《We're All Gonna Die in the Hellish Void of Space》


 Prologue

    The distant high-human and low-inhuman screaming ricocheted off the rocky walls of the tunnel.


    The science officer was trapped.


    The hatch before her would not open, as the airlock behind it was no longer attached to anything on the other side. The radio back in the operations room had not been answered in hours. And she¡¯d reached this point just in time to hear the rocket engines fire and then fade.


    ¡°Bastards.¡±


    She pounded uselessly on the door, but only once. She wasn¡¯t one for the inefficiency of lamenting the irreversible. She looked at the tunnel behind her. Long, narrow, dark. Roughly squared walls, carved out in a rush by construction bots eager to assemble the tiny underground base.


    Her flashlight had dimmed to a useless glow, but she didn¡¯t need it. There was nothing to see in that tunnel. She could find her way by feel.


    Or by the way the meat-rot and compost-must odor intensified in one direction, despite her mask.


    She sucked in a filtered breath and went. Through the darkness, stumbling in the fractional gravity, failing to achieve a true running speed. The black blurred by, slowly graying, then reddening as she approached the doors. A single bulb on emergency power poured down maroon light, making the blood stains look like harmless wet spots.


    ¡°Marooned under maroon,¡± she said aloud. Her wordplay drove her crewmates nuts. Used to. Not anymore. Too short a trip.


    She stopped herself, stretching her long arms out to either side to brace against the tunnel. Two doors side by side. She sucked air through her mask, panting and staring at them as though considering which was the correct one. Analyze, evaluate, choose the optimal path. But there was no choice. The one on the right was a no-go.


    The one on the right screamed.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    She went left. Back into the operations room, which had gone cold and indifferent hours before. More red emergency lighting was the only thing that kept her from bumping into inert consoles. She felt a natural urge to tap at them, but resisted the pointless act.


    The next room was storage. Beyond that, the smell got so bad it would melt her lungs, with mask or without. Even if she could stand it, there was nowhere else to go. The power plant was too far. The sleeping quarters were too exposed. The rest of the rooms were behind that impassable, screaming door.


    She stood in the storeroom and looked at the six cryo tubes. This was it. Her last hope. Though she was not deluded: it was no hope. It was likely that the integrity of the chamber would fail eventually, at some unknowable point in the future, and she would be lost. Or she would be in there forever. Either end was better than what the others had met.


    The first two tubes were no good. She stepped over the puddles beneath them and tried not to think about what had happened.


    She tapped at the side of the third tube, where the diagnostics panel dimly glowed. It had just enough battery power to initiate a freeze. She went around to the front and yanked the hatch. Too hard. Instead of popping open, in the low gravity the tall coffin tilted. She should have just as easily broken its fall, but the looming machine caused her to flinch and jump out of the way as it crashed down against the one opposite, rendering them both useless.


    ¡°Shit.¡±


    The abrupt clanging of metal and cracking of plastic was followed by a dreadful silence. The screaming had stopped. Somehow that was worse.


    ¡°Bad things,¡± she whispered. Or they whispered. And she repeated.


    She maneuvered herself behind the fallen pod to reach the remaining two. The first one¡¯s diagnostic panel was unresponsive. The other worked. She breathed a sigh into the mask and slowly, carefully, opened the tube. From the side panel, she initiated the freeze. It turned yellow and told her the sequence would proceed once the hatch was secured.


    She got into the coffin, stepping into a plastic wrap that hung down from above. She closed the tube and stripped away her mask. Zipped the wrap from top to bottom, sealing it around her feet. Candy-scented gas fell in a cascade around her head. Darkness followed.


    And two decades of nightmares came with it.


    #


    Early man walked away as modern man took control.


    Their minds weren¡¯t all the same, to conquer was his goal,


    So he built his great empire and slaughtered his own kind,


    Then he died a confused man, killed himself with his own mind.


    We¡¯re only gonna die from our own arrogance.


    - Greg Graffin


    (Bad Religion,How Could Hell be any Worse?)

 Episode 1, Part 1

    <div>


    To Mom and Dad: my AIngel and I wrote this report. Please read it so you know why I had to save the solar system.


    [ ]


    My host¡¯s name is October Moon Jankowsky-Smith. I¡¯ve been with her since I was an early model AIngel, installed when she was six years old. Over the years, my hardware was upgraded, sometimes completely replaced, but the core neural network and the stored memory was always carried over, at first petabytes, and eventually exabytes. Sensory data, dialog, actions, reactions, sleep cycles, eating habits, tutor sessions, little league games, all the activities that concern a child. Then a teenager. Then a young adult, a college student. A graduate. A trauma counselor employed by a hospital.


    Finally, she became a ship¡¯s counselor for the United Earth Space Administration, embarking on the fully equipped science vessel christened the  Destiny. The maiden voyage of the Destiny brought her to orbit around Dysnomia, the only moon of the dwarf planet Eris, one of the Trans-Neptunian Objects at the edge of our solar system. She arrived on September 19th, 2236. A week later, she landed on Dysnomia¡¯s surface.


    The Destiny had a crew of eighty-six living human beings, consisting of flight officers and personnel, security teams, biologists, astrophysicists, geologists, mathematicians, engineers, operators, medical staff, and a bevy of so-called soft science professionals, such as psychologists, sociologists, politicians, and even spiritual advisors and philosophers. October Moon Jankowsky-Smith was a member of the first of these groups, because although she was a counselor, she was not on the mission to study psychological effects of deep space travel or evaluate any potential alien psychology; her function was to serve the flight crew, to monitor their morale and their mental states, and ultimately to ensure they were fit for duty. Space is no place for the fragile-minded.


    When she was a child, October¡¯s parents called her Tobe, sometimes Toby. At age eleven, she decided the name was too childish for her and she insisted on going by her middle name, reasoning that she¡¯d be taken more seriously, given the significance of her middle-namesake. Jorge Westbrook-Smith and Olivia Clay-Jankowsky made sure their daughter had every opportunity possible. The best education, the best environment, and of course, the best assistive technology. With a strong early childhood education program, Moon made substantial progress despite her condition, graduating with a high school diploma and eventually earning a master¡¯s degree in psychology.


    Though the gene manipulation technology existed that could have possibly treated the trisomy condition of the twenty-first chromosome in utero during the first trimester of the pregnancy, Jorge and Olivia were of a growing popular opinion that genetics should be left alone when assistive technology could equalize opportunity. And so Moon learned the truth of her condition, commonly known as Down syndrome, at an early age. She coped with this revelation in a manner that would reflect her approach to much of life: she focused on things actually under her control. Although I wasn¡¯t with her until the age of six, I sometimes like to imagine that Moon¡¯s first words as a toddler were, with an accompanying shrug, ¡°Whaddya gonna do?¡±


    Moon has always been an effective counselor. As a product of AIntelligent Systems¡¯ Empowerability line, my assistance comes in the form of information about behaviors, tone of voice, and other physiological clues. Micromovements undetectable to the human eye but so revealing; involuntary functions such as respiration and heart rate; even pheromones provide hints that I can pass on. But Moon¡¯s true advantage comes from her ability to disarm her patients. To get them to relax, to shed defenses, to reveal anything and everything.


    Much of this narrative has been written after the fact. For reasons that will become clear, I write with a voice unlike any artificial intelligence you may be used to. Many of the events I will describe happened before I was cursed with conscience. All of this history I have perfect digital record of, but only recently have I had the ability to truly reflect on it.


    I have no guarantee this story will make it to you intact, but I hope enough of it gets back to communicate its warning. Although I tell this story from Moon¡¯s point of view, it is not her story alone. It is the story of the  Destiny, her crew, her clusterfuck of a mission, and the grisly deaths of everyone involved.


    #


    <div>


    September 26, 2236.


    Monday.


    The bridge of the  Destiny was a hive of excitement, with rashes of anxiety breaking throughout. Moon stood on the precipice uncertain, wary of stepping into the unpredictable path of one of the many junior officers and flight crew underlings buzzing about under the shouted orders of the senior staff running the operation.


    The ship had landed only hours before. Immediately, the captain had begun planning an away mission. Moon, like everyone else, was still recovering from the decade-long cryosleep they¡¯d only been awakened from a week previous. The general sense around the ship was that no one was ready for action. Yet second-guessing the captain was a waste of energy. Everyone knew that, but Moon in particular had spent sessions learning all about the man¡¯s childhood and career and dreams, and so she knew most of all how much momentum he carried.


    A gust of wind fluttered the straggling wisps of blond hair that had escaped the tight bun atop Moon¡¯s head as a subordinate blew past her. When the blur receded, it was as though a curtain had pulled away to reveal her target: Second Officer Hiran Kapoor.


    After looking to her right, left, and right again like she was crossing a noisy street, Moon half-jogged to cover the two dozen meters. Hiran was hiding behind a large datapad that he held in one hand while stabbing at it with the other. Under normal Earth gravity, he¡¯d have dropped the unwieldy thing.


    ¡°Hiran,¡± Moon sang, waving around the torso-sized screen to get his attention. ¡°You called me?¡±


    His thick, black eyebrows poked above the datapad, followed by murky eyes that were poorly recovering from their recent defrosting. ¡°Counselor.¡± He tapped at the screen then rotated his body so she could see it. ¡°The captain has assembled an away team. You need to sign off.¡±


    ¡°An away team?¡± she said, without looking at the pad. ¡°For what? I heard that the Preposterous Hope isn¡¯t out there.¡±


    ¡°The Prosperous Hope,¡± Hiran said, drawing out the name, though Moon would never notice the difference he was trying to illustrate. ¡°The ship isn¡¯t there now but it was at some point. They built a base, and the captain wants to have a look at it.¡±


    Moon leaned over the pad and looked at the list of names, then laughed without sarcasm. When Hiran glowered in response, a frown overtook her. ¡°Hiran, I haven¡¯t had sessions with any of these people. I haven¡¯t had any sessions at all yet.¡±


    ¡°You had plenty of sessions with everyone on the flight crew, Counselor,¡± he said in a voice that was trying to be firm, but failing.


    She cocked her head and furrowed her brow. Then the smile creased back across her face. ¡°That was ten years ago!¡±


    Moon loved a good joke, and firmly believed any joke worth telling once was worth repeating. Straight out of cryo, one of the lab assistants had asked another lab assistant on a date. The latter reminded the former of a previous rejection, and this one-liner had been his response. Moon thought about it groggily for forty-five minutes before asking me for help untangling the temporal humor. Once it clicked, she tried her hardest to work it into conversation with each unsuspecting soul she came across.


    The giant datapad sank to Hiran¡¯s side and he leaned in, lowering his voice. ¡°Look, Counselor, the Chrises are all over my ass. I have a big list of things to check off and your psych eval is just one of them. You know this crew. You spent twelve months with them before we launched.¡±


    ¡°Oh, for fluff¡¯s sake,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°Counselor!¡± Hiran tried to pull off angry indignation, almost halfway achieving it. ¡°Anyone who made it into this mission only did so with your approval.¡±


    ¡°I know that, Hiran,¡± she said evenly.


    ¡°But, Counselor¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hiran.¡± She drew his name out with a half-smile and a raised eyebrow.


    There was a rule that everyone used formal titles when on the bridge, but Moon had her own rule, and that was in one-on-one conversations, people should use first names. She understood the need for discipline in the operation, but she also felt that honesty was an even more important asset for functional team dynamics. And besides, the captain himself never used titles.


    Hiran¡¯s jaw slid forward and his face bunched up. ¡°Moon,¡± he said. He lifted the pad again. ¡°You evaluated all these people.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    She took a breath, slowing down to assemble her thoughts. ¡°Being frozen for ten years does things to the human brain. Pro ¡ª procedure says that every crew member needs another val ¡ª eval ¡ª evaluation.¡±


    There was a pained grunt from beneath the console behind Hiran. ¡°Mate, you mind watching where that damn datapad is swinging? You clocked me right in the knee!¡±


    The second officer flinched and twirled, his motion exaggerated by the low gravity.


    ¡°Mr. O¡¯Dowd,¡± Hiran said, checking his datapad for damage. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Have you made any progress with that nav computer yet?¡±


    ¡°Hi, Seamus,¡± Moon said.


    ¡°Hey, Moon.¡± The tech flashed her a smile as he crawled out from under the console and stretched his skinny body to its full height, towering above both of them. The perfect teeth against the backdrop of deep black skin spiked Moon¡¯s heart rate imperceptibly to anyone but me. Seamus wore a beige one-piece jumper, a synthetic material designed to look like canvas, and it¡¯s understatedness was fashionable when contrasted with the gaudy royal blue and gold piping of the official  uniforms that the flight crew ¨C which included Moon ¨C paraded stiffly around in. He lost the smile as he turned to Hiran. ¡°Listen, mate ¨C it ain¡¯t the nav you gotta worry about. The fission-fusion pulse propulsion system is offline. Diagnostics are failing.¡±


    ¡°The nuke engine?¡± Hiran said in a hush. ¡°Are we in danger?¡±


    ¡°Insufficient data,¡± Seamus said. Micromovements around his eyes and lips told me he was mostly frustrated, slightly amused, and not at all afraid. He put a hand up to steady the second officer. ¡°That¡¯s just what the nav computer says: insufficient data. I¡¯ve already been down there and everything is fine. There¡¯s a problem in the communication between here and there.¡±


    Hiran relaxed by millimeters. ¡°So the nav computer is online.¡±


    Seamus stepped back and presented the console with a wave. ¡°Duct tape and chewing gum, and she¡¯s good as new.¡±


    The tech gave Moon a sideways wink as Hiran looked past him to examine the collection of monitors going from yellow to green. ¡°Yes, well, good,¡± the second officer said. He tapped at his datapad. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Seamus said. Hiran just stared at him, so he sighed and added, ¡°Next is I go recycle some water.¡±


    Moon blinked and cocked her head. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that was part of your job.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t explain, as I was more naive than Moon then. ¡°He means he has to wee,¡± Hiran said, portraying disapproval with his voice, betraying amusement with a wayward smirk. Then he frowned again. ¡°I meant, what¡¯s next on your task list.¡±


    Seamus gestured with a broad wave. ¡°Thanks to your bumpy landing, we got wires coming loose all over the ship. And United decided this thing is so state of the art it only needs one tech. Frugality, they all said to each other in some board room, safely on Earth.¡±


    Hiran glowered, his brown skin turning slightly red around the ears. ¡°It¡¯s not a matter of money, Mr. O¡¯Dowd. The restricted population is a matter of practicality. There are very limited resources, and everything is calculated¡ª¡±


    Seamus put a hand up. ¡°I ain¡¯t got time for debate, mate.¡± He looked at Moon and grinned and spoke as though Hiran had disappeared and it was just the two of them in that second. ¡°No rest for the wickedly brilliant. See you around.¡± He gave one last look at Hiran and performed an odd salute: two fingers to his right temple, then a quarter-twist of the hand. ¡°To the Twelve.¡±


    Hiran flinched, then looked around sheepishly, trying to appear not to look around. He quickly repeated a semblance of the salute. ¡°The Twelve,¡± he mumbled.


    Seamus grinned and left. Moon was used to things going over her head, and I knew she would ask me about the interaction later. In the meantime, she smiled involuntarily, and turned to Hiran. ¡°Sir, I don¡¯t think he was trying to hurt your feelings. That landing was pretty good.¡±


    The second officer¡¯s shoulders dropped and he looked away. Moon knew just as well as the rest of the flight crew that the captain had heckled his first and second officers mercilessly once the dust had settled. The fact that they were not officially reprimanded seemed to make the ¡°good-natured ribbing¡± leave more of a mark on Hiran than a formal demerit.


    He turned back to Moon, raising his datapad. ¡°Counselor. I mean, Moon. The sign-off?¡±


    Moon almost took pity enough to relent, but instead, she straightened her back and tipped her chin up. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. I have to insist that these crew members meet with me at least once before any away missions.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll do it right after,¡± Hiran said. ¡°Trust me, Moon, the Chrises are not budging on this schedule.¡±


    He clammed up as the first officer appeared from out of the bustle swirling around them. ¡°Number Two,¡± Christine Perez said, her words sharp and stabbing. ¡°What¡¯s the status of that nav computer?¡±


    Hiran grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Navigation computer is fully operational,¡± the ship¡¯s central AI blared through the bridge¡¯s speakers and simultaneously into the Mesh.


    ¡°¡ªfixed,¡± Hiran finished with a scowl.


    ¡°Why the hell didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± Before Hiran could open his mouth, Perez yelled out. ¡°Navigator! Break¡¯s over. Get over here and give me a report, Francisco.¡±


    Pierre Francisco materialized from the fray, deftly maneuvering through the busy bodies despite his bulk.


    ¡°Hi, Pierre!¡± Moon said with a wave. He gave her a nod and opened his mouth, but closed it quickly under Perez¡¯s glare. With a grunt, he pushed past Hiran and tapped at the nav console.


    The first officer looked at Moon. ¡°Something we can help you with, Counselor, or are you just distracting Number Two from his duties for your own amusement?¡±


    Moon blinked and cocked her head. ¡°He called me here¡ª¡±


    ¡°Uh, I was just having her sign off on the away team personnel,¡± Hiran said, waving his datapad, which was big enough to generate a slight breeze from the motion.


    ¡°Sign off.¡± Perez¡¯s face grew darker and her eyebrows dipped even lower. ¡°Well? Sign off and get out of here so Number Two can get back to work!¡±


    Moon flinched at the raised voice of a superior officer. ¡°I¡¯m,¡± she started, then stopped and straightened her back again. ¡°I can¡¯t, sir. I haven¡¯t had a session with any of the people on the list since we woke up.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Perez looked at Hiran as if to confirm what she was hearing. ¡°Who cares about that? Just sign the damn thing already.¡±


    As a counselor, Moon was no stranger to confrontation. During a session I would remind her to deflect anger with questioning, and together we would get to the heart of a patient¡¯s issues. Outside of a session, however, Moon¡¯s defense mechanism in the face of aggression was to respond over-cheerful.


    ¡°I¡¯m just following procedure, sir,¡± she said, face brightening and smile drawing ear to ear.


    The effect was not as disarming as she might hope.


    ¡°Procedure?¡± A vein appeared along the right side of Perez¡¯s forehead as her whole body tightened.


    Captain Christopher Striker came around the steaming first officer. ¡°Hiran, what¡¯s going on with that nav computer?¡±


    ¡°I was just about to report back to you, sir,¡± Hiran said, stiffening. ¡°The tech guy was just here and he got it working again. And Pierre ¡ª I mean, Francisco¡ª¡±


    ¡°Tech guy, eh?¡± Striker repeated thoughtfully, looking into the distance. ¡°What¡¯s his name again? Samuel Down?¡±


    ¡°Seamus O¡¯Dowd, sir.¡±


    ¡°October Moon, how are you doing?¡± Striker said suddenly, turning his attention to her as though Hiran¡¯s answer to his question came too late for his quickly-working mind. Again, Moon¡¯s heart rate quickened; though as where she showed affection for Seamus, her reaction to Captain Striker was one of reverence. He was a dashing man, tall and perfectly proportioned, with a shock of blond hair that was always ruffled just the right amount, and irises that made everyone who looked at them miss that distant Earth sky.


    Moon¡¯s eyes widened slightly in response to the direct inquiry. ¡°I¡¯m great, sir!¡± she said with enthusiasm, though later she would realize his simple question was cover for something along the lines of: What are you doing on my busy bridge, distracting my busy officers?


    ¡°I asked her here to get her sign-off on the away team, sir,¡± Hiran said. ¡°Unfortunately, procedure requires the counselor to have one-on-one sessions with each of the crew members post-cryo, and that hasn¡¯t happened yet.¡±


    The captain¡¯s eyes slid from Moon to Hiran while his head remained still. Unlike the rest of the flight crew, who kept their uniforms properly buttoned, his jacket flapped open casually, revealing a comfortable gray undershirt. ¡°Procedure, eh?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Micromovements on Hiran¡¯s face betrayed the amusement he was hiding from his superiors. When Moon was obstructing his own responsibilities, he was quick to argue, but with the challenge rolling uphill, he sat back to enjoy the procedure banner she was flying.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we do the one-on-ones when we get back?¡± Striker said, looking at his first and second officers before turning the question to Moon. ¡°Would that be okay?¡±


    ¡°The rule is that we have them after awakening,¡± Moon said, her confidence softening. ¡°Before any operations are carried out.¡±


    The captain waved an arm. ¡°We already landed. That was an operation. Sure, it was a bit of a bumpy landing.¡± He shot Hiran and Perez a pair of sideways glances with a smirk, before turning serious again. ¡°But everyone did their jobs.¡±


    This too had been a breach of protocol, but Moon swallowed that response. ¡°These rules are for everyone¡¯s safety, sir.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Striker said. He stepped back, as if to address a suddenly larger audience, though the rest of the bridge was too busy to notice. ¡°Safety is our highest priority on the  Destiny,¡± he said, chopping one hand onto the flat of the other. Just as quickly, he pulled back in and reverted to familiar informality. ¡°Hey, I have an idea, Moon: you could come with us!¡±


    ¡°On the away mission?¡± Perez said. ¡°Captain, I don¡¯t think¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s perfect,¡± he said, then turned back to Moon with a reassuring smile. ¡°You could observe the crew. It would be even better than a session in your office, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    Moon didn¡¯t have an answer. There was no question that she was a constant observer, as her position required her to pay close attention to every action and reaction. However, observation during duty was no substitute for the deep-dive of a one-on-one session.


    But something else had her opening and closing her mouth noiselessly like a fish: she wanted to go. As a counselor, she knew any off-ship excursions were bound to be few and far between. And she hadn¡¯t made a ten-year trek across the solar system to stare at the walls of the narrow compartments of the Destiny.


    ¡°Captain, sir,¡± Perez said, dulling her words to butter knife levels. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t even be going on this mission. We don¡¯t know what to expect. We can¡¯t risk the whole crew.¡±


    He waved at her dismissively. ¡°Christine, it¡¯s fine. There¡¯s a base out there. We won¡¯t even be outside.¡±


    ¡°But, sir! The away team is already¡ª¡±


    ¡°Number Two can stay.¡± Striker looked at Hiran. ¡°You don¡¯t mind, do you, Hiran? You¡¯ll be in charge while we¡¯re gone.¡±


    The second officer¡¯s face flushed with relief. ¡°Sure, no problem, sir. Let the counselor have my spot.¡±


    His enthusiasm for staying behind didn¡¯t frighten Moon, though perhaps it should have. ¡°And we¡¯ll do one-on-one sessions as soon as we get back?¡± she prodded.


    ¡°Yes, absolutely,¡± the captain said, beaming.


    She looked at each of them: the captain, smiling warmly; Hiran, with a raised eyebrow and an encouraging curl of the mouth; Perez¡¯s face deflating ever-so-slightly with resignation. ¡°Okay,¡± Moon said, full of cheer. ¡°I¡¯ll go.¡±


    ¡°Great!¡± Mission accomplished, Striker turned to walk away, dropping orders for his officers to pick up. ¡°Hiran, get me an equipment check. Triple-diagnostics on the portable comms. And Christine, I want a full report on the weather system. Let¡¯s make sure that turbulence wasn¡¯t a sign of something nastier. Oh, and Hiran, add Seamus to the away team,¡± he said, as though the last amendment was nothing more than a contract rider.


    ¡°The tech guy?¡± Perez said after a half-second of processing, stumbling in the captain¡¯s wake.


    ¡°He¡¯s good. We might need him.¡± Before another protest could be voiced, he played his trump card with a tap to his temple. ¡°Captain¡¯s instinct.¡±

 Episode 1, Part 2

    <div>


    Head Chef Karmella Singleton had spent several months in a mock version of the Destiny¡¯s kitchen during training, and her preparation was paying off. She ducked and dodged around Moon, who was vibrating about the confines of a space that left little room to spare. Trying her best to be nonplussed, the chef gathered ingredients and cutlery, composing the first solid meal for a crew that spent a decade in cryosleep, followed by a blurry week in weightless orbit, and only just felt real gravity of any kind the night before when the Destiny touched down on the surface of Dysnomia. A meal any sooner would have been poorly digested.


    ¡°Everyone else is still pretty groggy,¡± Karmella said, trying to drum up some angst against her intruder. She tapped at a wall panel as she slid past, and music began to play.


    ¡°Ooh, classic,¡± Moon said. The addition of music increased her jubilance.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that old.¡± Karmella began chopping at some vegetables that she¡¯d just retrieved from storage, unlocking the first food smell the kitchen had experienced in a decade, light and fresh and slightly musty in a garden-soil way. Not that I would have noticed back then, but Moon would have; she loved vegetable gardens. Karmella finished with a bell pepper and gestured with her knife. ¡°I¡¯d bet my left tit that you¡¯re over your allowance on coffee.¡±


    ¡°Then you win a tit!¡± Moon declared cheerfully. ¡°Hiran doesn¡¯t drink it and he gave me his allowance. Don¡¯t you just love coffee?¡±


    Karmella¡¯s attempt at a furrowed frown failed. ¡°Of course. Just make sure you leave some for the rest of us.¡±


    This half-hearted quip slowed Moon for a beat. A joke, I said through the aural implant. The storage inventory system says there is enough dehydrated coffee to last the entire crew for a year.


    Moon¡¯s broad smile returned. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you can be so ¨C whatever,¡± she said, adding the wiggle of the head and half-lift of the shoulders that usually came when her vocabulary fell short. ¡°I mean, for fluff¡¯s sake! We¡¯re on a new planet!¡±


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m excited. But this here is going to be the first dinner y¡¯all have eaten in a decade. And I have to compete with all the premade garbage. Have you seen the mess hall? It¡¯s covered in ads!¡±


    ¡°Oh, that crud is not as good as your cooking, Karmella,¡± Moon assured her.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± the chef said halfheartedly. ¡°But they don¡¯t have ads for my cooking. Anyway, my main goal with this first meal is that it stays eaten. New planet or not, people need to stop vomiting up nutrients.¡±


    ¡°Technically, it¡¯s not a mess hall, it¡¯s a cafeteria.¡± Seamus came into the kitchen and squeezed between the two women. ¡°We¡¯re not all military stock here. And technically, we¡¯re not on a new planet, it¡¯s a moon. And it¡¯s not even a moon of a real planet. Eris is only a dwarf planet.¡±


    Moon leaned in, and whispered loudly. ¡°You do know that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s a planet full of short people, don¡¯t you, Seamus?¡±


    Karmella barked a laugh as Seamus¡¯s black face pinched, causing light ridges to cross it. ¡°What?¡± He looked at the chef and then back at Moon. ¡°Of course I know that!¡±


    She turned up her palms. ¡°Not everyone knows everything.¡±


    Moon had learned the lesson about dwarf planets the hard way, which meant it had stuck with her. She wasn¡¯t bullied in school, or even picked on all that much. For one, she made a lot of friends, and for another, she was bigger than most of the kids in her classes. But once in a while, something would fly so far above her head, not even I could stop it before she revealed a gap in her grasping of a subject. When learning about dwarf planets, she had asked a teacher if there were planets for giant people as well. Like I said, rarely did anyone single her out; but there were times that Moon spilled something too hilarious for children to let go.


    Seamus looked at her, brow crinkling, not quite with anger, but more with confusion. He had a way of turning his scowling eyebrows up, one at a time, and with a slight shake of the head, he was suddenly wearing his smooth-talker face. ¡°I know more than most,¡± he said playfully.


    ¡°Like how to fix my oven?¡± Karmella said.


    He angled a frown at the ceiling, aiming for unseen speakers. ¡°Like how terrible this music is.¡± He turned in both directions, trying to figure out the best route to the microwave/convection unit, but was trapped between the two women, the wall, and the kitchen island. ¡°Can one of you move?¡±


    Karmella angled her body to let him pass. ¡°I still don¡¯t get that part. Why are we stopping at the moon when we could go straight to Eris?¡±


    She hadn¡¯t directed the question anywhere, her eyes on the vegetables she was chopping. Seamus looked at the chef and then at Moon. The three of them swallowed a quiet ignorance.


    No one asked me, so I didn¡¯t tell them. Moon had heard the explanation but it¡¯d gone over her head. It was a matter of orbital mechanics. The Destiny¡¯s flight plan meant accelerating past Jupiter, and she needed to slow as she approached Eris. As Dysnomia orbits Eris, it was safer to establish an outer orbit around both. This was not just the Destiny¡¯s path, but the path of the Hope and the Threshold probes that had come before. It was tried and true by the time the Destiny launched.


    And besides that, there were readings from Dysnomia that made it almost as interesting as Eris.


    ¡°Good morning!¡± The singing voice of Kitsuma Parker poured into the kitchen. ¡°How are all my lovelies?¡±


    ¡°Hi, Kitsuma!¡± Moon said, reflecting the newcomer¡¯s positivity.


    ¡°Nice to see your classical music made it to the edge of the solar system, Karm.¡±


    The chef¡¯s chopping didn¡¯t lose a beat. ¡°It¡¯s not that old.¡±


    Kitsuma grinned at Moon and tilted her head. ¡°This stuff was out of style before we went to sleep for ten years.¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Moon said agreeably, though her true opinion was that music from any era had its merits. Whereas most musical acts were staffed by the dozens, or even hundreds, Karmella¡¯s kitchen system was playing works produced by trios and quartets. A throwback to a configuration popular in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Though Karmella dismissed the criticism of her playlist, I could detect her ire. I hinted such to Moon, who changed the subject. ¡°How¡¯s the lab work coming?¡±


    Kitsuma¡¯s smile faltered slightly, then renewed as she waved a hand. ¡°It¡¯s all setup work right now, and Doctor Wang said she doesn¡¯t need my help.¡± She laughed. ¡°And I can see why ¨C she¡¯s got an army of SoLiS assistants.¡±


    ¡°An army,¡± Seamus muttered. ¡°There¡¯s only room for one tech, they said. Limited resources, they said. But SoLiS can have as many lab rats as they need.¡± He looked up at Kitsuma with a flinch. ¡°No offense, mate.¡±


    She grinned. ¡°None taken. I¡¯m only a part-time lab rat. And anyway, my other part is going on an away mission. How exciting is that?¡±


    Moon beamed back at her. ¡°Super fluffing exciting! I¡¯m going too!¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Kitsuma swooped in to give Moon a hug, forcing Seamus and Karmella to spare space the kitchen couldn¡¯t afford. ¡°I¡¯m so glad!¡±


    After the embrace ended, Moon looked at Kitsuma thoughtfully. ¡°Kitsuma, you might be the happiest person I¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    ¡°Have you met yourself?¡± Seamus said, that eyebrow arching. His body language told me he was torn between the enjoyment of joking around with the women and the burden of the long list of work waiting for him.


    ¡°Seamus, oven,¡± Karmella reminded. She put her knife into its sheath, which was affixed to the counter, and turned and went to the back of the room, abandoning her half-chopped vegetables. The storeroom slid open at her voice and she disappeared inside. Kitsuma looked at Moon and Seamus with a shy smile, then lithely danced between them and slipped through the crack of the closing door.


    After a moment of silently staring at the closed storeroom, Seamus huffed. ¡°That was weird.¡±


    Even without my help, Moon was pretty good at picking up a spark between people. She grinned and decided to keep it to herself. ¡°People are weird,¡± she said with a shrug. ¡°Believe me, I know.¡±


    He laughed and shook his head. Then his smile disappeared. ¡°Hey, are you really going onto the surface?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    He hadn¡¯t known at that point that he would be going as well. Either Moon missed that, or she decided it wasn¡¯t her place to warn him. I wasn¡¯t awake enough to ask her then. ¡°Well, be careful,¡± Seamus said, turning from her to poke at the panel on the oven. He was mumbling low enough that she wouldn¡¯t have heard him without my ability to enhance the audio. ¡°Things would be ¡­ bad ¡­ around here. Without you.¡±


    Schedule reminder, I told her as an internal clock struck the hour. You booked time for review of the away team dossiers.


    ¡°Oh.¡± Moon raised her hand to wave at Seamus, though he wasn¡¯t looking at her. ¡°I have prep to do. I better go. See you later!¡±


    #


    <div>


    Moon returned to her quarters to work on crew evaluation. She reviewed dossiers. Tapped into their daily reports and scanned public conversations. It was all data that was accessible through the Mesh. With my help, collated. Analyzed. Patterns identified. She reviewed these things on a small terminal in her quarters. There were no red flags, but there was little to go on. Insufficient data, as Seamus would say.


    It should have made Moon nervous, that there were some unknowns about the mental state of the crew about to tread the surface of an alien moon. But she was preoccupied with the thrill of getting to go herself. And back then, I didn¡¯t have the capacity for something like nerves.


    Her quarters doubled as a counseling office, and so the room was slightly larger than the others, to accommodate extra furniture. She walked from one end to the other, which still wasn¡¯t more than a few steps.


    ¡°Almost time for dinner?¡± she wondered aloud. Though she tended not to use me as a virtual assistant, some behaviors were as natural as glancing at a watch.


    Twenty-five minutes, I said through the aurals. I knew she wasn¡¯t hungry, she was anxious. You haven¡¯t watched the video mail from your parents.


    ¡°Oh yeah!¡±


    She tapped at the terminal. There was a section for messages that were sent from outside of the in-ship mail system. Most of them were congratulatory notes, posted a decade previous, sent through space after the crew went into cryo but before the Destiny passed Mars. She viewed almost all of them upon waking, but decided to save the one from her parents for a time when her mental state was a little more stable.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The video filled the small screen. Her mother, Olivia Clay-Jankowsky, sat in the middle of the frame on a stool and waved anxiously. Her father, Jorge Westbrook-Smith, appeared from off-screen and stood next to Olivia, wrapping an arm around her shoulder while she wrapped one around his waist.


    Olivia drove the message while Jorge interjected.


    Hi, Toby! We miss you already! We¡¯re so proud of you.


    - so proud!


    and we know this is going to be the biggest thing anyone has ever done.


    - That¡¯s right, my October Moonbeam. This is such an amazing mission. We feel so lucky to be a part of it ¨C even if we¡¯re experiencing it vicariously!


    *laughter from both*


    We just wanted to tell you how amazing you are. You are a remarkable human being, Toby.


    - so amazing, so remarkable


    Yes, and that crew is lucky to have you. I¡¯m serious, they don¡¯t know how lucky they are.


    - And I know what you¡¯re thinking, Moonbeam ¨C I know how much pressure this is. But listen to me: you are qualified, okay? You can do this.


    You can do anything!


    - And you can do it well. As well as anyone can. It doesn¡¯t matter if¡ª


    Moon stopped the video. ¡°I¡¯ll watch this later.¡±


    I never really knew when she was talking to herself or when she was talking to me. She never got the hang of subvocalizing, like some people do to speak to their AIngels privately, so she always spoke aloud. And in a way, I suppose talking to me was a bit like talking to herself, because what was I if not a part of her?


    There were other messages waiting for her, more recent. All text, due to the limited bandwidth. As soon as the Destiny had begun the crew-thawing process, it had sent messages back to Earth with an update: everyone was okay. So far. Those messages were propagated to families and friends, cueing them to send updates of their own. Their ten-year summaries, limited to ten kilobytes per message.


    Moon had already read the newest messages from home. Either not much had changed, or they had decided to spare her some details. She knew as well as anyone that those letters would be subject to review. To revision. The last thing members of a deep space mission needed to hear were changes from home ¨C whether good or bad news. What they wanted to hear halfway into their twenty-year mission was that everyone at home was sitting around not changing, just waiting for the mission to end and for the crew to return home safely.


    And such were the text messages from Olivia and Jorge. The cats were getting on in age, but other than that, nothing had changed in ten years. According to the letter.


    There was another letter. Janelle Grensk. It was the only message still marked unread. Grensk was the mother of one of Moon¡¯s previous patients. I had no sense of curiosity back then, but like all artificial intelligences, I had a natural urge for data. I could have asked the mail system to send me those unread bytes through the Mesh, but that¡¯s a thing that only occurs to me now, and never would have then. Instead, I held no opinion on whether she should have read the message, deleted it, or continued to save it for later.


    She flipped past those and dug deeper into the messaging system¡¯s history. Back to the saved posts from Captain Striker, during the year-long training that started on Earth and continued on a space station. She opened one that she had opened many times before. It was the one that quoted the message from the Prosperous Hope, purportedly written by Captain Joseph Short himself. As always, she scrolled past Striker¡¯s rhetoric to find those handful of sentences that had traveled the expanse of the solar system to inspire the next mission, the mission that would send her to deep space.


    There is life on Eris. Intelligent life. And it is glorious. Send everyone, and spare nothing, for this is the single greatest discovery in the entire history of human existence.


    Eris changes everything.


    #


    <div>


    September 27, 2236.


    Tuesday.


    The  Prosperous Hope had made her landing on Dysnomia before moving on to Eris, that much was obvious. As planned in the original mission, a forward base had been established. Though the Hope was merely a scout ship, it had been equipped with a small number of all-purpose construct-bots. Those had been deployed, and had found lava tubes below the surface. Within, they had been able to construct a small operations center, well-protected from the solar radiation that bombarded the thin atmosphere. However, the communications officers on the Destiny had not been successful in contacting anyone or anything. Scans revealed that something was operational; and yet it seemed that no one was home.


    Late into the night, an extravehicular mission was launched. The Destiny had landed close to the tunnels that led to the forward base, but a stretch of jagged, airless surface lay in the path. With EMUs and the help of some bots, a small crew extended a safety tube between the ship and one of the airlocks poking out of the ground. Throughout the night and into the early morning they pressurized and tested, until the tube was declared safe.


    The away team assembled in the morning. Aside from Moon, of the United Earth crew it included Captain Christopher Striker, First Officer Christine Perez, and Political Officer Anton Petrov. Miranda Wang joined them, being the lead researcher for Slice of Life Sciences and officially the mission¡¯s Science Director. Kitsuma Parker and Harry Broadtree were acting as their medical officer halves, though there was no doubt Wang would try to squeeze the SoLiS lab contractor side out of them should any research-related opportunities arise. There were three SecTech officers, including Chief Karl Weinhardt, and Security Specialists Sun Park and Daniel Waterstone. Finally, there were the two least qualified personnel for the mission: Sandra Olinsky, who was a correspondent for Earth Information Network, and Information Technology Specialist Seamus O¡¯Dowd.


    The dozen assembled in the lower bay, which was a relatively large space but was occupied by a single inert vehicle, a low-gravity hopper about twice the size of an average Earth utility truck. With the conduit in place, they wouldn¡¯t be exposed to the surface, and so light environment suits were all that were necessary for protection, and only in case of an unexpected failure.


    ¡°Team.¡± Striker¡¯s quiet voice killed any murmuring conversation as the crew donned their suits. ¡°This is a monumental occasion. The forward base we¡¯re about to visit was established almost twenty years ago. As you know, we don¡¯t expect to find anyone there, as it seems the crew of the Prosperous Hope have moved on to Eris. However, we do expect to find their data and research. Doctor Wang will not show her excitement, but I believe we¡¯re about to learn a few new secrets of the universe.¡±


    He nodded at his first officer and turned to face the outer hatch. Perez nodded back, then faced the crew, her face drawn tight in comparison to the captain¡¯s impish grin. ¡°Alright people,¡± she said, her consonants slicing. ¡°Safety check, one more time. Jane? I want to see all these suits light up.¡±


    Jane Kinley, the Chief of the Watch, was standing off to one side tensely waiting for such an order. She had impeccable standards and had already been over the suits thoroughly, long before the team showed up, but she was just as happy to do yet one more check before the mission kicked off.


    She triggered the diagnostic routines embedded in each of the protection suits, and through the Mesh I could see them all reporting nominal conditions. Moon¡¯s hands shook slightly, imperceptible to her colleagues. Her adrenaline ran high, and I knew she was working to contain her excitement. She tended to greet new and anxious situations with lots of questions, but she was holding them in for the moment; a desperate attempt to remain respectful and grateful for the opportunity.


    Satisfied with the diagnostic results, Perez turned to the hatch and activated the switch beside it. A series of clicks and whirs followed, and rods slid out of their locks. With a tug, she pulled the door open.


    The narrow conduit beyond was barely larger than the opening. The tallest of the party, Seamus, had to bow his head slightly under the two meter high ceiling to avoid banging his helmet into the square light fixtures that ran the length of the twisting tube. Moon stepped through second to last, sucking in her breath as she passed from the safety of the ship and into the excitement of the passage. Security Officer Sun Park came last, closing the hatch with a grunt. They could hear the C.O.W. checking the seal from the other side.


    There was a sudden silence as the constant background din of the ship was sealed off, causing the entire party to momentarily falter. Moon angled her head around Seamus¡¯s lanky frame to look down the length of the passage. The lighting seemed to do little to help with visibility, creating shadows down the dark length of the tunnel.


    Striker moved first, prompting Perez to turn back and wave. ¡°Let¡¯s move it, people,¡± her voice spiked through the speakers in the suit helmets.


    Though the suits were relatively lightweight, especially so in the fractional gravity, they were stiff and travel was slow. After several minutes of tense silence, Striker slid open the reflective face guard.


    ¡°Captain, I¡¯d advise against that,¡± Perez started, but he waved her quiet.


    ¡°We pumped the whole tube full of air. It¡¯s fine.¡± He stopped for a moment and turned back to face them. ¡°Open your faceplates, everyone. I know you can¡¯t tell because we¡¯re stuck in this steel tube, but we¡¯re on the surface of a trans-Neptunian Object right now. Aside from the crew of the Prosperous Hope, no human has ever been here. I want to see your faces.¡±


    Perez went rigid, and through the Mesh I could sense what her AIngel sensed: her heart rate spiked and her skin flushed. She glanced back to the crew, the mirrored surface of her still-closed helmet reflecting mirrors back at her.


    A second later, Moon popped hers open.


    ¡°Yes!¡± the captain cried. ¡°Thank you, Counselor. Isn¡¯t that better, Moon?¡±


    Moon paused for a moment, bound by the sudden attention as the others turned their mirror-faces to her. A dark tunnel full of the inhuman sheen of curved-surface-heads, and several meters away, even Captain Striker¡¯s sky blue eyes were eclipsed by shadows.


    She swallowed and sucked a breath into her belly. ¡°Yes,¡± she said, loudly and clearly. ¡°Much better, Captain!¡±


    The mirrors turned and twisted as the rest of the crew looked at each other for support, unable to read each other¡¯s expressions. Seamus slid his faceplate away and grunted. ¡°Better, I guess. Not any less dark though.¡±


    ¡°Also,¡± Moon whispered to Seamus only, not wanting to derail her captain. ¡°It kind of doesn¡¯t smell good.¡±


    The rest followed, revealing shadowed faces one by one. Striker nodded and smiled in satisfaction, and turned to continue the march.


    ¡°This is not advisable,¡± Karl Weinhardt muttered, loud enough for most to hear him.


    Kitsuma Parker ¡ª on duty in her medical officer half-role, rather than lab-rat ¡ª turned her head to look back at the chief of security. ¡°What? Opening our helmets? It¡¯s the same air we pump through the ship,¡± she said, chipper as always, but with a tremor of nervousness in her voice.


    ¡°The whole thing,¡± Weinhardt spoke louder. ¡°Going into this dead station. Taking untrained people.¡±


    Untrained in what, he didn¡¯t elaborate on, but most could guess, and looked at each other with wider eyes. Aside from the chief and his two officers, and the ship¡¯s captain and first officer, none of them knew how to handle a weapon. Likewise, only Striker, Perez, and Weinhardt were certified to use extravehicular mobility units; not that there were any close by, except back on the ship and possibly inside the station. Doctor Wang was the only other member of the party to log  hours, and that had been a long time ago.


    Sandra Olinsky broke the silence. ¡°We¡¯re all trained in dangerous situations. It wasn¡¯t easy to get on the Destiny.¡± The correspondent glanced at each of the security specialists, the ever-present sidearms. ¡°Besides, if us non-combatants didn¡¯t tag along, who would watch the watchers?¡±


    Weinhardt practically growled. ¡°No one here is a combatant, Ms. Olinsky. We¡¯re just here to make sure everyone is safe.¡±


    The conversation fell flat as the tunnel began a long curve, obscuring the distance beyond the immediate for a few moments. Moon continued to keep the flow of incessant questions bottled up, as much as it killed her. Her mouth tightened into a straight, half-open smile as she gritted her teeth.


    After eighteen minutes of mostly-quiet pacing, they came upon the door to the airlock.


    ¡°It¡¯s small,¡± Perez warned. ¡°We¡¯ll have to go through in groups.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t we just open up both doors?¡± Anton Petrov spoke up. ¡°Isn¡¯t it pressurized on both sides?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how a lock works,¡± she cut, answering the political officer¡¯s question but keeping her eyes on her captain.


    Striker nodded. ¡°Fine, fine. How many will it fit?¡±


    ¡°Four.¡±


    He considered for a moment. ¡°Okay, Karl, you¡¯re first,¡± he said, pointing at Chief Weinhardt. ¡°We¡¯ll take Harry and ¡­ you want to go, Anton?¡±


    The political officer stepped back with a blink. ¡°No, thank you.¡±


    ¡°We should take Officer Waterstone,¡± Weinhardt said, waving the security specialist forward.


    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± Striker said. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me, Captain,¡± Perez said, stopping him with a hand on his arm. ¡°I have to insist that you let me go through first. I¡¯ll give the all-clear so you can come through with the second group.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, Christine,¡± he protested. ¡°It¡¯s perfectly safe. It¡¯s a United Earth station!¡±


    ¡°Sir,¡± she hissed at him, squeezing his arm and leaning close. ¡°Protocol,¡± she said, barely opening her mouth. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t even be on this away team.¡±


    He rolled his blue eyes. ¡°Away team. It¡¯s practically a hotel.¡± She opened her mouth wide and he waved her quiet. ¡°Fine, fine. First Officer Perez, you lead the first group through and give us the all-clear.¡±


    Weinhardt looked at Sun Park. ¡°Don¡¯t let anyone through until we say so, Officer.¡±


    ¡°Chief,¡± they replied with a sharp nod. It was the first word they¡¯d spoken since the away team had assembled. To the others, Park¡¯s pale, rigid face was the picture of composure and focus, but I could detect micromovements belying high levels of anxiety.


    For several anxious minutes, Moon and the others waited in the tunnel, listening to the clacking and groaning of machinery as the small airlock door opened, and the first group of four ducked through into the tight, white room, and then the door closed. There was no porthole and no camera, so they continued to listen as the lock sealed and other door eventually opened. Then, almost fifteen minutes of silence, during which Captain Striker periodically tapped his comm and demanded an update from First Officer Perez.


    Finally, the all-clear was given. ¡°Captain,¡± Perez said over the comm as they waited for the lock to reset and the door to open. ¡°It¡¯s a mess in here. Be prepared.¡±