Luke Marusiak - Lifeboat Moon

“I’ll check the walkway end to end from the outside. I still have enough air in my second suit tank. I need to see if Tina’s okay.”

“Go, I’ll check on what’s left of our moon base.”

“Is Doug gone?”

“He should be. I sealed him in his quarters.”

“Are you sure he couldn’t have disabled that lock from the inside?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he got out and stopped Chuck from spreading the RF shield netting.” The two arrived at the plexiglass connection to the isolated lock Sally and the 108 crew of Moon Base Armstrong used for their evacuation.

“Moon Base Armstrong’s probably at vacuum now,” Thad said. “There’s no way its seals handled that strong a quake. Come with me. We can check on the damage later.”

“Chuck’s still in there.”

“Mark, forget about Chuck. We have him and Doug isolated. They’re probably dead by now.”

“Thad, I can’t forget about Chuck. Everyone we’ve got left is a precious human we’ve got to save if we can.”

“Mark, I wouldn’t go back in there. Something went wrong and we’ve got the crew in the cave. We need to see what happened to Japan Station.”

“Before I face the future, I need to do what’s right — and that means trying to save Chuck.”

“Don’t be long. I’ll check the tube and be right back.”

“Make sure Sally’s fine too, okay?”

“Will do. Good luck.”

Mark went into the lock adjacent the plexiglass tube entrance. Thad bounded on the ledge next to the tube toward the cave. What happened in there to prevent the netting from working? We almost lost everything.

The hangar was quiet and, as near as Mark could tell, still pressurized. He left his spacesuit on and went to the Nexus hatch. He saw from the display next to the hatch that the pressure inside the Nexus had dropped to 440 Torr. Mark realized there must be significant leaks to cause that level of pressure drop from the nominal earth atmospheric setting of 760 Torr.

Mark worked two thumbscrews, lifted a panel, and pushed the button on the hatch to equalize the pressure between the hangar and the Nexus. This button was left over from when they were first assembling Moon Base Armstrong. Those hopeful times before the gamma ray burst seemed an eternity ago. The seal connections between the moon base’s sections had to be done at equal pressure and then tested with one side at vacuum.

As Mark heard the hissing of precious life giving air whoosh out of the hangar and into the Nexus, he pushed down a pang of his fear of suffocation. Maybe Thad was right and he should leave Doug and Chuck to whatever fate may have befallen them.

The gauge lit yellow, indicating equalized pressure but at below breathable threshold. Mark opened the hatch to the Nexus and tried to digest the view. The lights were on and the large area was nearly empty. In the corner Mark could see bundled netting and two figures frozen in what looked like a wrestling pose. That’s what happened. Doug got out of his quarters.

Mark felt a surge of fury. After all the damage, Doug used his last acts and last breaths to stop the RF shielding of the Nexus. It was abominable for both the effort it required and the effect it intended. He bounded next to the two and saw both pulled the emergency air from the Nexus cubbies and had the clear masks over their mouths. Then he saw it.

A slight fog appeared on Chuck’s mask. He’s alive. Mark pulled Chuck off the floor, disentangled the now useless netting from his legs, and held him under one arm. Chuck wasn’t the only one alive. Doug not only breathed, he was conscious. He lifted an arm toward Mark.

Mark paused and stared at the man who nearly destroyed everything. If all life was precious, Doug should be saved. He leaned forward and reached his arm toward Doug’s outstretched hand.

The alarm of air shortage signaled in Mark’s spacesuit helmet. In a rush Mark realized that, unlike Thad, he had only attached one spare tank to his suit and now that was gone. He only had a couple of minutes of air left — tops. He needed more. Hot rage surged through him as he stared at Doug. Die you worthless bastard!

Again, similar to when he had no time with the pod descent, Mark acted on instinct. He had a glimmer of an idea, a hope, a prayer that he grasped. There was one and only one thing left that could save them. And it was only Chuck that he planned to save.

Mark bounded, with Chuck under his arm, to the Nexus hangar hatch. He went through it and saw his yellow air warning in his helmet turn red. Mark sucked in a large gulp of air and went into the hangar. He bounded, off balance due to having Chuck under one arm, to the lock hatch for the plexiglass tube. If Mark and Chuck were going to get enough air to make it to the cave, it had to come from the tube.

The control room lights were blinking warnings of depressurization and communications requests. They’d have to go unanswered, Mark had no time and only a breath of air. He set Chuck down in front of the hatch, swiveled the handle, and opened the lock. He went in and pulled Chuck inside. Mark sealed the hatch behind him and fought against his lungs involuntary convulsions for more air. I need to get to the second or third section.

Mark clamored in a sideways scramble to the first of the nine tube sections, opened the person-wide lock at the first connection, and laboriously stood the unconscious Chuck up. He closed the hatch behind him, and opened the hatch to the second plexiglass section. He could hold his breath no more. Mark dropped to his knees, exhaled, and gasped. His spacesuit was out of air.

He fumbled with his helmet catch and, ignoring warnings, released his helmet. His helmet popped off and he crouched on the conditioned lunar floor gasping air that was as thin as at 5000 meters elevation, the height of Mount Everest’s base camp. Pinpoints of colored light swept his consciousness which narrowed to the instinct of self-preservation. The steam from Mark’s gasping breath froze when he exhaled. There was no way to acclimate himself to this low pressure. He panted on the edge of consciousness teetering between resigned sleep and effort. Sleep meant death. Mark thought of Sally.

She was the one thing, the one person, the one reach for love and future that prompted effort. Sally was a reason for living. She was the reason for living. He pictured her in front of him and opened his eyes. The tube was on a partially lit ledge that angled upward.

It was impossible. There was no way he could move through seven more sections in his near unconscious state. There was no way. Mark rested his forehead on his gloved hands. He was beaten.

When they find me , he thought, at least they should see I fought past the second plexiglass tube section. It might be impossible to make it the whole way but I can make it one more section. Mark pulled a strap from his spacesuit and hooked it to a clip on the equipment harness Chuck wore. Mark faced the third tube section and viewed it through his narrow straw of consciousness. He began crawling. He felt the tug as the strap to Chuck grew taunt and he limited his moves to mere centimeters at a time. Just the next section. I’ll get into section three and they’ll know I fought the good fight.

Mark crept forward in a rhythm of an inchworm and, through the fog of his diminished consciousness, was amazed when he reached the third section. He pulled himself up, opened the first hatch, pulled Chuck inside the lock and closed it. He nearly collapsed from the lightheadedness the effort took but managed to push the button for the hatch to the third section. The hatch opened and Mark, with Chuck, fell onto the conditioned bottom of the third tube section. He lay there a long moment.