The Battle of Broken Moon Read online

  To my right was a sign that read, "Transport staging area number 4-47-b —LCDD only. Under the sign was mounted a yellow box containing an optical scanner. I walked down and looked into the thing, and within five minutes a small electric vehicle pulled up. It was open topped and could sit three in the back and one additional in front next to the driver. The vehicle stopped directly in front of me. Across the front was printed "LCDD Trans". The driver was a young Specialist, also in the uniform of the LCDD. As I looked at him, his name, rank and other information appeared over his face in my field of vision, "LCDD - CYB - 1148 - Spc. McGregor, John R." It faded away, but I was still staring. It must have shown on my face.

  "Are you all right Sergeant Strum?" The young man asked. He'd obviously read my name in his field of vision.

  "Yes, Specialist McGregor, I'm fine, thank you. I was just a little shocked to see all this information about you just floating in the air."

  "Sergeant, I see you're new to Subdom. What you just saw was an individual identifier. All of us SUBs, all the maintenance robots, and the computers see that display on initial observation. It allows us to identify between the robots which all look the same, and of course we can tell the SUBs from the Bios instantly."

  "Bios?"

  "The non-SUBs. How long you been a SUB, Sarge?"

  "Today's my birthday, as a matter of fact."

  "Should I congratulate you?"

  "How's that?"

  "Well, Sergeant, some of us volunteered, and some didn't," he said.

  "I sort of volunteered…it was this, or die," I said.

  "Where can I take you?"

  "I don't know, anyplace. I just want to look around."

  "You got it. Buckle up."

  Specialist McGregor drove into a tunnel that connected this dome to another similar dome then into another tunnel that took us into dome number one. This place was awesome! This was the main administration dome and what was called the grand lobby; a beautiful place, complete with magnificent fountains flowing with virtual water. The walls were decorated with paintings, two- and three-dimensional photographs, and murals. There were more sculptures, both in metal and in stone. The stone, of course, was made up of different types of Moon rock, and even the metal was mined on the moon. The lunar-marble floors were covered with beautiful rugs, chandeliers hung from above, and modern furniture was spaced about just like in a grand hotel lobby.

  Huge monitors were placed in key positions all about the vast lobby, displaying all kinds of information. Like watching TV at home, there were commercials for restaurants and shops.

  "Say, McGregor, is this place a science station or a shopping mall?"

  He smiled broadly and replied, "Sarge, if this place were strictly a lab, everyone here would go nuts in a week."

  Next, we drove into another dome that was very similar to the one containing my billet, except it was far more nicely decorated.

  "This is where the lab coats are housed," McGregor said.

  "The what?"

  "The scientists, and other civilian specialists, we just call them all lab coats."

  We drove past a statue of Neil Armstrong placing his foot on the Moon, then down another tube until we came to a much smaller dome that served as a hub for many of the tubes. Here, McGregor pulled over. "You might want to see this; this is an observation area that looks out toward the east." We dismounted the jeep and entered in to a rather large half dome connected to the side of the larger structure. This place was entirely made of some clear material that provided an unobstructed view of the Earth forty degrees or so above the lunar horizon. Right now, it was a blue crescent in the black sky.

  "Wow," was all I could think to say.

  "Yeah, pretty cool, eh?"

  I could see by the look on his face that McGregor, too, was in awe. "Ya know, Sarge, it never moves from that spot. It just cycles through its phases. I sat here once and just watched the days there zip around it. Being a SUB, and being up here, you develop a whole new definition of time."

  "McGregor, I was told that through this…Is-mail net, we—"

  "Ismay, Sarge. It's called the Ismay net."

  "Sorry. I'm told the computer can monitor all our locations, right?"

  "Yup."

  "Can you tell me where two guys are?"

  "Can't you access Ismay?"

  "Not yet, no."

  "What are their identifiers?"

  "I don't know, but their names are Sergeant Pete Walker and Stabsunteroffizier Dolphus Kappel."

  McGregor looked as if he were thinking for just a moment then he said, "I don't see either listed among the registry of SUBs."

  "Oh, hell, both are Bios, with the LCDD."

  "Oh, they're in the Detachment? Hold on. Okay, Kappel is on exterior patrol of the base in LPC 2-7 and Walker is in dome forty-five assisting with a medical experiment."

  "Can you take me to forty-five?"

  "Sarge, the lab coats don't like being interrupted."

  "What are they gonna do? Bend my dog tags and ship me to the Moon?"

  "Good point, let's go."

  Several minutes later, McGregor drove through yet another tunnel and into the parking garage of dome forty-five. We exited the vehicle and departed the garage via elevator, then out into a circular hallway. A few meters down the hall I could see a set of stairs. I noticed most of the lights were turned off. "Why is it so dark in here?"

  "Just switch to passive vision and you'll see everything."

  "I don't know how. I'm going to learn that stuff in the morning."

  "Ah, the grandma course. You must have suffered a recent trauma."

  I did not respond.

  "Well," McGregor continued, "they turn the lights way down during the rest period for the Bios. Check your internal chronometer, it's currently 03:10. Except for the graveyard shifts, most of the Bios are sleeping."

  "So that's why we haven't seen too many people, they are all in bed."

  "Like I said, the lab coats on night shift are still up. Those people are running out of time or have time-critical experiments, so they're up all night."

  "What's Walker doing here?"

  "All it says is that he volunteered for some medical examination."

  We had ascended two flights of stairs and walked half the circumference of the dome before we entered lab 45-3-7. In the first room, a lone lab coat sat reading his E-tablet as we entered. "Can I help you?" he asked, looking up.

  Before I could speak, McGregor responded in a very official, serious voice. "We're looking for a Sergeant Pete Walker—tall, African American, body builder type. We have a report he's here. Is he still here, sir?"

  "Yes, but he's with Doctor Hayes. They can't be disturbed right now—"

  "Sir, what's your name?"

  "Ah, Doctor Richard Cleveland. What's this about?"

  "Doctor Cleveland, your assistance in this matter will be greatly appreciated—"

  As McGregor dealt with the good doctor, I casually strolled to the huge glass wall that separated this lab from the one beyond. Lo and behold, there stood Walker, bare-chested with a couple of leads running from his pecs into some machine. In front of him stood Doctor Hayes, I presumed, a beautiful young black woman, tall and thin. She held a PDA to her chest and they seemed to be engaging in light and humorous banter. I took no action, I just stood there.

  He must have felt my eyes on him, he glanced over, still smiling, then back at Doctor Hayes. Like lightning, his head snapped back toward me, his mouth fell open, and his eyes became as big as the muzzles of four deuce mortars. He leapt over the gurney at his side in a single bound and was running at me full tilt. Doctor Hayes was having a fit, screaming for him to stop and grabbing at the leads coming from his chest.

  Walker ran up to the door and started pounding on it, shouting for the barrier to be opened, and punctuating his demands with a string of profanity. I couldn’t hear him on this side, but it was easy to figure out what he was shouting. I just smiled at him. When Doctor Haye
s opened the door, Walker burst out like a quarter horse and grabbed me in his arms, hugging me, and then he held me up at arm's length like I was a toy.

  "No, no, it ain't you, hell no! You're dead you son of a...I saw you, they told me—"

  "I guess they were wrong," I said slowly.

  Walker put me down. "Damn it, how long you been here and your ugly ass is just coming to see me?"

  "Jasper, I just got here, so to speak."

  "What's that mean, 'so to speak'?"

  "It's a long story. But buddy, soon as I found out where you were, I made a beeline here."

  "Say man, let me look at you a minute," he moved me into better light. "Matt, your face was...it was all busted up, that's a remarkable job someone did on you."

  "Yeah, they did a job on me. Can we get out of here? I'd like to talk to you."

  "Sure, Matt," he said.

  Doctor Hayes had been standing quietly, watching our reunion. When Walker agreed to leave with me she politely cleared her throat. "Pete, ah, Sergeant Walker, we have a lot of work to do here," she said.

  Walker picked up his shirt and stood very near her, "Look Beth, I owe this man, get me? If it can't wait, well, cut me out of the project."

  He turned back toward me, but stopped when Doctor Hayes asked, "Tomorrow night?"

  "Yeah, tomorrow night." With that, McGregor, Walker, and I left the lab heading back to McGregor's jeep.

  "Beth, eh?" I said casually.

  "Hey, she's a very nice person."

  "I'm sure of it," I said smiling.

  When we got to the jeep I climbed in the back seat and Walker climbed in the passenger seat. He turned around and said, "Are you guys hungry? I'm hungry."

  McGregor shot me a look.

  "Mac," I said to McGregor, "where can we get a bite to eat at this hour?"

  "Crater House is open twenty-four seven," Walker responded. "Best hamburgers on the Moon."

  "Probably the only burgers on the Moon," I said, smiling.

  As McGregor drove, Walker turned around again, leaning on the seat back. "Matt, what happened, man? I saw you laying there in that LPC—shit man, I don't know how you were still alive when I got to you. You...you were seriously messed up. I worked on you best I could, but—"

  Walker told me that after the LPC stopped rolling it was nearly upside down. When he sat up, he could not discern any serious injury to himself. Looking around, he concluded Barney, Susan, and I were dead. He then found Dolph unconscious with a fractured skull and a compound fracture to his left arm. He got Dolph out of his harness and laid him down. He stopped Dolph's bleeding and stabilized him the best he could with the on-board trauma kit. Simultaneously, he activated his COMde.

  "Control, this is Lima Papa two seven, red rocket, red rocket! My transponder is on. Do you read? Over."

  "Lima Papa two seven, this is Control, we are monitoring your situation. Rescue is inbound. What is the condition of the crew? Over."

  "Control, I got...I have—" His chin began to quiver and his eyes filled. "I have three dead and one critically injured."

  It was then Walker saw me move, and he could not believe it. He climbed over the wreckage to get to me, and I asked about Susan, he prevented me from looking at her and gave me a shot of morphalein and I faded out.

  "Walker, I would like to have seen her one last time."

  "No, man. It's best you remember her as she was. You didn't want to see her like I last saw her. Treasure the memories you have. I will tell you this, she had grabbed your hand. She still had it when—" he struggled to control himself, "when I got to you."

  "Well, then, thank you for saving me from that."

  He nodded. "Later that day, as I lay in the hospital, I was informed that both of you were DOA. I just couldn't believe it.

  "I stayed with the course because I could see you giving me a ration of shit if I decided to quit. Dolph and I agreed that the both of you would want us to finish up. So we stayed the course."

  "You're right. That is exactly what we would have told you. That's what Susan would have demanded of you two."

  McGregor parked the jeep in front of the Crater House and we went inside. At the table, the waiter provided all three of us menus. I glanced over the top of mine at McGregor who just looked over the top of his and shrugged.

  The waiter returned and asked, "What would you gentlemen care to drink?"

  "Nothing for me," McGregor said.

  "And you sir?" he asked me.

  I tossed the menu down. "No. No, I can't eat right now, just a glass of water, thank you."

  Walker looked up at me.

  "It's okay, you go ahead," I said. "I just can't eat right now. Too excited, I guess."

  Walker ordered a three-quarter-pound burger called 'The Full Moon' with a crater of fries and a large iced tea.

  As we waited, he asked in a subdued voice, "What happened to you Matt? How did you pull through?"

  "All I can tell you is that through a relatively new and somewhat experimental procedure, I'm here with you today."

  "Too bad they couldn't have performed it on Susan," Walker said.

  "Well, the patient has to still be alive," McGregor said.

  Walker looked at him hard. "You know something about this medical procedure, Specialist?" He was a little angry. McGregor was an outsider.

  McGregor looked quickly at me, then said, "No, Sergeant, I read something about it on the net, I think."

  Walker turned back to me. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you, Matt. I really did think you were dead until I looked up and...it was like a miracle."

  "It's good to see you, too, buddy."

  Just then, Walker's food and drink arrived. "Don't that smell good?" he asked. He took a big bite. I watched closely and played with my glass of water. Despite knowing I did not need food, nor could I eat, I felt hungry and I so wanted to taste that burger. I exhibited remarkable self-control. I noticed that McGregor was watching Walker, too.

  "So, Matt, what section are you in?"

  "I'm still unassigned."

  "No kidding? How long you been here?"

  "Just got here tonight."

  "Tonight? Matt, there ain't been a shuttle for five weeks."

  "Ah, yeah, I know. I've been in the hospital. They wanted to check my systems over after spending some time here."

  "Systems?"

  "Yeah, Walker, I don't have all my original basic issue items."

  "Oh. They replaced some stuff in you with rubber hoses and plastic pumps? So, what did they say? Are you a hundred percent?"

  "Yeah, buddy, I'm good to go."

  "Listen, I know the CO, I'll talk to him, see if we can't get you assigned to the same company."

  "That would be stellar. Yeah, do that," I said, smiling.

  Over my left shoulder there was some commotion. The manager, a corpulent fellow with a large mustache and a bald head, was addressing two customers seated at a booth not too far away. "You can stay," he said, shouting angrily, "but the robot has to leave." I noted an identifier over the head of the woman with her back to us.

  "But we're talking business," the man with her protested.

  "You two conduct your—business—behind closed doors someplace, but not in my restaurant. These seats are for people paying to eat. Now, get out."

  "What the hell is that about?" I asked.

  "There are these robots, androids really, up here on JILL," Walker said. "You can't hardly tell them from real folks. Some people are having, uh, relations with them, if ya get me. A lot of people don't like the idea that they should be so close in appearance and function to humans."

  "How do you feel about them?" I asked.

  "I have two of them in my platoon. They are classified, but I know. I got no beef; they seem like regular people to me and are hard working. One is female, and yeah, I have to keep reminding myself she's a machine. I got no problem with them, but I ain't selling food, either. Ya see, that's why the manager got pissed. They don't eat."
<
br />   "Oh, I see. If it's so hard to tell them from real people, how did he know?"

  "The robot probably said something. They calculate numbers in a flash and can see and hear way off. People have become hypersensitive to fast calculations, and phrases like 'did you hear, or see, that', and will take a hard look at whoever says it. People will jump to the conclusion that you're a robot if you say stuff like that. So, a word to the wise."

  Just then, inside my head I heard a voice, "Sergeant Strum, please return to your room. The time is 04:45 Lunar. You must be present for training at 06:00."

  I made a big deal of looking at the clock on the wall. "Would you look at the time? And I have to be in class at zero six! Walker, I have to go, can you get back from here okay?"

  "No problem, you Charlie Mike and I'll catch up with you later. Oh, Matt, what's your COMde number?"

  I didn't have a COMde. With Ismay, I don't guess any SUB did. I patted my pockets quickly. "Sorry, I must have left it behind; I don't have the number memorized yet."

  "Well, mine is 2852. Hit me; let me know when you have some down time."

  "Wilco, buddy."

  We both stood, and he again bear hugged me, then took my hand.

  "Damn!" Walker exclaimed. "That's one hell of a grip!"

  "Sorry, I'm just real happy to have found you. See ya soon!"

  As McGregor and I drove away, I remained quiet. He noticed. "What's up, Sergeant?"

  "I hated having to lie to my friend."

  "Sarge, we're classified. It's not really lying."

  "The hell it isn't. I'm gonna tell him one of these days, and soon. I just hope he'll forgive me."

  "For being a SUB?"

  "For lying to him."

  ○O○

  Back at my billet I thanked McGregor, and we shook hands.