Space Case Page 6

  “Of course. The tech is built-in. Why wouldn’t they wire it?”

  “Because the screens are in the toilet.”

  “I don’t mind video chatting from the toilet.”

  “You broadcast from in here?” I asked, doing my best to hide my disgust. “To who?”

  “Everyone. Friends, relatives, girls who think it’s cool I live on the moon. I’ve even posted a few video logs from here. No one can tell you’re on the can. The camera only shows your face.”

  “If the stalls are wired, do you know if there are any other cameras in here?”

  “Oh yeah. There’s a nano up at the ceiling in each corner, and those are just the ones I’ve noticed. I’ll bet there’s some others as well.”

  I looked up at the corners of the ceiling. I couldn’t see any cameras, but cameras are so small that scientists at the Department of Defense are getting houseflies to carry them. Any nanos tucked away in the walls would be practically invisible. “You’re sure they’re there?”

  “Definitely. I’ve pulled up the feeds on my own computer.”

  “Why?”

  “Just to see what I could see. It’s not as hard to crack the base security code as NASA thinks. If you ever want to watch Lily Sjoberg getting ready for the shower, let me know.”

  I groaned for the third time. Not at the idea of Lily Sjoberg, who is certainly the most attractive girl at the base—or even at the idea of Roddy having access to the security camera system (though I’d have to think twice before scratching my rear end from now on, knowing Roddy could be watching).

  What I was really disturbed by was the fact that Nina had just told me there weren’t any cameras in the bathrooms. If Roddy knew they were there, then Nina had to know as well. She knew Moon Base Alpha down to every last nut and bolt.

  Which meant Dr. Holtz had been recorded the night before. And Nina Stack had just lied to me about it.

  Excerpt from The Official Residents’ Guide to Moon Base Alpha, © 2040 by National Aeronautics and Space Administration:

  TRANSPORTATION

  Your adventure at MBA will start well before you set foot on the moon. Just getting here is the experience of a lifetime!

  You’ll be heading to the moon aboard the world’s fastest, most state-of-the-art rocket: the Odyssey Raptor 12. You’ll be able to sit back and relax as you race to our base in a mere fifty-three hours. True, that’s over two days, but in the expansive Raptor 12 space cabin it’ll seem more like only two hours! You’ll have your own personal seat, specially contoured to your body with ComforFoam®, plenty to eat and drink, and more than ten thousand channels of entertainment to choose from—if you can pry your eyes from the incredible display of the earth dropping away just outside your window. The Raptor 12 isn’t just a rocket: It’s the future of space travel.I So get ready for the ride of your life!

  * * *

  I. In the unlikely event that an Odyssey Raptor 12 is not available for lunar travel, you may be asked to transit to MBA on a Soviet Gagarin-class rocket via the launchpad in Vladivostok, Russia. Be advised that some amenities may not be available on the Gagarin.

  NEWBIES

  Lunar day 188

  Noon

  The rocket had originally been scheduled to arrive seventeen days earlier. For getting to the moon, though, seventeen days late counts as being almost on time.

  Even though we’ve been launching rockets for almost a hundred years, things still go wrong all the time. It’s not like in the movies, where everyone just jumps into their spaceships and flies off whenever they want. Launching a rocket is immensely complicated. It’s, well . . . rocket science. And lots of things can go wrong: Any of the millions of parts can malfunction, a computer can glitch, a storm can move in, a cloud of space junk can drift into the flight path. Plus, heading for the moon isn’t something you can do whenever you want. You need a window when the earth and moon are in just the right place relative to each other. Miss that window and you might as well unpack your bags—you’re going to be waiting a while. Frankly, you’re lucky if your rocket takes off within a week of when it’s supposed to. One of the original missions for the construction of MBA was delayed for more than a year.

  And to think, my grandparents say they used to get upset when planes on earth were delayed an hour.

  But now the Raptor was almost here. Despite Dr. Holtz’s death, there was excitement in the air. Almost every Moonie was gathered in the rec room to watch the rocket’s arrival. Yes, that’s right. Even though the Raptor was landing less than a football field away from us, we still had to watch it on TV. This was because the moon has no atmosphere. Therefore, no matter how gently a rocket lands, the retro rockets that slow its descent will still blow away every bit of rock and moon dust below them, shelling everything nearby. NASA built a twenty-foot blast wall around the landing pad to protect MBA, but there isn’t a single window oriented in that direction, just in case something makes it over. We don’t want our precious glass getting shattered by a rogue moon rock. As it is, we’ve already lost two panels in Solar Array 2 to blast debris.

  Violet was seated on the floor right in front of the SlimScreen, along with Inez Marquez—Roddy’s little sister and her best friend—and Kamoze Iwanyi, the only other little kid on base. The three of them were pleading for someone to switch the TV to cartoons instead of the rocket’s arrival. (After hearing about Dr. Holtz’s death, Violet had been sad for a few minutes but had quickly returned to her usual effusive self.)

  The adults weren’t paying much more attention than the kids. The first time a rocket had arrived, we’d all sat riveted to the TV. But by now even this amazing event had become routine. Everyone was socializing, only keeping one eye on the screen while they talked science and gossip. Roddy was AWOL. He must still have been in the bathroom, covertly leading raids on virtual moons from the toilet stall.

  The older kids, Cesar Marquez (Roddy’s big brother) and the Sjoberg twins, Patton and Lily, were all clustered together as usual. Cesar is usually pretty nice to me, but the Sjobergs are jerks. Due to the Transitive Property of Jerkiness, any time they’re around Cesar, he becomes kind of nasty himself.

  That was it for other kids at MBA, so I was watching the landing with my parents.

  “Looks like Katya’s coming in perfect,” Dad said, meaning Katya King, the head pilot on the Raptor.

  “Like always,” Mom agreed.

  My parents looked around the room for someone else for me to hang out with. They weren’t trying to ditch me; I think they felt bad I had no one else to talk to but them. “Where’s Roddy?” Dad asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” I replied.

  Dad considered that, then nodded. “You’re probably right. I don’t.”

  “Nina told me not to talk about Dr. Holtz anymore,” I said.

  Mom and Dad both scanned the room to see if anyone was eavesdropping on us. No one was. “When?” Mom asked.

  “Not too long ago. She called me into her office. She told me the death was an accident, not a murder, and that if I didn’t shut up about it, I’d be causing trouble.”

  Mom and Dad shared a long look. It seemed as though an entire conversation passed between them, unsaid.

  “How did she know you thought he was murdered?” Mom asked, keeping her voice low so no one else would overhear.

  “She wouldn’t say.”

  Mom nodded. “Well, I can understand her concern. Back on earth, there are a lot of people paying very close attention to this base. If a rumor spread that Dr. Holtz had been murdered, it could be a disaster.”

  “Well, what if it’s not a rumor? What if there’s really a killer on the loose? Shouldn’t someone at least investigate?”

  “I’m sure they will,” Dad replied. “There’s no way a death up here wouldn’t be looked into. But they’re probably only thinking of it as an accident.”

  “But what if it really is a murder?” I asked. “If no one’s looking for the killer, then the killer won’t just
get away—they’ll still be living with us! How long do you think it’ll be before someone else gets bumped off?”

  Both my parents signaled me to keep my voice down. Before either one could come up with an answer, Chang Hi-Tech came along.

  Chang’s real last name is Kowalski, but no one calls him that. He’s MBA’s resident genius. Officially he came to the moon as a geochemist, but he’s really a jack-of-all-trades, able to handle everything from computer glitches to leaky rehydrators. It’s always easy to find him at MBA, because even on earth he’d stand out in a crowd. He’s a tall, muscular Polish-Samoan, he has a Mohawk, and his arms are covered with tattoos. All his favorite scientists’ likenesses are inked on his skin—Albert Einstein, Marie Curie, Niels Bohr, Isaac Newton—but they’re all drawn as superheroes, clad in spandex, battling enemies like Hitler and Godzilla. Chang designed the art himself.

  I was worried Chang had overheard me talking about the possible lunar serial killer, but he showed no sign of it. Instead he was focused on the TV screen, watching the rocket. “Man, that Katya’s an ace,” he said. “I’ll bet you a thou she parks that Raptor dead center on the pad.”

  Dad shook his head. “Bet against Katya? Forget it.”

  “Okay,” Chang said. “Then let’s bet on which of the newbies pukes during the landing.”

  Dad laughed. Mom rolled her eyes.

  Rocket travel isn’t for everyone. Almost everybody feels motion sick the first time they go into space. It takes a while to adjust to being weightless. Some people manage to do this quickly. Others spend the trip on very intimate terms with the zero-g toilet.

  My parents and Chang knew plenty about the newbies already. NASA had sent them biography files well ahead of time, and all the adults had video chatted several times. It’s better to start life on the moon as friends than strangers.

  “I’ll put a hundred on Maxwell Howard,” Dad said.

  “The engineer?” Chang laughed. “You’re backing the wrong horse, pal. I hear that guy’s steady as they come.”

  Dad shrugged. “I’ve got a hunch. Some of these stoic guys turn out to have the weakest stomachs.”

  “My money’s on the Russian,” Chang said. “What’s his name, Balnikov? I read the guy’s file. Trust me, the guy’s a vomit volcano.”

  “I don’t know what to do with you two,” Mom said with a sigh. “Dashiell, don’t pay one bit of attention to these so-called scientists.”

  “They’re only having some fun,” I said.

  “Yes,” Mom agreed. “And they have no idea how to pick a potential puker. If anyone blows chunks, it’ll be Jennifer Kim. The geologists are always the first to go.”

  On the TV there was a sudden blaze of light as the Raptor’s retro rockets fired. And yet, even though this was happening almost right over our heads, we didn’t hear a thing. There was no atmosphere for the sound to travel through. What would have been deafening on earth was bizarrely silent on the moon.

  All conversation ceased. Everyone directed their full attention to the TV. Even the little kids.

  The Raptor was lowering slowly toward the pad, the flare from the retros so bright it almost bleached out the screen. Just as Chang had predicted, it was coming in perfectly. Commander Katya King was at the helm. Not only was she the best pilot at NASA, but she’d done this run so many times it was probably routine to her by now.

  Nina Stack was suddenly at my side. Without so much as a hello she told me, “I need you to do something for me. There’s a girl your age coming in on that rocket.”

  “Kira Howard,” I said. “I’ve heard.”

  “You’re going to be the welcome wagon for her.”

  I was so surprised I took my eyes off the TV. “I thought Cesar was assigned to do that.”

  “I changed my mind.” Nina didn’t even look at me. She kept her gaze locked on the descending rocket. “Cesar has other duties, and, frankly, you’re probably a better representative for Kira anyway, seeing as you’re only a few months older than she is.”

  “But I’m not prepared—” I began.

  “I’m sure you can handle it.” Nina walked away before I could raise another protest.

  Not that I could think of one. Truthfully, I was happy for the assignment. Kira was twelve, like me, and I was kind of excited to meet her. Plus, showing her the ropes at MBA would give me something to do for once.

  Of course, I knew the real reason for my new assignment. Nina was trying to distract me from raising questions about Dr. Holtz’s death.

  On TV the second round of retros fired. Katya gently guided the Raptor to the landing pad. Below the rocket, dust and rock exploded out in all directions, scouring the blast wall. The Raptor hovered over the pad for a few moments, then set down in the dead center.

  Everyone cheered.

  “Now that’s how you land a rocket!” Chang whooped. “Way to go, Katya!”

  Nina whistled shrilly, interrupting the celebration. “All right, everyone! We all have work to do. Those of you on cargo transfer duty, suit up. Those of you on the welcoming committee, be ready to meet your assignments. Everyone else, stay clear of the staging area. We’re going to have enough bodies there as it is.” She strode out, having masterfully destroyed any sense of joy within seconds. All the adults dutifully filed after her. So did I. The other kids remained in the rec room. The moment the last adult was out the door, I heard Cesar switch off the rocket feed and turn on Squirrel Force for Violet and her friends.

  I’d never been assigned a duty for the arrival of a rocket before, so I’d never had a reason to be in the staging area when one came in. It was far more exciting than being asked to make myself scarce. Dad, Chang, Mr. Grisan, and a few others piled into their space suits, prepping for cargo duty. Mom, who’d been assigned to greet Dr. Kim, and I clustered near the main air lock with the others on the welcome wagon. I ended up in the back of the crowd, but I could still get a glimpse outdoors through the air lock window.

  After a few minutes, seven people in space suits rounded the blast wall.

  Katya King and her copilot, Buster Reisman, were easy to pick out, even though I couldn’t see their faces through the reflective visors of their space helmets. They bounded along with the confident, easy grace of people who had been to the lunar surface many times before, covering several yards with each step in the low gravity.

  Their fellow travelers moved differently. None had ever been on the lunar surface before, and all were having significant trouble figuring out the low gravity. They wobbled, stumbled, and bounded too far. One tripped and face-planted in a pile of moon dust.

  Only five of the new arrivals were officially Moonies, who’d be staying for years. The rest were temps: people who only came for brief stays. Temps might be contractors who installed new equipment, mechanics who repaired broken machinery, or engineers surveying the construction site for Moon Base Beta. In a few days they’d hop on the return rocket and head back home to earth. I wasn’t even sure how many temps were scheduled to arrive at MBA this time. Besides the seven people en route to the air lock, I knew there were other passengers I couldn’t see, ones who’d remained at the landing pad to unload the rocket.

  Dad, Chang, and the other Moonies who had cargo duty were suited up by the time the new arrivals reached the air lock. The cargo team passed through first, emerging onto the surface of the moon, where they did their best to greet the new arrivals. (Space suits are far less bulky than they used to be, but it’s still almost impossible to shake hands in them.)

  The cargo crew then headed for the landing pad. The new arrivals passed through the air lock into the base and the celebration began.

  Greeting new arrivals is always one of the happiest times at MBA. All of us at the base are thrilled to have new people there. And all the new arrivals are thrilled to have finally made it. (Despite all you’ve heard about how modern spaceships are so elegant and spacious, they’re not; after a few hours on board, you still feel like a sardine in a can.) The moment the n
ewbies popped their space helmets off, the base was alive with excitement. All the adults cheered and hugged one another.

  I was the only greeter who’d never spoken to my assigned newbie. I’d seen some things about her on the news, but since that was vetted by NASA’s PR department, I knew it might not be reliable. (News reports about Roddy had often referred to him as an “impressive athlete”.) Other than knowing what Kira looked like, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

  I wormed my way through the crowd, pausing to say a quick hello to Katya and Buster, and finally found Kira by the air lock. She was standing with her father, Dr. Maxwell Howard. Both had removed their helmets but still wore the rest of their space suits. Dr. Marquez, who was Dr. Howard’s official greeter, was talking to them animatedly, though Dr. Howard wasn’t paying much attention to him. Instead he was looking all around MBA, taking in his surroundings. He didn’t seem to be either amazed or disappointed. His gaze was very clinical, like he was studying the place.

  Kira, on the other hand, seemed a bit overwhelmed. Her eyes were nervously darting back and forth. She didn’t look very much like her father, who was tall and black. She looked far more like her mother, who’d been Asian. (According to Kira’s bio, her mother had died from cancer four years earlier.)

  “Hi,” I said, trying to sound as cheerful and friendly as possible. “I’m Dashiell. Welcome to Moon Base Alpha.”

  Kira didn’t appear surprised that I had replaced Cesar. In fact, she seemed relieved there was someone her age to talk to. “Hey, Dash. Nice to meet you.”

  “I know Cesar was supposed to greet you, but—”

  “Oh, they let me know about the change as we were landing. It’s probably better this way. I know all about you. I’ve seen all your video logs.”