Luke Marusiak: Lifeboat Moon

“I don’t know.” Sally paused. “But there’s something I need from you first.”

“What’s that?”

“I need you to replace me.”

“Why? Are you sick?”

“No and don’t ask, please… not yet. Can you shadow me when you’re not going out fixing things?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” He sighed. “Back to humanity’s last stand — what do we tell the others? What do we say to the crew?”

“I don’t know.”

“We have to tell them something. We have to inspire them to go through the rash of shit in front of us.”

Sally nodded. “I know. It’s going to be hard but it can be done.”

Mark stood, pulled a stool next to Sally, and sat beside her. “I can’t think of the past anymore. It’s just too painful. I can’t think of my family and those we left behind… those thoughts lead me down a dark abyss.” He regarded her quizzical glance. “Our purpose, if we create one, is in our future.” He smiled. “One thing I know is that if I have to be stuck here, I’m glad it’s with you.”

“I am glad you’re here too Mark.” She flashed a smile. “We need to change how we view each other. We’re not crew. We’re not workers on shift. We’re all brothers, sisters, and family.”

Mark grinned. “Yeah, we’re all family and we better pull together.” He smiled in gratitude. “If we pull together, we can make it. We save ourselves and we save humanity.”

The two sat side by side without saying anything for several long moments. The whining electrical motors that kept the air scrubbers and air circulation fans moving created a perpetual white noise that was punctuated by creaks and pneumatic hisses. But save for that, it was quiet. Two people in the most impossible of situations sat side by side pondering how to move forward. Mark saw themselves in a new light and had a measure of Doctor Zeke’s reverence for the new purpose of Moon Base Armstrong’s crew.

Humanity’s last stand gives us the noblest goal of all, Mark thought. The scope of what we’re attempting is ineffable. We’re not cowering or surrendering. We are using our god-like minds to adapt, to create a new world. If we can pull together and inspire everyone…

He draped an arm across Sally’s shoulders and pulled her toward him. She closed her eyes and purred. Yes, he thought, we can do this.

Director Constance Collier stood on the raised platform at a podium and addressed the assembly. Moon Base Armstrong’s crew was gathered in the Nexus. Mark Martelli sat in front panting shallow breaths. It was six weeks after his near-death suffocation and his burgeoning anxiety felt like a lump of ice in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed on a dry throat. Don’t ask me to go out there, he silently pleaded. I’m not ready.

Mark licked his lips. It was the nightmare my first sleep period after… it happened. When Sally rescued him, he was glad to be alive and angry at Chuck. It was afterwards the cold sweats began. It was afterwards that terror came calling. Mark felt his cheeks flush. Every night I dream of suffocating just before losing consciousness. He forced himself to take a deep breath and fought down the panic-inducing thought. There’s no air on the moon. The one thing we need more than anything and it’s not here. Why didn’t we stay on earth and face the gamma ray burst? There’s no air here.

Moon Base Armstrong Controller — ArmCon Huxley Little stood next to Director Constance Collier on the platform and smirked as he placed a stack of what looked like grey plates on a small table. Mark was grateful that two so skilled in leadership were at the helm. Fatigue blurred Mark’s awareness. For weeks, his suffocating nightmare recurred so often it robbed him of sleep, courage, and sanity. And he didn’t go outside on moon walks again. He delegated that task to the other Quick Reaction Force Team Leader, Thad Rudzinski, and Thad took Mark’s role as Sally’s go-to guy.

Quick Response Force Team Leader Captain Mark Martelli swiveled and looked behind him. Doctor Ezekiel Ben-Ami was there, looking straight ahead with a deadpan stare. To his left sat Shift Manager Douglas Graham the second shift lead, and next to him was Shift Supervisor Charles ‘Chuck’ Tully and Shift Supervisor Arthur ‘Art’ Sledge. First shift lead, Shift Manager Sally Ride Henderson and Quick Response Force Team Leader Captain Thaddeus Rudzinski sat to his right.

They were doing the assembly thing: leaders up front. Mark’s dismay increased. Maybe Dad was right. If I can’t demonstrate sustained courage, how can I lead? His visceral terror of asphyxiation impacted every waking moment. And everybody knew it. He blinked his eyes and focused on the podium.

Music emanated from recessed speakers and filled the ad hoc auditorium with acoustic clarity. The assembly rose to their feet. The Star Spangled Banner played from a recording in perfect tones and, as the final stanzas of ‘Oh say does that star-spangled banner yet wave, o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?’ rang out — tears traced the cheeks of many of the Moon Base Armstrong crew. Mark felt tears trace his cheeks as well.

The crew applauded with an enthusiasm once reserved for football games. ArmCon Little, standing next to the director at the podium, remotely lowered a large projector screen that filled a wall of the Nexus.

“Please take your seats,” Director Collier spoke in a steady command voice. “There’s something we all need to see.”

“I’m about to show you something disturbing but, in the interests of candor, it’s necessary.” Director Collier was big on candor. It was one of her espoused core values. She believed candor cleared the decks so the bullshit could stop and the real work could proceed. That value seemed a quaint remnant of distant organizations long gone.

The director paused and nothing but the faint whirring of fans could be heard. She glanced from side to side, taking everyone in. “I know many of you hope your friends in Houston or Cheyenne Mountain defied the odds and survived the gamma ray burst.” She stared at the crowd a long moment. “I did too.”

There was another long pause and Mark wondered at the director’s reticence. He looked at Sally and noted her frown. He looked left and his eyes fell on Chuck who was slouched in his seat, arms crossed. Resentment surged. That no good son of a bitch. Chuck’s tampering with his air offset shattered Mark’s confidence and, as a consequence, his hard won respect.

“It turns out,” the director continued, “our friends occupying the side opposite us in the Shackleton Crater mounted more than an antenna on the top of the Mons Malapert Summit. Japan Station also pointed a camera at earth and yesterday, when they heard about our persistent hopes of survivors, they sent us these images.” The director frowned. “I cried when I saw them.” She stopped and cleared her throat. “A few who go outside on moonwalks see that our beautiful blue earth is now orange. We all need to face this reality.” She turned to ArmCon Little. “Hux, show them the first picture.”

The wall-sized screen was filled with a vivid view of space and in the center, brilliant and dazzling, was the blue and white marble of earth. Throughout the Nexus could be heard murmurs of how beautiful that precious blue marble was. Many appreciatively mumbled the word home.

“This was how our world looked when we left.” The director nodded to the ArmCon. “Show them the next image.”

The next projected picture prompted an agonized wail of grief. The picture captured the gamma ray burst as it surged across earth. Two-thirds of the earth was brown charcoal and one-third was still the innocent helpless blue marble. The dividing line that irrefutably showed the gamma ray burst’s planet-killing effect was a bright ring of fire. Mark could make out Australia a moment before its destruction and he saw that the burst annihilated the precious atmosphere. The gamma ray burst left nothing but a smoking ruin in its wake.