SPACE IS A DEADLY SISTER: XI

by Gil James Bavel

Mission Day 674: 7:56 hours
Ganymede Base mining station
First Shift

Marquis Williams was the first out of bed. He went directly to the workout facility and stretched, then put in a half hour on the exercise equipment. It was mandatory for all crew to use the workout equipment daily. Afterward, he got into the shower. When he had finished and gotten dressed for duty, on his own way to the mess hall he met John Biggs headed toward the workout station.

“Morning.” Williams offered cheerfully,

“Morning, Marquis,” Biggs replied. “Did you wipe down the bike seat?” he asked playfully.

“Yeah, it’s all ready for you to use. Have a good workout. See you in the mess hall.”

“Right,” answered Biggs, and patted his friend on the shoulder as they crossed.

Mission Day 674: 8:29 hours
Ganymede Base mining station
First Shift

The mess hall was already buzzing with activity. Today was a Friday Run, and since the crew had been allowed to sleep in, they were feeling lazy. They now had less time to do to catch-up to prepare the shuttle bay, and were consequently running pre-landing checks while they ate their breakfast.

Dr. Devon Berkshire was sipping black tea—Irish Breakfast—while Dr. Lisa Obermeyer and Will Jensen were drinking coffee and eating what passed for reconstituted eggs with some kind of soy-sausage patties. Obermeyer was finishing a fruit protein bar. They were noodling together while parallel working on their respective duty pads.

Marquis Williams entered the mess hall. “Morning all,” he offered, and made his way toward the drink station to procure some coffee. Various salutations went up from the crew, and Berkshire offered him a pad.

“Make sure you get your ducks in a row this morning. We’re running late, and I want to make sure our deliveries get made without a hitch. And that Jim and Sondra don’t have to do any more work than usual because we slept in today.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Williams replied, taking the pad and looking it over while he retrieved a cup from the drink station. He poured himself a coffee, stirred in some creamer and sat down with the rest of the crew in the breakfast nook. They munched at their breakfast and began planning out their duties for the day.

“Who wants to wash out the landing bay? I want it done before noon so they have an easy landing,” Berkshire ordered.

Jensen raised a hand. “I’ll take care of it. Then I can hit the bike afterward and be ready for them when they get here. What’s on the bird today?”

Berkshire wiped his pad with a finger and called up the relevant data. “Looks like we’ve got more drill bits, blower parts and algae kits. Oh, and they’re bringing us that new rover that’s been on backorder. I guess they worked out all the kinks, finally. Look, when it gets here, I want John to go over every system, check it and prepare it for initialization. Will, will you see that it gets done? And when you’re finished, I want it stowed away and locked down under a tarp. We won’t need it for a while yet. Let’s get as much mileage out of the old one as we can.”

Jensen nodded, finishing his breakfast. “I’ll make sure to tell him.”

“Everyone have their duty rosters down for today?” Berkshire asked his crew.

“Yeah, we’re ready, Devon,” answered Obermeyer.

“Good. When you’ve finished up breakfast, let’s get to work.” Berkshire resumed looking at the data he’d brought up and lost himself in his cup of Irish Breakfast.

Mission Day 674: 10:04 hours
Ganymede Base mining station
First Shift

Class I Mechanical/Maintenance Technician Will Jensen was spraying out the landing bay, not with water, but with an air hose. A grating at the far side near the bay door caught the grit and stored it for eventual redistribution on the surface. It was tedious work, but compared to installing the annex, it was easy, and it was necessary to insure the Friday Run ship had a smooth landing. Jensen thought about seeing Sondra Lawton and Captain Jim Stanton again; Sondra always lit up the base with her youthful enthusiasm, and Stanton would be retiring soon. He wondered if they’d have a party. Jensen would have to look him up once his own rotation was over.

Of course, he’d have to repeat this process after the ship departed again, but that was par for the course. Dr. Lisa Obermeyer popped open the airlock and joined him in the shuttle bay.

“I’ll help you clean out the grate and get the regolith out, if you like. After a little nookie,” she said, a familiar glint in her eye.

Jensen smiled. “Sounds good, I’m done here. I’ll have to clean up before I suit up again, anyway. Let’s knock off for an early lunch, I’ll tell Devon I’m done here and that we’ll depressurize the bay in an hour or so.” He turned off the air hose and stowed it back on its rack on the wall. They left the bay together holding hands, and made for the command center. Dr. Berkshire was there, correlating data.

He turned to face the two of them. “Get the bay sprayed out?” he asked.

Jensen nodded. “Yeah, just finished. If it’s okay with you, Lisa and I are going to punch out for an early lunch, and then we’ll depressurize the bay and empty the grate outside.”

Berkshire agreed. “Okay, but when you’re done, I have instructions for you to reposition the antennae array on the radio shack. Not sure why, but here are the coordinates. Make sure you put them into your suit.”

Jensen took the pad. “Sure thing, boss,” he said, examining the data.

Obermeyer reached for Jensen’s other hand. “Let’s go, I’m hungry!” she remarked.

Berkshire smiled. “Have fun guys. Don’t fail to be back on duty in an hour,” he commanded. “Friday Run ship is due no later than noon-thirty”.

“Will do,” Jensen replied, taking Obermeyer’s other hand and following her out of their Commander’s control center.

They quietly walked back to her quarters. She opened the door and pulled him through.

“I didn’t get enough of you this morning,” she said, unzipping his jumpsuit. Jensen began removing her own clothes and soon they were in a competition with each other as to which would get the other’s clothes off first. Their boots fell to the floor and soon they were lost in each other.

“I want to have children,” Obermeyer admitted.

“What, now?” joked Jensen, fondling her smooth, white breasts.

“We could get started now,” she answered in between breathy moans. “No time like the present.” She instinctually inverted him so he was on top of her.

“You’re serious? Why the sudden urge to have kids?” Jensen asked. He was beginning to drop beads of sweat onto her naked body with every thrust of his pelvis.

Obermeyer's eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “Ohh…I…don’t know. I don’t want to wait until I’m forty to have kids.”

“You’ll have to marry me when we get home,” Jensen said, seriously.

“Oh...oh...okay...FUCK ME!” screamed Obermeyer, and pulled him into her where he exploded like one of Io’s volcanoes. He settled down onto her smooth, flat body and folded his fingers inside hers.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Doctor,” Jensen said, smiling.

Obermeyer was lost in post-coital bliss. “Oh, you do that,” she said with a sigh.

After a few minutes, she sat up, reaching for a nearby towel. “I’m hungry, let’s go eat.”

Jensen laughed. “Okay. Then we’ve got to clean up and suit up.” She handed him the towel and he cleaned off. Putting on his clothes, he zipped up and put his boots on. “I’ll see you in the mess hall.”

“Wait, I’ll come with you,” she said, and hopped out of bed. She dressed quickly and they left her quarters, headed for the mess hall. She planted a kiss on his lips as they departed.

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for the Conclusion

SPACE IS A DEADLY SISTER: X

by Gil James Bavel

Mission Day 674: 3:01 hours
Ganymede Base mining station
First Shift

The crew of Ganymede Base was sleeping comfortably while a rain of micrometeoroids fell harmlessly outside. The modifications to the base complete, they were enjoying a well deserved extra few hours of sleep.

The installation now sported extra crew quarters, new shower and restroom facilities, and waste disposal and containment areas. The airlock to the new section had gone in seamlessly. The survey team had graded the surface, laid a slab, and the construction team had gotten the annex up in well under the allotted time, testing each corner, wall and weld. They had pressurized it, waited an hour to insure there were no leaks, and then opened the airlock into it. No problems.

The most difficult part was wiring the electronics, but that was a simple matter to Jensen. As a mechanical engineer, he was used to fixing things on the fly with fewer materials than he’d like. This new section had really gone up without a hitch. Every member of the crew had pitched in, from the surveyors to the Commander. The micrometeoroids were breaking in the virgin surfaces of the outside of the annex, falling harmlessly to the ground afterward.

Dr. Lisa Obermeyer rolled over in her sleep. Will Jensen was there, in her rack, dreaming of his family back in the inner system: Walking on the beaches of Earth with his nephew, Colin; visiting Luna and his mother; and eventually of crawling through the caves of Mars with his brother Michael and his family. They loved spelunking those ancient caves. Michael’s stepchildren were young enough that they still believed that the caves had been cut out of the living rock by aliens millennia ago. It was one of their favorite hobbies. With nearly twenty billion people on the Earth, it had been an easy option for many of his family to settle offworld to the colonies. It was a lot less cramped, and a more easygoing lifestyle, if you could handle it.

Dr. Devon Berkshire stirred, rolled over in his own rack and awoke. “Computer,” he commanded, “MM status.”

The computer answered back, “Nominal.”

Berkshire called up the exterior view of the new addition and watched the dust of micrometeoroids bouncing harmlessly off of it. Over the years he had learned to wake up to the soft pellets of rain on the base. It was an uneasy sleep that came with command. Of course, the annex was the safest part of the installation now, but being the newest, in his mind it was the most prone to faults. He did a systems check from his bed and then rolled over and went back to sleep.

Biggs and Williams likewise slept restively, they were used to the sound of the rain outside but knew that during a micrometeoroid storm, there was a small but not impossible chance that a breach could occur and they’d have to get up and seal it when the alarm sounded.

Presently, the micrometeoroids slowed and the shower ended. The crew of Ganymede Base could rest easy for the remainder of their rack time and sleep in.

Click Here

for Part XI

SPACE IS A DEADLY SISTER: IX

by Gil James Bavel

Mission Day 722: 15:20 hours
Unknown Ganymede station
Second Shift

I finished recording the door mechanism and put my helmet back on. One last bounce onto the ledge and over the paperweight that sat between the doors. The second robot stared me down as if we were about to draw on each other in an old 20th century western. Instinctively, I looked back at the defunct robot to see if I could get access to my tire tool. It appeared as if, when it had powered down, the first robot’s magnetic inductors had failed, because the tire tool was lying on the floor next to it. I leaned over, reached down, and took it confidently in one hand.

I then approached on the second robot’s position, brandishing the tire tool in front of me. The robot backed up tentatively and I then knew how I was going to manage my way. I threw the tire tool down, past the first robot’s dead hand—about four feet further down the hall. The robot backed away immediately. It didn’t want to tangle with metal objects on the floor. I continued this, tool over metal hand, until I had backed the robot up against its original door. I made sure to leave the tire tool in its way so that I’d be able to pick up the first robot’s hand. Grabbing this, I made my way back to the T-junction, to the consternation of the second robot, unable to advance.

Now I was ready. I removed my helmet and prepared to activate the actuator that would play the signal from the door. First I held up the robot’s spherical hand and set it inside the ducted indentation. Then I pressed the button in my helmet. From the additional interface emerged a small button. I leaned forward and pressed it with my forehead.

The ceramic indentation pulled the robot’s hand out of mine with a strong electromagnetic field, and I felt a grinding underneath me. Looking toward the chasm, I saw that the rail in the middle was opening, and the bridge was extending into the darkness beyond. Lights flickered on. Success!

Smiling, I put my helmet back on, but then remembered how I had gotten here. This was the last place I could go. Wherever this bridge led, there was the end of my journey. To be prudent, I waited until the grinding stopped, which was at least ninety seconds. When the bridge had extended all the way, I grabbed my helmet, clipped the plasma torch back onto my jumpsuit, and took a first tentative step onto the bridge. Sturdy enough. I made my way across the bridge, being careful not to look down. There was something really strange about the gravity here, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was somehow stronger, but it should be weaker, I thought. It felt more like Luna’s. No matter.

On into the darkness I walked. It took me about a minute to get across to the other side, where I found another hallway much like the one I’d left. This door had another simple button, which I pressed. The door opened and I was greeted by a warm temperature, and a warmer glow from the lights inside. And here I could smell life. This was a familiar smell. Someone was indeed here. And I had questions.

I was in an outer access area, with simple accommodations and a hydroponics bay. It was not unlike the one in our installation, smaller, but also older. It looked as if one half had been recently cleared and new vegetation was growing, the other half was full of familiar veggies and fruit. I looked at some of the food there—I knew better than to touch it, but my mouth watered at the thought. It had been some time since I’d eaten. Focus.

Looking around, I could see a restroom and a shower/locker area to my left. There was only one shower, with a detachable wand and a metal bench. It could not service more than a few people. I wondered who lived here. To my right, I could see a hatch above the ledge near a drink station, and a round bin next to a cabinet with two doors in front. The hatch appeared to be closed, but was round, and looked as if it might accommodate a cylinder about eighteen inches wide.

I grew curious and opened the doors to the cabinet. Napkins, silverware, food paste tubes, condiment packets—someone not only lived here, but received regular shipments from home. But not from the Friday Run ships—they would have told us. I’m sure they would have. The occupants of this station also received fuel from somewhere—perhaps the auto-bots that mined Io for H-3, hydrogen and other ores. I stepped on the lever to the bin and a similar chute to the hatch above led down into the dark. Waste disposal. Fairly well planned out for such a small population. I unclipped the plasma welder and held it firmly in my right hand.

Ahead of me I could see another door, this one with a familiar panel on it—it looked exactly like the ones in our installation. So it was the company. I pressed my fist against the entry button, and the doors parted. Beyond was an all-too-familiar sight.

Something like a video studio, with a room-wide telescreen on one wall, and a camera on the other. I could see other things in my peripheral vision, but straight ahead of me—impossibly—was First Director David Chenowith of the Company. He was seated behind his command center desk, and seemed truly startled to see me. He regained his composure and put down the pad he was working with. He spoke with a familiar voice, but now it was uncompressed and, in real life, raspier than I expected.

“Well, son, I must congratulate you on your ingenuity and tenacity. I imagine you must have a dozen questions. I was truly sorry to see that Ganymede Base was compromised by the rogue comet.”

I could no longer contain my rage. “Compromised? Compromised-?” He obviously had eyes on our base, hell, he had probably had eyes in our base. “Okay, so it’s a rogue comet now. Did the Company know it was coming? Could they have saved the crew?”

“No, son. There was no way to save the crew or we would have, you must understand that.” He looked me unflinchingly in the eye.

“How much lead time did they have? Why have another base so close and not evacuate the crew? Why did you let them die? I loved her!” I was exasperated.

Chenowith shifted in his chair and crossed his legs under his desk. “They knew the risks when they signed on. It’s a dangerous life out here. That’s why you’re paid so well. Why your families are provided for so well in the event of your deaths. The benefits and perks are better than any other in the Corps. Earthside officers don’t make the kind of money that you do,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“What possible reason could you have for not evacuating us?”

“There was nothing we could do. We suspected the comet would affect the stability of Ganymede, but we weren’t sure. If it did, telling the crew wouldn’t do any good. If it didn’t, it would have been a close call.”

“Why did you disable the JSDA?” I asked.

“We did nothing to the array. We only modified your Commander’s COM system software so the alarm would not sound. Knowing there was a potential threat would have done you no good. Panic would have ensued, and no one would ever have survived anyway. Frankly, the only reason you did is because you were already outside in your suit. I must credit you for your ingenuity on making it this far,” he replied.

I was getting angrier with every word he said. “We all could have survived down here! Look at the room! It’s bigger than our entire installation!”

“But there are no supplies for a team as big as yours. My needs are small. As you are now aware, I am the only one here. I was the first settler sent here, and it was because of my advanced age that I was approved at all. When I came here, we did not have the advances in radiation shielding and plasma field control that we enjoy today. I have been through three bouts of severe radiation poisoning, and let me tell you, it’s no fun, son.” Chenowith looked at me.

“Neither is losing your entire team! We all could have survived until the Friday Run in here!”

“But who would have gone back?” he answered. “In the cargo hold of a shuttle? No one would have survived in the hold. It’s not meant for human transport. It’s not pressurized and has no radiation shielding. The Friday Run ship only seats two, you know that. Would you have drawn straws? Killed each other? Left five to die? We had no way of knowing for certain that you would have been affected at all. Predicting the effects of short period comets is hardly an exact science.” He set his hands in his lap, and leaned back in his chair.

“You should have given us the choice. We could have moved the fuel storage tanks away from the installation. We would have taken our chances.”

“Then how do you know that it wouldn’t have been something else to go wrong?” He queried.

Chenowith’s answers were getting dodgier and dodgier. His confidence was eroding and I could tell. It was palpable. He kept his composure, but I could feel his authority waning.

“And why have you been sending us messages from here as if you were on Earth? What’s with the pre-recorded background?”

“I’m sorry, son, but you’re not authorized for that level of clearance. Suffice it to say that the Space Corps and The Company deemed it mission-critical to have a commander off-site, and that will have to be enough for you.”

That tied it. Waving my plasma welder, I said, “I’m coming over there, old man, and I’m going to burn the answers out of you.” I advanced on the Director’s desk.

“I wouldn’t advise violence, son,” said Chenowith, and pulled a micro laser pistol from his lap, pointing it at my head. “This is the one weapon that, fired in here, will cause the core no harm whatsoever. It will, however, leave you quite dead. I’m sure you’ll see that I will be able to shoot you well before you can reach me.”

He had me there. My mind was reeling. He had secrets he was keeping and I was determined to find out what they were. Or die trying.

I was acutely aware of the fact that I had nothing left to lose.

Click Here

for Part X

SPACE IS A DEADLY SISTER:VIII

by Gil James Bavel

Mission Day 655: 10:45 hours
Ganymede Base mining station
Third Shift

John Biggs and Will Jensen were just completing the internal modifications to the indoor hatch. They’d cut into the interior wall that tomorrow would be an airlock. Most of the work had been in measuring the cuts to the exacting specifications their Commander had shared with them earlier.

Prepping the plate, they put down the welding visors over their faces and arc-welded it over the cuts they’d made with hand-held plasma welders. This was mostly a formality, as there was another exterior wall on the other side, but in case something weakened it, they had to strengthen the interior wall. It would be easy enough to remove the plate with the thermal lance in the morning.

The work went smoothly, and within a few minutes the plate was fixed. Powering down the welding gear, Biggs and Jensen shot the breeze as they put the equipment away, and stowed the gear. They said their good nights and retired to their respective quarters.

When Will Jensen got to his quarters, Dr. Lisa Obermeyer was there waiting for him.

“Why don’t you come over to my place?” she said, and offered him a languid hand.

Jensen simply smiled, took it, and followed her, too tired to argue. She led him back to her quarters, which she’d lighted appropriately and had obviously been preparing for some time.

“I’m touched, Lisa, I really am,” Jensen said. “But I’ve got to be up in a few hours and get back to work. Can we just sleep together?” he asked, weary.

“You’re going to fuck me now...or in the morning. It’s up to you.” Obermeyer led him to her rack, practically threw him into it and started pulling off his boots, then his jumpsuit. “Lights,” she instructed the computer, and they dimmed the rest of the way.

“In the morning, then.” Jensen relented. “I’ll need a pick-me-up anyway.”

Obermeyer punched him gently in the shoulder, and nestled in with him in her bed. She nibbled at his neck and whispered, “Oh, I’ll pick you up all right.” She kissed him sweetly, and then they drifted off to sleep and dreamt of being back on Earth.

They almost always did.

Mission Day 656: 6:00 hours
Ganymede mining station
First Shift

The lights came on in Dr. Lisa Obermeyer’s quarters. A gentle musical alarm sounded which she immediately turned off with a light touch. She reached over to Will Jensen, still groggy with sleep, and put one hand on his chest. “Wakey wakey,” she said, and moved her hand down to his already-erect member.

“You mean business, huh?” he said, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Okay, saddle up,” he said, “I’ve got time for a quickie, but that’s it.”

She accommodated him, straddling him and locking her ankles under his legs. They’d done this many times before. This position called for no straps in Ganymede’s low gravity. She locked her fingers into the small of his back and he grabbed onto her shoulders. They made love as if it were the last time they would ever see each other.

It wasn’t long before they both came together in a furious orgasm, and with a modicum of post-coital cuddling, they cleaned up and Will was on his feet. “J’excuse, mon cheri,” he said, getting dressed, “But duty calls.”

Obermeyer rose, placed her hands around his neck, and gave him a long, passionate kiss on his way out.

“Be safe,” she called after him, and as the door closed, she fell back onto her bed with a soft sigh. She would have to be up and at duty herself soon.

Jensen walked down the hallway and toward the showers.

Click Here

for Part IX

SPACE IS A DEADLY SISTER: VII

by Gil James Bavel

Mission Day 654: 12:21 hours
Ganymede Base mining station
Second Shift

With the survey work completed for the week, the North Forty had been leveled and was ready for the new terraforming equipment. The crew of Ganymede Base were in the mess hall taking a well-deserved break. Marquis Williams broke the silence of lunch.

“So, Devon,” he started, “We going to break out the construction gear tomorrow?”

Berkshire played with the food he’d squirted out onto his plate, mashing it into the vegetables they’d grown in the hydroponics bay. “Bright and early. Be up at six hundred hours, I want to get an early start on it. We’re going to finish getting the East side leveled and ready so by the time the Friday Run ship comes in, all we’ll have to do is set it up and join it to the existing structure.” He looked at John Biggs, and Will Jensen. “You guys are going to need to set up the interface for the new airlock. They’re adding steerage for six more bodies. That’s three rooms worth of kits, a corridor and another restroom. We’re going to be doing work outdoors for a couple of weeks. But I want it done in short shifts, like the survey team does. Too much radiation out there, your suits can’t handle long durations. Keep it to six hours, no more.” He eventually found something edible on his tray and forked it into his mouth. Chewing, he said, “I got most of the East side surveyed, it’s nearly level already. Mostly filling in small craters and laying a slab. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

Biggs nodded, reaching for his drink. “I can knock the cutting out tonight, and put a panel on the inside, so we’ll be ready in the morning to depressurize.” He turned to Jensen. “Will, you want to put in a few hours this evening after dinner?”

Jensen was caught shoveling food into his mouth, an orange glop that at one time could have been some kind of meat—with sweet potatoes, probably. “Sure, that sounds fine,” he answered. I’ll prep my suit.”

Biggs drank from his glass and shook his head. “Shouldn’t need it. We won’t make the cuts on the outer wall until tomorrow, I just want to get a plate up on the inside so it won’t take us long in the morning.” He looked at his Commander. “Boss, there’s very little chance of anything going wrong, but in case, do you want to relocate into the radio shack?”

Berkshire contemplated the food on his tray and shook his head. “Nah. We should be all right. Besides, if there’s a problem, there’s not much we can do about it anyway. Anybody that’s squeamish can get into a suit. You’ve been cramming on your construction training, right?”

Jensen swallowed and said, “Yeah, all week. We’re ready. It will only take a couple hours after dinner, we’ll be in bed early.” He looked at Biggs as if it were a challenge.

The stark, white interior of the mess hall reminded him of a museum. “Hey, boss,” Jensen said, “Can we at least paint the new unit when we install it? White gets so boring.”

Berkshire looked at Jensen with a smile. “Sure. Paint it green if you like. Just get it back to regulation before you pressurize it.”

A panel lit up by the telescreen, which was showing several external views of the surface around the base. There was a transmission in from Earth. Berkshire reached over and hit a button. “Look alive, people, it’s the Director, regular priority.”

“Received from Jovian Deep Space Array, 12:24:17 hours,” the computer voice announced.

Indeed, the staid face of First Director Chenowith materialized on the telescreen. He appeared in the foreground in front of the camera, again with a bevy of technicians behind him going about their duties in the background. It was a familiar sight to the crew.

“Greetings, Ganymede Base”, the transmission began. “Fine work you’re doing. We want you to know that we’re all behind you. I have a mail packet coming in for you after this transmission ends. Just wanted to let you know that your supplies and the spare parts and construction materials for the new addition will be arriving on tomorrow’s Friday Run. As you’re aware, Devon, the mission council have determined that the North Forty is incompatible with further mining stations, but not for a blower, so you’ll be getting a new one of those as well. I’m putting you in for a note of merit for getting it done ahead of schedule. You probably saved yourself a week of surveying by getting that out of the way. Good work. Also, Devon, after the mail packet, there is a priority message for you, eyes only. Take it in your private quarters. Keep up the good work, everyone. First Director Chenowith out.”

Dr. Lisa Obermeyer rolled her eyes. “Note of merit. Big fucking deal.” Turning to Berkshire, she grinned. “Gold star for you, Devon.” She had finished her lunch and pushing her tray forward, got up to go to the restroom. “You’ll be able to get another raise soon.”

Berkshire seemed nonplussed. “Feh, out here it really doesn’t matter. Okay, everyone, mail call.” He got up and began handing out pads to the crew. “Take your time, there’s another half an hour before anyone needs to worry about getting back to work. Enjoy your videos from home, folks.”

Obermeyer looked at Jensen with a wink and closed the restroom door behind her. Jensen took his pad from Berkshire and looked it over. Message from his mother, several from his family on Moonbase Beta, and a recording from his nephew back on Earth. He picked up his tray, finished what was on it, and retired to his quarters to watch them.

The rest of the Ganymede base crew followed suit, and slowly got up, looking at their pads, putting the trays from lunch into the washing unit. Berkshire went to his quarters and took the priority message from there. Sitting down at his COM center, he piped it through. It was a program designed to run only with an officer’s password. Berkshire entered his. The computer at the COM center unpacked the archive, processed it, and it ran.

They were specifications for the new addition, plus plans for the blower, algae kits and the spare parts they’d ordered. The only priority eyes-only material other than that was a directive that the addition be up and habitable as soon as possible. Why that couldn’t be opened in front of the rest of the crew was beyond him. He took notes on the specs, and saved it. Back to the grind, he thought, and turned off the workstation. He’d share the specs with the crew later.

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for Part VIII