Twenty Days

Stream drifted from the mug, cradled in John’s hands. He brought it closer to his face, breathing in the aroma. Genuine coffee, not the freeze dried concoction made in the mess hall. John took a sip, holding the coffee in his mouth for a time before swallowing.

After placing the mug back on his desktop, he leaned forward closer to his holographic display and selected the playback button. His neural connection to the computer system activated the video of a boy dribbling a soccer ball along the sideling past the center line. He feigned a move to the inside, and pushed the ball up the field, leaving the twisting defender behind. Come on, Scott. He glanced up field, seeing an opening to the inside.

Cutting in, another defender lost his balance, falling over. That’s my boy. His blonde hair bounced and shuffled as he ran, dribbling the ball closer to the goal keeper. He faked to the middle, cutting back around yet another defender. John, leaning closer to the display swayed and moved his shoulders, watching the boy destroy the inept defense.

The goal keeper dashed forward, sliding towards the ball, hoping to kick it out of play. The boy kicked the ball a little to the inside, leaping over the sliding goal keeper. He gathered the ball back, tapping in an easy score. Raising his hand towards the sky, he ran closer to the corner as his teammates rushed in to congratulate him.

Just like I taught him. John smiled, nodding his head.

The camera shook and bounced about as the crowd cheered. It twisted around, auto-focusing on a smiling face. “Hi honey, wish you were here,” she said, blowing a kiss. “Love You!”

“Love you too, sweetie,” whispered John as he reached out to catch the kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”

He wasn’t sure, maybe this was the thirtieth time playing it back over the last couple of days? It didn’t matter. For a brief moment, he was in the crowd, cheering with the other parents. Watching his son helped the final days of his current rotation on the station just a bit easier. He tried to swallow the lump that was growing in his throat, and wiped away the growing moisture in the corner of his eyes.

As a station manager for the Lunar Energy Corporation, John Duncan was in charge of latest lunar mining base. Lunar Excavation Base 3 (LEB-3) was different from the first two in the sense it was robotic. For twenty-four hours per day, seven days a week, the robotic excavators broke through the lunar regolith beneath the dirt and dust, sending the chunks to the processing unit to harvest the rich deposits of helium-3. Most of the humans on the base were scientists, already looking forward to future solar system operations. The LEB-3 would help lay the groundwork for the next step in energy. Sometimes the robots would break down, and technicians would suit up and make the necessary repairs or perform routinely scheduled maintenance.

With two new mining operations in the pipeline, the LEC would have a stranglehold of the known lunar deposits of helium-3. Next would be asteroid mining. No other government or company was remotely ready for the next step. The solar system could be controlled by the LEC in the next century. Stakeholders salivated over the limitless money and power they could gain. Detractors feared what would happen. Friction with nations and other organizations built and spread.

John knew the LEC was controversial. Messages were sent through the networks, criticizing it and the increased efforts to control the entire energy supply. His base increased production capacity to unprecedented levels, mining much more helium-3 than ever before. Critics argued this level of control was more than any government or corporation should control. Control of the supply was control over nations and people. Unheard of leverage for a corporation over the earth was simply waiting in the lunar rocks for a government or corporation to extract. The LEC pushed hard to harvest as much from the moon as possible before others could gain a foothold. At this rate, only scraps would remain before any competitor could emerge, and so far, it was successful beyond all expectations.

John opened his messages in the system, filtering through the never ending stream of junk, internal correspondence, and weekly updates. He glanced through his new messages, looking for anything important enough to look at before his shift began. He paused on a message simply stating ‘You’ve Been Warned’, which wasn’t unusual, as all company employees generally received a fair amount of junk, but the sender was from a generic station computer account. He didn’t receive messages from automated components. John sat up once he read the subject. Warned about what?

Leaning forward, John opened the message.

“The LEC has too much power and control. There must be competition and rules to limit unethical corporations. Leave it well enough alone and there’ll be no problems. Try to stop us, and your oxygen may vent into space. Things have changed, permanently.”

John’s pulse quickened. Why did it come from an internal system ID? He rubbed his salt and pepper stubble on his chin. “Forward message to Will Stevens,” said John. “Add: ‘Will, take a look at this message. It looks to originate internally. Let’s check it out to be safe. Thanks. See you in a bit.’ Send.”

“Message sent to Will Stevens,” replied the monotone female voice of the computer system.

The console display closed, but John gazed at the photos on his desk for a moment. Empty, baseless threats were normal. Most messages were filtered out by their firewall, and some even checked by the corporate security section. This one got though, and used an existing internal ID. A knot formed in his stomach. John skipped his morning shower. Dressed in his regular black with gold trim manager uniform, he left for Operations.

###

Numbers displayed across the screen. Tonnage processed, shipments delivered to the station, expected quarterly goals, and reminders for annual staff evaluations popped up. John closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. With each promotion, the amount of paperwork seemed to rise proportionally. At some point, he would quality for an administrative assistant. He smiled, shaking his head at the realization that only the top people would ever be free. The paperwork would continue for the foreseeable future. He breathed deeply, practicing some meditation exercises to calm him. Deep breath…holding…and release. Before he could start a second round, a rap on his door broke his concentration.

“Come in.”

Will Stevens, the deputy manager, stepped in, closing the door behind him. He sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. He leaned in towards John.

“I think we may have a problem. I’m not sure, but the message looks legitimate. Probably came from within the base.”

“One of our own?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that, but maybe a plant from our last crew rotation,” said Will. “Maybe someone up the line in the corporate security section. Wouldn’t be hard to slip in a plant on one of the shipments. Someone could hack in remotely to send a message. It could piggyback on an existing message. Someone may be-”

“Ok, I get it. It can be a number of things.” John rubbed his stubble for a moment. “Maybe someone’s just trying to scare us, but we have to assume the worst.”

“I’ve roped in Susan. She’s scanning security logs and checking primary systems.”

“Good. You’ll be the man when I rotate out, what do you think we should do?”

“First, we need more information. We get the message, turn it inside and out, and see if we can match up the timestamp with the security logs. Maybe we get lucky and match the message with someone here,” said Will. “Then we scour the system, running a full diagnostic scan, checking for data integrity and security breaches. Next, I recommend a physical perimeter check of the base, and checking the external controls and even the excav site.”

John nodded his head in agreement, smiling. “You’ll do just fine in the big office. Keep this between the three of us, and poke around quietly. I’d rather not push someone in a corner until we know more.” He relaxed back into the chair, gazing into the small photos of his wife and boy. “Your ideas are good, you’ll do just fine.”

The silence broke from another rap on the door. Susan Stone, the station chief tech, stepped in. “Morning, boss,” she said. “I’ve been looking into the logs and the message. The security logs for that time stamp are missing.”

“What about the backup?” said John.

“That’s just it. The backup’s been scrubbed. It’s gone.” The intensity in her eyes flared as she looked at both men. She ran her hand quickly through her black hair, pulled back into a ponytail. “Remember those system failures over the last couple weeks? The data for those time periods is gone. We chalked them up as a minor glitch, but never fully look from a security point of view. Someone’s screwing with my systems.”

“You didn’t look into them?” John glared at Susan.

“I’m not saying we didn’t look. We saw the event logs as a system under-performing and failing. The technical side was cut-n-dry, and we swapped out some components as a routine preventative measure. Nothing pointed to a security breach. Until now, that is.”

“Ok, I see what you mean,” said John, his hands folded, propping up his chin. “Here’s the plan. Susan, you stay in Operations. Keep looking into the message. See if you can figure out an identity. Start with the latest crew rotation. These issues didn’t start until after that point.”
“What am I looking for?”

“I’m not sure.” John paused. “For now, we’ll look for anything that looks out of place. Someone who works in something out of their apparent skill set, or maybe unaccounted for gaps in their record. Service reprimands, financial difficulties, things like that.”

“You would have thought that they would have been weeded out before getting here,” said Will.

“You’d think, but right now I’m not taking a chance. We assume someone is on station with intent to do harm. Let’s get information for now, and bring in others only when we have to and they are cleared. Check each of the recent glitches and see if it was just technical failures, or caused by someone.”

“I’ll get started, boss.” Susan nodded and walked out of the office.

“You think we got a saboteur?” said Will. “I know the LEC has a growing list of enemies, but to strike out here? That’s bold.”

“That’s what I’d do if I wanted to strike a blow. Hit ‘em right at the source. You take out one of the excavation bases, and you set ‘em back a while. Months, even. Especially the new robotic operations here. That would send a message.” John called up the system diagnostic menu, and initiated a full scan. “This will probably take an hour or so. I want to do a perimeter check. Let’s get moving. Meet me in the suit room in ten.”

“Don’t worry, we got this,” said Will. “I’ll check in with Susan and see you down there.”

“I hope so. Got some soccer games to see in person next month.”

###

The corridors were identical. The endless white, circular modules all interconnected. The ease of construction won over aesthetics. Functionality always seems to win over artistic design. Wasted space on a station, space craft, of lunar base equals less revenue.

John walked down the corridor, glancing at personnel passing by. Nodding and greeting everyone as he passed. His eyes cast a cloak of suspicion over every one of them. Someone was not what they appeared to be. A smiling face passing by may be the knife in his back. In a month, John would be home. This was his fourth rotation, every six months, his home away from home. These were his people, his work family. When he boarded the transport at the end of this assignment, he would leave the base safe and on good footing.

As John approached the suit room, he focused on the problem at hand. Could there be something to destroy the base? An explosive? Taking out the environmental system may cause causalities. Base staff all trained for emergency procedures and evacuation, but what if someone placed explosives all around? Venting in space implies explosive decompression. Too many variables and unknowns. The biometric palm scanner read his hand, and the door opened.

A soft beep sounded in his ear. John activated his com-link. “This is John, go ahead.”

“John, this is Will. I’m with Susan now, and there’s five blocks of data scrubbed from the servers. Obviously, one is from today. Each time, the system bogged down during the same hours. We just chalked it up as a glitch, and diagnostics didn’t find any problems. The system is getting a little age on it.”

“The last crew rotation was two months ago. What are the timestamps for the missing data?” said John as he glanced around the suit room.

“All within that range, beginning three days after the last rotation arrival, boss,” said Susan.

The orange suits all hung from special attachments. Plug in attachments kept the batteries always on charge, and the oxygen tanks were constantly monitored by the computer system. Status readouts lit up on the display screens above each station. Once bright orange, the sticky lunar dust grayed the suits permanently. No amount of scrubbing and cleaning ever seemed to restore their luster. The sticky lunar dust coated everything and seemed impossible to keep off surfaces. John examined the stations. All suits were ready and online, except for one.

“Susan,” said John through his com-link. “Anyone on the schedule for an excursion?”

“No, schedule’s clear for today.”

Walking over to the console near the airlock door, John tried to activate it, but nothing happened. He placed his palm on the glass top, but the system was not scanning it. He tried a couple of times, but the system was dead.

The door open, causing John to clinch up, but relaxed as he noticed Will’s unmistakable soot black hair as the figure walked into the room.
“So a suit walked out on us?” said Will.

“Not only that, but the console is shot to Hell.” John nodded over to the console.

Will approached and tried to activate it with his hand. He tried a couple of times as John looked through the room.

“Told you,” he said looking through the empty suit locker.

Will opened a console access panel along the base of the upright pedestal. Glancing inside, he examined the wires, moving some of them around. “Ah-ha, someone fried it.”

John squatted next to the unit as Will gestured to the black scorch marks on the circuit panels.

“Must have used a stunner on it. Think anything can be recovered?” asked John.

“I doubt it, but we’ll have it brought to over to the workshop and see what the techs can recover.”

John tapped his ear. “Susan.”

“Go ahead, boss.”

“The EVA console’s fried. Schedule someone down to install a replacement, but I want you to check it out later. Maybe we can recover something from it. Someone looks to be covering their tracks.”

“You got it, boss.”

Will closed the access panel and glanced over to John. “Time for an hike?”

John continued to look at the empty station. “They didn’t leave anything behind. No clues or anything.” John shook his head. “Let’s suit up and figure out what’s going on.”

John secured his suit connections and plugged in the oxygen tubes, feeling the cool air flowing within the suit. He secured his helmet and locked it tight, smelling familiar musty odor of the oxygen system. All seals were good and connections were displayed green on his readout. As he approached the airlock door, he grabbed two stun guns, handing one over to Will as they both prepared to leave the confines of the base.

###

Dust stirred with each step as John walked away from the airlock. He eyed the distant, gray horizon, looking for obvious signs of movement or evidence of the missing suit. A cloud of dust stirred from the excavation pit and processing area, otherwise, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. No movement detected. He stepped out further, feeling a soft vibration as the airlock door closed and sealed behind them. The bright, blue earth shone in the sky. The white clouds smeared along the surface.

I wonder if they are looking up now. Maybe we’re looking at each other across the vast empty space. Not much longer.
John looked out towards the small, gray box, housing the manual controls for the core systems, buried in the lunar soil. After surviving the decompression rupture on his first post, John appreciated the added safety measure of the external storage of the system.

“Hey, boss?”

“Go, Susan.”

“You guys are all clear. Nothing on the feeds. No signs of activity on radar.”

“Roger, thanks.”

They bounced and shuffled across the dirt, towards the control panel. John glanced around, verifying it was closed and secure before entering his access code. The circuitry was lit and the data lights were flickering from the activity of the systems. All connections were good, nothing unplugged. John checked for any scorch marks.

“Here, let me check,” said Will.

John stepped aside, keeping his head moving around, checking the perimeter.

Will knelt before the panel, moving his head close to the circuit connections. He reached inside shifting some the wires around, a difficult task with the thick gloves.

“Look at this,” he said, stepping back from the panel. “Got a tapper.”

John moved in closer, seeing a small, discrete box, not part of the design. “Is it recording or transmitting?”

“Looks online to me. Passive design, too, so probably recording only. Diagnostics wouldn’t pick up on it unless we knew to look for it. Probably the culprit of our system quirks lately though. Copying out data in large amounts may cause performance issues.” Will glanced up at John. “Without pulling it apart, I’d say it bursts the data here and there. I would bet the bursts coincide with the system glitches and missing data blocks to disguise the transmissions. Giving us a larger problem to look at while it sends in the background.”

“Dammit,” whispered John. He reached in, snapping up the small box, pulling it free from the system. He held it up closer to his visor, hoping to identify the design. “Any idea where it came from?” John handed the box over to Will.

Will held it up towards the light. “Not without further analysis. Looks high end, though. To technical for an environmental organization. Probably a government issue. Chinese, maybe? Maybe another corporation. I’ll get Susan on it when we get back in.” Will placed the data tap into his suit utility pocket.

“We’ll need to check the perimeter and the ex-cav site. Someone’s sending out threats, and if they’re tapping into the data. Who knows what they may do. Let’s go.”

The men kept scanned the area and horizon, shifting back and forth, looking around. Only the clouds of dust from the machinery revealed any activity. The look focused around the perimeter of the base, scouring the external walls and conduits interconnecting the modules.
The gray coated all the surface areas. The constant dust kicked up from the processing plant, the EVAs along the outside of the base, the ships landing and taking off, all combined to create the waves of dust. John kept his eyes moving along the exterior, checking everything, looking under and behind anything that could hide something.

“Hey John,” said Susan in the suit intercom system. “You read me alright?”

“Loud and clear. Go ahead.”

“Diagnostics completed, everything looks good.”

“Thanks. So far so good out here. Station someone in the airlock in case our ‘friend’ comes back before we do.”

“Roger that, boss.”

John and Will slowly made a circuit of the base, constantly eyeing the surrounding area for any signs of activity, sabotage, or movement. Each held the stun gun ready, just in case.

“We’ll need to make a trip to the ex-cav site. If anyone’s still around, they’ll be there,” said John as he recheckingd his stun gun settings. “Let’s go.”

The two reached the peak at the lip of the excavation site. Pausing, they scanned the area through the rising clouds of dust. The machines continued their work in silence. John watched the scene for a moment, looking for someone…something.

John shuffled and bounced his way down the slope to towards the machines. Will bounded along behind, scanning and holding his stunner ready for anything.

They reached the bottom, where the ground flattened out. John paused for a moment, feeling the ground shaking and trembling under his feet from the machinery. He weaved around some of the equipment, snaking along the perimeter.

A lone figure was on the ground. John went down to his knee, holding up his fist, signaling Will to halt. “Over there.”

Will went down, creeping next to John. The motionless figure was face down. A layer of dust coated the back. John looked around, keeping his head swiveling. He stood, and crept his way out into the open, constantly gazing back and forth. “Keep an eye out, I’m taking a closer look.”

He shuffled across the opening, edging closer to the suit. He craned his head to the sides, hoping to get a better view or angle. With the tip of his stunner, John poked at the back of the suit. The suit didn’t move. He poked the suit harder this time, but still didn’t have a response.
The suit was motionless. John holstered his stun gun, as Will moved closer. He knelt beside the suit, rolling it onto its back. The black scorch marks covered the chest, opening the suit to the vacuum of space. John unlocked the visor and moved it up. The lifeless eyes gazed into the infinite, frozen in moment of surprise and terror.

“Jesus,” said Will. “I think that’s Martin, one of the new engineers. He would know his way around the systems.”

“Is our saboteur a killer, or is our saboteur the victim?” asked John as he pulled his stun gun back out. He glanced around, moving into a more covered location, constantly scanning for others. “There are no blasters on the base. There shouldn’t be, anyway.”

John and Will glanced around all directions, but the only movement was the robotic machines. Both men made a quick circuit of the processing area and excavation site, but found nothing.

“Let’s get back to the base and regroup,” said John. “There’s now a fourth member of the party, with a blaster. I’ll need to update management. The paperwork will be a nightmare.” John pulled down one of the emergency stop levers, causing all the equipment to slowly wind down. “LEB-3 operations on hold until further notice.”

“Roger that, let’s get the hell out of here.”

With a final glance, the two men bounded towards the incline heading to the base. A glint of light caught Will’s eye as they started. “Look!”
Will pointed to the climbing streak of light.

John paused, looking towards the light, heading upwards into the starry darkness. “A ship! Not one of ours.”

“If not ours, whose?”

“Susan!”

“Already on it, boss. Tracking a small launch heading into orbit. Not heading to the station. Unknown type. No registry or ID transmitting, they’re running quiet.”

“Thanks, Susan. Keep tracking it as long as you can,” said John. “Get me a direct line to Chief Armstrong on Orbital Station as soon as I’m inside.”

“Roger, boss.”

John shuffled back to the suit, kneeling beside it. He opened the suit pockets, looking for any devices or evidence. “Nothing obvious, but we’ll need to secure the area for the forensics team,” said John. “We’ll need to post security here until Orbital can send down a forensics team. Jesus, the paperwork will suck.”

Twenty days to rotation back to earth. Twenty freaking days, thought John as the light from the engines faded into nothingness. I’m going to be stuck here for a while. Oh God, the meetings and paperwork will definitely suck.