“Lucy, hold position,” Pierce instructed. She checked the other sensors; nothing indicated a meteorite strike or subterranean gas explosion.
Bringing the camera feed up on a second screen, she rolled back the recording to the few seconds when Howard had her attention. The shadow appeared in the bottom right of the screen. A dark shape that vanished into the darker shadow of the crater wall. Pierce took a few stills and went back to the live feed.
“Lucy, move forward to the edge of that hole.” The wheeled robot moved forward, navigating over the rocks until it perched against the sudden drop off. Laser measurements said the machine was at the lip of a shaft with a diameter of nearly three meters, and the walls were marked with a spiral pattern like drill marks.
“Sarge, I think I have a drill site,” Pierce reported.
“We’re outside the door,” Block replied. “Howard, open the airlock.”
Howard crunched his way to the room’s only exit. Pulling on it, Pierce could hear him grunting with strain.
“Mi casa, su casa,” he said as three more members of the Black Light Security team entered the room.
Sergeant Block started issuing orders. “Gordy, get a link to the satellite. Korbin, see if you can put a tent up in here.”
The troops moved without question. Howard stepped forward, holding up the severed limb like a piece of road kill.
“And what the hell is that?” Block asked him.
“Casualty, Sarge,” Howard replied with no trace of guile.
“Where’s the rest?”
“Missing, Sarge.”
“Well, when you find a piece that can tell us exactly what happened here, you bring it to me. Until then, get that shit out of my face.”
Block moved across the room, his armored boots crunching Perspex rubble underfoot. “What have we got, Pierce?”
“Drill site. Lucy’s prepping a probe.”
“Show me.”
Pierce tilted the screen towards Block. He watched as Pierce relayed instructions to the unit. A cylinder popped out into the open space of the shaft, and then as the weak lunar gravity caught hold, it dropped out of view. The cable spooling out behind the probe relayed sensor data back to the LUSE unit.
“How deep is this?” Block asked.
“One twenty meters,” Pierce replied.
“Where’s the equipment?”
“Sarge?” Pierce asked.
“The drilling rig? A prospector drill makes a hole about ten centimeters across. That’s not a prospector shaft.”
“No sign of equipment, Sarge.”
“What about tracks? Any marks to indicate that any mining operations were ongoing in that area?”
“No, Sarge. Not yet.”
“Then why are you in that crater, Pierce?”
“Lucy picked up a beacon signal.”
“Where is the beacon?”
“Well, I’m not sure. It should be in this crater, but there’s nothing here.”
“Except a damn big hole in the ground. If the beacon is in that hole, I want you to find it.”
“Sergeant,” Wong’s voice came over the comms channel.
“Go ahead, Wong.”
“I have found what appears to be the remains of multiple base personnel. State of the bodies suggests violent trauma.”
“Decom?” Block asked.
“Sergeant, the highest point in this facility is five meters below the lunar surface. The redundancy systems on all airlocks with access to the outside mean that the chances of a decompression event are nine hundred and forty-six thousand to one,” Wong said.
“Save the details for your written report, Wong. Tell me what you see.”
“Sergeant, I do not believe these people died of exposure to null-atmosphere. It appears they died from trauma and were possibly consumed pre-mortem.”
“You’re kidding?” Block asked.
Pierce stifled a grin. She could almost see Wong’s puzzled expression.
“Sergeant?” Wong asked. “I request permission to patch you in to my helmet cam.”
“Pierce, hook one of these monitors into Wong’s feed.”
The corporal’s hands swept across the monitor. The interface sensors in the suit’s fingertips interacted with the touch screen surface, translating touch into keystrokes.
“Okay Wong, your feed is on screen,” she reported.
They stared in silence as Wong’s vision swept over a room painted in blood. Corpses, torn and mutilated beyond recognition, lay in a tangled heap.
“Jesus—” Block muttered.
“Wong, how many are there?” Pierce asked.
“I’m not sure. I could start sorting through them. Counting heads would give an accurate determination. Provided that the number of bodies equals the number of—”
“Get started. If you find any identification on them, put it aside,” Block said.
Pierce disconnected the video feed from her screen.
“Weapons check,” Block announced. Pierce picked up the EM14 mag rifle from where she’d propped it against the bench. The electromagnetic charge showed a hundred per cent and green. The magazine of projectile slugs was full. Propelled by a relay of electro-magnets, an aerodynamic high caliber slug would leave the end of the barrel at twice the speed of sound. The armor-piercing shot could penetrate plate steel and concrete to a depth of eighteen inches.
Block listened as the team counted off, confirming their weapons were locked and loaded. “Stay frosty, people, this is not your daddy’s desert patrol.”
“Sergeant, please come to my position on level four, Section H. I have found a survivor,” Wong announced over the team comms channel.
“On my way. Pierce, bring the med-kit.”
“Sarge, the Lucy unit and the probe?”
“Will be there when we get back,” Block snapped. “Move out, Corporal!”
Pierce scowled. She set LUSE to autonomous control and stood up. The soft tug of lunar gravity made her feel like she was bouncing. Pierce scooped up her rifle and the med-kit that sat among crates of emergency supplies next to the console.
“Sometime today, Corporal!” Block barked.
She followed the sergeant into the emergency airlock that secured the room.
“Crazy shit huh, Sarge?” Pierce said to break the silence.
“Bunch of prospectors blow themselves up? That ain’t crazy shit. Sending us up here to check for survivors and sabotage. That’s some crazy shit.”
“Yeah, but think of the overtime.”
The airlock cycled through and they stepped into a gently curving corridor marked section F of the mining base.
“Keep your helmet on; there’s pressure, but you know the rules,” Block ordered.
“Roger,” Pierce replied. The lightweight but armored pressure suit kept out the smell. “You know Sarge, with the amount of casualties Wong reported, the air-con in this place must be pushing around a lot of airborne particulates.”
“Pa-tick-u-lates?” Block replied.
“Yeah, Sarge. You know the tiny bits—”
“I know what the damn word means, Pierce. Now pay fucking attention. This is an unknown situation.”
“Amen, Sarge.” Pierce shifted her rifle to a ready position and together they moved down the narrow corridor.
“Shit hit the fan here, too,” Block commented as they stepped over torn wall panels and ducked under hanging cables.
“This is mining laser damage,” Pierce pointed to a burned streak along the wall.
“What the hell were they doing?” Block frowned through his helmet visor.
“Barbeque party? Maybe it got out of hand?” Pierce flashed a light into a room filled with supply crates. The floor panels had buckled upwards into bulging humps.
“Sarge, what’s below us in this section?”
“Ahh… nothing. Just rock. Wong, what’s the count so far?” Block asked over the comms.