Lifeline

Ombalal blinked. “A data cube, of course.”

“Ah, but what’s on it?” Brahms squatted down and searched Ombalal’s eyes. He whispered, “We can’t all survive. But some of our people are more likely than others to come up with a solution—they’ve shown it by their track record. We might have a chance.”

Standing, he pushed the cube into a slot in his desktop, and listened to the quiet whirring as the internal computer read the information into Brahms’s private directory.

He pulled the keypad toward him, saved Allen Terachyk’s analysis, then called up the results of his Efficiency Study. As he scrolled down through the names and scores on the holoscreen, he looked at the rankings, forcing himself not to think of faces, of people—only numbers and names.

We can’t all survive.

He turned to Ombalal. The director’s eyes were wide with horror.

Brahms hesitated a long time before choosing the first name, the one with the lowest score. His eyes felt dry and gummy, yet he couldn’t seem to find the energy to blink.

But once he had chosen the first name, the rest came easier.

Chapter 6

En Route to the Moon—Day 3

The Moon’s blasted landscape swelled below them—craters, mountains, canyons, and black lava flows. The jagged peaks reached up as the Miranda swooped in its orbit, homing in on Clavius Base.

Stephanie Garland kept her eyes on the instruments. “‘How to get the whole universe to despise you in three easy steps.’ We’re good at that, aren’t we, McLaris?” Bitterness edged her voice, but McLaris did not rise to the bait.

“Knock it off. It’s too late to have second thoughts. You did what you did, and so did I.”

He could see Garland growing edgier, uneasy, as they neared the Moon. McLaris stared at the landscape beneath them until his eyes ached. “Shouldn’t we be close enough to see it by now?”

“You wouldn’t notice it unless you knew exactly where to look. Most of the huts are covered with a few yards of lunar soil for shielding. Everything else is underground. You’ll see towers sticking up, maybe a few access doors.”

Garland reached for the radio and flicked the switch. “Clavius Base, this is shuttle-tug Miranda. We will be landing in a few minutes. Request assistance.”

A voice broke in over the speakers. “We do not condone your actions, Miranda. You are not welcome here.”

Over the past two days they had listened in as Brahms and the intercolony community expressed outrage, condemnation. McLaris had chosen to maintain silence.

“I’m not asking you for the Welcome Wagon—I’m asking for guidance!” Garland snapped.

McLaris gripped the pilot’s shoulder to silence her. He spoke into the microphone himself. “Please give our regards to Chief Administrator”—he paused for just a moment as he searched his mind for the right name—“Tomkins. We will explain ourselves to him after we have landed safely. Unfortunately, we are not in a position to turn back, whether you welcome us or not. We are going to be forced to land.”

The Miranda had carried only enough fuel to take Garland back to Earth orbit, and landing in the lunar gravity field required much more than just maneuvering and braking thrust. McLaris had watched the pilot grow more and more insecure as they neared their destination.

After a pause, the voice on the speakers returned. “We have adjusted the homing beacon. If you’ve got an inexperienced pilot aboard, we warn you that Clavius Base is close to the crater wall. Watch out.”

“Inexperienced, my ass,” Garland muttered to herself, then spoke over her shoulder to McLaris. “You’d better suit up. And get Jessie suited up, too. All I have to do is skim a rock, rupture the hull—the suits won’t do much good, but let’s take all the protection we can get.”

McLaris squeezed back to the storage lockers and found the hanging suits.

“Jessie, come here.” He looked at the smallest one in dismay: Oh, great.

Jessie unstrapped herself and floated over to the lockers. She looked at the bulky adult suit in his hand. “Diddy, that’s too big!”

“I know, baby, but it’s the only suit we’ve got. It’s just for a little while. I want you to wear it for protection. You don’t have to do anything in it. I want you to try to get your feet into the legs of the suit. I’ll seal everything else up. You won’t be able to see out of the helmet. You’re too short.”

“But I want to see!”

McLaris took a deep breath. “I can’t help that, Jessie. Just think of it like a big sleeping bag. You have to wear it. It’ll make you safe.” He smiled at her. “This is going to be rough. I told you. But I want you to be brave.”

“I am brave.”

“Good, I know you are. Let’s see if you can keep being brave for just a few more minutes until we land. Then we’ll be on the Moon.”

“Okay.”

McLaris kissed her on the forehead, then playfully tugged at her braids before he made her sink down into the voluminous suit. The suit ballooned as he sealed the helmet. It didn’t appear to leak; he hoped the seams would hold.