IMMINENT SUFFOCATION
Lunar day 252
Quite possibly the last minutes of my life
“Stop it!” Violet screamed at whoever had attacked me. Her voice was high-pitched and terrified. She understood what was going on, but she couldn’t do anything to help me. She was still stuck on her back. “Leave my brother alone!”
On the radio channel, along with her screams, I could hear something else: the sounds of my attacker breathing heavily. They had been listening in on the same channel we had been using. Either the exertion of attacking me was forcing them to breathe louder than before—or I stupidly hadn’t realized they were eavesdropping until it was too late.
“Violet!” I yelled. “They pulled my oxygen hose! You need to . . .”
I actually said “put it back,” but Violet didn’t hear that part. And neither did anyone else. My radio went dead as my attacker killed that, too. And then they shoved me down on top of Violet.
My helmet slammed into the ground. Luckily, there were no moon rocks to break the face plate, but I ended up facedown in a pile of moon dust, which clung to the glass and practically blinded me.
“Warning,” the voice in my suit announced. “You have approximately two minutes and thirty seconds to repair your oxygen hose or return to the base.” A graphic showing my rapidly depleting oxygen supply appeared on the heads-up display inside the helmet.
So, basically, worst-case scenario. Two minutes and thirty seconds was very little time to get back to the base, enter the air lock, and repressurize it, especially when someone else was doing their best to make sure I died on the lunar surface. I tried to scramble to my feet anyhow, but they shoved me right back down again.
I struggled against them, wondering how I had managed to end up in yet another life-or-death situation, wishing that I had never left the moon base, wanting desperately to be safely back inside . . .
And then, suddenly, I was. There was a flash and the strange sensation of being pulled through something, and then I was standing inside the air lock, without my space suit, safe as could be.
Only, when I looked through the air-lock window, I could see that everyone else was still out on the surface—including someone lying on their stomach, who I realized was actually me.
I had transmitted myself via thought again, only this time I had done it without Zan’s help, and I hadn’t projected to someone like Riley. I had simply projected myself—or my mind—to exactly where I wanted to be: the safety of the air lock. In the heat and desperation of the moment, I had managed to pull off the trick of traveling via thought once again.
Unfortunately, my body was still dying back on the lunar surface. So I didn’t have time to savor the moment. Or even focus on how I’d done it.
I thought myself back into my own body, which was far easier to do. Once I stopped trying so hard to think myself away, it was as though my mind homed right back in on where it was supposed to be. One second I was in the air lock. The next I was back in my space suit, two minutes from death.
I fought to survive. I heaved myself up to my knees. My attacker tried to shove me back down again, but adrenaline was now surging through me. I braced against their attack, then swiveled toward MBA. The air-lock door was probably forty-five seconds away, and it would take another minute to repressurize inside. Then I’d have fifteen seconds to unlock my helmet. . . .
Only my attacker was still between me and the air lock.
Since I was on my knees, they loomed over me. And since their reflective visor was down, I couldn’t see their face. I had no idea who they were, or what they were thinking. It was like facing a robot, rather than a human being.
In the warped mirror of their visor, I saw myself, kneeling helplessly before them.
But there was other movement as well. Behind me, Violet was struggling to her feet, probably having an adrenaline surge of her own. I couldn’t quite make out what Violet was doing, but she seemed to be reaching for my oxygen hose.
My attacker turned slightly, noticing Violet. And then they lunged for her as well.
“No!” I screamed. Without my radio connection, I was the only one who heard it. My voice echoed in my helmet.
I reached for my attacker, but they easily brushed past me, heading for Violet.
“Warning,” the computer said. “Ninety seconds left.”
Violet tried to run from our attacker, making the mistake of turning her back on the enemy. Now her fragile network of life-sustaining hoses and other equipment was exposed. The attacker grabbed her oxygen hose and tugged on it.
It didn’t come free, but I figured another good yank would do the trick. And if Violet lost her oxygen supply, she probably wouldn’t have the ability or mental calm to make it to safety.
My own oxygen was going fast, but I wasn’t about to let someone take down my sister, too. I staggered to my feet, determined to defend Violet to my last breath.
Only, before I could attack, someone else did it for me.
Another Moonie suddenly raced into view and body-slammed Violet’s attacker. Once again, due to the reflective visor, I had no idea who our savior was. Both Moonies went flying due to the impact. They sailed ten feet and then tumbled across the lunar surface, plowing through the moon dust.
Violet’s oxygen hose was still attached. She was safe.
“Warning,” my suit computer said. “Sixty seconds left.”
I turned back toward the air lock, wondering how long I could hold my breath. And worried that if I saved myself, I would be leaving my savior at the mercy of the killer.
Something tugged at the back of my suit. For a brief, terrifying moment, I feared a second killer had attacked, but then I realized that I could no longer see Violet, and it must be her behind me. There was a metallic click, followed by a sudden whoosh of air.
“Crisis averted,” the computerized voice announced. “Your oxygen hose has been properly reconnected. Please exercise caution: Your oxygen level is now only at forty-two percent.”
The heads-up display changed. My oxygen level was revealed to be decent, and I was shown a nice little smiley-face emoji, as well, to indicate that I was no longer about to die.
Violet might have only been six, but she had obviously been paying attention to the safety checks. She had just saved my life.
“Thanks, little sister,” I said, forgetting that she couldn’t hear me, because my radio was still unplugged.
I didn’t have time for her to fix that, though. Whoever had saved me was still fighting whoever had tried to kill me.
The problem was, I wasn’t sure who was who. I had lost track of which was my attacker and which was the one who had come to my rescue. In their space suits, they appeared exactly the same. The two of them were wrestling on the lunar surface, so covered with moon dust that they looked like they’d been dipped in batter. They were rolling over each other and pounding on each other.
By now the other Moonies had realized what was going on. They were coming our way, moving as fast as they could, which wasn’t fast enough.
I bounded toward the fighting Moonies.
And then Zan suddenly flickered into view. She appeared in her usual human form—although, since she didn’t need a space suit, she was simply standing on the lunar surface, which looked almost as odd as her jellyfish form would have been.
There was a look of shock and astonishment on her face. She seemed horrified that we humans were trying to kill one another yet again. “Dashiell!” she cried. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“And Violet, too?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Keep an eye on Violet. Make sure she’s doing okay.”
“All right.” Zan vanished from my sight, perhaps worried that she’d be a distraction otherwise.
Ahead of me, the other two Moonies were still fighting each other. One seemed to have gotten the upper hand, however, sitting on the chest of the other, who was laid out flat on the ground. The one on top grabbed a large moon rock and raised it above their head, ready to smash it down on the other’s glass face plate.
I figured that was probably my attacker. Anyone willing to smash the face plate of another Moonie was a pretty bad person.
I dove at them, driving my shoulder into the attacker, knocking them to the lunar surface. I lost my balance and went down with them, plowing back into the moon dust.
Unfortunately, they didn’t let go of the rock. Instead they thumped me on the helmet with it.
“Warning,” my suit computer said. “A blow to the structural integrity of your helmet has been detected—”
The attacker thumped me again.
“Warning,” my suit computer repeated. “A blow to the structural integrity—”
“I know!” I shouted. “Shut up! I get it!”
There was another thump on the helmet, but this one wasn’t as hard, as though the attacker had been interrupted in the middle of it.
I struggled to my hands and knees to find a lot more Moonies around us. In fact, it appeared that almost everyone from MBA had joined the party now. Three were restraining the Moonies who had been fighting, while others were still racing over to help intervene.
My attacker, who still had the rock in their hands, was now being pinned to the lunar surface by two Moonies. Again, I had no idea who anyone was due to the visors, but given that one of the Moonies who had come to the rescue was several inches taller than anyone else, I figured it was Dr. Balnikov.
He looked at me in a way that, even with our faces hidden from view, seemed to indicate that he was talking to me.
I did my best to convey that I couldn’t hear anything and pointed to the back of my suit, signaling that my radio was shot.
Another Moonie slipped around behind me. A few seconds later, there was a crackle as my radio came back on.
I could immediately hear Violet talking to Zan on channel 17. “That was scary,” my sister was saying. “Like really really scary.”
“It’s over now,” I assured her. “We’re safe.” Then I flipped to channel 1, which was the basic channel for communication, and was instantly overwhelmed by a flood of voices. Everyone was talking at once.
“Be quiet!” Dr. Balnikov roared. He sounded like he might start knocking people around if they didn’t listen.
Everyone immediately fell silent.
“That’s better,” Dr. Balnikov said, then pointed at me. “Who are you?”
“Dashiell.”
There were a few hushed gasps over the radio. People seemed surprised that I was the one who had been attacked.
“Are you all right?” Dr. Balnikov asked me.
“Yes.”
“Good.” Dr. Balnikov shifted his attention to the person who had saved me. “And who are you?”
“Cesar Marquez.”
This time I gasped a little. Cesar had never struck me as the type who would go out of his way to hand someone else a napkin, let alone risk his life for them.
One of the other Moonies burst from the crowd and threw their arms around Cesar protectively. “Are you all right?” she asked. It was Dr. Brahmaputra-Marquez.
“Sure, Mom. I’m fine.”
Dr. Balnikov now turned his attention to my attacker. “Who are you?” he demanded.
There was no answer. The Moonie simply lay on the ground beneath Dr. Balnikov. They didn’t speak. They didn’t move. Dr. Balnikov might as well have been talking to a department-store mannequin.
“Who are you?” Dr. Balnikov demanded once again.
The Moonie didn’t respond.
Dr. Balnikov grunted angrily, then yanked the Moonie to their feet. He did it with such ease, it appeared that the Moonie weighed nothing at all. Dr. Balnikov planted the Moonie on the ground so hard that their boots sank several inches into the moon dust. Then he reached to the back of their helmet and flipped a switch.
My attacker’s mirrored visor sprang up, revealing their identity.
Lily Sjoberg.