed the silver bracelet on Dathan's left wrist.
"Of course not," he replied. "I haven't had a blackout in years." He tapped the bracelet. "This is just a precaution."
Luna II, The Moon
October 20, 2200; 08:02 GST
"Ladies and gentlemen," Peter called to the pilots scattered across the hangar. "Please welcome the newest addition to the ranks of Luna II's Black Tigers, Dathan Feldmann. Don't be too cruel on his first day."
"Aw!" Francis Kelly Georgia Rory Mathison—Buddy as everyone called her—pouted. "But I got shaving cream and everything."
Peter chuckled as horror shrouded Dathan's face.
"Kidding, Feldmann." Buddy waved off Dathan's terror. "You need a call sign. Feldmann's such a mouthful."
Dathan snorted.
"Hm." She eyed Dathan. "What about Grim or Sky-top? Oh! I know—Jolly!"
"I'll keep Feldmann, thank you, Miss Mathison."
"Fine, Mr. Serious. We'll figure it out."
Red light doused the room. "Imminent collision. Evacuation protocol enacted. All personnel, proceed to nearest evacuation craft."
"Get to your planes," Peter instructed. "Now!"
Dozens of people crowded into the hangar. In the shuffle, Dathan disappeared.
Peter pushed through the throng to the side of the room. The lower gravity let him float a foot above the floor for four or five seconds. Dathan's dark hair stuck out above almost everyone as Peter spotted him on the other side of the hangar, near the entrance.
Peter waded toward him. "Dathan." He waved. "This way!"
The other man didn't acknowledge him.
When Peter got closer, he saw a young woman on the floor. She grasped her ankle and winced. Dathan shielded her from the crowd. She struggled to get up, and Dathan offered her a hand. "Careful," he said.
The girl hobbled on her good foot. "Ow," she groaned. "Thanks for stopping."
Dathan gave her a charming smile, and she blushed.
"Feldmann! Everyone's in their planes," Peter called.
"Be there in a minute," Dathan said as he scooped up the woman. She squeaked when her feet left the ground but didn't protest. He carried her to the nearest evac boat before he climbed into his plane.
Peter hurried to his Tiger and fastened his harness.
En route to Earth
October 20, 2200; 8:20 GST
"Whoa!" Buddy's voice crackled over the radio. "Check that out!"
Peter looked. An asteroid loomed well past the Moon's thin atmosphere. "Guess we know what tripped the alert." Peter checked his instruments. "It's headed straight for the base." He winced as he recalled the fate of the first lunar installation. "Everyone, meet up at the rendezvous point when we get to Earth."
The squadron chorused, "Will do."
"Feldmann—with me," Peter said.
"On your wing," Dathan replied and gave Peter a casual salute. "See you Earth-side."
Great Island, Japan; Lunar Evacuation Site, near Central Hospital
October 20, 2200; 12:21 JST
Conroy counted the assembled pilots. "Anyone seen Feldmann?"
"Nope," said Buddy. "Didn't he come in with you?"
Peter nodded. "If you see him, come get me."
"Sure," Buddy replied, as did the rest of the group.
Peter roamed the complex. He checked the commissary, hangar, the surrounding grounds, even the roof. No Dathan. Where is he?
On the way back to the hangar, Buddy ran up to him. "He's back!" she announced. "Showed up a couple minutes ago."
Peter set off at a brisk jog and found Dathan rubbing a smudge off his plane's wing.
"I was looking for you," Peter said. "Where did you go?"
"I apologize," Dathan said. "They took Janice—the girl from the base—to Central, so I went to check on her."
"How did you know where she was?" Peter said.
Dathan studied his hull with a frown. "I made some inquires during our flight." He crouched and rubbed another smudge off the port exhaust. "How does such a small plane collect this much dirt?"
"How is she?" said Peter.
"Who?" Dathan examined his landing gear.
"Janice."
"Oh." He knelt to inspect one wheel. "She's all right. Just a sprain."
"Tell someone where you're going next time," Peter said.
"Will do." Dathan stood. "Did McDonald ever clean this thing?"
Peter snorted. "Probably not. The guys hosed her down after he left, but she still needs a good scrubbing."
"I'll do that when we get back," Dathan said.
"Not if that asteroid stays on course," said Peter.
"Right." Dathan crossed his arms and studied his plane's hull again. "Its trajectory could shift."
"Don't count on it."
Great Island, Japan; Argo 's Undersea Dock
October 20, 2200; 16:07 JST
Stephen Sandor toured the Argo. You'll get those upgrades you deserve. He patted a nearby wall console. No more clunky software updates; no power fluctuations. I'll give you the best work I've ever done. He smoothed a fond hand over the bulkhead. You've earned a long rest.
The scientist roamed each hall. He stopped by the observation bubble. In the next bay, construction lamps fended off the darkness and illuminated another ship's half-finished skeleton. It was big, larger than the Argo.
Stephen sighed. Project Andromeda… He folded his arms and turned his back. I wish I'd never helped them develop Starsha's technology.
He left the observation deck to finish his tour, but as he neared the open side entrance—a shuffle, faint. He froze.
Again, the whisper of feet against the deck.
Stephen took one step, but his boot thunked. The shuffle became a skitter, and a shadow's long tail raced away. He pursued. When he burst through the exit, he grabbed the stair rail and leaned over it, but the darkness hid everything below.
Too much time underground. He shook his head and started to duck back inside when a beam of light flickered near the bow. "Who's there?"
"Mr. Sandor, it's Jun—Fujimoto."
Sandor sighed. "Mr. Fujimoto, how are you this afternoon?"
"Fine. Better when they get the lights working again." Fujimoto chuckled and approached the base of the stairs. "Got to watch your step down here." He cocked his flashlight under his chin and scratched his wrist. "Power conservation is great, but this is ridiculous."
"Last estimate said three hours until power-up," Sandor said. "Did you see anyone around the ship?"
Fujimoto laughed. "See anyone? We're the only fools desperate enough to come here." He held up a scanner. "But I can pick up a mouse at five hundred yards. I've got you and your engineer on here, and the crew building that other ship, plus a few rats, but nobody else's here."
Sandor nodded. "Thank you. If you see anyone, let me know."
"Will do," said Fujimoto.
Great Island, Japan; Lunar Evacuation Site, near Central Hospital
October 20, 2200; 21:13 JST
"It's going to hit!" Buddy squealed and covered her eyes.
Peter's stomach turned as the asteroid neared Luna II. He held his breath as the distance closed. Then he blinked.
"Wait! Where is it?" another Tiger asked from the side.
Peter stared. The feed was blank with no asteroid in sight. He fumbled for his handheld, but the sensor logs were clean. What just happened?
Peter rushed to the closest network terminal and brought up the logs again, and this time he ran an analysis program. It combed through forty-eight hours of data.
Nothing.
As he stood staring at the terminal, his head pounded. Did someone target the station? Or one of its personnel?
"Someone planted that image."
"Dathan," Peter motioned him over. "I thought the same, but there's no evidence."
Dathan handed Peter his handheld and pointed to a section of sensor data.
Peter checked the date at the top of the file. "The thirteenth."
"Three days before McDonald's transfer," Dathan said. "And look at this." He tapped the screen. Footage of the hall outside McDonald's station quarters showed him sneaking out of his room at zero two twenty-seven. The video flipped from camera to camera following him until he reached the data center. He paired a tiny device with the main server and footage of the incoming asteroid flickered on the wall-mounted monitors.
"McDonald… did this?" Peter whispered.
"It appears so," Dathan replied. "But he didn't do it alone."
"What do you mean?" Peter said.
"How much do you know about the station's sensor grid?"
"Not much."
"For the sensors to register a threat, it takes more than footage—otherwise, every time we rolled video of something large headed our way, we'd get a false reading. He needed a convincing set of numbers to fool the system. Did McDonald have that kind of expertise?"
"No." Peter shook his head. "He needed his calculator app to add two plus two."
Dathan nodded. "Thus, the question, who was he working with? Why target the station?"
"To get everyone off-site!" Peter rushed to the station director's temporary office and told him about Dathan's discovery. Within the hour, an alert sounded through the complex, warning everyone to prepare for their imminent return to Luna II and to be ready for hostile interaction upon their arrival.
Peter readied his plane for launch. When his turn came, he zoomed off the runway. As he followed the main transport ship, he and several of his squadron formed a defense grid around the larger vessel.
Who's doing this? What do they want? He shook his head. "Herman… I can't believe you'd do this to your own squad."
The trip felt interminable. Peter listened to the rest of the group over the radio.
"What's going on?" Buddy said. "Was it a really bad computer glitch? Oh! Did space slugs infiltrate the server room and fry them? What about a dimensional shift that made the station transition into another reality for a few hours? Or–"
"Mathison!" Dathan interrupted.
"Sorry," she muttered. "Can't a girl ask questions around here, Groucho?"
Dathan muttered something about chattering squirrels.
Peter smirked but sobered again at the thought of their sudden return.
Luna II, The Moon
October 21, 2200; 04:19 GST
"Looks intact from up here," Buddy said over the radio.
"Sensors detect no life signs on the ground," said Dathan.
Peter's brow furrowed. "When we get the signal, everyone dock and wait until we're all there before you get out of your planes—and leave your helmets on."
As the squad landed, Buddy chatted over the radio and Dathan shushed her more than once while they waited for the last man to dock.
"All right," Peter said. "Everyone out."
As a group, the pilots floated to the floor with the help of a low gravity and a guide rail.
Peter led them toward the hangar entrance, wary. When he reached the door, he drew his gun and motioned everyone else to do the same. "Feldmann," Peter whispered, "you too."
The second the door opened, there it was. Graffiti. Red and black plastered every wall.
"Errant," Buddy whispered. "But why'd they come here? They usually stay Earth-side."
"Perhaps they made an exception," Dathan said. "Errant insists humanity return to their roots—abandon star travel. This station's recent technological advancements are a threat."
"The servers!" Peter ran, the squad three feet behind. He presented his ID, and the door opened.
"They trashed it," said Buddy. "Basic stuff is still online—life support, lights, doors." She approached the main terminal. "Backups are running."
Dathan stood beside her. "The damage erased any open files." He sat and scrolled through several readouts. "It corrupted several terabytes more, but I can't tell how far the damage extends without digging into the system." He popped open the drive bays. "One of the backup volumes is missing—and the main server is short a few components."
Other station personnel crowded into the room, the director in the lead. "What's going on here?"
"Sir." Conroy gave the man a salute. "It was Errant. They stole a drive and some parts."
The director nodded. "I'll notify the EDF. We need that research back. Without it… it could take another year to piece everything back together."
The other scientists gave a collective groan.
Luna II, The Moon
November 13, 2200; 01:16 GST
"That's Urgen Tel," Peter whispered from behind the two-way mirror. "They got him."
"Took a while to root him out," Dathan said. "EDF security was telling me how they tracked him down. He holed up in one of the underground city bunkers. Security footage caught him near one of the undersea docks the day of the asteroid strike."
Peter froze. "Really? Which one?"
"I think they said it was the construction site for the new flagship—Andromeda."
Argo's there too. Peter shoved sweaty hands into his pockets. "Did he do anything to the ship?"
"Can't say," Dathan replied. "From what I heard, the footage snowed out for almost five minutes after that, and then they found the security guard unconscious—Fujimoto I think his name is. Tel clocked him hard. He was out for almost a whole day."
"Let's see what he has to say to the detective." Peter turned on the mic.
"I'm telling you, this wasn't me," Tel insisted. "If I were to commit a crime—and I'm not saying I would—I have a lot more finesse. This is sloppier than a pig's dinner." He gestured to the images of the vandalism displayed on one wall. "Frankly, I'm insulted."
"So, you're saying you didn't do this," said the detective. "Convenient for you the station cameras weren't working after the evacuation."
Tel smirked and crossed his arms as he draped one leg over the other. "Can't help you, Eddie." He flicked the butt of his cigarette towards the officer. "I wasn't involved." He took another long drag and blew out a cloud of smoke. "What my friends do on their own time is none of my business."
"So, you're not denying members of your organization might have done this."
"I'm not saying anything," Tel replied as another smoldering butt hit the floor. Tel crunched it out with his boot. "And we're not an organization; just a group of friends who happen to have the same ideals."
"Where were you on October twentieth at sixteen hundred?" The detective leaned over Tel and gave him a hard stare.
"Oh, Eddie. I was at my granny's birthday party; she just turned ninety-two. There are dozens of pictures and videos on the net. I was there from fifteen-twenty until seventeen-forty-two. But you already knew that. How could I be in two places at once?"
"You've got doubles; we took them into custody an hour ago," said the officer.
Tel shrugged. "Is it a crime to have friends who look like you? They didn't do this."
"Then who did?"
"Don't know; don't care. Whoever they are, they did the world a favor. Humans don't belong out past the atmosphere. I'm getting itchy just being here."
The EDF detective narrowed his eyes. "We're aware of your opinion."
Another officer stepped in and whispered to the interrogator.
"You can go," said the detective. "But if you tamper with your tracker, we'll find out."
"Space-loving Eddies," Tel grumbled as he rubbed the back of his hand. "Just get my boots back on the ground." He shoved past the men and ducked as the top of his head brushed the door frame.
Peter winced. "Wouldn't want to be that tall. No offense, Dathan."
"None taken," Dathan replied. "It was a relief to transfer to the Tigers. The hangar door is higher than most of the others on station."
Peter clicked off the mic. "If Tel didn't do this, and the rest of Errant wasn't involved…"
"Espionage, corporate greed, someone who wanted R&D shortcuts—it could have been anyone." Dathan started toward the door. "We might never know."
Peter shook his head. "Maybe Space Crimes will get a good lead from one of Tel's doubles."
"Maybe," Dathan said. "Men like Tel are hard to crack…" he scratched his braceleted wrist, "unless your hand is better than theirs."
Errant Headquarters; Chiba Prefecture, Great Island, Japan
November 13, 2200; 06:19 GST
"I didn't tell them anything," Urgen insisted to the black comm screen.
"I know."
"Then why are you calling me?"
"Just making sure you know I can fulfill my promise if you ever disclose."
Heavy breathing hissed over the channel, and then a frightened cry. "Daddy?! Daddy, I want to come home!"
"Let her go!" Urgen slammed a fist into the wall.
"Not until I know you won't spread our little secret. I'll give your precious daughter back, but if you ever reveal the truth, the trigger at the base of Ilana's skull will go off, and after that… she'll be no good to anyone."
"I swear on her life, I won't talk."
"Very good. She'll be delivered to your door within the hour."
The call dropped, and Urgen sat down hard. He lit a cigarette and stared at the smoldering tip as it crumbled to the cement floor.