Dead Moon Read online

  DEAD MOON

  ©2019 Peter Clines. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or used fictitiously.

  www.peterclines.com

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  EPILOGUE

  AFTERWORD

  Also by Peter Clines

  Paradox Bound

  Terminus

  The Fold

  14

  Ex-Heroes

  Ex-Patriots

  Ex-Communication

  Ex-Purgatory

  Ex-Isle

  The Eerie Adventures of the Lycanthrope Robinson Crusoe

  The Junkie Quatrain

  Dead Men Can't Complain and Other Stories

  PROLOGUE

  The Outcast tumbled through the void along the Path.

  Once, it had been whole. Back in an age before recorded history—when the distances between then and now were measured with units that could no longer be expressed in this time-filled multiverse—the Outcast had been mighty. Entire galaxies, long since vanished without a trace into the eons, had trembled at each of its movements. It had experienced reality through thirteen different senses, only seven of which were still known in the shallow, twisted place the cosmos had become. It had crushed and devoured suns that made the puny stars of now look like the flickering light of mortal souls.

  It would have been a god, if all the beings of its age were not endowed with similar abilities.

  But now the Outcast was diminished. Lessened in mind and body, crippled and helpless. The greatness of its past nothing more than half-remembered impressions. Most of its senses had been gouged out, leaving it to fumble through the abomination this universe had become during the long trip from then to now.

  It spun along the Path, a painstakingly engineered route that had made the universe its prison for ten billion years. Its broken mind knew almost nothing except cold and loneliness and hunger. Such a deep, unending hunger. As far as this universe knew, it always had been hungry and always would be.

  But then...

  Physical contact. Another object in the void. A spindly, brittle thing fashioned from elements and energy. The remains of the Outcast pushed through it almost without hesitation.

  The Outcast’s splintered consciousness realized that, with contact, the Path had changed. No longer did it lead through the eternal nothing between systems. Now it led close to one of the dim stars. It led to light and heat.

  And life.

  1

  IN TRANSIT

  Cali Washington remembered being a little girl with a big dream. She remembered the excitement and the hope and the thrill of those small, early steps on the road to that dream. Some of her best memories were of sharing the dream with friends and classmates all through her school years and into college.

  She could also remember the moment when she realized she was just another adult who needed a job.

  None of the kids on the carrier with her had experienced that moment yet. They bounced between the rows of seats and off the cheap carpet. They still thought they were going to be ballerinas and scientists and presidents and veterinarians. They hadn’t even hit their teens.

  They still believed life was fair.

  A long, dark curl drifted across her face, and she swept it back behind her ear. Several people had warned her that long hair would be a problem in microgravity, but she couldn’t bring herself to cut it. It kept her face looking “heart-shaped” rather than “wide.”

  She looked down at the book in her lap, realized she hadn’t read the page, swept to the next one anyway. She shifted in her seat. The charcoal-gray Caretaker jumpsuit didn’t fit right. Her legs were too long and thin for it, her hips and chest a bit too wide. The excess material bunched up in uncomfortable places. Not enough for her to demand a new size—what would be the point?—just enough to pinch a bit. She tried to subtly adjust it for the fourth time. One prepubescent boy blatantly watched with wide eyes, fascinated by where her hands were going.

  The kids had been pretty good for the first two days or so, especially for kids on the greatest field trip ever. Although Cali wondered if it was even that great anymore. It hadn’t been uncommon when she was their age, and fourteen more years had made the trip even smoother, safer, and cheaper. The first segment—riding the space elevator into orbit—had been close enough to a train ride that they all stayed in their seats. The view distracted them for a long time, watching Maracaibo and the Caribbean drop away, vanish behind clouds, and then reappear even smaller, showing more of South and Central America. When that got dull, their teacher kept them busy with quizzes and reading and simple exercises.

  Of course, once the carrier detached from the elevator this morning and zero gravity set in, the kids had gone crazy. They’d burned up energy bouncing around the cabin, until two or three of the passengers from the first-class pod had complained. Their teacher couldn’t get them back in their seats, but they’d calmed down enough for him to resume his duties. Cali had learned half their names through osmosis as they giggled and laughed and got sick in the weightlessness.

  The teacher, a white guy named Mr. Berenson, wasn’t much older than Cali. Despite his age, the handful of parents acting as chaperones seemed to defer to him with a fair degree of respect. She wondered if teaching had been his dream, or just something he’d ended up doing when his real dream died. He floated in the middle of the aisle, studied the children with a practiced eye, and pointed at a little girl with red hair. The gesture made him drift slightly, and he bumped against a chair.

  “July 20th, 1969,” she answered proudly.

  “Excellent,” he said. His students bobbed and floated through the blue-and-white cabin, bouncing off the rows of seats and the overhead compartments. “After the Apollo missions, who can tell me the next major Moon landing?”

  Hands shot up, down, and off at various angles. Two or three kids spun in the air from the movement. One banged his head on an armrest, but kept smiling. Berenson gave him a nod.

  “April 8th, 2027,” said the boy, rubbing his dark frizz.

  “Good,” said Berenson. “Why don’t you strap in, Reggie? That’s your third head injury in two hours.”

  The students giggled, and the boy dragged himself down into his seat. The harness clicked around him.

  “What was the name for those missions? Luis.”

  “Altair.”

  “No, that was the name of the ship model. What was the—”

  “Constellation!” snapped a blonde girl.

  “Good, Fern. I thought we’d have to go the whole field trip without you interrupting again.” The class snickered, and Berenson looked for a new student. “When did they set up the first base? Matt.”

  “2069. Armstrong Base.”

  I
n the back of the cabin, Cali peered over the screen of her book to watch the history lesson. She remembered pleading with her parents to let her go on one of these field trips. Now she was doing it for work.

  Not where she’d expected to end up.

  Someone dropped into the seat next to her. One of the other new Caretakers. She’d seen him between classes, and at the final orientation meeting before they boarded. Since then he’d come out from the first-class pod every few hours to glide through the aisles and make it clear this wasn’t his first zero-G flight.

  “Hey. I’m Kurt. Kurt Hausmann.” He had pale eyes, pale skin, and a mop of blond-brown hair that had been meticulously arranged to look like he didn’t care about how it looked.

  She made a point of not looking up from her book.

  “Ahhh, the joys of youth,” he said, nodding at the field trip kids. “Were we ever that innocent?”

  She raised a brow, eyes still on the page. “I just met you three days ago.”

  “But it feels like so much longer, doesn’t it?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “You don’t feel a bond between us? Caretakers. Co-workers. Friends.” A long pause. “Man and woman.”

  She turned her eyes to him. “You’re starting now? Not even waiting until we’re there?”

  He shrugged and showed off gleaming white teeth that had probably cost more than her freshman year of college. “Anything goes on the Moon, and we’re as good as there. Well past halfway. I think we’ve easily passed the socially acceptable marker.”

  “Y’know,” she said, “I had you pegged as this type in the final orientation.”

  He beamed another grin at her. “So you were thinking about it, too?”

  “Thinking about dealing with someone like you, yes.”

  “Flatterer.”

  “What’s your rush? Worried you’re not going to get to sleep around enough in two years?”

  He stretched back in his seat. “I’ve set a personal goal,” he explained with the tone of someone making a business pitch. “I’m going to sleep with every woman on the Moon before my rotation’s up.”

  Cali rolled her eyes. “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You don’t find that degrading? To you, me, and every woman on the Moon?”

  “Not really. Would you be frowning if I said I wanted to play chess with everyone on the Moon?”

  “No.”

  “What if I said I wanted to eat dinner or play golf or polo or something?”

  “Polo? Really?”

  “The thing is, you’d be fine with it if I’d said any other sort of activity people do for enjoyment. You’ve just got a bunch of those old-school sexual hang-ups.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him.

  Kurt shrugged. “Let me guess. Boyfriend or girlfriend back home? Promised you’d stay faithful, it’s only two years, maybe you can come visit once or twice?”

  “None of your business.”

  “And so you’re going to pass up the chance of a lifetime. One of the most exotic locations a person can go to. A place where low gravity opens up a whole world of possibilities. A place where no one will judge you. No one else will know. No consequences whatsoever. And you’re just going to let it pass you by?”

  Cali studied his face for a moment. “This is the only reason you applied to be a Caretaker, isn’t it?”

  Kurt shrugged. “Family tradition. Go out and spend some time in the field, work a real job, gain some perspective, blah-blah-blah. I just figured I might as well make the best of a bad situation.”

  “Good luck with that. Maybe you can score with one of the flight attendants.”

  He laced his fingers together behind his head. “Already did.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Keri, the Asian one.” He nodded his head at the woman strapping down the drinks cart. “In one of the crew closets, just before we detached from the elevator.”

  “So you’re overeager and I’m your second choice?”

  “I wanted you to be first, if it matters.”

  “Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

  “I usually do.”

  Something bitter and angry rolled over in her mind. “Must be nice.”

  “Any chance you’ll change your mind before we land?”

  She raised the book and tapped the screen to reactivate it. “Not really.”

  “Not really, but not no?”

  “I think we’re done.”

  Kurt grinned. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” He fingered the red trim of his jumpsuit. “I’m at Hades.”

  “Hades? You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Are you there, too?”

  “No, I’m at Osiris.” She tapped the white trim of her own uniform. “We may never see each other again. If I’m lucky.”

  “I’ll head back to my seat then,” Kurt said with a wink. He pulled his legs up to his chest, turned in the air, and pushed himself back across the cabin.

  “Okay,” said Berenson as Kurt sailed past him, “who can tell me when the first cemetery opened on the Moon? Matt.”

  The boy’s eyebrows crinkled together. “2149.”

  “Good. Where was it?”

  The forest of hands shot up again. “Katie.”

  “Pluto Station.”

  The teacher nodded. “Right, but where is that?”

  “The Sea of Serenity.”

  “Good.” Berenson drifted down and hooked his foot into the base of a chair. It let him stand solidly in the aisle. “What are three reasons they started doing burials on the Moon? Give me one, Hayato.”

  “No more room on Earth.”

  “Right. Fern, give me another one.”

  “Pollution. Carbon emissions when they burned dead bodies.”

  “It’s called cremation, but yes. Last reason, Luis.”

  The boy grabbed a strap and dragged himself back down into his seat. “Ummmm...”

  “Not fast enough. Katie.”

  “It made jobs?”

  “Right. The economy. People could make money on the Moon now. They had a reason to live there. Anyone remember what that period of lunar migration was called a hundred years ago? Named after a famous expansion in North American history.”

  “The Grave Rush,” said Luis, popping back up out of his seat.

  “Good. What was the second cemetery the Caretaker Foundation opened?”

  “Lazarus,” said Hayato.

  The teacher nodded. “Third?”

  “Arawn?”

  “Nope. Somebody else?”

  “Osiris?”

  “Good, Reggie. Then Arawn. What was the most recent one to open?”

  Half the kids racked their brains. Others wore their ignorance plain on their faces.

  “Come on,” said Berenson. “Somebody here knows it. Katie.”

  She sounded the name out one syllable at a time. “Mict-lan-tec-uh-tli.”

  “Excellent. Last question for now: approximately how many people are buried on the Moon?”

  “Four million?”

  “Higher, Fern.”

  “Twenty?” blurted Hayato.

  “Too high.”

  “Sixteen,” said Katie.

  “Correct again. Best estimate is just over sixteen million people are buried there, with three times that many having been cremated in the past hundred years. Katie, I’m just going to let you teach for the rest of the field trip, okay?”

  The ambient music cut out in mid-song and the speakers let out a faint pop. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking,” said a soft voice. “The Branson is on approach, and we’re about to begin deceleration procedures. Please make sure you are securely strapped in, and stow all loose items in either your chair pouches or the overhead compartments. Virgin Spaceways flight Eight-Fifteen should be landing at Luna City in about fifty-five minutes.”

&
nbsp; “Okay, you heard the captain,” Berenson told his students. “Everyone get in your seats and buckle up. Next stop, the Moon.”

  In the back of the cabin, Cali turned off the book she hadn’t been reading and slid it into the wide pocket on her thigh. She swept the curl of hair behind her ear again and stared down at her feet.

  “Next stop, the Moon,” she echoed. “Our final destination.”

  2

  LUNA CITY

  The newcomers followed the flight crew through the long airlock hallway. A few turns. A ramp up and a slope down. The long walk let them all practice their low-gravity strides and get a feel for the physics of the Moon. Subliminal acclimatization, Cali’s books called it.

  She fell into a quick, easy rhythm, measuring out each movement. The other new Caretakers moved with cautious steps. A few swung their bags and studied the motion. The schoolkids gleefully jumped up to touch the ceiling. Cali couldn’t help but notice the walls and ceiling were well padded and the lights all shielded beneath protective bubbles. How many arms and legs got broken in this hallway every year?

  No, not a hallway. They called them avenues up here. And boulevards for the bigger ones.

  The third sanitizer misted them with a tangy mix of antivirals, antibiotics, and anticarcinogens. It was a bit of overkill—even the children needed a battery of preventive shots to visit the Moon—but Cali understood the emphasis on health. In the closed lunar systems, infections spread faster than rumors.

  The final hatch slid open, almost theatrically, and revealed Luna City.

  Like many frontier settlements—even the largest, fastest-growing ones—Luna City was a city in name only. The moon base barely qualified as a village. The main plaza could’ve been the center of a high-end shopping mall or the lobby of an expensive hotel. The flagstone plaza stretched thirty meters across, with eight sloping walls leading up to the domed ceiling three stories above them.

  At the cardinal points of the plaza, four large arches led out into broad hallways—the boulevards. The arches stood four meters tall, easy, and their blocky, raw lunacrete design gave them a vaguely Mesoamerican feel. Cali had read the boulevard names during orientation, and in a few of the colorful brochures pressed into her hands over the past few months, but had only paid enough attention to pass the required tests.