Earthian

Nightfall

Aggressor-V.

Of all the strange things we saw and experienced during our time in space, this one name will haunt me forever. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time. It was just another weird thing Owijer said. A new toy. Another simuloid in an endless parade of them.

I didn’t know the danger the word represented… or the hidden truth it stood guard over. And because I had no idea, I didn’t care at all when the Aggressor-V exercise was cancelled. There were more important things to deal with all of a sudden.

My phone rings. It’s a loud and cheery tune, like a marching band merrily parading through my skull. My eyes fly open and I jump out of bed before I can even figure out what’s going on.

BA-da-da-Bum-BAH-Bum-BAH! the band plays bombastically, and I silence them with a stroke of my wrist.

The phone automatically plays back a recording: “Good morning, Jason! I’m afraid we have an emergency situation to take care of. Report immediately to the hangar bay.”

The line goes dead.

My phone says it’s 4:30 in the AM, and I feel kind of like I recently got run over by a train. I want nothing more than to crawl back under the covers, curl into a ball, and sleep for another few days. But duty calls.

I climb into my jumpsuit, letting out a number of comical Oohs and Ouchs along the way. If anybody were here to see this, I’m sure they’d be laughing themselves sore. Of course, there’s the tiny blue robot hovering in the corner, always watching me with its big glassy eye, but it doesn’t look particularly entertained. Just interested.

Victor asked about the robots a week or so back, and Owijer called them plasmeroids. He said they were only around to observe, and told us not to pay much attention… so, uh, we don’t. But my inner Wiley can’t help wondering why they weren’t following us around on the Moon’s surface yesterday.

I put the puzzle out of mind, finish pulling on my shoes, and pass through the archway into the hangar. I’m actually the first to arrive for once, and I guess the others aren’t fast to wake.

I try to stretch while I wait, but my aching bones don’t make it easy. My joints scream at the pressure, and even my fingers feel like a mess. I don’t think I can pretend to be particularly upbeat about it if the emergency is somewhere outside.

The others start walking in after a few minutes. Michael is the first and he clasps my shoulder as he passes by, but when the rest show, they’re cold and distant. Tired and crabby. Flat-out unhappy at the sight of me.

No one has a chance to say anything, though. Owijer appears right in front of us, like a piece of popcorn bursting from an invisible kernel.

“Greetings, peacekeepers,” he says quickly, as he hurries us toward a ship. “Come along, come along,” he adds. “Time is of the essence!”

Our spacesuits are waiting for us beside the landing-pod, and we each take one, climb inside and wiggle while it adjusts. The feeling passes like a shiver running up my spine, and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Then I look up and see the others, all six of us standing there, suited up like action figures about to blast off for the farthest end of the yard.

“Hurry,” Owijer says, waving us aboard the cueball. “There’s no time for dallying!”

We sprint aboard the orb and it seals itself closed, then floats up and squeezes through the big yellow gate. It returns us to the Moon’s utter desolation, a haunting landscape that rests as heavy as a slowly whispered threat.

“This ship can take us to another solar system?” Adia asks in disbelief.

As if on cue, the ship sets down lightly on the graveled ground and comes to a stop. “Oh no,” Owijer says. “These are only for movement between planets. They’re shuttles. Come along,” he says again.