White-hot stars burned against the blackness of space as a tiny chip of technology screamed silently through the void, headed towards the Moon. The XF-500 was surprisingly small considering its flight capabilities. Nevertheless, it was aerodynamically impressive on every level; delta-shaped, with a sleek bank of rear thrusters.
Inside the cramped cockpit, Lucas and his crew were strapped into their jump-chairs. They each wore high-tech spacesuits that appeared to be woven to their bodies. Various digital and telemetry readouts were reflected on the inside of their helmet visors. Upfront in the console, Lucas piloted the craft, keeping a close eye on his holographic instrument array and trajectory models. Behind him, sat Kwong, Mitchell, Perez, Chakma, and Adams.
Outside, the dead, luminous sphere of the Moon filled their primary viewpoint. It loomed large, almost close enough to reach out and touch. In a few moments, it would be.
The ship began to slow, orienting for its descent. It banked into a graceful orbit, the glow of its thrusters softening.
Lucas kept his hand firmly on the stick as the ship shuddered. “Starting orbital insertion maneuver. Now descending. Altitude, three-hundred-and-seventy miles.”
Kwong studied the altitude display on an overhead screen, relaxed with the confidence of a woman who had never failed at anything.
Through his visor, Adams could be seen grinning ear-to-ear. He was loving this.
Perez watched the lunar surface rushing up to meet them. She couldn’t help but gulp nervously.
Chakma and Mitchell were also staring ahead in quiet awe. At this altitude, the lunar surface was nothing short of magnificent. Ancient. Barren. Completely alone.
The ship crested the curvature of the Moon’s horizon, plunging into darkness as it swung around to the far side. Despite the lack of sunlight, some lunar features were visible. There were endless clusters of craters, some the size of cities, mixed with fractured massifs and basins. The scarred geography bore silent witness to billions of years of cosmic violence.
Lucas turned his attention to an alarm pinging on his instrument console. The ship was starting to drift slightly off their designated trajectory.
Perez spotted something new on the overhead screen. “There it is,” she said, barely above a whisper. As Lucas began righting the ship, the rest of the crew averted their gaze to the display above.
Below them, the sprawl of the half-built Moonbase was just visible. Vague shapes and structures took form. They looked still and silent. The outlines of huge, dust-caked machinery sat frozen in darkness.
Intense vibrations could be felt throughout the craft as Lucas began his final landing sequence. “Puttin’ us down.”
Stabilizers fired in staccato bursts as a rim of powerful landing lights blinked on. The impressive craft set down between cluster of habitats on the outskirts of the base, kicking up plumes of dust.
The cargo hold was filled with medical and food supplies. Kwong and Perez checked each other’s gear, while Adams and Mitchell checked the chambers of their modified assault rifles.
Chakma watched them while adjusting with his helmet readouts. “Those weapons going to work out there?”
Mitchell looked at Chakma like he was a moron while checking his scope attachment. “You bet your ass they will. These rounds contain their own oxidizer. No atmospheric oxygen required.”
Lucas and Perez entered the hold, carrying their insulated backpacks. Perez shoved a few medical supplies into her bag as the others hustled through a small passageway into the rear airlock.
Kwong was the last one through, closing the hatch behind her. Lucas moved to the front of the airlock and checked the readout on his wrist display. Satisfied, he turned to the others. “Run your O2 checks again. Remember, don’t waste your breathing. We’ve got about three hours’ worth of air.”
Each crew member checked their O2 supply and gave Lucas the thumbs up. He then turned and peered out the primary airlock to the surface, taking hold of a large red handle next to him. “Opening airlock.” Lucas pulled the handle down.
There was a loud beep before the hatch cracked open, visibly sucking out air with it. A small ladder unspooled from the underbelly of the craft and the crew began to dismount, gingerly stepping down onto the surface. They were greeted with the deafening silence of a tomb.
Mitchell looked out in awe at the magnificent desolation “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I’m here.”
“Yer folks would be proud, son,” Adams said with a mock hick accent.
“Just hurts me to think none of them will ever know I came here.”
“Yup. Not even if you die here,” Adams said with a playful snort.
Mitchell gave him a sideways glance and smirked.
“What’s our first port of call?” asked Perez.
Lucas took in the sprawling base before them. “We need to secure the Command Module. From there we can work our way out to the drill site. Hey, Chakma.”
“Yeah.”
“Start your mapping sequence. I want a grid layout of the entire complex.”
Chakma pulled a small hand-held device out from his supply sack. “Roger that.”
“Let’s move out. I’m on point. Single-file, and no wandering off.” Lucas began hop-walking across the lunar surface, kicking up a rooster tail of dust behind him. The others followed him.
Kwong laughed, almost ecstatic. “Holy shit! I’m walking on the Moon!”
“Look, ma! No hands!” yelled Chakma. The others chuckled.
Lucas and Adams were the first to reach the entrance hatch of Igloo-Six, where the Command Module was housed. It looked like a cross between some dormant, high-tech crypt, and an archaeological dig site that had been hastily abandoned. Everything was covered in grey dust.
“Adams, you’re up.”
Adams pulled out a slim package from his sack that was wrapped in silver foil. He carefully peeled it open, pulling out a blank keycard.
He placed it against the keypad. After a few seconds, the numbered pads whirred and flickered until a green light clicked on.
Lucas twisted the handle on the hatch. There was a dull clunk as it opened, revealing a connected airlock corridor. They all proceeded to enter, their flashlight beams sabering the musty darkness as Perez closed the hatch behind them.
They cautiously pushed deeper into the facility, through connected airlocks and hatches, and then through a series of more extensive console rooms and plexiglass cubes.
Mitchell’s flashlight caught a smear of blood on the wall next to him. “Got some blood here.” The others all turned, flashlights dancing over the walls to examine the evidence.
Perez, however, saw something of interest up ahead and continued through the darkness. ‘Um… guys.” She peered through a console door that was smeared with more blood. Pfssssht! The door swished open.
The rest of the team followed her through, gingerly entering the room. Their jaws were agape. Adams and Mitchell drew their weapons.
“Jesus…” Lucas muttered to himself.
Chakma looked on with horror. “Oh, man.”
They were presented with the gruesome aftermath of some kind. As their flashlights panned around the room, they illuminated blood-flecked walls, as well as upturned furniture and equipment.
“Looks like there was a massacre,” Perez said.
“One without any bodies,” Lucas replied.
She turned to Lucas with a grim look. “Yet.”
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
