Category: Narrative

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Narrative

A Quick Conference

“Reggie, we’ve got to step on that kid, hard.” Even over the phone, Ken Redmond’s voice had that gruff-Gus growl that brought back nostalgic memories. “I’ve seen this kind of shit again and again. He thinks the rules don’t apply to him.”

“He’s a Shep, Ken.” Reggie Waite didn’t like to belabor the obvious, but he could tell Ken was thinking in terms of the average difficult kid. “Punishing him will only make him focus on avoiding getting caught in the future.”

“And you’re just going to let him break rules and get away with it? What happens when someone gets hurt because of him?”

Reggie could see Ken’s point. The Moon wasn’t a safe place, could never be a safe place — but so were a lot of places on Earth. On the other hand, he was thinking like a Grissom, not a Shepard.

“Ken, I know he works for you down in Engineering. Has he ever broken any rules that have actual safety consequences? As opposed to administrative rules?”

“Goddammit, Reggie, it’s the principle of the thing.” Ken paused, took a deep breath, then started again. “You’re a military man. You understand why the military trains new recruits the way we do in boot camp. It’s not just the specific skills we’re trying to instill in them. It’s the habit of obedience, of attention to detail, of following procedure even when you don’t know why it’s important. That kid’s the very model of the barracks-room lawyer, and if we don’t step on him, hard, we’re going to have no end of trouble with him. And damn likely, half the other Sheps in this place.”

Yes, Ken was riled up. He’d completely forgotten he was talking to a clone of Alan Shepard right now.

But remarking upon that fact wasn’t going to be productive. “But he’s not a recruit at boot camp. Making him do busywork as punishment is just going to reinforce the problem instead of resolving it. And the real problem is that he’s not being challenged. Most of his work is so easy it just occupies his time, not his mind. I’d be ready to bet money that he does absolutely no studying in that stats class he’s taking right now. Just reads through the text, then plugs and chugs on whatever stats package Dr. Doorne’s got them using, and still gets A’s. And how much actual problem-solving is he doing in his work for you, and how much rote work?”

No, Ken didn’t like to have to admit that he’d decided to punish Sprue’s attitude issues by keeping him on very basic work, the stuff that wasn’t done by a robot only because it needed just a little more executive function than could be programmed into one. For most genesets it would have brought about the desired change in attitude, but a Shep would just see it as the boss having it out for him.

“We’re going to have to find something that actually makes him work hard, not just busy. Something that actually makes him have to stretch to meet the mark, instead of just mailing it in. Until then, he’s going to view the rules as a technical challenge instead of boundaries he needs to respect.”

“Reggie, you can’t reward this shit of his. He’s got to be punished.”

No, Ken wasn’t getting it. He was a top-notch engineer, and a great organizer, but he just didn’t get Sheps. “Ken, how about we just plain take him out of Engineering. If he likes playing hacker so much, maybe it’s time we move him to IT. Or if that doesn’t work, I’ll take him on myself.” Although that could be risky, since Sheps tend to set each other off.

Ken grumbled, but he agreed that his approach wasn’t working. Maybe it was time for some kind of interdisciplinary approach — give him work that bridged several different departments. Especially if they could get Dr. Doorne on board, since they might be able to involve whatever project she was having him do on the side.

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Narrative

An Unwelcome Surprise

Spruance Del Curtin was winding up his search when he heard voices in the front office of the radio station. For a moment he wondered if it was just some of the late-night people from Engineering walking past, but no, they’d definitely come in.

And from what he could overhear, they were talking about whatever was going on in Schirrasburg. Yes, that was definitely Autumn Belfontaine. He’d recognize her voice anywhere.

He glanced around the newsroom in search of somewhere to hide, then realized that it would only make him look even more suspicious. Better to just have something innocuous up on the monitor and pretend that he was just preparing for tomorrow’s air shift.

And then the overhead lights came on, catching him completely by surprise. He blinked, his cheeks warming with the embarrassment of being caught by surprise.

“Now this is a surprise.” Reginald Waite looked down at Sprue. “I hadn’t expected you to be putting in extra hours tonight.”

Whatever line he’d been planning to say went straight out of Sprue’s head. He probably could’ve fast-talked his way past anyone else, even Ken Redmond, but Waite knew exactly what buttons to push.

“Just doing some research.” Damn if that didn’t sound defensive.

“Would it have anything to do with your recent communications with Chandler Armitage?” Reggie leaned forward a little. “I’m hearing that you’ve been texting him quite a bit about some data you’ve been working on.”

That rat! Sprue had to fight down an upwelling of incandescent rage at the thought of being betrayed by a brother.

Except Chandler was a Navy officer, an Academy graduate — and thus would have a lot more in common with Reggie. Small wonder he’d decide that the big Shep should know that little brother was nosing around.

“Um, not exactly.” Technically true, since it wasn’t actually part of the data he’d been asking Chandler about, but he would’ve never overheard Dr. Doorne talking to her husband otherwise.

“But it’s still something you’re just a little too curious about.” Reggie’s lips curled upward in a smile that seemed to belong better on a shark. “Very well. Since you seem to be determined to get into matters above your pay grade, you’re going to be accepting the responsibility that comes with that knowledge. I’m officially adding you to this meeting, and we’ll determine how that will change your role here at Shepardsport Pirate Radio.”

Somehow trying to find out what the heck was going on no longer sounded like so much fun. No, it looked like a lot more work, and a lot less he could brag about at the dining commons to impress his buddies.

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Narrative

Good Night Moon

There was something really strange about reading the old childhood classic Good Night Moon to your children when you were living in a lunar settlement. But Brenda knew her kids got a kick out of the story of a dirtside kid determinedly dragging out the process of going to bed by saying good night to everything in the room. It was almost as fun as Marvin K Mooney, Will You Please Go Now, but less likely to get them wound up into fits of giggles.

Finally she had both children tucked into bed in their respective sleeping alcoves, favorite plushies in hand to comfort them. Now to rig her own bed for the night. She folded down the desk into a nightstand, then set her phone on it.

Better check to make sure she’d set the alarm. It wouldn’t do to oversleep and miss her air shift.

Having your phone chime while it was in your hand was always a little weird. Brenda nearly dropped it, although with the Moon’s lower gravity it wasn’t as likely to do damage as doing so on Earth.

Still, it was a bit surprising to get a text from Lou Corlin at this hour. He had the air shift right after her, so he didn’t usually stay up overly late.

Just heard from Toni Hargreaves. She’s thinking someone at Medlab might be able to get the geolocation metadata from Robbie’s phone if we can convince them that she’s in danger.

Brenda tried to figure out how that could work. Although she knew senior Medstaff could use their authority to access a lot of databases that were usually covered by privacy restrictions, they were typically medical information. Phone metadata seemed unlikely — unless one was trying to determine whether a particular person was within a disaster area.

Except the whole planet was a disaster area, from everything Brenda was hearing. Trying to argue on that basis that one person’s metadata should be accessed sounded a little shaky.

On the other hand, it was a thread of hope. I suppose it might work. What do you need to know?

Right now, whether you’ve heard anything else from her. We sure don’t want to go getting Medstaff involved when she’s actually safe at a friend’s place.

You’ve got a point. Let me double-check.

Brenda took a look through both her SMS and mail apps. No, that text seems to be the last one.

Then our next step is figuring out how to approach Medstaff so they don’t blow us off. You may want to take care of this one, since they’re a lot more likely to take you seriously.

Brenda could see Lou’s point. Although they weren’t that far apart chronologically, she was married and had two kids, while he was still single and living in bachelor quarters.

OK. But let’s think things through overnight. It’s been several days now, and a few more hours shouldn’t hurt. And we’re a lot more likely to get a negative response if we go in their looking rushed.

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Narrative

A New Lead

It was really too early to turn in for the night when Lou Corlin got back to the residential module. So he sat down in the lounge and got out his laptop. Some people might’ve played games or got on social media, but he decided to take a look at some of the upcoming materials for his current class. Study ahead a little and he wouldn’t be left scrambling if things got busy elsewhere.

And they could, especially at the radio station. DJ’s might not get as much extra work as the news team, but it wouldn’t be inconceivable for Autumn to pull them into the newsroom if something really major happened.

Lou had just opened his coursework when his phone chimed incoming text. He halfway expected it to be Autumn, or maybe someone else from the station. Instead, he saw the name “Hargreaves” and immediately thought it was Cather — until he looked closer and realized it was Toni.

What was she doing texting him directly? So far, she’d let her husband pass the word back and forth.

Unless he was busy with the situation over in Grissom City. He was the deputy chief of Safety and Security over there, focusing on the health and life safety side of things, while his boss dealt with the policing side of things.

In any case, Toni was asking him Can you talk? Realtime?

Sure. Go ahead and call.

Moments later the phone rang. He tapped accept and put his ear bug in. “Hello.”

“Lou, I just got an idea. If we can’t figure out any other way to find out where Brenda’s friend is, contact Medstaff. If you can convince them her home isn’t a safe place to be, they have some options that wouldn’t be open otherwise. And your Medlab’s still small enough that they can be a lot less formal about stuff–“

“But Dr. Thuc’s Vietnamese-American. I know she’s Catholic, but their culture’s still steeped in that whole Confucian tradition of filial piety.”

“And she’s a doctor, and therefore a mandatory reporter. When Cather was an EMT and a paramedic, he was always a mandatory reporter, so I know some stuff about that. In fact, everyone in Medlab who deals with patients should be a mandatory reporter, so you could talk with someone else.”

“That’s good to know. But before I get the big guns involved, I think I’d better touch base with Brenda, make sure she hasn’t heard anything new in the meantime. I’d hate to cause a huge ruckuss and it turns out she’s safe at a friend’s place, but Brenda just didn’t think to pass the word to me.”

“Good point. Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

A quick exchange of parting pleasantries, and they ended the conversation. Lou looked at his phone’s clock display. Should he text Brenda now, or wait until tomorrow?

SMS was asynchronous, and if she had her phone set on Do Not Disturb for the night, it shouldn’t even chime. So he could go ahead and send the text, and she could deal with it whenever. If things had reached the point of being an emergency, Brenda would’ve contacted him already.

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Narrative

An Unexpected Summons

Autumn Belfontaine had planned to head back to her apartment and turn in for the night when she got finished with her shift at the Testing Center. It had been an easy night, not surprising when one considered they were at the beginning of the current training cycle. Within a couple of weeks that would change, but this evening she’d been able to catch up on a lot of other responsibilities, including a refresher course she was taking on broadcast practices and procedures.

So she was more than a little surprised when her phone chimed incoming text and she found a message from Stephanie Roderick down in IT. We’ve got a problem. I think we should meet in the newsroom.

Unease tingled in Autumn’s nervous system. Why not down in IT? They had a perfectly adequate meeting room, and it was normal for a department head to host the meeting in her own area.

But now was not the time to ask questions. Those could wait until they were face to face. OK. Right now I’m still working at the Testing Center. My relief should be here in five minutes.

Good. We’ll meet you there.

Autumn considered that information — “we,” not “I,” which suggested this problem involved other people. Someone else in IT? Someone in another department? Was that why Steffi wanted the meeting held in the newsroom — because the radio station was neutral territory?

All of it would be answered in due time. Right now she needed to get things wound up so she could leave as soon as her relief showed up — and hope he wasn’t late.

Although lunar culture ran on the military attitude that early was on time, on time was late, and late was unacceptable, it didn’t always work like it was supposed to. People got held over in one obligation when they had another responsibility immediately afterward, creating a domino effect. Usually they’d text to allow the other person to make alternative arrangements, but there were times even that was impossible.

The clock was counting down the seconds when Ted burst in, looking harried for all he was trying to present a professional appearance. “Chem lab had a spill, and I had to stay over to clean up. I tried to get here as fast as I could, but it just took too long.”

Autumn recalled that he had managed to draw an unusually late chemistry class, which had created awkwardness before. She was going to have to talk to Deena and see if they could get him shifted to a different shift — and herself shifted to a different work responsibility, one that gave her greater flexibility when things like this came up.

Right now she needed to hand off the Testing Center, not that she even had anyone taking practice tests, let alone actual exams. But the formalities had to be completed before she headed off to the station to meet with Steffi and whoever else was involved in this problem.

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Narrative

Some Awkward Questions

Steffi Roderick was just getting ready for bed when she heard her phone’s incoming text chime. Curious, she picked it up and was surprised to see a note from Toni Hargreaves: Cather’s got a computer problem. Are you where you can talk?

What’s wrong?

One of his clone-brothers is worried about the safety of a young woman dirtside who was sent back home from college. Apparently she had some kind of breach with her parents and they weren’t on speaking terms, and he has reason to worry that home is not a good place for her to go right now.

Steffi was unsurprised that Toni would be willing to help someone in that kind of situation. She had some painful history, which had been exacerbated by the destruction of her home town when the Chinese government completely botched the deorbit of the Flying Junkyard.

What kind of help are you looking for?

He’s trying to locate her, find out whether she is actually at her folks’ place or she’s found some other place to stay. If her parents are as controlling as they sound like, it may not be safe for any of us up here to try to communicate with her. But he can’t get metadata from her phone without a warrant.

Steffi considered the problem. So you want some suggestions on what other ways we could determine whether she’s in a safe place, or if she’s stuck in a seriously dysfunctional family?

Especially ones that don’t require jumping through legal hoops. If she were from the LA Basin, Cather and I know a bunch of people who don’t have awkward ties and could contact her to make sure she’s OK. But she’s in the Houston area. I know you were at Johnson for several years before they sent you up here, so I was hoping you’d still be in contact with some of your old friends and neighbors dirtside.

Steffi hated to disappoint her old friend from her JPL days, but it had been over a decade since the Angry Astronaut Affair. As busy as she was with family and the IT department, there hadn’t been a lot of time to maintain friendships with people she’d never see again. The occasional note when someone hit a major life milestone, e-cards at various holidays, but that was about it.

It’s been a long time, so I don’t want to promise anything, but I’ll see what I can manage.

Just as she was winding up the conversation, the door opened. She looked up just as Reggie walked in, looking unutterably weary.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Reggie retrieved a slingback chair and sank into it, looking completely unmilitary. “They’re trying to keep it quiet, so don’t go spreading the news around, but Dr. Thuc just reported to me that they’ve got someone ill over at Schirrasburg. Right now there’s still a possibility that it’s just an ordinary bug, maybe a cold or a norovirus, but they’re concerned enough they’ve completely shut down their spaceport and quarantined the entire settlement. No one goes in or out until they’re sure they’re in the clear.”

A cold lump of dread formed in Steffi’s stomach. If the diablovirus had gotten up here to the Moon, it would’ve had to have passed through Luna Station. Which meant that everyone’s pilots would be exposed.

And trying to keep it quiet was like shutting the barn door after the horse was down the road, and the cattle and the pigs running after him. She knew several people here in Shepardsport who had family in Schirrasburg, who’d be in regular communication with them.

Maybe it was time to have a talk with Autumn Belfontaine, try to decide whether they should go ahead and break the news, or run some “don’t repeat gossip” PSA’s first.

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Narrative

Widening the Net

Cather Hargreaves sat hunched over his computer, typing in yet another request. Right now he wished he could have Toni helping him, but he was working in databases of sensitive information, and privacy regulations made it impossible for him to bring Toni in unless she were actually assigned to deal with a technical problem in access to it.

Even searching them without a work-related reason could be risky, since it could be construed as a breach of privacy. But he was fairly confident that, given the situation, he could justify it in the interest of this young woman’s safety. Already he’d heard some unsettling stories of the unintended consequences of sending everyone home when not all homes were safe havens. Of course he was working on third-hand information — he hadn’t actually talked to Brenda about her friend — but he had no reason to believe that Lou would deliberately exaggerate the risk level of this young woman’s situation in hope of motivating him.

Unlike some people I’ve known, who’d ratchet up the emotional content of their request because they thought it would get me to treat their lack of forethought as my emergency.

So far, he’d largely drawn blanks. He’d verified the locale in which this young woman’s phone was registered, but could not get into the databases that would give location metadata for calls and texts. Apparently that required a warrant issued by a judge, unless one could make the case that the person was in such immediate danger of life and limb that there was no time to go through the normal procedures.

Which I don’t know. Brenda’s afraid she could be in an emotional pressure-cooker that could drive her to self-harm, but we have no actual proof. Until I can get actual location metadata for where her phone is now, the only thing we have to go on is her parents’ past history of ordering her to dump a friend solely on the basis of that friend’s father being a clone, and one admittedly panicky e-mail. For all we know, she may have been able to arrange a safe place to stay, but that situation is not conducive to her being able to casually text or e-mail friends to reassure them of her safety.

Back in his San Bernadino days, he knew a couple of judges who’d tend to be sympathetic to intervention in family-law cases like this. But up here on the Moon, everyone was carefully screened, so you just didn’t have the sort of dysfunctional families that produced the cases that made you cringe just to think about them. So while there were a couple of judges, since human beings being human, they did from time to time need recourse to a court of law, neither of them were apt to see the facts Cather could produce as evidence this young woman could be in danger under her own parents’ roof. If anything, they’d probably see her as the problem, and make remarks about adolescent angst.

And I was really hoping to give Lou something solid, at least enough to tell him whether Brenda should go ahead and e-mail her friend, see if she needed some bucking up, or if any contact would merit extreme caution, perhaps even the mediation of someone who had no obvious connections with any clones.

It would’ve been so much easier if the young woman in question had been from somewhere in Southern California. He still had enough connections in the EMS community down there that he could’ve put out some discreet feelers, at least find out whether she was with her parents or elsewhere.

Instead, he was left trying to figure out what his next step would be. And while Toni was a world-class hacker, she was supposed to be a white-hat hacker — and right now he simply didn’t have enough solid information to put her on the case.

On the other hand, she could give her some pointers. He’d have to ask her tonight, see if there were any angles he’d overlooked.

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A Risky Venture

At this hour, the offices of Shepardsport Pirate Radio were quiet, and that was exactly the way Spruance Del Curtin liked it. He could have his pick of computers to use, and no one would ask him any awkward questions. Even if Spencer Dawes were to come out of the DJ booth for one or another reason, he was a clone of Alan Shepard’s Lunar Module Pilot, so lineage obligation would keep him from making an aggravation of himself.

Sprue briefly glanced at the receptionist’s desk, but decided against using it. If he did raise any red flags, it could rebound on Cindy Margrave, and she was family. Only she and the afternoon receptionist used that computer, so they would be far more likely to get called in for questioning, if not a disciplinary hearing.

He briefly glanced at the offices of the program director and sales director, but decided against using either of their computers. Although both of them did have assistants, neither of those assistants regularly did work on the computer.

On the other hand, the newsroom had several computers that were used by pretty much everyone on the news team. Heck, some of the DJ’s used those computers, especially if they were looking for filler between sets, or before a group of ads. So many people used those computers that no one would ever be able to trace a particular search to any given individual.

Sprue started to turn on the newsroom lights, then decided it was too likely to attract attention to himself. All he’d need would be Ken Redmond coming down here to check on something and wondering why lights were on in the newsroom. There was enough light from the hallway that he could find his way through, and computer screens were backlit.

According to NASA Data At Rest rules, all computers were supposed to wake to lock screens that required passwords to pass. In theory, each person who used a computer like these was supposed to have a separate password, so that all use could be tracked. Given how many people used them, Autumn had her own password, but all the reporters shared a single password — which was helpfully written on a sticky note adhered to the frame of the monitor.

Not that it wasn’t difficult to remember — the initials of Big Al’s famous first words on the lunar surface and the date. Sprue grinned as he typed it in, imagining what his ur-brother would think to know.

From there, it was just a matter of doing the necessary searches. He’d intended to just use the browser and do a search: Google, Yandex, maybe the Japanese or Israeli sites, although he didn’t know all that much Japanese or Hebrew. But as he looked for the browser icon, he realized one of the advantages of using a newsroom computer: he had access to all the news services, including NASA’s internal ones. From there, it was just a matter of getting on the appropriate one and seeing what he could find out about the situation at Schirrasburg.

He’d expected to find news on some kind of accident, maybe in a lab, or someone doing an EVA. Even after all these years, Schirrasburg was still very much a scientific research station, more like one of the Antarctic bases than Grissom City or Coopersville. Sprue had heard Drew Reinholt tell plenty of tales of his time there, right after he’d been exiled to the Moon for his role in the Angry Astronaut Affair.

Instead, Sprue found a report marked as being for medical personnel only, but for immediate dissemination to all medical facilities off Earth. When he tried to open it, a security notice came up requesting authentication, and warning that all attempts would be logged.

Maybe he’d better not try to guess what passwords Dr. Thuc used, especially since it would be unlikely in the extreme that she would use this computer when she had plenty in Medlab. Especially if it dealt with sensitive patient data, NASA would take any data breaches, successful or attempted, very seriously.

Would there be any way he could get into Medlab and take a whack at one of the computers up there? Sprue tried to think of anyone who worked in Medlab, even as support staff, that he might have enough of a connection to that he could convince them to take a peek.

Even if he couldn’t see the actual document, its very existence was significant. Something had happened over there at Schirrasburg, something significant enough that NASA would be alarmed enough to want their medical personnel everywhere to know about it.

No wonder Dr. Doorne was so upset. Even if Tanner was safe at the moment, that place was small enough that he might well have had some connection with whoever was affected.

And if it was the diablovirus, it meant that the diablovirus was now on the Moon — which raised the question of the mechanism of transmission.

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An Unexpected Response

After dropping off the computer for Jack to look over, Lou Corlin had figured he’d heard the last of it. After all, it was Autumn’s computer, not his, so if there were any issues that required user input, Jack would call her, not him.

So he’d figured he could shoot a quick message off to Toni Hargreaves, then get to work on his actual job down here. He certainly had plenty of stuff here to keep him busy.

When his phone chimed incoming text, he was a little surprised to hear back from Toni so quickly. He’d expected it to take her a while to do some research.

But when he pulled out his phone, he was surprised to see a message from her husband instead. We need to talk.

An oddly curt message from family. Lou recalled that Cather Hargreaves was Grissom City’s deputy chief of security. No, it wouldn’t be wise to blow him off. Even pleading work hours would be risky. What do you want to know?

I think it’s time for some analog telecom.

In other words, a phone call. No, there was no use pointing out that any modern phone was a handheld computer with a broadband modem and a VoIP app, which meant voice calling was still digital. That would just get him told off for being pedantic, or cheeky.

OK, do you want to call me, or for me to call you?

Moments after Lou sent that text, the phone rang right in his hand. He tapped the Accept button and stuck the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, Lou. I’m concerned about the text you sent Toni earlier today. Is this just a hypothetical question for a research project, or are you looking into things that could get people into a lot of trouble?”

No, Cather did not sound pleased. Maybe it was just as well they were on opposite sides of the Moon right now.

Lou recalled that Toni Hargreaves had been in some trouble back in the early years of this century, something about an experimental spacecraft Chaffee Associates had designed for McHenery Aerospace. Whatever it had been, it had been put under wraps at the highest levels, with a strong suggestion that if it didn’t remain secret, the Federal government could make life very unpleasant for certain people. And that some kind of slip had resulted in the Hargreaves family suddenly being transferred up here to the Moon a few years before the Expulsions.

Maybe he better just go ahead and come clean. “Actually, I was trying to find a way to avoid a whole bunch of trouble. You know Brenda Redmond, don’t you?”

“At least by name. She’s married to one of our pilots, a Shep if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah, Drew Reinholt. Anyway, an old friend of Brenda’s from high school contacted her a while back. Apparently there were some serious issues between this young woman and her parents, and she was very upset at being compelled to move out of her college dorm room and back home. Since then, Brenda hasn’t heard anything further, so she’s getting worried that things could be getting desperate for her friend. But at the same time, she’s worried that trying to contact this friend could make things even worse.”

Cather was silent for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. “That is a nasty little Schroedinger’s box she’s handed you. Damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.”

At least he didn’t sound angry now. Nothing to do but ask the question and hope it wouldn’t make things worse.

“So what can we do about it? If we could be sure that either she found a friend to stay with, or that she has some form of communication that her parents aren’t monitoring, I’d tell Brenda to go ahead and try to reconnect with her, buck her up if she needs it. But if she’s being spied on by parents who have an animus against clones, getting a message from Brenda might just make her situation even worse.”

“Let me see what I can find out. I do have some resources, although as chaotic as things are down there, I can’t make any promises. In the meantime, I need you to keep your nose clean and try not to ask any awkward questions. Understood?”

Lou promised that he would stay out of the matter. He did get the go-ahead to reassure Brenda that someone was working on the problem, so that she could stop worrying. Otherwise, there was nothing to do but wait.

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Narrative

New Alarms

Spruance Del Curtin didn’t like getting caught by surprise. And he certainly didn’t expect to get caught by surprise by his boss.

On reflection, he knew he’d made a mistake when he’d assumed that Dr. Doorne was talking with someone else in the Astronomy department, but the other person just wasn’t speaking loudly enough for him to hear. So he’d assumed that, as long as he could hear her talking, he didn’t have to worry about her popping in on him.

And then she came walking in, still talking on the phone. And no, things did not sound good.

Sprue realized he was looking up from his computer and very deliberately returned his gaze to the monitor. One of the the most important bits of lunar courtesy was maintaining the pretense that one was not hearing conversations that one was not a part of. Even if he could hear, even if he was listening, he mustn’t be obvious about it. And he was not to acknowledge what he’d heard in any way.

Yes, there were gossips — it was something that could never be completely eradicated from the human psyche — but they tended to be on the margins, not in the center of cliques like back on Earth. And the more successful ones tended to be more discrete about what information they passed around, and how they claimed to have come by it.

From the sound of what he had overheard, Dr. Doorne was talking to her husband. Tanner was a pilot, although Air Force rather than Navy like Sprue’s ur-brother. He was currently based over in Schirrasburg, although before the outbreak he’d flown in to Shepardsport pretty regularly to visit his family here.

From the sound of her halfalogue, something had gone bad over there. An accident? Some kind of a breach, but it could be a pressure breach or a security breach.

Realizing Dr. Doorne was looking his way, Sprue determinedly readdressed himself to his work. However, he resolved to do a little research of his own once he was on his own time again. He’d picked up a few tricks for getting information feeds from the other settlements, above and beyond what was publicly available.

In the meantime, he needed to look like a good and diligent worker. Give Dr. Doorne nothing to complain about, nothing to make her think he might be up to something.