Luke Marusiak - Lifeboat Moon

Zeke watched as Habi escorted the sobbing young man away. He was envious. He wished Habi could comfort him that way. He turned back to the wall-mounted computers. He flicked through several status screens and stopped at the status of the air supply. He stared at it a long moment, ice forming in his gut.

The pressure in the air supply hose wasn’t dropping but at 740 Torr, it was a full twenty-five Torr below the nominal setting. He thought of the small crack in the image Habi showed him. If there’s a hole in the hose or a crack in the air supply fixtures, we’re done.

Mark reentered the Nexus and saw Zeke staring at the screen with a deep frown. He looked around and his gaze fell on Thad Rudzinski who was in animated conversation with Tina Bennet. He heard someone crying and noticed Habibeh and Brexton off to the side of Habitation Tube Two. I forgot about Brexton. When we lost the ArmCon, Brex lost his father. There was no time to provide comfort. He bounded to the center of the Nexus and came alongside Zeke. “Japan Station sprung leaks from the moonquakes. They’re pretty upset.” He pointed to the status screen. “How’re we doing?”

Zeke shook his head. “We keep getting bad news.”

“Tell me.”

“You know those tongue and groove bricks I got the Innovation Award for?”

“Yes.”

“They crack.” He sighed. “I don’t have a quick seal solution.” His eyes never left the screen. “The vibration from the crash continues. Habi thinks our whole base is too brittle.” Zeke pointed to the oxygen reading.

“What’s that?”

“Oxygen. I don’t know why the pressure in the supply hose from the air reactor is twenty-five Torr below specification.”

“Our air supply might be compromised?”

“Shush, everyone’s on the edge of panic.”

“Where’s Sally?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the Manufacturing Pod.”

“I told Japan Station I’d give them a status update in an hour.” He looked around. “What do I tell them?”

“Hell if I know.”

Heads turned. Mark struggled to exhibit calm. He faced the group in the Nexus. “Thad and Tina, please come here so we can detail next steps. The rest of you, return to your posts or quarters. I’ll call an assembly as soon as we stabilize our plan.”

“Plan?” Brexton Little wailed. “We’re all screwed.”

“No, we’re not.” Mark looked at the ArmCon’s son and wished he had something better to say. “But we do have work to do.”

There was grumbling but NASA picked the crew for discipline. They left the Nexus as ordered. Thad and Tina came alongside Mark and Zeke. “What can I do?” Thad asked.

“Zeke’s unhappy with the pressure in the air tube. I need you to go out to the reactor and trace it back. Take sealant and apply it to anything that looks suspect.”

Thad nodded and his expression told Mark he fully understood the importance of the integrity of their air supply. “Yes sir, I’m on it.”

Mark grabbed Thad by the arm. “Listen, use the moon buggy and park it down by the hangar entrance.” Mark noticed Thad’s pained expression. “What’s the matter?”

Thad stared at his mentor. “Mark, I don’t know why the pod crashed. I did everything by the book.”

“I know Thad. Make sure our air supply’s secure. I’ll come out later and we’ll use the buggy to check the ledge.”

“The ledge?”

“First things first.”

Thad nodded. “I’ll make sure the air supply’s solid.” He departed through the hangar door.

Mark swallowed. He wished to high heaven he could ask someone for help. He turned to the Agriculture Pod Manager. “Tina, please check the seams in the Ag Pod. The base is still vibrating and we need to understand the extent of the damage.”

Tina heard the exchange with Thad and knew seal integrity was paramount. “Will do.”

Mark pulled out his contactor and called Sally. “Where are you?”

“In the ArmCon’s quarters. Brexton and Habibeh are here too.”

“I need you.” Mark thought he’d never spoken truer words in his life.

“I’ll be right there.”

Once Sally arrived Mark spread his hands to encompass her and Zeke. “Both of you come with me to the control room. I want to make sure Japan Station knows our leadership.”

“That’s what we are?” Sally asked.

“That’s what we are,” Mark said.

Japan Station’s Director Katsumi Hayashi and Captain Yumi Kaneko were calmer this time around and they appreciated the introductions. “We believe our station is stable,” Katsumi reported in a confident command voice. “The vibrations exposed weaknesses in the design of our seams. We’ve also had a supply pod mishap since the gamma ray burst.”

“We had direction control go out of the last Japan Station supply pod we landed,” Yumi added. “It’s still out there, fifty kilometers away. We need to get our supplies from it soon. Of course, that was a soft landing.”

“We’re not sure what happened with our pod,” Mark replied, “and we’re still assessing damage to Moon Base Armstrong. We’re verifying our internal seals and I’ve got Captain Rudzinski out checking our air supply hose.”

There was nothing but silence after that report. Doug, Sally, Zeke and Mark all frowned as they waited a full minute for a response. The receive light flashed on. “Are you sure it’s wise to send Captain Rudzinski to check the air? Isn’t he the same one who signaled the pod?”

Mark trusted Thad with his life but he realized the Japan Station leadership didn’t know any of them. “Yes,” Mark answered. “He had nothing to do with what happened.”

“You can’t conclude that.” Yumi’s voice was sharp. “We sensed anomalies in the telemetry.”

“What anomalies?”

Again, there was a long pause. “We are preparing to visit Moon Base Armstrong,” Katsumi said. “We’ll bring our information for your investigation.”

Thad bounded away from the hangar onto the ledge. He paused, looked down, and saw white rocks jumping in the dust. After all this time, the moon was still vibrating from the crash. Those Apollo astronauts were right — the moon rings like a bell. That interesting observation could wait. Verifying the air supply was critical. He commenced rapid movement up the ledge alongside the plexiglass walkway. Thad felt he mastered the bounding moves on the moon’s surface. He was able to cover large distances with each bound, conserving both his air and his energy. He used a calf muscle powered flick just before launching that gave him another two meters of distance per bound. It was something he would train others once they got everything nailed down. If they got everything nailed down.

He got to the end of the ledge, which was a mile in distance, a scant seven minutes after departing the hangar. Thad activated his in-helmet display with his chin and, using the indicator-selector switch the implant in his left eye provided, ensured his visor was ready for his move from the dark shade to the burst of sun.

Thad shuffled into the brilliant sun next to the massive solar array. He regarded the glittering panels and large air reactor. It’s a damn good thing the pod didn’t crash here. That would have been game over. He shuffled to the garage.

The garage with Moon Base Armstrong’s three moon buggies was behind the array in the panels’ shade. This allowed for the mechanized transport to get the dual benefit of access to power and shielding from direct sunlight. Thad unplugged a buggy, verified the charge in the nickel-hydrogen batteries, and took a seat. He remembered that the buggy’s batteries had a specification life of five years. That thought rattled him. In a rush, he realized the tenuousness of their future survival. For all the pomp of self-sufficiency in the awards ceremony, most of their life sustaining technology relied on earth-provided equipment. And the earth was gone.