THIRTY-NINE

Designed ambassadors could easily spend more than an hour working in a vacuum without serious discomfort, so the Arctic would not have posed little difficulty. Either Designed scientists were constructed without that feature, or Douche was a whiner. He complained loudly until Brooklyn pulled the emergency environmental suit out from behind the seat and threw it at him. “Put it on!”

The seat soon followed, tossed into the snow to make more room for two people inside an emergency capsule built for one. Brooklyn wired the heating systems directly into the battery to bypass the short he must have created dicking around with the security system.

“Any food must be shared,” the scientist said. “It is the law of the castaway.”

“There’s a box of rations inside the pod.”

They climbed back in and sealed the hatch. The heater brought the internal temperature up to a cozy fifty degrees. “Sleep, or at least shut up,” Brooklyn said. “We’ll be here a while.”

The total was eight hours. Milk’s flight back to New Mexico had been slowed by the Angels’ response to Brooklyn’s incursion and the fire alarm. The Victory landed within a quarter mile of the escape capsule, and Brooklyn hustle-dragged the recalcitrant scientist aboard and made him strip, shower, and put on a pair of coveralls. The Designed’s belongings, other than the data crystal he still refused to release, were left behind in the snow when the ship took off again.

“Are we clear for the Moon?” Andy said via intercom.

Brooklyn slapped the switch to answer. “Go and don’t spare the fuel. There’s more where that came from.”

Milk emerged from the kitchen and presented Brooklyn with a ‘First Coming’ T-shirt. She had a souvenir baseball cap of her own now, courtesy of her trip through the gift shop, and she’d purchased sweatshirts for Andy, Beth, and Demarco. “I got you a set of mugs, too. Tossed a bunch of that shit you were using.”

“I liked my mugs!”

“I saved the ‘My Favorite Son’ one. The rest of them were dangerous,” she said. “Not all of us can quick heal from sliced lips.”

Andy came back on the intercom. “I would find somewhere to sit. I’m about to push the pedal to the floor, and I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Two minutes!”

The Victory circled twice before landing in a small valley on the so-called dark side of the Moon. Brooklyn and Float had dug a cave by hand, built a base inside, and moved everything they needed out of the EOF depot they’d “discovered” nearby. Food, water, furniture, a portable reactor… Best of all were the pallets of fuel milled for Type 3 Oppenheimers. The stuff was nearly impossible to find anywhere else. Brooklyn reactivated the base’s various systems while the others stowed their gear and spread out.

He called the place his Gas Station. “Used to have an orbital,” he said, showing the others around inside. “Old NASA project called SkyLab. They were gonna let it fall into the atmosphere an’ burn up, but I grabbed it and moved it into a higher orbit. It got raided one time while we were in the Belt, and we did this place instead.”

Demarco dipped his spoon into the can of beans he’d opened for lunch. He pointed the spoon at Milk. “When’s Kas gonna get worried about you?”

“About both of us, you mean.” Milk wrapped a blanket tighter around her shoulders. The heaters were doing their best, but they were up against a lot of thermal mass. “He gets stressed out if he doesn’t check in with you every week or two.”

“Whole place probably fallin’ apart without me.” Demarco was wearing one of his new suits. With the beans and the box he’d propped his feet on, he looked like an elegant hobo.

“How long you think they gonna be in there?” Brooklyn nodded toward the pantry.

Douche had refused to share his information with anyone other than Andy, and only after she’d convinced him she was legit and listened to all of his complaints about Brooklyn. The two Designed had disappeared into the pantry as soon as sleeping arrangements were settled.

“Maybe they got a lot to catch up on. Who married who, who died, who joined the outlaws… that kind of thing.” Demarco held out the can. “Have some beans.”

“Jus’ want some kind of idea what to prep for. We need to take off sudden, I need ta–”

“Breathe, Brook,” Milk said. “We have food, water, beds… Maybe grab a nap.” She rose to her feet, careful in the low gravity. “That’s what I’m going to do. Let Andy do what Andy does. She’ll bring us in when she’s ready.”

One of the things that Andy did best was math, and she spent the next several hours going over the scientist’s data before grimly presenting his findings.

“The First abandoned the Earth project in anticipation of a major solar event,” she said. “Extinction-level for the entire system.”

“Impossible,” Demarco said. “Maybe in ten billion years, but–”

“Months. Four on the outside. Irreversible.”

“You say ‘irreversible’ like something set the thing off,” Milk said. “Or someone.”

“Definitely someone.” Andy’s face was stone. “And I believe I helped them do it.”