I Want To Go Home

The dining hall was a sterile white dome, the only warmth coming from the clutter of mismatched coffee mugs and the faint smell of reheated food. A large round table sat in the middle, scarred from years of use. The kitchen area was small but functional.

A TV was bolted to the wall, looping the same newsreel of riots and chaos back on Earth.

On the fridge, a photo was pinned with a magnet—a shot of the seven teammates drinking together at this very table, months ago. Different flags on their jumpsuits. Different countries. Different pasts. But here, on the moon, they were all stuck in the same place. Both a home and a prison.

Akira sat near the TV, arms crossed, watching the broadcast with an intensity that made the others avoid eye contact. He was wearing his black jumpsuit with his Japanese flag. 

Victor sat beside him in his red Russian jumpsuit, a photo of two small children and him in his hands. He studied it for a long moment, then carefully slid it into his jumpsuit pocket and watched the TV.

Tucker entered, yawning. He went straight for the coffee machine.

“Victor,” he muttered, pouring himself a cup, “the crack in our room is leaking again. We’re gonna have to patch the pipe. Again.”

Victor didn’t look up. “We patched it two weeks ago.”

Tucker walked over to the wall calendar, crossed off another date. Took a sip.

“Only a week to go before we go back home,” he said to himself. Then his eyes flicked to the TV. He frowned. “How do you watch this all the time, Akira?”

Akira didn’t look away from the screen. “I feel distant here. It helps to stay connected.”

“There’s only one story.”

Victor smirked. “If everyone down there dies, does that mean we get to leave?”

Tucker let out a dry chuckle. “Fuck, I hope so. The faster I get outta here, the better.”

On-screen, a child was trampled in the street, lost in a stampede of desperate people. Tucker’s face twisted. “All that violence…it’s not good for the mind.”

“Easy for us to say,” said Akira. “Down there, people do whatever it takes to help the ones they love. Even if it means rioting… or worse.”

Tucker swallowed hard.

“Does it make you forget you had tank duty ten minutes ago?” came an annoying voice from the entrance. Jack stood in the doorway, arms crossed, unimpressed. Dressed in a white jumpsuit with smut on it from work. An English flag on his suit.

Victor grinned. “Good morning, Jack-ass!”

“Victor, I asked you to stop that," said Jack. "It’s Jack.”

“Yeah, but Jack-ass is easier to remember.” said Tucker.

“Don’t be such an asshole,” said Jack. “You could’ve gotten up earlier.”

Tucker finished his coffee, rinsed the cup. “Forgive me if I don’t spend my time calling a sweetheart back on Earth.”

Jack’s face turned a bright red. Obviously guilty. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend!” Jack said through his teeth.

Tucker sighed and shrugged. “Besides,” said Tucker, “if Martinez fires us, I’ll take the first bus home.”

They walked down a narrow corridor, white walls stretching ahead. A small staircase at the end. The only break in the monotony was a large window right before the steps.

Tucker stopped. Stared.

Beyond the endless white desert, Earth hung in the blackness. A giant blue marble, alone in the void, speckled with the glow of city lights. It never got old to him. The beauty of it.

Movement caught his eye.

Someone was outside, climbing the communications tower.

Out in space, on their communications tower, Lien scaled the tower with practiced efficiency, a large bag slung over her back. Near the top, she reached a small maintenance box and secured herself with a strap. Under her suit was one of her pink Chinese jumpsuits.

She pressed a button on her helmet.

“Made it. Beginning replacement. Over.”

She pulled out her tools and got to work.

Over in the surveillance room, there was an image of Lien in a space suit on a monitor. The small room was cluttered with monitors, the glow of electronic screens casting blue light against the walls.

Emma sat at the console, her yellow jumpsuit wrinkled, a beer resting in her lap. The flag of Germany across her left breast pocket. She tapped a button on a control board, watching the live feed from Lien’s helmet cam.

“Nice and easy,” she muttered.

Lien’s voice crackled over the radio. “I got it. Over.”

“Like butter, now. Don’t screw it up! I don’t wanna miss my shows because you botched this replacement. Over.”

Tucker entered, brisk.

“That Lien out there?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’re the engineer.”

Emma shrugged, taking a sip from her beer. “She wanted to learn.” she said. “We’ve been farming crystals for almost six months. Gotta shake things up. We go home in a week.”

“She needs to learn, huh?” Tucker leaned on the back of her chair, watching. “Just make sure she’s careful.”

“Relax.” she said with a smirk. She raised her beer to him. "Get me another one from the lower level, would you? If I have to drink another American beer, I might die.”

Everyone on based was either 16 or 17 except for their mission leader Dr. Martinez who was in his mid fifties. Technically, they weren't supposed to drink. But there aren't a lot of rules on the moon.

At the same time, everyone else was in the research lab. The lab was a maze of water tanks, each one housing different-colored crystal formations. Workstations and computers were crammed into the corners.

Victor, Jack, and Akira struggled to lift a particularly large green crystal. Even together, it was almost too heavy.

“Got a good feeling about this one!” Dr. Martinez grinned as he guided them toward the press. His Mexican green jumpsuit was already stain with different colored fluids. The guy never lost his enthusiasm.

 He was old, but seemed to brighten up any room he was in. Without him, most of them would have blown their brains out from lack of morale.

Victor groaned. “You say that every time.”

“I mean it!” Martinez said with a chuckle, “I think I finally made a crystal that can generate enough power! The output is the key!”

They set it down inside a press machine. The press whirred to life as it pressed down on it. Martinez turned to his computer, starting the program.

Jack wiped sweat from his forehead. “Would’ve been easier if Tucker was here.”

“Who cares? The job’s done.” said Victor.

Martinez grinned. “Now all that’s left is to wait.”

Back in the surveillance room, Tucker and Emma leaned back in their chairs, beers in hand. Neither was watching the monitors.

“Fifty says I can,” Emma said.

Tucker smirked. “Bet.”

Emma grabbed two bottles, lined them up in her palm. She stood up and in one swift movement, kicked them with the bottom of her foot. Both caps popped off with ease.

Tucker's mouth dropped open. “That’s impossible! You cheated!... Somehow!"

Behind them on the screen, Lien’s helmet camera suddenly tilted sharply.

The feed spun.

Spinning out of control.

They didn’t notice.

The camera only stopped when it hit the ground.

And the only people watching her, laughed between themselves unaware their crewmate was currently fighting for her life.