“Twenty-three individuals, Sergeant. All American Water Corporation prospector personnel from their ID.”
“Which means eight unaccounted for.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Wong replied.
They reached a door lit by a flashing red strobe warning that the atmospheric pressure beyond was dangerously low.
“Suit check,” Block said.
“All green,” Pierce replied. Together they twisted the manual handle of the metal door. The air around them hissed out into near vacuum as they pulled it open. Stepping through, Pierce turned back to close the door. “Fuck me!”
Block’s rifle snapped to his shoulder. “Report!”
“Dead man. Startled me.” Pierce took a breath and prized the frozen hand off the door handle. “Okay… door is sealed,” Pierce reported.
“Keep moving,” Block said.
Pierce walked with her rifle ready, scanning the damaged walls. In places entire sections had collapsed, spilling moon rock and dirt across the floor.
“We’re in section H. How far to you, Wong?” Pierce asked.
“Forty-seven meters,” Wong replied. “Follow the trail of destruction around to the right. I will keep an eye out for you.”
Pierce swept her view over the torn panels that lined the corridor. “Sarge, what the fuck happened here?”
“Shit went down,” Block said ominously. Pierce took it to mean he had no idea either.
“Hold it,” Block commanded.
Pierce froze, sweeping her rifle in a surveillance arc across the darkness.
“Movement,” Block said in her ear. “Eleven o’clock. Something moved over there.”
Pierce moved to the wall, her rifle butt pressed tight against her shoulder. She eased the safety off and waited.
“Korbin, Howard, Gordy, advise your positions,” Block said over the squad channel.
“Still at home plate, Sarge,” Howard replied.
“I’m here too, Sarge. Working on getting the pressure tent up,” Korbin said.
“Gordy?” Block asked. “What’s your position?”
Howard came back on line. “She left right after you did, Sarge. You told her to go set up a satellite relay.”
“So why isn’t she responding?”
“You know what women are like, Sarge. Maybe she’s not talking to you?” Howard couldn’t keep the chuckle out of his tone.
“Stow that shit, Howard. Can you patch in to her helmet cam? Get eyes on Gordy and report.”
“With pleasure, Sarge. Howard out.”
“Goddamn amateur hour,” Block muttered.
Pierce kept up her scan of the grey dust that had drifted across the corridor.
“Feed’s dead,” Howard advised.
“Well go and get eyes on her. She might be in trouble,” Block said, clearly annoyed that he had to spell out basic support to a squad veteran like Howard. He waved Pierce forward to take point.
She crept forward, ducking under hanging tangles of cable and stepping over buckled plates.
“Wong?” Pierce activated her comms unit. “We’re closing on your position.”
“One moment, I will meet you in the corridor,” Wong replied.
Ten meters along the curving corridor, Wong stood with his rifle ready, the lamp on his helmet casting sparkling beams in the dust and ice flakes floating from the ceiling.
“It’s just us, Wong,” Block announced.
“Is Gordinski okay?” Wong asked.
“Howard is checking on her.” Pierce turned and looked back as far as the bend in the corridor, an uneasy feeling tightening the muscles at the base of her neck. Block marched towards them.
“Where’s the survivor?” he demanded.
“First, I would like to show you the casualties. I hope you are not easily nauseated,” Wong said and stepped clear of the door.
The room looked worse close up than it had via helmet-cam. The men — no women were deployed on lunar prospecting missions — lay in a neat pile. Along one wall, Wong had placed a line of heads.
“Those are the ones I believe can be matched to a body,” he explained.
“Jesus. H. Christ,” Block muttered. “Cause of death?”
“Initial examination suggests multiple contusions, lacerations, blunt-force trauma and some decompression injuries.”
“They were stabbed?”
“Stabbed, bitten, slashed, crushed and then exposed to null-atmosphere. Most of them were already dead when they were exposed, though.”
“Isolation psychosis?” Pierce suggested.
“Isolation psychosis would be a reasonable assumption,” Wong replied.
“It’s not our job to make that call,” Block said. “Where is the survivor?”
“He has sealed himself in a pressurized room. Breaching the seal would kill him.”
“He doesn’t have a pressure suit?” Pierce frowned. The idea of being anywhere on the moon without a suit made her shiver.
“It does appear that he locked himself in without following normal procedure.”
“Can we communicate?” Block asked.
“Yes, Sergeant. There are working communications outside the room.”
“Show me.”
Wong led them down the corridor. It ended at a sealed door and a shattered door control panel.
“Manual override,” Block said without a trace of sarcasm.
Wong went to the shattered panel and pressed its only remaining button. “Mister Salvatore,” he said.
“Still here, Sehnor.” The voice that crackled through their comms sounded tinny, a side effect of the limited transmission range of the intercom.
“Mister Salvatore. We’d like to find out what happened here and then get you to safety.”
Pierce felt the vibration under her boots in the airless corridor. Within a moment the entire section shuddered as if struck by an earthquake. She fell against the wall and steadied herself until the rocking subsided.
“Minhocão!” the voice from behind the door screamed.
“Howard, report!” Block barked into the comms.
“Shit, Sarge! What the hell was that?” Korbin’s voice crackled.
“Not sure. Howard, what’s your situation?”
“He went to get eyes on Gordy. Couldn’t tap into her helmet cam,” Korbin replied. “Want me to go and find them?”
“Hold your damned position, Korbin.”
“What’s Saliva saying?” Block snapped at Wong.
“Salvatore, Sergeant. I’m not sure what it means. He screams that word occasionally.”
“Pierce?” Block asked.
“No habla Espanol,” Pierce said.
“From what I have heard, I think he is speaking Portuguese,” Wong suggested.
“And do you speak Portuguese, Wong?” Block asked.
“Not currently, Sergeant.”
“Goddamn amateur hour,” Block muttered again. “Hey! You in there! We’re going to get you out of there safe and sound, comprende?”
“Please—” Salvatore’s voice came through the intercom. “Por favor senhor, me tira de aqui embora.”
“Wong, come with me. We’ll get a pressure tent and seal off this tunnel. Get some atmosphere in here. Then we can open this door and get him in a suit and ready for evac.”
“What do you want me to do, Sarge?” Pierce asked.
“Talk to him. A female voice might calm him down.”
Pierce stared in blank surprise at Block until he walked away down the corridor, Wong trailing him.
“Ahh… Hola?” Pierce said to the intercom.
“Sim,” came the hesitant reply. “Who are you?”
“Pierce, Corporal Pierce. I’m part of a Black Light Private Security team.”
“Black Light Security? Why did the company send you? Why not proper military?”
Are you kidding me? Pierce thought. Lunar territory was a complex jigsaw of corporate land claims. No Earth government or country had a claim to any part of the moon. Landing federal troops on the moon would start a war, or worse — a court action.