The Moonwalker

Chapter 8.3

Lunar regolith is awash in secondary radiation. Cosmic rays and the solar wind hit the surface, which creates a splash of radioactive particles in the soil. It's relatively weak and stays close to the ground, but it's an extra dose neither of them needs. After one last tour around the landing gear, they return the MAF's rear platform. A deep ache pushes through Aula's legs, her back, and up into her shoulders. The heat doesn't help. Thirst scrapes at the back of her throat. They're more prone to overheat than freeze out here. The vacuum of space is a surprisingly good insulator. They all wear a liquid cooling and ventilation garment, which is a fancy pair of long johns filled with tubes to circulate cold water and draw sweat away from their skin.

Kelly holds the camera up for inspection. Her face is scrunched in concentration. Some of the colour has returned to her cheeks.

"Just a few scratches. Miraculous, really."

What's miraculous is that a rock pierced the MAF's inner wall without causing explosive decompression. Aula rolls her shoulders and sharp pain strings all the way down her back. Years of training in decommissioned EMUs is rough on the shoulders. The planar hard upper torso causes a lot of strain and chafing. Switching to a pivoted version helped, but she still needed surgery for a torn rotator cuff. A lot of older astronauts have the same problem, which is why they now train in Z-1's.

"Alright?" Kelly lowers her camera.

"Yeah."

She quirks her lips in way of a shrug and looks out over the moonscape. "It's weird. I haven't gone to Glengarriff Forest in ages, but I keep dreaming about it. When I wake up, I can still smell the trees."

Aula keeps her eye ons the horizon. There's no solid line where ground meets sky, only where stars stop. The view hasn't changed much in ten years. She bites the in-suit drink bag and takes a big gulp of water to distract herself. The last meal she had was at breakfast. Half a power bar before their EVA just doesn't cut it. While Kelly is slathering everything in symbolism, she raises her arm to look at the screen on the back of her mirror.

They're each given a Crew Active Dosimeter or CAD. Three badges on their head, torsos, and leg measure the radiation hitting things like the eye, blood forming organs, and their skin in real time. Solar wind and cosmic rays are the biggest culprits. Without a shield of lunar regolith to insulate ILUB-2, they'd be exposed to more than 69 times the radiation they experience on Earth. It doesn't count events like solar storms, which are fatal to anyone exposed. NASA likes them to keep doses below 25 rem a month. Lower if they're women of child-bearing age. Aula's 37 years old. She doesn't care. Ross and Harvey threaten her with a babysitting roster all the time. They want to adopt and she's going to be their backup. That was the plan, at least. She frowns a little and drinks more water. Kids were never on her radar anyway. Nobody should have to love that much without a choice.

One star detaches from the sky. It's hard to tell at a distance, but it looks to dip in front of where the horizon should be.

"...you there? How do I read?"

"You're fading in," Aula replies.

"How about now?"

"Better."

"Good. I heard someone needed a lift."

"Took your sweet time." Kelly leans forward slightly. "I thought we'd have to start walking home."

Harvey laughs. "That was Plan A. This thing is a hog."

The star slowly comes closer. A single point of light becomes four and the twinkling becomes sharp jerks up and down. Harvey is hauling ass over the mare. Maybe he feels it, too. He took a gamble on nothing more than a voice dying with the comm system. Sometimes she wonders what that drive must have been like. Trying to find the only other living person on the Moon.