Ben Bova: Moonrise

How long do I have? she asked herself as she hurried across the emptied garage toward the nearest hatch to a tunnel. Minutes? Seconds?

She reached the hatch to tunnel four, fumbled with the electronic keypad in her eagerness to get it open, and finally managed to get her gloved finger on the proper button. The hatch slid-open and she stepped into the little chamber between the outer and inner hatches that served as an airlock.

Okay, she told herself shakily. So far so good.

She got the inner hatch open and, with a sigh of relief, slid up the visor of her helmet.

And choked. She couldn’t catch her breath. No air! she screamed silently as she slammed her visor down again. They’ve pumped the air out of this tunnel! What if they’ve pumped the air out of all of them?

A sharp needle of pain seared her chest. Got to try the next tunnel. She stumbled through the airlock again, back out into the garage, and headed for the hatch to tunnel three. ~ Her legs gave way before she reached it. Agonizing pain flared through her. She felt as if she was being electrocuted. Or burned at the stake.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, she cried to herself. It hurts! Christ! Oh Christ, Christ, Christ it hurts!

Greg got to his feet slowly and admired his handiwork. What had been a set of air pumps was now a shambles of disconnected parts scattered across the cold rock floor of the EVC.

“That’s one,” he said, puffing slightly.

Melissa stood beside him, her cool gray jacket smeared with grime, her hands greasy, knuckles skinned from banging them as she tried to help Greg.

“Let’s get the next one,” she urged.

“Give me a minute,” Greg said, stretching his arms over his head. He was unaccustomed to so much intense physical exertion.

“They’ll be trying to get in here again,” she warned.

Greg gave her a knowing smile. “Not yet. I pumped down the air pressure out in the tunnel before taking the pump apart. They can’t breathe the thin stuff out there now.”

“But they have spacesuits, don’t they?”

“Sure. But it takes an hour of prebreathing before you can get into a suit. Unless you want to die of the bends.”

“Prebreathing?” Melissa asked. “Bends?”

“Never mind,” Greg snapped. “Let’s get to work on the next set of pumps.”

“Good!”

“Four tunnels,” Greg said as he stooped to gather his tools. “Each one has its own set of air pumps, including backups. Triple and quadruple redundancy.” He laughed, a brittle sound that rang off the stone walls. “A lot of good it’s going to do them!”

“Will we have time to do them all?” Melissa asked.

Walking leisurely to the second set of pumps, Greg replied, “Plenty of time. And then we’ll do the recycling system, just to make certain.” He laughed again. “That’ll be our own little bit of redundancy.”

He slapped the big wrench on one of the nuts holding down the main pump’s domed top. It made a beautiful, echoing clang.

“We won’t pass out before the job’s finished, will we?” Melissa asked. She worried that Greg would screw up, one way or another. They were so close to the final ending, she didn’t want to go through this and then find that they had failed.

“No,” Greg assured her. “This chamber is sealed off from all the others. There’s enough air in here for the two of us for days on end.”

“But how will we…?”

“Finish it?” Greg’s smile beamed at her. He moved closer to her, whispering like a little boy, “When all the pumps are done, when I’ve knocked out the recycling system, I’ll open the hatch out into the tunnel. Our air will blow out and we’ll be dead in a couple of minutes.”

“You’re sure?”

“As certain as death can be,” Greg said.

Melissa kissed him on the lips. “Then let’s make love while the air goes out. Let’s die in each other’s arms.”

Greg cocked his head slightly. “Sure. Why not?” She sighed. It would all be over soon. What was it Shakespeare said? All the heartache and the thousand natural shocks flesh is heir to. It’s all going to end, and Moonbase and nanotechnology with it. She felt a peace and contentment that she had not known since childhood.

“Stop daydreaming and help me with this,” Greg snapped.

Startled, she looked at the man she hated, the man she loved, and went to help him.

A dull booming sound reverberated through the shadowy, high-ceilinged cave.

“What was that?” Melissa asked.

Greg peered up into the shadows. “I don’t know.”

Another, like the growl of distant thunder.

“They’re trying to get in again!”

“No,” said Greg. “It’s not the hatch. It’s too far away, whatever it is.”

Melissa thought wildly. “Maybe they’re launching a ship, getting away!”

Greg shook his head angrily. “There’s only one LTV on the pads and it can only hold a half-dozen passengers, max.”

“Your mother—”

“My mother wouldn’t even think of trying to get away,” Greg said. “It wouldn’t even enter her mind. Or Doug’s, they’ll try to figure out some way to save everybody, whole base.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Especially Doug. He’ll want to be a hero. He’d rather die than let Moonbase be destroyed. Even if he was safe in bed in Savannah, once we wipe out Moonbase he’ll die too.”

“You’re sure?” Melissa repeated.

Greg laughed bitterly. “That noise is probably Doug battering his thick skull against the airlock hatch, trying to ram his way in here.”

“When all else fails,” granted Brudnoy, “use the precision adjuster.”

He and Doug gripped the long metal rod they had scavenged from the construction spares supply and rammed it again into the square metal ceiling panel that was the access to the vacuum vent that ran the length of tunnel three. The booming thud reverberated hollowly down the length of the tunnel.

“Well,” Doug panted, “I don’t think we’re going to surprise them.”

Brudnoy peered up at the access panel. It had barely budged. “I don’t know about that,” he said, wiping sweat from his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “They may hear the noise we’re making, but will they know what’s causing it?”

“Maybe not,” Doug agreed half-heartedly. He gripped the rod again in both hands. “Come on, let’s get it done.”

We’re not moving fast enough, Doug told himself. Greg’s in there taking the EVC apart and we’re stuck here as if we’re glued to the floor.

For one of the rare times in his young life Doug felt real anger. He wants to kill us all, kill himself and me and Mom and everybody. He wants to kill Moonbase. He wants to kill my father all over again.

Never! he snarled inwardly. I won’t let him get away with it He rammed the rod with all his strength against the unyielding ceiling panel.

Four more bangs and the panel gave way with a groan. Doug could see it lift away slightly from the lip of the square in the rock ceiling.

“I think that did it,” he said, puffing from the exertion.

“Yes.” Brudnoy was panting, too. Wheezing.

“Okay,” said Doug. “You’d better get back to the control center and tell them I’m on my way.”

“But I’m going with you,” said Brudnoy.

“No,” Doug said, placing a hand on the Russian’s bony shoulder. “This is something I have to do alone. Besides, I need you to take care of my mother.”

Brudnoy gave him an odd look. Then he shrugged submissively. “I understand. I’m too old for heroics.”

Doug smiled at him sadly. “You’re out of shape, you know.”

Shrugging, Brudnoy replied, “Too much soft living. Here, at least I can help you up.”