Lunar Operations Specialist, Corporal Sarah M. Anders, remained indifferent to the intricacies of lunar geopolitics, whether imminent or speculative. Her primary concern, or rather obsession, revolved around the elusive pursuit of sleep, a luxury that seemed to evade her amidst the ceaseless hum of the base's machinery. Her attention oscillated between the dim glow of the lunar landscape outside and the array of monitors before her, displaying real-time data feeds from the base's environmental control systems and lunar terrain scanners. Anders scrutinized the holographic projection of the lunar surface, identifying the intricate topography of Mare Tranquillitatis to the northwest, the craggy peaks of the Montes Apenninus to the southeast, and the rugged expanse of the Taurus-Littrow Valley to the southwest.
The display was awash with data overlays and alphanumeric codes, indicating the persistence of an ongoing lunar storm. While the tempest posed no immediate threat to the base's operations, Anders couldn't help but feel a pang of concern—not for herself, but for the dwindling supply of her favorite comfort food: lunar-grown peach preserves. She had developed a penchant for them during her stint on the base, savoring their taste on lunar rations and even indulging in spoonfuls straight from the jar when cravings struck. The preserves were a cherished reminder of home, crafted with care by her grandmother in the lunar agricultural domes of New Houston. However, with the latest resupply mission delayed due to the storm, Anders faced the looming prospect of rationing her remaining jars until the next shipment arrived—a prospect she found increasingly disquieting as the lunar night stretched on.
Anders scooped a dollop of peach preserves onto a lunar cracker, relishing the familiar taste amidst the sterile environment of the lunar base. As she nibbled thoughtfully, her gaze drifted to one of the holographic displays, her mind wandering to the vexing predicament of dwindling supplies. It was absurd, she mused, that in a high-tech facility like this, the simplest pleasures could be so elusive. Surely, the Lunar Operations Command could spare a thought for the morale of its personnel stationed in the remote outposts of Mare Tranquillitatis.
The base, designated Lunar Outpost Alpha-12, was a far cry from the bustling colonies of New Houston or Tycho City. Nestled amidst the desolate lunar landscape, it served as a vital outpost for monitoring lunar activity and conducting research on the Moon's geology. Yet, for Anders and her fellow crew members, it often felt like a desolate outpost at the edge of the world, isolated from the comforts of Earth and the luxuries of home.
As she pondered the absurdity of their situation, Anders couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration. Six months in cramped quarters with minimal contact with the outside world was taxing enough without the added stress of rationing supplies. What would they do when the preserves ran out? It was a question that lingered in the back of her mind, a reminder of the harsh realities of life on the lunar frontier.
Lieutenant Rachel Chen sealed the lunar grooming kit and stowed it in her utility belt. She had been on duty since the start of the lunar night cycle, her restlessness compounded by the recent communication from Mission Control. They had warned of an incoming lunar storm and emphasized the critical importance of maintaining vigilance over Lunar Outpost Alpha-12's vital systems. It was reassuring, in a way, to know that her efforts were recognized, even if acknowledgment from higher-ups was a rare occurrence in the military hierarchy.
As the designated communications officer for the outpost, Lieutenant Chen took her responsibilities seriously. Her tenure in the Lunar Operations Command had been marked by diligence and dedication, qualities that had earned her the rank of lieutenant and the trust of her superiors. She knew that her position was not one granted lightly, nor was it maintained without constant vigilance.
Despite the fatigue that gnawed at her after hours of monitoring the base's communications array, Lieutenant Chen took solace in knowing that she was fulfilling her duty to her country and her comrades. She may not have had the luxury of restful sleep in recent days, but she took pride in knowing that she was contributing to the success of the mission.
Lieutenant Rachel Chen exited her quarters and made her way through the labyrinthine passages of Lunar Outpost Alpha-12 toward the operations room. Corporal Sarah M. Anders was manning the console for the graveyard shift—both a blessing and a curse, in Lieutenant Chen's estimation. Anders was undoubtedly proficient in her duties, a dependable asset to the team. However, her predilection for lunar-grown peach preserves was a constant source of frustration; everything she touched seemed to bear the sticky residue of her favored delicacy.
"How's the watch, Anders?" Lieutenant Chen inquired, sidling up to the beverage dispenser. She deposited her grooming kit on the nearby counter and poured herself a steaming cup of lunar coffee, the rich aroma wafting through the air.
Anders glanced up from her console, offering a weary but determined smile. "All systems nominal, Lieutenant. Just keeping an eye on the lunar storms brewing to the south."
Lieutenant Chen nodded, her gaze drifting to the monitors displaying real-time data feeds from the base's environmental control systems and lunar terrain scanners. Despite the challenges of their remote assignment, she found solace in the camaraderie of her fellow crew members and the shared mission to safeguard humanity's foothold on the lunar frontier. "Coffee?" she offered, gesturing towards the nearby dispenser.
"Thank you, ma'am. Black," replied Corporal Anders, her attention returning to the data streams on her screens.
Lieutenant Chen poured a cup for Corporal Anders and herself before joining her at the console. "You're up early, Lieutenant," remarked Corporal Anders, noting Lieutenant Chen's presence at this early hour.
Lieutenant Chen nodded in acknowledgment. "Couldn't find a wink of sleep," she admitted, moving to the duty desk to review the message log. A faint snoring sound emanated from a nearby room, prompting Lieutenant Chen to investigate.
"Wilkinson," Corporal Anders remarked with a chuckle. "Never known anyone to snore quite like him."
"Everyone else still resting?" inquired Lieutenant Chen.
"Until six," confirmed Corporal Anders. "Myerson's on for the next shift."
Lieutenant Rachel Chen acknowledged the update with a nod of satisfaction before returning to the coffee dispenser to add a touch more sugar to her cup. Settling into the chair at the duty desk, she noticed a familiar sight—a week-old copy of America Weekly tucked away in the top drawer. The cover featured President Emily Chang and Senator David Rodriguez, their images framed by stylized lightning bolts, emblematic of their ongoing political rivalry. Politics, even on the lunar frontier, seemed to follow its relentless cycle.
With a resigned sigh, Lieutenant Chen flipped through the pages of the magazine, skimming over articles detailing the latest developments in lunar governance and international relations. The presidential election season was gearing up once again, with the first lunar primaries scheduled to commence in less than three months—a prospect that failed to elicit much enthusiasm from Lieutenant Chen. Turning to the sports section, she sought a brief respite from the weight of political intrigue and lunar duty.
Her attention was suddenly drawn away from the glossy pages of the news magazine as she noticed a sudden movement from the corner of her eye. Corporal Sarah Anders' chair emitted an unexpected squeak, prompting Chen to look up from her reading. A flashing light on the long-range-tracking radar console demanded her immediate attention.
"Lieutenant," Corporal Anders' voice remained calm but focused.
"What's happening?" Chen inquired, her tone reflecting the seriousness of the situation.
"We've got a blip, north quadrant, Tango-Charlie sector," Corporal Anders reported, her eyes fixed on the radar screen.
Lieutenant Chen rose from her seat at the duty desk, grabbing her grooming kit as she moved to stand behind Corporal Anders' chair. "What's the status?" she asked, scanning the data displayed on the screen.
Anders adjusted the scope, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I'm not sure yet."
"What's the range?"Chen pressed, leaning in closer to examine the readings.
"Approximately one hundred and seventy miles at one thousand-five. Speed...," Anders adjusted the settings, her fingers flying over the controls. "Two hundred and seventy knots. It appears to be an unidentified object," she concluded, meeting Lieutenant Chen's gaze with a look of concern. "And it's ahead of the storm front. Do we have any assets deployed?"
Chen shook her head, her expression grave. "Negative."
Anders's hands trembled slightly as she scanned the array of monitors before her. "Whoever it is, they're on the lunar surface," he reported, his voice tinged with unease.
"How many?" Chen inquired, her gaze fixed on the illuminated screens.
"Just one, Lieutenant," Anders confirmed, her tone tense. "We're only picking up tracks from a single lunar rover."
"Are you certain?" Chen pressed, her brow furrowing in concern.
"Yes, ma'am," Anders replied, her sticky fingers deftly navigating the control panel. She brought up a holographic display overlaying the lunar coordinates with a bright red blip. "It's an unidentified target," she added, pointing to the flashing message accompanied by data on speed, direction, altitude, and course. "Mechanical in nature. Moving too slow and too low for anything else."
Chen nodded in agreement, her mind racing through the implications. "You're right," she acknowledged, her fingers deftly retrieving a pistol from her utility belt.
"I'd better notify Lunar Command," Anders interjected hastily, her voice betraying a hint of fear. "USSPACECOM will need to—"
"I don't think so," Chen interrupted calmly, her eyes meeting Anders's with unwavering resolve. She had already affixed a silencer over the barrel of her automatic pistol as Anders turned to face her, realization dawning in her eyes.
"But, Lieu—"
The pistol barely moved in Lieutenant Chen's hand as she pulled the trigger. She had never used a silencer before, and the only immediate evidence that the weapon had fired was the quiet phhumpt from its muzzle and the maroonish-black hole the slug made in Corporal Anders' forehead.
Corporal Anders' head was snapped backward by the impact, and her body immediately lost all coordination, slipping out of the chair, knocking over a half-filled jar of lunar-grown peach preserves from the console, and falling to the floor with a hard thud. Lieutenant Chen stood over her for a few seconds, the weapon trained on the base of the skull, but there was no movement.
Lieutenant Chen then proceeded to the sleeping quarters, standing over each of the occupied cots in turn, firing once into her sleeping victims. When she returned to the ops room, the snoring had ceased. The blip on the screen was still blinking as she dragged Corporal Anders' body a few feet away from the console and took her place in the controller's chair. She stared at the screen as she made her call to Lunar Command.
"Hello, Alpha-12, what's up?" said a slightly bored voice on the line.
Chen checked her watch. It was exactly 0500 hours LT.
"Lieutenant Chen. We've got a malfunction in our environmental control systems, causing disruptions to our base operations," she responded calmly.
"So?"
"I'm requesting permission to shut down for a few minutes. We can fix it, but nobody wants to get near the damn thing while it's fritzing like this."
"Terrific."
Chen took a deep breath. "Okay?"
"Wait a minute." There was a muffled conversation at the other end, then: "Lieutenant Chen, this is Colonel Anderson. What's the matter over there?"
"Generator, sir. We're losing our primary power source. I can't switch to the backup without risking a complete system failure. We must shut down for a few minutes to initiate the crossover."
"Damn!"
"It won't take long, Colonel."
"How long?"
"Ten minutes. Fifteen at the outside."
"What's your Lunar Readiness Status?"
Chen watched the numbers change beside the blip. The lunar rover was already descending. In five minutes, no one would ever have known it was there. "Clear, Colonel. Everything's clear here. Just like always."
"All right, do it. But check in as soon as you're up. Got that?"
"Yes, sir."
"If any hostilities arise, I'm holding you responsible."
"Don't worry, sir," Lieutenant Chen said. "I'm in control here."374Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡArCz0w5D6x
and then Add to home screen.