She skimmed over the Moon's surface, staying on the sunlit face as she skipped from one beacon to the next, and arrived at the first station on their itinerary in thirty minutes. The relay equipment sat high above the surrounding terrain on the rim of a large crater, at the edge of a landing pad. Wide and level, the area had clearly been constructed to handle a dog-bone.

  Without Zazz hooked into the hopper's controls, and lacking the fancy sensors of a skiff, Winnie prepared for a manual approach. She'd make Bertie proud of her. She circled the area, visually studying her target, and set the dog-bone down gently as a butterfly. No dust kicked up. Ships must visit often enough to keep it blasted clean, which was good news for the knuckle-walker joints.

  She called the techs. "I shut down my engines. Off you go."

  "The job should take three or four hours," the tech with the hoarse voice said.

  That didn't give Winnie enough time in the interim to do anything else. "I'll be right here."

  Winnie pulled out her breakfast, but her appetite faded as the hopper's engines cooled. She set comms to activate if the techs called and tapped her memory pack.

  "Zazz, are you listening?"

  "Always."

  The AI's voice didn't soothe her today, and tears clung to her eyeballs. Cursing the Moon's low gravity and water's high surface tension, she mashed her hands against her closed lids. She didn't, however, sniffle. Zazz would offer counseling if she admitted to crying, but she didn't want therapy, didn't want to cheer up. Wallowing. That's what she wanted.

  She considered calling Jada. Her school chum's Caribbean internship should be underway, so she'd be full of stories about marine critters, the complete opposite of space, and maybe a nice change.

  Winnie's shoulders slumped over Zazz's memory pack. She was the one who could afford interspace messaging and should have called her friend days ago. Jada would ask about Winnie's piloting. Could she admit that she was a glorified delivery driver? That her dreams were as dead as the gray regolith stretching out to the Moon's black horizon?

  She pulled out the meal pouch. Breakfast beans with fried tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions. Eating would break her funk. Then she'd make notes about this landing site. Record the approach she'd taken and whether the rough pad edges showed signs of cracking that might foretell a landslide.

  She risked a sniffle and straightened up. Self-pity never solved anything. She was still an Orbital Services pilot. Still on the Moon. She'd be the best delivery pilot Adrian Base had ever seen, no matter how miserable she felt over Green Team leaving her behind.

  ***

  Winnie spent an entire week ferrying the pair of technicians around the Moon as they upgraded relay stations. If Eight-C won the Grupo contract, Xavier would use the improved communications whenever the Moon's orbit turned Far Side toward the satellites circling the Sun, so his bid proposal promised these upgrades. To pass the time while the techs installed equipment, she studied landing telemetry for each site. Maybe she'd fly back someday, or some other pilot would call up her data from base logs.

  Over time, the technicians' prattle broke through her intermittent gloom. They were too cheerful to ignore forever. On their last ride home to base, to her passengers' yowled delight, she banked and rolled above the lunar surface.

  Inside the bay, Winnie set her helmet aside and helped open the knuckle-walker suits.

  Sadie, a chunky little woman, leaped from her robot and grinned at Winnie. "That was some wild ride. Most pilots shuttle us around like they're flying a basket of eggs. You're more fun. Fred says so, too, don't you, Fred?"

  Fred had deeply magenta skin. He must have taken the DNA infusion years ago to build up such a color. If he had horns and a tail, he'd be the devil. But the old guy beamed, crinkling laugh lines around his eyes.

  "We finished our upgrades today," he said. "So, I guess this is goodbye until next time."

  "What's tomorrow's assignment?" Sadie asked. When the techs weren't working, they chattered constantly.

  "Stripping down those extra lights outside." Fred nodded to Winnie. "Which must mean you're off dog-bone duty for a while."

  Funny that Ops techs knew before Sato told her, but it gave Winnie an idea. "How many cameras are mounted on the mooring pad's light poles?"

  "Two dozen." Fred lifted his chin. "Security told us to cover the area thoroughly, and we did a bang-up job."

  "Would you install one of them on each of Orbital Services' skiffs? Install cameras on the skiffs' drones, too, while you're at it."

  "But you've got cameras, and a sight lot better than the ones Security uses."

  "Adding lenses sensitive to different slices of spectra would be an upgrade for us." Oversimplified. Security's cameras used fewer components, so less for a pirate probe to interfere with. Keep it simple had been good advice for a long time, so Hagen's cameras might see through interference that dazed her ship's sensors. That could be a useful trick if she ever got back into space.

  Fred frowned. "We need a work order."

  "I'll file the request," Winnie said.

  "Only Blue and Yellow Team ships are moored right now."

  "Ok. Add cameras to them, and catch the others when they land."

  "You'll include all the ships in your work request, right?"

  Winnie nodded. "Absolutely."

  He shrugged. "Good enough for me."

  Winnie wouldn't be stuck on Moon-duty forever. She'd take pictures of the Black Satellite when she got back into orbit and prove it was still a threat. Someday.

  ***

  Winnie loped down the corridor, heading for supper, when a message pinged in her ear. "Zazz, read it to me."

  "This comes from Angel Cruz, Ice Caves' Crew Leader. She says, 'We're landing at base now, and Caleb's with us. His contract is up so he's leaving right away, but if you can meet us in the airlock, he'd like to say goodbye.' "

  Winnie spun on her heels and trotted to the employee airlock. A jetway docked as she waited, and Angel strolled down the ramp followed by four of her crewmates and Caleb.

  "Winnie!" Angel offered a deep bow. "My people have to go straight to the clinic for our exercise prescriptions, and the resort's gravity leaves everyone queasy for a while. Can I call you in a few days? Maybe arrange a virtual game together?"

  "Sure," Winnie said, and the miners trudged away. "Caleb, aren't you going with them?"

  "No, I have a transfer capsule scheduled. But I can't go home empty handed. I've ordered souvenirs for my mates on our colony space station, and someone's bringing them to me here."

  If Caleb was indeed involved in Shennong Industries' treachery, perhaps Winnie was about to meet his collaborator. She planned to keep her cool and plopped down on a bench, conspicuously relaxed. "I'll be happy to wait with you and help load whatever you ordered into the capsule."

  He smiled his bright, toothy smile and sat next to her. Not too close, just properly chummy. He chatted about improved ore processing efficiencies as if angling for a future contract.

  Rattling noises in the corridor announced the arrival of a silver-clad hospitality staffer. She pushed a cart that thump-thumped across the hatch frame's lower door groove. Winnie deflated. The woman didn't look dangerous at all. She certainly lacked the shoulders of the spy in the security video. She couldn't be transferring espionage secrets to Caleb.

  "Mr Caleb Banza?" the woman asked.

  "I'm the bloke you're after."

  "I have your complete order with no substitutions." She handed the mining consultant a flat pad.

  "What did you buy?" Winnie asked.

  "Meals for my flight," he said. "Plus gifts to share. A few kilos of ground coffee and a case of wine. Also a box of those moon pies that everyone likes very much. If they're wrapped well, they won't get stale on my trip home."

  The silver staffer pursed her lips. "The bakers packaged them according to your specifications."

  He pressed his thumb on the pad, returned it to the woman, and she rolled her delivery cart into the jetway shuttle.

  Caleb lay his hand over the Shennong Industries patch on his purple coveralls and bowed smartly. "Meeting you has been a pleasure, Ms Bravo. Perhaps you'll visit our L5 colony someday soon."

  This was Winnie's last chance to weasel out any information. "I know you'll be in touch with Adrian Base, though, with whoever from Shennong is still here."

  He didn't flinch, didn't pause, and didn't stumble over a single word. "Afraid not. No one else from our company is on the Moon, or will be anytime soon, as far as I know."

  He entered the jetway and the door closed. Winnie whipped around and raced for Flight Support.

  The large gray room was quiet with most of the control stations standing dark. The superintendent's central desk was deserted too, which suited Winnie. Sato's eyes wouldn't be boring into her back, and she wouldn't have to explain why she wanted to watch Caleb's capsule take off.

  She hopped up on the raised platform and two stations to her right caught her eye, one with a red status bar glowing on top and the other with a green. Those handlers monitored Orbital Services' sweep teams. The woman under the green bar could be chatting with Bertie and Xavier right now.

  An ache filled Winnie's throat. It should be her out there with Bertie, flying through orbit with Zazz and her drones, clearing humanity's conduit to space.

  Straight ahead, a 3D display floated inside the hemisphere that nestled the workstation, and Winnie dragged her attention over. Animation showed a jetway docked to a capsule. Winnie approached at an angle to catch the handler's eye. "That's the Shennong guy about to leave, isn't it? Mind if I watch?"

  "Not at all," the handler said. "Not much to see, though. The chauffeurs were fueled days ago, I laid in the course already, and I'll switch to telemetry as soon as they clear the landing zone. That'll take a minute."

  The woman at the green workstation waved. "Hi, Bravo. Your Green Team buddies finished their mission. Just told me they're heading back to base."

  As quickly as Winnie's mood had plunged, it soared. She looked over the woman's shoulder at the displays. It would take Bertie and Xavier several hours to reach the Moon, but she wouldn't stay up half the night waiting for them. They'd think she was nuts.

  Suddenly, Winnie was starving. Maybe she'd splurge on a casino restaurant tonight.

  The first handler called her back. "That passenger you're following is on board."

  Winnie tucked her hands under her arms. The jetway rolled out of the image, various readouts flicked on to hover above the cubbyhole's desk, and the ship rose on the chauffeurs' translucent blue flames.

  Strength drained down her spine and out her flat feet, and Winnie sagged. Caleb was her only link to the spy's identity, and he'd gotten away without leaving a clue. She wasn't sure if she wanted to cry or scream, but she did neither. It wouldn't be useful to give Flight Support the idea she was crazy.

  Chapter 25

  Committed

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Winnie found Bertie in the employee's cafeteria at mid-morning. Long family-style tables stood in rows, and the kitchen was hidden behind a wall of slide-out drawers where grunts ordered and retrieved their meals. The floor, while not mosaicked, was enameled with random swirls in various shades of blue. Textured art hung on the walls, some with zigzag patterns and some covered in bubbles, probably more for sound deadening than decoration. All it needed were screens running dull documentaries to match Dividend dining halls on Earth.

  Bertie sat at the unoccupied end of one table, digging into a loaded plate. His appetite survived last night's return to gravity. The big pilot paused with his spork in midair. "Not making deliveries today?"

  She plopped down next to him. "I spent a lot of time on the lunar surface while you were gone, so I've got a few days off for recovery too."

  Xavier arrived with a dish of cassava rolls in one hand and a bowl of beans buried under shredded pseudo-cheese in the other. He pulled a plastic chair out with one foot and deposited his load. "I've got plenty of buns for everyone. Winnie, be a chum and bring us all some tea?"

  The stocky little man was bent over his e-wallet when she returned. There was only one topic he'd allow to interrupt a meal, and she was anxious to hear the update. "Any news?"

  He drummed his short fingers on the table. "Grupo Solaris says they don't expect to award the solar alert contract until next month. Looks like I'm available for another sweep mission, Bertie."

  "Fine with me," Bertie said. "Fido enjoys teaming with Elvin."

  Winnie lifted a roll from the heap as casually as possible. "Elvin?"

  "My AI," Xavier said around a sporkful of beans.

  A chill clutched Winnie's chest. She broke off half her roll and popped it in her mouth, chewing instead of responding. Of course, Xavier installed his own AI in the skiff and didn't use her copy of Zazz stored there.

  She gulped some tea to avoid choking.

  Xavier frowned. "Don't fret, Winnie. Green Two is your skiff, and I respect that."

  "Winnie's feelings aren't the only thing you're worried about." Bertie nodded to his friend. "I recognize that furrowed forehead. What's wrong?"

  "Several questions Grupo's review committee sent back to us. My team settled some while we were in space, but we need to resolve a few more. I've arranged a meeting, so gotta go." He pushed his empty bowl aside, palmed two rolls, and carried his tea as he left.

  Bertie turned his baby face to Winnie. "Now I recognize that similarly furrowed forehead on you. Something wrong for you too?"

  "What if Grupo chooses the Shennong bid? Then Xavier doesn't have a job. Not unless Sato gives him my job."

  Bertie smiled feebly without a hint of happy juice and shrugged. "No need to go looking for trouble."

  "I've got something else to tell you. Caleb is gone."

  "The Shennong mining consultant?"

  "That's the one. I talked to him before he shipped out and didn't learn a thing about the spy."

  "I thought you'd decided he's not part of the conspiracy."

  "I did. Maybe. But someone from Shennong is. Did you spot the Black Satellite on your mission?"

  "No. We were collecting in low Earth orbit and so was Red Team. Flight Support sent us through dense clouds of junk with functioning satellites surrounded by the swarm. We improved the odds of survival for those craft, although I doubt the owners paid for the sweep. Demanding job. Me and Xavier had to alternate our breaks to protect each other from collisions."

  Winnie tightened the grip on her tea mug. "I'm back in the starting blocks, with no idea what to do next. But I know for sure that the Black Satellite is a menace, and I plan to track it down. Along with the spy protecting it."

  Bertie patted her shoulder. "Keep your spirits up."

  "I wish I could get a squirt of happy juice right now."

  "You're a good pilot, and Orbital Services spent a lot to train you. You won't get thrown off the Moon easily."

  Winnie sat up abruptly. "Thanks, partner. That gives me something special to do, so see you later."

  She grabbed another roll, tossed it up, and snagged it from midair.

  ***

  Winnie completed her special task and went looking for Bertie to brag. It didn't take her long to find him in his favorite seat on board the resort, on a blue sofa in the tiniest employee lounge, nestled in the perfect quiet of balanced acoustical fields. She ordered Blue Moon coffee at the dispenser, pressed her thumb against the payment pad, and threaded her way between a couple cafe tables to join him.

  She dropped a clear plastic bag on the cushion between them, and Winnie sat carefully, not sloshing a drop.

  Bertie grinned at her, a purely natural grin. "You've received the DNA infusion."

  "What makes you say that?"

  He waved at the pouch, at dozens of wedge-shaped nuts, each pale golden knob the size of a thumb with a few clinging shreds of papery brown skin. "Those are Brazil nuts, an excellent source of selenium. Dr Kim imports them from a grower in, as you might guess, Brazil. She prefers real food rather than pills to ensure our cells manufacture a goodly amount of selenomelanin. We all pick up bags like that from the clinic."

  Winnie poked the sack. "She said she tests each batch when it arrives from Earth, and warned me, no more than two nuts a day. Who knew you can overdose on nuts?"

  "Now your body's cells will make their own selenium sunscreen, inside and out. You'll bleed blood like chocolate sauce. For the rest of your life, everyone can tell you belong in space."

  Winnie's chin tipped up. "Yup. I'm committed."

  ***

  The next morning, Xavier didn't sit down to breakfast. He delivered a plate of rolls to Winnie and Bertie, pocketed a couple, and hurried off to another meeting with his bid team.

  "He looks worried," Winnie said.

  Bertie watched his old friend scurry away. "Yes, but Eight-C couldn't have a better person angling for that contract. If anyone can win, it's Xavier."

  When Bertie finished eating and rose, Winnie popped up too. "Say, why don't we do something together today?"

  He tilted his head. "You usually spend recovery days on your own."

  What Bertie said was true. Entanglements got in the way of dreams. That was Winnie's experience, so she'd been a loner through training on Earth and since arriving on the Moon. But Bertie was her partner at Orbital Services. While flying a mission, they trusted each other with their lives, so spending a few hours together on base couldn't hurt.

  "I checked the Lunar Excursions schedule, and they're taking a group to the silo observatory. I'll make a reservation for us. We'll be surrounded by tourists and hospitality staff, so the spy can't try anything. Wanna go look at stars? My treat."

  Bertie's chubby cheeks lifted as he smiled. "I love the sky from the Moon. A blanket of diamonds on black velvet."

  Winnie shuffled their plates to a passing automated steward, setting the stack in a plastic tub on the waist-high bot's flat top. "I had no idea you could be so poetic."

 

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