The Moon Bases

The year was 2121. Humanity’s slow crawl into space had found new life with the influx of funding it received from private corporations and anonymous donors. Public opinion favored many reasons for colonizing other planetary bodies, but above all was an insurance policy for the seed of life, a fail-safe in case the rapidly declining conditions on Earth rendered it inhabitable and irreparable. An obvious initial step to long-term off-planet colonization would be to create a stable launching point on Earth’s natural satellite, Luna, or more commonly referred to as the moon.

The original goal was to create what scientists and engineers called the trampoline; a terminal and base of operations, which would act as a launching point between Earth and the mission destination. They would resupply, acclimate to zero gravity, board a long-range craft that did not need escape velocity, and be on their way to wherever it was they are headed. It was not until the main compound was built that several major technology companies were submitting requests to build factories around it. Requests turned into a bidding war and when it was clear that a substantial financial and logistics opportunity was available, the Union of Countries decided to exploit it.

Any company that had the resources and submitted a request to build a factory had been given the green light to build, resulting in a construction race for who would be the first to let the belts roll. Production began within a month and did not stop for a moment. The lack of gravity and building regulations resulted in the largest and most impressive factories that have ever been conceived. Storage and logistics became a problem and a priority. By the end of the year, the factories had to be shut down because they had nothing to make and were spending more money on storage than they were making. The market was flooded with cheap parts, so much so that they were being melted down and sold as scrap. To make things worse, the scrap was converted into guns and ammunition, which would hit the black market before the metal cooled. The black market was making more than the factories ever did and the cash flow all pointed in one direction.

Many were pleased with the promise of life on a fresh, untouched planet, but there were also many that were enraged with the idea of giving up on our home planet. There were many reasons, but one that forced most people to stand up was the amount of money it cost to be able to travel to a colony. The travel companies were hemorrhaging profits and have never relied more on the income they generated from their shuttle and colonization services, mainly the resources they received back from the colonies. The people who stayed behind wanted to focus their resources on fixing the current situation, not fleeing somewhere else-and these people were gaining support. And so, a resistance formed. Day by day, more and more people were boarding shuttles bound for Luna 1, on their way to different parts of the solar system, hoping to forget the troubles behind them, tipping the scales in favor of those who fight to stay.

Amid the crowd, leaders were bound to emerge. One of them, a man who went by the name Alpha-O, got his grip on the movement and things have never been the same since. Alpha-O did not waste time kidnapping board directors or corrupt politicians, like his predecessors. He did not believe the movement should be fighting the battle for the planet on the planet. He set his sights on the battle that makes sense, to the place where he thought the problem originated, the base of operations on Luna 1.

It was a Wednesday morning when Sophia smashed the touch screen panel on the third foghorn blast. A gentle tone hummed from all corners of her room as the artificial lights kicked in, illuminating a curled-up ball of duvets and pillows with a small, light brown nose poking out like a periscope.

“Good morning, Sophia. Your food credit balance is low. Might I suggest a couple of hours in the arboretum?” said a warm motherly voice.

“Fuck you.” Groaned the ball of duvets.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm this morning. Might I suggest you take out your frustrations in the gymnasium? I hear the low-grav volleyball team is looking for a setter!”

“Fu—” she began as the lights turned red and a deep, repetitive tone overpowered all noise in the room.

Sophia clumsily struggled to escape the straitjacket that her sheets became. As she rolled onto the floor, hair in her face, she noticed a pair of black leather boots by the doorway. They belonged to a stern, and currently confused, man in army fatigues.

“Get up. We’re evacuating family down to Earth. Your shuttle leaves in six minutes.” Said the man.

“Evacuating? Why?” Sophia asked, combing her hair out of her eyes.

“No time to explain. We will be under attack soon. You need to get to the shuttle; I have to get to my post.” Said the man as the armband around his bicep vibrated. “I have to go. Get to the shuttle, forget your things. I’ll contact you as soon as it’s safe to come back.”

The man ran off, leaving Sophia idle and confused. Sophie hit the switch nearest to her, hoping to reach the room of operations, but before she could get a response, an explosion rocked the entire habitat, knocking out the power and gravity plating. Backup systems intentionally did not engage because the station commander at the time felt it was important for all station personnel to have been trained for zero-gravity combat and believed this would give the station an advantage against any attempt by the rebels to seize the station. Zero-gravity simulators have been outlawed on Earth, but when have laws been able to cage creativity? Black-market inventors easily modify some technology and create a device that attached to any type of boot, magnetizing on command, canceling the advantage the station felt it had.

BOOM. Another explosion shook the habitat. This was enough to send Sophia into survival mode. Land speed records were broken as Sophia made her way to Ops. To her devastating surprise, she was met with nothing but debris and dead bodies. She could see her fiancée lying motionless with a huge hole in his chest, clutching a blown open briefcase. His face was almost unrecognizable, mangled and burnt, his clothes singed and ripped. Her face curled up and turned red as she dropped down to her knees by his boots. An uncontrollable burst of sound, a welp, exploded out of Sophia as she bent over on all fours, crying into the dusty, black leather boots she had seen full of lifeless than twenty minutes ago.

The room was flashing red, and a chorus of alarms filled the room, overwhelming Sophia. As she pushed away a panic attack, she crawled to a nearby control system and slapped one of the flashing red knobs. Without delay, the three doors leading into the room slowly began to close. She noticed a brigade of armed men racing across one of the clear plexiglass passageways separating the docking ring and the main habitat. They seemed to be coming in her direction, trying to get there before the doors closed. Thinking they were part of the station’s military compliment, she tried to stop the doors from closing, but could not figure out how in time.

To her surprise, they stopped midway, dropping to a knee, and aiming their rifles at the door between them and Ops.

“Don’t!” commanded a voice from the back of the group.

Sophia stood and limped over to the curved plexiglass wall by the door, trying to get a better look at the soldiers. They were not in the usual military fatigues that the station servicemen wore. Instead, they were wearing raggedy clothes, black bulletproof vests, and black helmets attached to oxygen tank backpacks. One of the soldiers in the back began to make his way to the front. Every step he took required a lot of effort as if he were injured. His steps were loud and heavy, parting the two columns of soldiers like Moses. Sweat dripped from the beards of the soldiers who were as still as statues, moving only to get out of the way and back into formation. Their index fingers smothered the triggers of their rifles, expecting to shoot at any time.

Sophia made eye contact with the man as he stepped into the flashing lights. His blue eyes shone through his helmet window like headlights on a dark country road. She could not help but duck out of sight behind one of the computer modules along the perimeter of the room. Seconds later, three loud bangs on the outside of the plexiglass sent her into a shivering panic. She knew who the man was, what he was here for, and what would happen to her if he and his soldiers managed their way through that door. Suddenly, she heard more boots from her flanks. Ops was completely surrounded and the three corridors leading into it were filled with soldiers, all aiming their rifles at the doors.

“Sophiaaaa” sang the man, as if he were playing hide-and-seek with a child. “Come out and playyy!”

Sophia curled up into a ball under the computer module and covered her ears with both hands. She was overcome with fear. There was no way out of Ops, other than through or with the soldiers, and she did not care to rely on their mercy and gentle care.

“Do—don’t… l—let… them in.” said a struggling voice slumped over one of the monitors in the corner of the room. Sophia sprang up and ran over to her as the man by the door watched. Sophia gently helped the woman to the floor and tried to inspect her for wounds. The woman’s badge said Simmons and had a commander signet. With her remaining energy, she pointed at a red and white satchel attached to the side of one of the consoles. It was a medical kit. Sophia ripped it open and tried to find what she needed to tend to the woman’s wounds, but by the time she turned back to begin, the woman had drifted out of consciousness. Sophia searched for a pulse, trying to dig up what she had learned years ago during a safety course at school. There was no pulse. Sophia did not give up; she began to administer CPR, frantically pushing down on Simmons’ chest and giving her mouth-to-mouth, but it was no use. She had lost too much blood.

The man by the door chuckled as Sophia sat back against the console, her hands, face, and shirt drenched in the woman’s blood.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing at,” said Sophia, finding the courage to speak to the man for the first time. “She was your only hope at opening these doors. I don’t know any of the codes and most of these controls are shot.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll have that much trouble getting in there. Besides, you know what we want, what I want, and you could give it to me from in there." he paused for effect. "But we could always blow the door and risk breaching the walls of the habitat, sending you and your precious stiff of a boyfriend out into space. You always did like space, didn’t you?” said the man, resting both of his hands on the plexiglass.

“Husband.” Said Sophia, hanging her head. “He was my husband. We got married three months ago. They wouldn’t let me stay longer if we weren’t family.”

“Oh, well that is different.” Said the man, pushing off from the glass.

He slowly took his helmet off, revealing long locks of silver braided hair and a face with more scars than scratches on the industrial crafts used to conduct repairs outside the habitat.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Sophia, I truly am.” He said, securing his helmet under his armpit like a basketball.

Sophia glared at him with hate. Her eyes reflected the red flashing lights and for the moment, looked as if she was the devil herself. The man smiled, wickedly.

“You learned this lesson a long time ago, Sophia; if you aren’t with us, you’re against us. That goes for your corporation-protecting collaborator husband too.” Said the man as he fitted his helmet back on his head. “Blow the doors!” he commanded.

A pair of soldiers ran down the middle of the columns, carrying wires and a small black case. They placed the case by the foot of the door, opened it, and began to rig the wires to it. The device in the case began to beep frequently and, for the moment, displayed the number ten on a clear glass panel on its side.

“I’ll give you ten seconds, Sophia. Ten seconds to submit and do as I ask. After which, I give you my word that you will not be harmed and will be returned back to your loving family on Earth. All you have to do is pull the emergency release under that desk you’re standing next to.” Said the man by the door as he stepped further and further back from the door.

The two soldiers arming the explosives finished up and led a wire back to where the man was standing. He gave the one on his right a nod and the soldier handed him the remote that triggered the countdown. The man held the remote high enough for Sophia to see and flipped the switch, starting the countdown. A voice from the case by the door announced the countdown starting from ten.

“Ten…Nine…Eight…” the voice said.

Sophia’s eyes darted back and forth between the door and the switch the man had asked her to pull.

“Seven…Six…Five…” the voice continued.

Sophia was trying to convince herself that the doors were built to withstand an explosion from the outside. She remembered a remnant of a conversation from when she and her husband were on their way to the station came to mind. He was yammering on about the materials used to build the habitat ring, which protected it from external explosions and radiation.

“Four…Three…Two…” the voice continued.

Sophia grabbed a sidearm from one of the deceased bodies beside her and ducked down behind the furthermost command console.

“One.” The voice concluded, before the beeping ceased.

There was a calm silence. Sophia rose and tried to peek at the door, but a sharp, electrical noise sent her back under the console. A wave of electricity jumped around the room, effectively disabling the chaotic ambiance of alarms, and flashing lights. Sophia could hear the smooth hydraulic hiss of the mechanism that opens the doors, urging her to reach out with the firearm she was squeezing as tight as she could.

She aimed it at the soldiers that were swarming the room but could not bring herself to pull the trigger. Within seconds, she was surrounded. Once they were all still, the man walked in slowly, aggressively pushing the soldiers aside.

“No one shoot. She’s to be taken alive!” he commanded.

As he went to take his helmet off, Sophia aimed at his chest and squeezed the trigger over and over until the loud pops turned into clicks. Every bullet she fired hit the man square in the chest, ricocheting in different directions like ping pong balls.

“You disappoint me, Sophia. Did you really think you would be the one to kill me? Besides, killing me wouldn’t make any difference. The movement will continue with or without me. I am simply the manifestation of the needs of the people.” He said, as he took his helmet off.

He motioned for one of the soldiers to disarm and bind her arms.

“I would have waited and gone for the head.” He joked, chuckling as he made his way over to one of the computer consoles.

“I’ll remember that for the next time.” She said, struggling with the way her arms were tightly zip-tied behind her back.

“Oh,” the man said as he exhaled with satisfaction and hubris, “there won’t be a next time. After I’m done here, there won’t be a need for the movement anymore. The people will rise up and the authorities will have no choice but to fall in line. The power will finally rest with the people.”

A soldier jogged into Ops and walked up to the man, “Sir, we’re ready.” He spoke.

“Excellent.” Said the man, waving the soldier off.

The man pressed a combination of buttons on several of the consoles and pulled the lever he wanted Sophia to pull. A faint rumbling followed by a confirmatory series of tones sent the soldiers into motion. They spilled out of Ops like a river, back to where they came from. Only the man and three soldiers remained in the room. Two of them grabbed Sophia by her biceps, lifted her up onto her feet, and dragged her down the corridor in the direction the other soldiers went. The third soldier gathered the device they used to breach the door and packed it into a bag, then followed them out. The man stood there for a moment, basking in the glory of his accomplishment. He strolled over to a small circular window that was facing the factories adjacent to the habitat. He smiled as he watched the factories and warehouses slowly rise and float off into space, surrounded by clouds of burning debris.

“Trillions of dollars—and for what? Space exploration? Space colonization? Maybe if they focused their gaze on fixing the problems of our planet, rather than bringing them to another one, the people wouldn’t be forced to stand up and revolt.” He said into the window with his arms clasped behind his back.

“You won’t get away with this!” yelled Sophia as the soldiers dragged her out of sight.

The man exhaled and whispered to the window. “I already have. Now begins the hard part.”