The Moon Base Mystery: Part 1
Chester squeezed my shoulders. “You ready to seal it up?”
I straightened from my ungainly slouch against the table. “Are you sure about the container’s oxygenation levels?” I asked, inspecting the recovered artifact from a new angle. It was an ancient Valikese korton—a short-handled, studded weapon wielded by long-dead Valik in close quarters combat.
After its discovery, we received a request for assistance in its restoration and preservation from the Valik Parliament. I had spent the last week alongside Valik conservationists working to clean the korton of centuries of below-ground erosion while Chester and a team of engineers built an atmospherically regulated display case.
“Positive,” Chester replied, passing me the lid.
“Because if the oxygen levels reach above .34%, the metal will—”
“Corrode to dust, I know,” Chester finished. He knew how nervous I was completing my first official off-Destyr archaeology job. It had been nice to conduct a mission that dealt with actual archeology, even though it meant Fleetwood and Ryan spent the last few days running around the Valik capital bored out of their minds.
“Sorry,” I said, accepting the lid. “I trust your engineering capabilities. Plus, the Valik tech for sealing is almost as pristine as the Covlax. I’m just...anxious.”
Chester gave me a small, reassuring smile. “You did a great job, Gretch. It’s ready.”
I nodded, carefully reaching forward and covering the korton. When the lid met the display platform, the case sealed with a soft, pneumatic hiss. I rubbed my clammy palms together and grinned at our handiwork. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’ll look even better outside of the lab,” Chester said, gesturing to the windowless, underground workspace provided to us. Though the lab was a sleek and mind-bendingly advanced workspace, Chester was right. The korton would look magnificent in its rightful display. “Have you seen the full set-up they’re working on at the Museum of Blood and Battle?” The Valik were a species short in stature and temper. Their capital had half a dozen museums dedicated to their war-riddled history.
“Check it out,” Chester tapped the Ran’dyl pinned to his charcoal beanie. A projection of an oblong room lined in silver light appeared between our heads. Between the artful arrays of sharp weapons and macabre paintings of famous battles stood a vacant pillar waiting for the korton.
“Did the lab assistant say when the valets would get here to move it?” I asked, admiring the admittedly impressive space.
Chester tapped my Ran’dyl to check the time. He frowned. “They should’ve been here already.”
“Should we contact Senator Mirshan?” I asked of our Valikese host.
The door to the lab burst open, admitting Fleetwood, who spun in a flourishing circle, her turquoise, sequined skirts swirling about her. A miniature bust of Tyler Batista hovered above her wrist.
“Well, hello, doily!” Fleetwood greeted us.
“Fulyiti!” Azo’lah called, stomping in after her. “You promised not to interrupt Gretchen and Chester again today!”
“Yes, but Tyler did not.” Fleetwood beamed at her cousin as she held up her Ran’dyl.
“What up, what up, what up?” Tyler’s hologram greeted us. His smile was brighter than his backward snapback, which was red today.
“Hey, Tyler,” Chester said as I waved at our favorite frenemy.
“Fleetwood said y’all were working on some serious shit,” Tyler said. “Sounds dope.”
Fleetwood dramatically flopped across one of the recently cleared work tables. “Sounds tedious. There have been no shenanigans this week, and my heart is sad.”
“You and Ryan got politely asked to leave multiple war museums for performing overly-loud re-enactments of the battles,” Chester pointed out. “Not to mention the terrified screaming and running LinManHam stirred up when you took him for a walk yesterday!”
In defense of the Valik, if a giant skeletal familiar that resembled a wonky triceratops came striding down my street, I, too, would go shrieking in the opposite direction.
“And Matt took you on a tour of the southern hemisphere where you saw the Pows’zix Waterfall,” Azo’lah added.
Fleetwood clutched at Chester’s forearm. “But it hasn’t been the same without you and Gretchen, beloved.”
“If you’re looking for an adventure, there’s been some heavy merchandise movement in Omega quadrant,” Tyler suggested. “With a legit archaeologist on your team, you’ll make double the usual rate. I can ask Max to send a comm to our contact if you want.”
Fleetwood leaped off the table excitedly.
“We are not mercenaries!” I reminded her.
“Fulyiti, there is no easy way to explain illegal merchandise trafficking to the Auhtula,” Azo’lah added.
“That’s probably for the best,” Tyler said, sinking back into his seat. “We saw Sadrilla and her crew out here, and she’s definitely still out for your blood.”
Chester and I froze. We hadn’t seen Sadrilla since our disastrous trip to J’olpri when she and her crew absconded with the cloak of the first Auhtula.
Azo’lah craned toward Tyler’s bust. “You crossed paths with Sadrilla?”
“More like avoided paths,” Tyler corrected with an overdramatic grimace. “We saw her with her right-hand, Anders, at a bar on Rucobal. We bounced immediately. Word is she’s moving something big, if you know what I mean.” Tyler’s dark brows climbed so high with implied meaning they disappeared beneath the brim of his cap.
I met Azo’lah’s eyes. The cloak. “We know what you mean,” I said.
“You said you’re in the Omega quadrant?” Azo’lah asked, her voice barely concealing her sudden interest.
“Rucobal?” Fleetwood repeated the foreign planet’s name. Chester was already pulling up potential routes for Matt on his Ran’dyl.
“Not anymore,” Tyler said slowly.
“But that’s where you saw Sadrilla?” Azo’lah asked. “How long ago?”
Tyler coughed, his eyes skirting to the side like a mouse Sebastian had cornered. “Less than a day. But I don’t…”
“You don’t?” Chester prompted.
Tyler cleared his throat. “Max would be pissed if he knew I was telling you this. He doesn’t… Sadrilla is bad news. You guys don’t know what you’re dealing with. Even with Chester’s brain and Azo’lah’s ass-kicking, Sadrilla’s crew are dangerous as fuck. If you go after them and something happens to Gretchen, Max will drive out into deep space and throw me out the airlock.”
Fleetwood and Chester’s matching grins did nothing to soothe my rising blush. “He would, would he? And why would that be?” Fleetwood asked.
“Uh, because…” Tyler stammered. In the worst show of acting in the known universe, he suddenly perked up and said, “Oh, what’s that? We’re under attack, and I have to go so we don’t die a fiery death? Alright, bye, guys!” He blew us kisses before he disconnected the comm, his hologram dissipating.
The four of our gazes met in a moment of perfect, unspoken understanding.
The cloak of the first Auhtula. After all of these months without a single lead, here was a golden opportunity to track it down.
“I’ll call back Matt and Captain Thorley,” Azo’lah volunteered, tapping at her Ran’dyl.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Fleetwood chanted as she pirouetted around the lab, a turquoise disco ball of excitement.
“There are at least three different routes we can take to Rocubal,” Chester said, his eyes dancing across the projections from his Ran’dyl pin. His fingers traced trajectory lines through the stars. “This one is faster, but this one is only half an Earth day longer, which would provide us more time to plan.”
“We’ll need to clear out part of the lab and find a proper container for transport for the cloak,” I ticked off tasks on my fingers. My attention snagged on the immaculately protected korton. I pointed to its case. “Do you think Senator Mirshan would allow us to purchase some of that material? It’d be perfect for safely transporting the cloak back to Destyr.”
As though summoned by my mention of him, Senator Mirshan swept into the lab, violet robes billowing at his back. Mirshan was short enough to make me look like a giant and as slender as a beanpole—I had spent my first-day on-planet wondering how such a thin species kept their multiple organ systems inside their bodies. Like all Valik, the Senator’s chartreuse amphibian skin was devoid of blemishes, and his seven-fingered hands were webbed. “Most honored friends,” Senator Mirshan greeted us, his voice deeper than a bass drum. “I have most exciting news to share with you!”
“Honored Senator,” Fleetwood returned, bowing to our host.
Senator Mirshan practically vibrated with glee as he turned to me and announced, “There has been another find!”
“Another find?” I repeated. Too caught up in returning the first Auhtula’s to Destyr, I struggled to compute Mirshan’s words.
“Yes, another ancient weapon from our moon wars,” Mirshan’s face fell. The Senator and I had spent the last week reveling in the historical significance of the korton; my current lack of enthusiasm must’ve been a disappointment.
“That’s—that's awesome,” I said, my grin as weak as my voice.
“Yes. Would it be a bother to request your continued help and expertise?” Senator Mirshan asked. “A maintenance worker on our smallest moon, Coswir, made the discovery while updating a monoxide processing system. You have been most generous with your time,” Mirshan turned his burnt orange eyes to Fleetwood, “and I would not wish to impose further, but if you would be willing to go to Coswir and do a preliminary study? I am sure you have more important meetings to attend and allies to help. However, it would take but a few hours.”
My cheeks burned with shame. Mirshan had been nothing but affable since our arrival. He’d provided Chester and me with everything we could need to help conserve the korton, and now my inability to function properly in a social setting was going to sour our relationship with the Valik.
Fleetwood stepped forward and stooped to fold Senator Mirshan’s hands between hers. Their almost three-foot height difference made them look like mother and son, not political allies. “Senator Mirshan, there is nothing more important than helping cherished friends. Of course, we will fly to Coswir.”
“I do not wish to impede your exit,” Mirshan insisted. “I know you were to leave this evening, and you must have a schedule to keep.”
Azo’lah cleared her throat. “It is no bother, honored Senator. If it would not offend the Senatorial Committee, our crew will leave for Coswir immediately and then take-off from the moon. That will allow us to maintain our schedule while also giving Gretchen and Chester time to examine this new piece.”
Mirshan clasped his hands together in thanks, rapidly backing out of the lab. “Oh, it will offend no one. On the contrary, we are honored by your agreement to assist us with another piece of our history. I will inform the Senatorial Committee and send a message to the shipyard to commence fueling your ship for your impending trip to Coswir!”
Senator Mirshan disappeared in a swirl of fabric, the lab door sliding shut behind him.
“I will update Matt and Captain Thorley,” Azo’lah sighed. “Inform them of our change in plans.”
“We should pack up everything,” Chester suggested, striding to the table where my archaeological tools were spread.
“Quick, quick! Adventure awaits!” Fleetwood cheered.
“But after we stop on Coswir,” I reminded her.
Surprisingly, Fleetwood did not wilt at having to postpone our adventure. “It is the right thing to help friends when they need it.” Fleetwood grabbed my hands, dipped me like a trained dancer, then spun toward Chester’s side. “Let’s get this show to explode!”
The Gold Dust Wo’man had barely cleared Val’s atmosphere when my Ran’dyl rang. I immediately regretted letting Fleetwood customize my ringtones as everyone on the bridge swiveled to look at me, smirking. Even LinManHam, who was situated in his specially crafted safety rigging, seemed to be staring at me in amusement.
“Aren’t you going to answer that, crewman?” Ryan’s look was all too-knowing as the 1980s movie anthem filled the air.
My cheeks and neck burned with embarrassment. I was returning my Ran’dyl’s settings to silent after this, Fleetwood’s joyful ringtone obsession be damned. “I hate you all so much,” I said, very maturely, before accepting the call.
Maximilian Danger Shockley’s stupidly handsome face and glistening, naked torso hovered over my wrist.
“Gretch, babe—” he began.
Ryan blandly remarked, “I guess I see the appeal now.”
“I’m on the bridge,” I squeaked, swinging my Ran’dyl out of everyone’s sight in an attempt to protect Shockley’s negligible virtue. “Why are you—” I flapped my hand at his delicious chest and arms, which did, in fact, look even better in real life. And that train of thought was not helping.
Shockley laughed. “I had just finished working out when Tyler let it slip that he told you about Sadrilla.”
“And you couldn’t put your shirt back on before you called?”
“I was worried. Are you really complaining?”
“We’re not,” Chester and Fleetwood chorused in their eerie, mischievous unison.
“Awful, every single one of you,” I covered my face with both hands.
“Come on, babe,” Shockley said, prompting me to lower my wrist to eye level again. “Whatever you and your crew are planning on doing about Sadrilla, don’t do it. Please.”
“It’s too late! It’s been thought, and we’re gonna do,” Fleetwood belted to what sounded suspiciously like Les Mis. She was currently deeply entrenched in a Musical Theater phase.
“We’re not going after Sadrilla right now,” I said, completely honest. We weren’t, right now, at least. “We’re going to one of Val’s moons to look at a new find.”
“And afterward, you’re going to be smart and go to another planet for some nice, safe, actual archaeology or back to Destyr, right?” Shockley looked at me expectantly.
“Eventually,” I hedged.
“If your crew doesn’t keep you safe, I’m gonna swipe that cloak myself, just to spite them,” Shockley said dryly.
“I’d permanently maim you if you tried,” Azo’lah called breezily. “I’m considering it anyway for your insinuation that we don’t take Gretchen’s safety seriously.”
Shockley’s lips pursed in frustration. “Just…be careful, you idiots.”
“Go put on a shirt or something and take your own advice,” I said. Shockley’s concern was touching, but he, of all people, should understand why I wanted this find so badly. How important it was.
Shockley leaned in closer to his comm device and lowered his voice. “Seriously, Gretchen. I’d like to finish what we started at the wedding.” My face was so overheated I probably could’ve boiled the post-mission hot chocolate water for the entire crew on my forehead. Shockley continued, “And I can’t do that if you’re dead. So, reconsider. For me, babe.” He gave a small, sincere smile that almost swayed me.
“Quit calling me babe, babe,” I snapped and hung up on him. I felt bad, so I hastily sent out the message: I like finishing what I start. When it comes to both you and the cloak ;).
Coswir, similar to Earth’s moon, had no viable atmosphere. The horizon went straight from the pale periwinkle ground to the ink-black expanse of space.
“Looks like a shitty ripoff of Epcot,” Ryan noted, looking out the porthole closest to the exit ramp. They were already dressed in their navy spacesuit. The golden Destyrian glyph for Captain emblazoned on the back shimmered in the cabin lights, their similarly golden helmet was cradled under one arm.
I laughed as I joined them. The squat facility was a white geodesic dome. Like someone had taken the theme park's iconic ball, sliced it in half, and left it to rot in the ass-end of the galaxy.
The short walk to the facility was rather uneventful—except for Chester and Ryan reenacting the 1969 lunar landing with Matt guest-starring as the radio static.
“It’s funny if you’re human,” I promised Azo’lah. “I’ll show you the clip later. Okay, what’s going on? You’ve got your Myax face on.”
“I am a Myax, and this is my face, therefore I always have a Myax face on,” Azo’lah corrected, but it lacked the spark of her usual teasing jibes. In fact, the tiny indentation between her brows, visible even through the glass of her helmet, was folding farther inwards as we headed up the wide ramp leading to the compound’s door.
“No, really, what is it?” I asked as Azo’lah folded herself closer to Fleetwood.
“The senator implied that this was an active facility, and yet there’s no…”
“Activity,” I finished for her.
“I was just wondering about that myself,” Matt said, stepping aside as Ryan pushed their way to the front of the group and pressed the glowing orange button on the door’s intercom display.
“This is Captain Thorley of the Gold Dust Wo’man. Gretchen Borowicz, Royal Archaeologist for the House of Fuiq, is here to examine the artifact at the request of Senator Mirshan,” Ryan said with more authority than I had ever been able to muster as a fully grown adult, let alone as a teenager.
The metal door slid sideways, with a slight groan, like it was being forced into service after too long and against its will. Behind it, there was nothing but completely opaque darkness.
We entered slowly and carefully. The door squealed closed behind us. Matt let out a heavy sigh through his nose. “This isn’t a particularly auspicious start.”
“Everyone, we must protect Gret’chen,” Fleetwood whispered. “Statistically, she will be the first victim.”
“I’ve been training,” I protested feebly.
“Training matters little.” Fleetwood drew her knife. “Your hair is the closest to the golden tone of all first victims in Earth films where friends enter dark, abandoned structures.”
Ryan snorted, amused that as the closest blonde in the group, I was destined to die first in this outer space horror movie.
“Really comforting there, Cap,” I pouted.
“This is Captain Thorley. If no one makes contact with us in the next seven seconds, we’re turning around and contacting the senator,” Ryan shouted, reaching for their blaster holster.
“Please don’t!” A new, small voice pierced the darkness, followed by a flood of light. We were in a compact, blinding white room, with white walls made out of some sort of insulated fabric. On the other side of the room was a glass wall, behind which was a lone Valik in an unflattering aquamarine jumpsuit. “I’m so sorry. They cleared the facility to ensure no one damaged the artifact once we found it, and they left only me. I usually work maintenance but not in this wing, so it takes me a while to locate the correct controls. Give it another 12 clicks to resume correct atmosphere levels, and then you can take off your helmets.” There was a high-pitched noise, like air leaking out of an innertube or, more accurately, judging from Fleetwood, Matt, and Ryan’s poorly stifled giggles, a badly concealed fart.
When the noise stopped, the glass wall slid sideways. The Valik stepped away from the controls and gave a little bow. His jumpsuit crinkled like dollar store tissue paper as he straightened back up. “I’m Kreshlin. I’m to show you the artifact and assist you in any way while you do...what you do,” he finished awkwardly.
“Come on, Dover, show us the bloomin’ artifact!” Fleetwood said sunnily. She removed her helmet and set it on one of the squat benches that lined the room.
We followed suit. As we followed Kreshlin out of the room, I stripped down the top of my space suit and tied it around my waist so that I could easily access my bandolier of tools.
“The senator told us what this facility was used for, but I forgot,” Chester remarked a little too casually, eyeing the one-note white hexagonal decor that was somewhere between an insane asylum and being trapped inside a gigantic golf ball.
“We are experimenting with alternative energy sources derived from solar power. The moon receives a great deal of light when it is in direct line with our sun. They’re trying to make energy sources that can power something for lifetimes.”
“Don’t the—” Chester began, but Kreshlin had stopped at another arched doorway.
“It’s in the east wing through this hallway, but ah, no offense, the structure was built to accommodate Valik.” Kreshlin gestured to himself and then Azo’lah and Fleetwood. “You may find it a bit cramped. Perhaps we should go in pairs?”
“I’ll go,” I said, already thinking of the cloak. The sooner we examined this find, the sooner I could chase Sadrilla down and get a piece of priceless history out of her murderous, uneducated hands.
“Myaxi,” Azo’lah began, but I had already stepped into the hallway.
“I’ll go with her,” Chester said. “We can scan the thing and knock out all of the tests quickly.”
Azo’lah’s mouth crinkled with distaste at the idea, but she nodded. Chester and I stepped forward and followed our Valik guide.
Kreshlin wasn’t kidding about the hallway being narrow. “Could we get some lights?” I asked, remembering Fleetwood’s horror movie-based prediction of my demise.
“It’s a wiring malfunction. Takes two to fix,” Kreshlin said. “We didn’t have time to repair it before we were ordered to clear the base for you.” Maybe the malfunction was also why the hallway was oppressively hot.
“I am sweating like a sinner in church. Christ,” Chester panted behind me as he pulled down the top half of his spacesuit. He swore as his elbows slammed against the walls of the cramped corridor.
I tried to hurry along as best I could in the near pitch black with just an occasional flare of odd purple light to guide the way. “Can you get so hot your hands fall asleep?” I wondered, wiggling my fingers. “Is that a thing?”
“I didn’t think so, but maybe,” Chester admitted. “Thank the alien gods,” he sighed as we emerged into a blessedly cooler room that also had functioning overhead lights.
“There is the artifact on the floor,” Kreshlin gestured to where a few lights had been placed in a circle around a large hunk of glittering rock. Otherwise, the stark white room was completely empty. “We haven’t touched it since it was found. I’ll go fetch two more of your companions and return.”
Kreshlin disappeared back into the hell-hot hallway, the door sliding shut behind him. I wiped my sweaty brow with my bandana and walked over to the circle of lights. “This is an artifact from their moon wars?” I took a brush out of my bandolier and hesitated—searching for any sign that this wasn’t just a hunk of rock more suited to a geologist than an archaeologist.
“Girl, that’s a rock,” Chester said, already scanning it with his Ran’dyl. We’d been working together on various projects for so long, Chester knew my requests before I even made them.
“I didn’t read much about the moon wars,” I admitted, having been too focused on preserving the korton, which hailed from a later period, “but I didn’t think they were so ancient the weapons were hunks of rock.”
Chester snorted. “This rock isn’t even ancient. It’s fake. Like replicated silicone-type stuff. I’ve seen prop rocks more convincing than this.”
I stood, returning my brush to its slot and crossing my arms over my chest. “Do you think someone’s playing a prank?”
“On us?” Chester picked up the faux rock with surprising ease.
“On Kreshlin, or someone else.” I tightened the sleeves of my spacesuit around my waist. “I feel bad having to tell him that his big discovery is a big old bust.”
“Feel bad for us instead,” Chester grinned, deactivating his scanner. “We lost hours on Sadrilla, and we’re gonna have to listen to Fleetwood complain about it.”
I grinned. “Ten bucks says she tries to take the fake rock with us.”
“Oh, it’ll be named after another slew of musical composers, covered with glitter, and gifted to LinManHam before the night is out,” Chester agreed.
I drummed my fingers against my thighs to stop myself from checking the time on my Ran’dyl again.
“Getting antsy there, Gretch?” Chester asked from where he was sprawled across the white floor, tossing the fake rock over his head and catching it like a basketball.
I lost the war with myself and checked the time. Kreshlin had only left to retrieve the rest of our crew five minutes ago. But still, those were five minutes we could’ve been using to hurtle across space toward Sadrilla and the cloak.
I pushed off from the wall that I was leaning against. “How long does it take to bring everyone else down a damn hallway?”
The rock slapped against Chester’s palms, and he sat up. “You do realize that we don’t have to wait here for them, right? It isn’t like this thing needs to be kept in an air-tight container or anything.” He stood, tossing the silicone rock at me.
I squawked and flailed. The fake artifact hit the floor and rolled away. I snatched it up. “Alright, let’s go break the bad news to Kreshlin and then blow this popsicle stand.”
Chester gestured to his Ran’dyl. “I’ll let Fleetwood know we’re coming to them.”
“Good idea,” I said, already exiting back into the dark but significantly less hot hallway. Every second counted in our pursuit of Sadrilla. Before Chester made the call, his Ran’dyl beeped. It seemed that Fleetwood and Chester, as usual, were on the same wavelength.
“Beloved, where are you?” Fleetwood asked.
“Yo, FleetMerc,” Chester said, “we’re heading back your way. The find’s a bust. A manufactured fake. Probably some asshole playing a prank to get a day off from work or something.”
“Ah, rats,” Fleetwood said, her voice sounding anything but disappointed, “looks like it’s time to head out on the byway, looking for adventure.”
“We’ll see you soon,” Chester promised, ending the call.
We emerged from the hall. However, the entrance room was vacant. I stared at the bench where our six golden helmets glinted beneath the hostile overhead lighting. Through the glass window, we could see that the control room was also empty. “Wait, where are they?”
Chester’s eyebrows arched over his glasses frame as his eyes traced the rounded edges of the room. “I don’t know.”
I gnawed at my thumb nail. “Maybe they went looking for us?”
“After Fleetwood said she would wait for us?”
A chill crept up my spine as doubt wedged itself deep in my stomach. I grit my teeth. I refused to let my hope of getting Sadrilla dwindle. We must have just misunderstood Fleetwood. That’s all. Nothing nefarious.
Chester activated his Ran’dyl. “No worries. I’ll just pull up a GPS schematic, and we’ll be out of here in a—”
The lights flickered, and an odd, electronic wine echoed from Chester’s Ran’dyl.
“What the hell?” Chester tapped at the device as it fell silent.
“What’s wrong?” I shielded my eyes against the strobing lights.
“It’s not working. Why isn’t it working?” Chester grabbed my wrist and prodded at my Ran’dyl. “Is yours?”
When my Ran’dyl failed to activate beneath Chester’s attempts, I dropped the fake rock, which bounced against the hard floor. “What the actual fuck?”
“They really need to get around to those repairs in this place,” Chester said. “I don’t even want to think about how messed up their lab work is getting if there are malfunctions bad enough to interrupt our comms.”
“This is bad,” I breathed as the lights went out completely. “Shit, this is like horror movie bad.”
“It isn’t great,” Chester conceded, pulling his clip lights from his spacesuit pocket. His reassuring face glowed blue as he attached one to his collar and one to my bandolier. “Internal comms on.”
“Internal comms on,” I said, turning on my own. Over the intervening time since our visit to the ancient temple on Vas Roya, we had all gained a certain mastery over the strange communication style. We were able to not only open and close the communication pathway but also direct our internal calls to individuals instead of speaking with everyone. Azo’lah and I were still the only ones able to mind-text each other, though.
I said, “Fleetwood! Azo’lah! Are you there?”
“Gret’chen, my Chester, where art thou?”
I sighed with relief. Thank god Fleetwod and Azo’lah had thought to activate their own internal comms.
“Myaxi, Chester! Respond immediately.”
“We’re okay,” he replied. “Are your Ran’dyl’s out too?”
“Affirmative,” Azo’lah said. “We have no means of contacting Captain Thorley and Matt.”
Chester’s uncertain face mirrored my own. I said, “I thought you were all still together.”
“Kreshlin escorted Ryan and Matty-Matt down the hall only moments after you,” Fleetwood explained.
“But Kreshlin never brought them to us,” Chester said. “So we backtracked.”
That niggling feeling returned. Something was happening—something, most likely, bad. I flexed my fingers in an attempt to maintain my composure until we knew how bad that something was.
“We must reunite, find Captain Thorley and Matt. Then, we leave immediately,” Azo’lah said.
Chester nodded sharply. “Agreed, but without our Ran’dyl’s working, we’re like rats in a very weird maze here. Though,” his voice rose contemplatively, “it is a circle. We’re bound to run into each other eventually, right?”
“But what if we end up just missing each other?” I pointed out.
“Freeze tag!” Fleetwood suggested.
Chester smiled. “FleetMerc always coming through with the genius ideas. So two of us stay put, and the other pair goes searching.”
Azo’lah cleared her throat. “We shall stay put. It will be easier for me to defend the Fulyiti from a stationary position if something dangerous is occurring.”
“We’ll come to you,” Chester and I agreed in unison. None of us wanted to over-react if this was nothing more than a prank followed by a tech/electrical function. But we also weren’t voicing our true concern: that we had been lured here for nefarious reasons, the most likely of which, hurting or kidnapping Fleetwood.
“Hurry to me, my dainty duckies,” Fleetwood said.
“Stay safe,” Azo’lah added unnecessarily. I snorted. Chester and I weren’t the ones who made insane bids at adventure. “And leave your internal comms open.”
I pointed at the hallway we came down. “If they weren’t in the room with us, it stands to reason, we shouldn’t go that way.”
Chester nodded, his blue light bobbing erratically. Chester tightened the sleeves of his spacesuit around his waist. “Go through the control room then.” I followed after him leaving behind the rock facsimile—carrying it around made me feel weirdly responsible for the situation we were now in. If I weren’t an archeologist, then we never would have been called here, and my friends wouldn’t want to kick me off the crew once we left this moon.
As my thoughts spiraled, I grabbed at my spacesuit sleeve and opened one of the hidden pockets. A pair of pills fell into my palm.
Chester groped along his spacesuit. “I think I’ve got a spare drink pouch that Ryan made me pack for an emergency.”
“I’m good,” I said, producing my own emergency drink pouch from my pocket.
“You need a minute?” Chester asked.
“What’s wrong with Myaxi?” Azo’lah’s voice in my head startled me. I had forgotten momentarily that we had left our internal comms open.
“I’m fine,” I promised as I took my anxiety meds. Chester gave me a concerned look, wanting to check in with me without verbalizing it, which no doubt would cause the cousins to worry more.
I resealed the drink pouch and nodded. We shuffled through the control room toward the only other door and exited into a pitch-black hallway. The ceiling in this hallway was even lower than the others. The top of Chester’s beanie brushed it.
“There aren’t even safety lights here,” Chester murmured.
“We’re on the move,” I informed Azo’lah and Fleetwood just as the overhead lights pulsed. I clapped my hand over my eyes as my retinas adjusted to the searing brightness of the hallway. Like every room we had been in, this hallway was completely white.
Chester tapped at his Ran’dyl frantically. “Is yours back up?”
“No,” I replied as I mimicked his actions with my wristband. “Nothing.”
“Fuck,” he huffed. “The second our Ran’dyls are back online, I’m looking for a schematic of this place.”
I nudged him with my elbow, and we continued down the hall. Upon reaching a fork in the corridor, I pointed to the right where a series of doors lay. “Start here?”
Chester shrugged his agreement. He approached the first door, waving his hand to activate the motion trigger.
Inside the all-white, empty room, Fleetwood and Azo’lah were speaking lowly to one another.
“Well, that was easy,” I said as I checked our surroundings. I wasn’t sure if I was starting to lose it or if truly every single room in this station was a carbon copy of its predecessor. I turned off my internal comms as Chester rushed to Fleetwood. “Chester, my Chester!” She swept him into a hug, lifting him off his feet and spinning him in a wide circle.
I was pulled into my own crushing embrace against Azo’lah. With my face smooshed against her suit, her arms secured around my shoulders and back, I asked, “You alright, Azo’lah?”
“Of course, Myaxi. Are you hurt?” Azo’lah pulled back slightly but did not release me. My cheeks burned. There was something in her gaze—something too soft and vulnerable—that made me look away toward Fleetwood when I responded with, “We’re good. A little freaked but good.”
“No injuries,” Chester said from his place tucked beneath Fleetwood’s arm.
“Good. That is… good,” Azo’lah removed her arms from around me but remained close. I ignored her slight weirdness as I checked over Fleetwood.
“This place gives me the willies,” Fleetwood said, patting me on the head.
“Right?” I agreed. “Let’s find Matt and Ryan and get out of here.”
Azo’lah’s arm snaked around my shoulders, pulling me away from Fleetwood. “Yes, excellent plan, Myaxi. You and I will seek out the others while Chester and the Fulyiti stay here.”
“What?” I asked at the same time Chester said, “That’s not the plan.”
“It makes the most sense,” Azo’lah insisted. I stumbled, struggling to keep up with her longer stride as she towed me across the room. “It is safest for Fulyiti Fleetwood to stay in one place while Myaxi and I search for the others. You, her Favored, will remain with her. Come, Gretchen.”
My boots squeaked against the floor as Azo’lah pulled me even closer. I twisted to look at Chester and mouthed, What the fuck?
“Azo’lah, what the hell is happening? You’re acting weird as hell,” Chester narrowed his eyes at Azo’lah’s back.
I grabbed Azo’lah’s elbow and squeezed. “Azo’lah, I really don’t think we should split up!”
Azo’lah waved off his concern as the door opened. “Everything will be fine. Keep the Fulyiti safe, Chester. We will return with the others shortly.” She tugged me into the hall.
The last thing I saw before the door shut was Chester’s hands coming up in the universal signal of What the hell?
“Azo’lah, um…” I trailed off as Azo’lah’s hand settled on the back of my neck, her thumb sweeping distractingly over the divot beneath my ear.
“Yes, ket’li?” Azo’lah hummed. And okay, this was getting weirder by the second. Her voice was suffused with the warm fondness which I associated with a relaxed, off-duty Azo’lah. She was certainly not off-duty right now. Not to mention that, while like most Destyrian’s, Azo’lah was fairly tactile, she had a tendency to keep both hands free for Myax ass-kicking when in unfamiliar surroundings.
“Are you sure you're okay?”
Azo’lah fixed me with a heretofore unseen look. It was somehow tender, rendered more so by its contrast to the bleak decor. It was also, perhaps, the most devastatingly attractive expression I’d seen on her face. The fact that it was suddenly directed at me was alarming.
Her hand dipped beneath the collar of my button-down. “I am with you, Myaxi. Why wouldn’t I be well, faa’le?”
“Because you’re with me instead of with Fleetwood while we’re stuck in a malfunctioning moonbase? And you’re calling me space potato and honey, and—”
Azo’lah’s hand grasped my chin, gently forcing my gaze to her. “And this bothers you? I don’t know what a potato is, but that’s not what ket’li means.”
“Bother is a strong word,” I sidestepped her and tapped at my still dead Ran’dyl. “It’s just unusual for you is all.” When nothing happened, I went to the door at the end of the hallway, ready to find Ryan and Matt and get the hell out of this haunted house.
The lights flickered on and then off two times.
Azo’lah’s arm snaked across my chest, holding me to her. I waited for the telltale barely audible schwink of Azo’lah drawing her zali’thir or the hum of her light-weapons activating in the immediate silence. But there was nothing.
On the third flash of the lights, Matt's voice rang out from our suddenly active Ran’dyls. “Gretchen, where are you?” he panted like he had outrun a Destyrian in the 500m dash. “I just escaped Ryan! I knew they couldn’t be trusted. The Destyrians have colluded with the Vallik to sell me out to the Covlax.”
I stared at my Ran’dyl, wide-eyed. “What do you mean escaped Ryan? What the hell happened? Also, you’re on the crew-wide channel, everyone can hear you right now.”
“I—shit—” Matt began but was cut off as my Ran’dyl died along with the overhead lighting.
With only Chester’s clip light still attached to my bandolier to see by, I realized that we were officially in over our heads. “Fuck, something’s seriously wrong.” It was just an appraisal, I said. A diplomatic favor, I said. It’ll be easy, I said. “Let’s go,” I hastened toward the door.
“Wait,” Azo’lah murmured as I moved to activate the door’s motion detector. Her front pressed along my back, hand warm around mine. I shivered. This was not the time. “Let me go first,” she murmured. “It’s my honor to protect you.” Azo’lah moved around me, gently pushing me behind her as she stepped in front of the opening door.
A blue ball of light bobbed toward us and I thought, insanely, that we were about to be lured to our doom by an outer space will-o-the-wisp.
“Oh, thank fuck.” Ryan’s azure-washed face was slowly discernable from the darkness of the room. The wisp of my imagination was nothing but a light that Ryan had clipped to their jacket to help them navigate the darkness.
“I’ve been looking for you weirdos everywhere. No fun being in a haunted moonbase, alone,” Ryan continued, their eyes gleaming with glee.
Oh, to be young, I thought mordantly. “I don’t think it’s haunted,” I said, seriously hoping it wasn’t. “Just malfunctioning tech. Right, Azo’lah?”
Azo’lah tilted her head questioningly, like LinManHam when trying to find out where Fleetwood was calling from. Azo’lah was looking at me like she had no idea what I was insinuating. Like she’d forgotten about her technopathic powers. Come to think of it, we’d been alone for at least five minutes. How come she hadn’t tried to stabilize the base’s power, or at least find out what was disrupting it?
“Ryan, something’s seriously wrong,” I said.
Ryan's eyes flickered to Azo’lah’s weaponless hands. “I’ll say. Did you hear, Majumdar? What a lame attempt at a prank. Where’s our princess and resident genius?”
“We left them two rooms back,” I explained. “Azo’lah told them to stay put and wait for us to come back with you and Matt.”
Ryan eyes widened as they took in Azo’lah “You told Fleetwood to stay put and thought she would actually do it? You let her out of your sight?”
“Of course, she is with Chester. She will be fine,” Azo’lah said easily. “I couldn’t leave Gretchen unprotected.”
“Holy shit,” Ryan said, suddenly delighted. “Either this moonbase is haunted and you and Matt are possessed or there have been exciting developments. Either way, I can’t wait to find Matt. If he wasn’t back there, he must have been further along the way I came and I missed him. Let’s go.” They jerked their head toward the door they had entered from, already striding forward, betraying no doubt that we would fall into step behind them.
We crossed into the next room and the lights blinked back to life. I squeezed my eyes shut against the photosensitivity. By the time I could see again, Ryan already had their Ran’dyl activated.
“Crew come in, this is Captain Thorley.”
“Thank Sondheim!” Fleetwood’s voice came through our comms. “What’s the buzz?”
“I’ve found our Myax and Myaxi,” Ryan relayed. “Stay where Azo’lah put you. We’re moving ahead to find Matt and bring him back.”
“Azo’lah has given me no blocking,” Fleetwood’s voiced hissed into the comms, as if she was trying not to let someone else hear. “I haven’t seen her since we went through the sweaty hallway. We got separated. I located Chester but he is not right.”
“That isn’t funny, Fleetwood,” I said, my voice as wobbly as my nerves. “We literally left you two rooms ago. We know exactly where you are.”
“I am not trying for a comedy tonight!” Fleetwood practically wailed. “This is the worst, Burr!”
“Holy shit,” Ryan said. “Hold your position, FleetMerc. We’ll find Matt and come get you. Don’t move.”
“The ayes have it,” Fleetwood said. “Please hur—” Her voice cut out with the lights. I groaned against the sudden blue-darkness.
I met Ryan’s eyes. “Don’t say it. They’re not possessed. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
Azo’lah’s hand brushed a strand of frizz behind my ear. “Ket’li?”
I took a step away from her, ignoring Ryan’s arched eyebrow and knowing look. “Gretch, we literally just came from a planet where there were witches and necromancers. I don’t think demonic possession is out of the question.”
“You’re not helping, Captain,” I sighed and followed their cheery laugh into the next room.