The Moonwalker

Chapter 1.1

Something scuffs in the hall outside. Aula's already awake when there's a knock at the door. She rubs her eyes, then heaves herself out of bed. The floor is cold against her feet. She opens her door and suppresses her irritation.

Alexei Kalashnikoff is a wiry man with dark hair and pale blue eyes. Tufts of his usually neat hair stick up at odd angles. He's a navy aviator brought up by Roscosmos. One of three pilots assigned to the base with specialized duties. He yawns and scratches his Adam's apple. The rasp of his stubble sounds loud in the doorway. He gives her an obvious once over and pulls a sturgeon face.

"I like it."

Her pyjamas consist of a tattered old A-shirt and sweat pants. Hardly seductive, but she's never quite been able to shake the hot blonde stereotype.

"It's too early for you to be you. What's going on?"

"The toilet." Kalashnikoff sucks air through a gap in his teeth. "It's bad."

Aula groans and leans against the door. "How bad?"

"Baggie bad." He tilts his head towards the hub. "Had to seal the module, including airlock."

She steps out and shuts the door. They fall into step together and lope down the hall. "Is the atmosphere stable?"

"Yes."

They arrive at the command module, which is already crowded by a TV, laptops, rosters, binders, and maps marking out their area of operation. Nobody looks up when they arrive. Their toilet is out of service and the nearest plumber is currently 404,200 km away. 

She crosses her arms and joins the crowd around one particular computer. A camera pans along the south side of the base. At night, it uses enhanced vision so lights aren't required to illuminate the mare. Dark grey regolith stretches in every direction, broken only by ancient craters. A testament to the meteorites that pulverized the lunar surface into a fine powder. The sky is black, dominated by the lopsided crescent of Earth.

"There, see?" Benjamin Bauer taps the screen. "It sealed the breach."

Aula leans forward and squints. The largest pissicle she's ever seen juts out like a frozen waterfall. It pierces the regolith layer, curves away from the wall, and blocks the nearby airlock.

"Did Nakamura call an Evac B?"

Kalashnikoff shakes his head.

Bauer sighs. "Fingers crossed."

He's as dark-skinned as Aula is fair and has the heroic proportions of a movie star. He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. He's not the only one. Disappointment ripples through the module.

A man and woman shift into Aula's peripheral vision. She knows the man right away. Harvey Martin is an American like Bauer and long-time pain in her ass. The archetypal white American astronaut from the old days. Likes to seduce everyone with the crewcut, the drinking, the swagger. What he forgets to mention is that the Apollo astronauts also shit into bags.

The woman is a mission specialist from Ireland brought up by the European Space Agency. An anthropologist named Niamh Kelly who is petite, dark-haired, and corruptible. Their very own Galway Girl. The ESA mission patch sewn on her arm is brand new.

She groans. "I'll do an EVA in the nip if it means no more bags."

The air thickens with tension. Aula can feel everyone staring at the back of her head. Harvey watches her, smile crooked, eyes cautious.

Little glints in the darkness. The flash

of fingernails. Little sounds 

in her helmet. Clack clack clacking.

"Oh," Kelly says. "God, I'm s—"

"It's fine."

"I can sweet-talk Earth." Harvey scratches his chin pensively. "No use scrapping billions of dollars for a broken toilet."

"It'd be better if we got Ivan." Bauer tilts his head forward and raises his eyebrows. "He brings up the hamburger thing every time someone complains."

"He's not exaggerating. Ask Rob about it. Those poor bastards ate shit burgers the whole way back from Mars."

Bauer laughs. "And they still wanted to go."

"Wouldn't you?"

"Of course."

"Exactly." Harvey shrugs. "But I prefer my shit to charge our batteries."

Aula glances at him. "Luckily, you're never in short supply of it."

"That's me; selflessly bringing light to the world. You're all welcome."

Kelly leans toward the screen. "That's a big water loss. Can we recover it?"

"Doubtful," Bauer says. "It'll be contaminated."

Aula's gaze flicks up to the top of the screen. The current temperature outside is -144 ℃. One of the challenges they face is temperature fluctuations. ILUB-2 experiences two weeks of daylight and two weeks of darkness. Without a dense atmosphere, the lunar surface can oscillate between 125 ℃ and -150 ℃. It's hard on the structure, the equipment, and the crew.

"What about radiation?"

"Minimal," a new voice says, "but it is rising."

They turn to see Commander Masato Nakamura behind them. The Japanese flag contrasts sharply against the blue of his uniform. His name is outlined in gold opposite the bright blue insignia of JAXA: Japan's space agency. Although Nakamura's face is impassive, it's hard to hold his eye.

On Earth, the human body receives about one millisievert per year. With their current shielding and EVA rotations, they get an average dose of 50 millisieverts per year. International standards on Earth allow the same levels of exposure for those who work with radioactive materials. However, life on the Moon is complicated by the sun, which goes through roughly 11 year cycles of high and low activity. They're in solar cycle 27 and cresting on solar maximum—a time of peak solar activity and space weather. The heavy ions they're exposed to blast through living cells like bullets through ballistics gel; damaging DNA and increasing lifelong risk of cancer.

In short, it's a piss poor time to lose shielding.

Nakamura gently cuts through the crowd until he's in front of the computer. "Major, you're already scheduled for an EVA this week."

"I am," Aula says.

"I need you to extend it."

She nods once.

"Good." He looks at Harvey.

"Don't need to ask, Commander. Give me a spacesuit and some duct tape and I can do anything."

It doesn't elicit a smile from Nakamura, but some of the tension leaves his face as he turns to Bauer. "I need you and Kwan to print new regolith as soon as possible."

Baur inclines his head. "You've got it."

Kelly tentatively raises her hand. "What about the loo?"

"For now, we endure. Water will have to be rationed."

She sighs and a wisp of hair flutters over her mouth. Aula watches her and when their eyes meet, she flushes guiltily and lowers her gaze.