Space Case (8 page)

What I was
really
disturbed by was the fact that Nina had just told me there weren't any cameras in the bathrooms. If Roddy knew they were there, then Nina had to know as well. She knew Moon Base Alpha down to every last nut and bolt.

Which meant Dr. Holtz
had
been recorded the night before. And Nina Stack had just lied to me about it.

Lunar day 188

Noon

The rocket had originally been
scheduled to arrive seventeen days earlier. For getting to the moon, though, seventeen days late counts as being almost on time.

Even though we've been launching rockets for almost a hundred years, things still go wrong all the time. It's not like in the movies, where everyone just jumps into their spaceships and flies off whenever they want. Launching a rocket is immensely complicated. It's, well . . . rocket science. And lots of things can go wrong: Any of the millions of parts can malfunction, a computer can glitch, a storm can move in, a cloud of space junk can drift into the flight path. Plus, heading
for the moon isn't something you can do whenever you want. You need a window when the earth and moon are in just the right place relative to each other. Miss that window and you might as well unpack your bags—you're going to be waiting a while. Frankly, you're lucky if your rocket takes off within a week of when it's supposed to. One of the original missions for the construction of MBA was delayed for more than a year.

And to think, my grandparents say they used to get upset when planes on earth were delayed an
hour.

But now the Raptor was almost here. Despite Dr. Holtz's death, there was excitement in the air. Almost every Moonie was gathered in the rec room to watch the rocket's arrival. Yes, that's right. Even though the Raptor was landing less than a football field away from us, we still had to watch it on TV. This was because the moon has no atmosphere. Therefore, no matter how gently a rocket lands, the retro rockets that slow its descent will still blow away every bit of rock and moon dust below them, shelling everything nearby. NASA built a twenty-foot blast wall around the landing pad to protect MBA, but there isn't a single window oriented in that direction, just in case something makes it over. We don't want our precious glass getting shattered by a rogue moon rock. As it is, we've already lost two panels in Solar Array 2 to blast debris.

Violet was seated on the floor right in front of the SlimScreen, along with Inez Marquez—Roddy's little sister and her best friend—and Kamoze Iwanyi, the only other little kid on base. The three of them were pleading for someone to switch the TV to cartoons instead of the rocket's arrival. (After hearing about Dr. Holtz's death, Violet had been sad for a few minutes but had quickly returned to her usual effusive self.)

The adults weren't paying much more attention than the kids. The first time a rocket had arrived, we'd all sat riveted to the TV. But by now even this amazing event had become routine. Everyone was socializing, only keeping one eye on the screen while they talked science and gossip. Roddy was AWOL. He must still have been in the bathroom, covertly leading raids on virtual moons from the toilet stall.

The older kids, Cesar Marquez (Roddy's big brother) and the Sjoberg twins, Patton and Lily, were all clustered together as usual. Cesar is usually pretty nice to me, but the Sjobergs are jerks. Due to the Transitive Property of Jerkiness, any time they're around Cesar, he becomes kind of nasty himself.

That was it for other kids at MBA, so I was watching the landing with my parents.

“Looks like Katya's coming in perfect,” Dad said, meaning Katya King, the head pilot on the Raptor.

“Like always,” Mom agreed.

My parents looked around the room for someone else for me to hang out with. They weren't trying to ditch me; I think they felt bad I had no one else to talk to but them. “Where's Roddy?” Dad asked.

“You don't want to know,” I replied.

Dad considered that, then nodded. “You're probably right. I don't.”

“Nina told me not to talk about Dr. Holtz anymore,” I said.

Mom and Dad both scanned the room to see if anyone was eavesdropping on us. No one was. “When?” Mom asked.

“Not too long ago. She called me into her office. She told me the death was an accident, not a murder, and that if I didn't shut up about it, I'd be causing trouble.”

Mom and Dad shared a long look. It seemed as though an entire conversation passed between them, unsaid.

“How did she know you thought he was murdered?” Mom asked, keeping her voice low so no one else would overhear.

“She wouldn't say.”

Mom nodded. “Well, I can understand her concern. Back on earth, there are a lot of people paying very close attention to this base. If a rumor spread that Dr. Holtz had been murdered, it could be a disaster.”

“Well, what if it's not a rumor? What if there's really a
killer on the loose? Shouldn't someone at least investigate?”

“I'm sure they will,” Dad replied. “There's no way a death up here wouldn't be looked into. But they're probably only thinking of it as an accident.”

“But what if it really is a murder?” I asked. “If no one's looking for the killer, then the killer won't just get away—they'll still be living with us! How long do you think it'll be before someone else gets bumped off?”

Both my parents signaled me to keep my voice down. Before either one could come up with an answer, Chang Hi-Tech came along.

Chang's real last name is Kowalski, but no one calls him that. He's MBA's resident genius. Officially he came to the moon as a geochemist, but he's really a jack-of-all-trades, able to handle everything from computer glitches to leaky rehydrators. It's always easy to find him at MBA, because even on earth he'd stand out in a crowd. He's a tall, muscular Polish-Samoan, he has a Mohawk, and his arms are covered with tattoos. All his favorite scientists' likenesses are inked on his skin—Albert Einstein, Marie Curie, Niels Bohr, Isaac Newton—but they're all drawn as superheroes, clad in spandex, battling enemies like Hitler and Godzilla. Chang designed the art himself.

I was worried Chang had overheard me talking about the possible lunar serial killer, but he showed no sign of
it. Instead he was focused on the TV screen, watching the rocket. “Man, that Katya's an ace,” he said. “I'll bet you a thou she parks that Raptor dead center on the pad.”

Dad shook his head. “Bet against Katya? Forget it.”

“Okay,” Chang said. “Then let's bet on which of the newbies pukes during the landing.”

Dad laughed. Mom rolled her eyes.

Rocket travel isn't for everyone. Almost everybody feels motion sick the first time they go into space. It takes a while to adjust to being weightless. Some people manage to do this quickly. Others spend the trip on very intimate terms with the zero-g toilet.

My parents and Chang knew plenty about the newbies already. NASA had sent them biography files well ahead of time, and all the adults had video chatted several times. It's better to start life on the moon as friends than strangers.

“I'll put a hundred on Maxwell Howard,” Dad said.

“The engineer?” Chang laughed. “You're backing the wrong horse, pal. I hear that guy's steady as they come.”

Dad shrugged. “I've got a hunch. Some of these stoic guys turn out to have the weakest stomachs.”

“My money's on the Russian,” Chang said. “What's his name, Balnikov? I read the guy's file. Trust me, the guy's a vomit volcano.”

“I don't know what to do with you two,” Mom said
with a sigh. “Dashiell, don't pay one bit of attention to these so-called scientists.”

“They're only having some fun,” I said.

“Yes,” Mom agreed. “And they have no idea how to pick a potential puker. If anyone blows chunks, it'll be Jennifer Kim. The geologists are always the first to go.”

On the TV there was a sudden blaze of light as the Raptor's retro rockets fired. And yet, even though this was happening almost right over our heads, we didn't hear a thing. There was no atmosphere for the sound to travel through. What would have been deafening on earth was bizarrely silent on the moon.

All conversation ceased. Everyone directed their full attention to the TV. Even the little kids.

The Raptor was lowering slowly toward the pad, the flare from the retros so bright it almost bleached out the screen. Just as Chang had predicted, it was coming in perfectly. Commander Katya King was at the helm. Not only was she the best pilot at NASA, but she'd done this run so many times it was probably routine to her by now.

Nina Stack was suddenly at my side. Without so much as a hello she told me, “I need you to do something for me. There's a girl your age coming in on that rocket.”

“Kira Howard,” I said. “I've heard.”

“You're going to be the welcome wagon for her.”

I was so surprised I took my eyes off the TV. “I thought Cesar was assigned to do that.”

“I changed my mind.” Nina didn't even look at me. She kept her gaze locked on the descending rocket. “Cesar has other duties, and, frankly, you're probably a better representative for Kira anyway, seeing as you're only a few months older than she is.”

“But I'm not prepared—” I began.

“I'm sure you can handle it.” Nina walked away before I could raise another protest.

Not that I could think of one. Truthfully, I was happy for the assignment. Kira was twelve, like me, and I was kind of excited to meet her. Plus, showing her the ropes at MBA would give me something to do for once.

Of course, I knew the
real
reason for my new assignment. Nina was trying to distract me from raising questions about Dr. Holtz's death.

On TV the second round of retros fired. Katya gently guided the Raptor to the landing pad. Below the rocket, dust and rock exploded out in all directions, scouring the blast wall. The Raptor hovered over the pad for a few moments, then set down in the dead center.

Everyone cheered.

“Now that's how you land a rocket!” Chang whooped. “Way to go, Katya!”

Nina whistled shrilly, interrupting the celebration. “All right, everyone! We all have work to do. Those of you on cargo transfer duty, suit up. Those of you on the welcoming committee, be ready to meet your assignments. Everyone else, stay clear of the staging area. We're going to have enough bodies there as it is.” She strode out, having masterfully destroyed any sense of joy within seconds. All the adults dutifully filed after her. So did I. The other kids remained in the rec room. The moment the last adult was out the door, I heard Cesar switch off the rocket feed and turn on
Squirrel Force
for Violet and her friends.

I'd never been assigned a duty for the arrival of a rocket before, so I'd never had a reason to be in the staging area when one came in. It was far more exciting than being asked to make myself scarce. Dad, Chang, Mr. Grisan, and a few others piled into their space suits, prepping for cargo duty. Mom, who'd been assigned to greet Dr. Kim, and I clustered near the main air lock with the others on the welcome wagon. I ended up in the back of the crowd, but I could still get a glimpse outdoors through the air lock window.

After a few minutes, seven people in space suits rounded the blast wall.

Katya King and her copilot, Buster Reisman, were easy to pick out, even though I couldn't see their faces through the reflective visors of their space helmets. They bounded along
with the confident, easy grace of people who had been to the lunar surface many times before, covering several yards with each step in the low gravity.