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LunaLand

“Welcome to LunaLand,” the synthesised automated voice began, announcing to the complex the start of a new day. “The finest spaceport on the finest moon in all the galaxy—” an old earth Jazz song softly played beneath her words—“Why not take a tour of the South Pole-Aitken Basin in which the complex is situated? For a small fee of one hundred centa-dollars, the Johannes Corporation will let you play among the stars.”

“Someone shut that thing off,” Captain James Mathers barked. He rubbed his aching temples, the sickly sweet voice irritated his already troubled mind.

“We can’t sir, the programme is so deeply encoded into the station’s malware that to shut it off might have catastrophic consequences,” came the reply from, Sinead O’Hara, the First Engineering Officer, there were purple rims around the Irish woman’s eyes.

“If moonwalking doesn’t tickle your fancy then you could instead spend an evening in one of the station’s many recreation facilities on the Apollo decks. With over five hundred options to choose from we’re sure you’ll find something to your taste,” continued the voice, there was a hint of static. It had been months since the program had been updated and so the audio had slowly begun to deteriorate, just like everything else on LunaLand. Mathers scoffed at the reference to the Apollo Deck, a bitter sweet smile on his chapped lips. It had fallen to one of the rebel factions nearly three months ago. Mathers didn’t remember which faction it was but the casualty lists of the many assaults to retake it were seared in his mind.

The weary captain stood from his chair and approached one of the observation windows which lined the walls of the circular control station. From this room he could look upon the entire facility in all its wretched glory. It was supposed to be a representation of everything that was great in humanity. Culture, Science, Food, all of the best as dictated by the fattened elite would be present within these air tight walls. Flashes of light erupted and quickly dissipated across the facility as various rebel forces battled for control, setting off explosions which were instantly put out by the vacuum of space. That was the beautiful thing about space, like the deep oceans which enamoured sailors for centuries before Mathers, it cared not for affiliation or how noble anyone believed their cause to be. If it claimed someone then that was it.

A red light flashed on the control desk of the Lieutenant next to him, Olivia Furness, and a screen with corresponding text opened up in front of her. She hadn’t showered in weeks and her once famously luscious golden hair was falling out from stress. Mathers figured that he didn’t look much better.

“Sir. Decks 27 and 38 have fallen, we’ve lost communication with all personnel stationed there,” Furness croaked, looking up at Mathers with bloodshot, terrified eyes. Perspiration dripped from her face onto the screen.

Mathers eyed her with a sad, pitying expression and returned to his chair. “Bring up a visual of combat zones within the station.” Around his seat, a holographic projection of the station unfurled itself, chaos in miniature. In red were areas controlled by rebel forces and in blue were those still broadly under Mathers’ command. The majority of the map was red, Mathers bit hard on his knuckle. If only he had some real soldiers. The United Galactic Government had refused his requests for reinforcements. They didn’t want to give the rebels legitimacy by sending the UGG navy. That left him with station security detail as his army. Armed only with pistols and minimal training, it was no wonder the station was falling.

The worst part was that a big part of him agreed with the rebels. What did the greedy bastards think would happen when they built the world’s biggest country club and shove the people needed to keep it running into dingy accommodation you wouldn’t keep an animal in. It was only natural that they would soon get fed up with being trodden upon.

Mathers scratched his beard as he assessed the tactical situation. This was the only way he could distract himself from his moral dilemma, by viewing the whole situation from the top down and forcing him to strategize as if he were playing a game. The only problem was that the game pieces were twenty and a half million human lives that had been placed under his protection. There was no way he could see of winning this battle.

A notification came on his retinal HUD with a priority one urgency. Mathers sighed and twitched his left index finger to see what was so urgent. Up flashed a message from the Government headquarters ordering him to take whatever means necessary to retake LunaLand. So they were finally sick of the stream of bad news. If the station were to fall, the embarrassment would be too much and there was an election coming up so they couldn’t afford to lose the voters.

“Sir, we have three squads on deck 26 ready to counter-attack shall I give the order?” Sergeant William Hill, the head of LunaLand security asked, a maniacal, eager grin stretched on his face. His eyes gave away the fact that he was absolutely terrified. He had prided himself on his ability to keep the peace on the station. That facet which had made the basis for his sense of self had been torn away the moment the revolutions started.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr Hill. My orders still stand, the security forces are only to fire in self-defence. I still have a duty of care to the people on this station, whether they want to rebel or not. We must prevent any more ground from being taken.”

Lieutenant Furness spun on her chair to speak to Mathers. “Sir, the rebel forces have taken the detention centre, executions are rampant.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Hill continued, twitching at Furness’s revelation and struggling to hold himself back. Mathers used to have that kind of passion, whatever happened to that man. “My men are stretched thin, every day our supplies dwindle. It’s too much strain. We need to attack now or the station will be lost.”

Mathers pursed his lips. “I understand that you’re in a difficult position Sergeant Hill.” Mathers eyed the emergency protocol screen built into his command chair, covered by a sheet of glass, the temptation to remove it was insatiable. One button and he could get rid of all his problems. But for such a cost, he wondered if it would be worth it. “Do the best you can.”

Hill struggled to suppress his protests. An unwavering sense of respect for the command chain was in a pitched battle with his lust to take the fight back to the rebels. Mathers could see it in his expression, he wondered who would win. The sergeant stormed from the bridge in frustration, his open jacket swaying like a loose ship’s sail.

Captain Mathers sighed and put his face in his hands, allowing his fatigue to wash over him, when he took his hands away they were full of greying hair. Only thirty-seven and he felt as if he was ready for retirement. In the start, becoming Captain of such a huge operation at such a young age seemed a great honour. Mathers cursed his naivety.

“Sir, what should we do about the rebel gains?” First Officer Radu Acharya asked.

Mathers thought, his erect finger pressed over his tightly pursed lips. With an expression of great pain Mathers came to his decision, a decision he knew would haunt him. “Order all security forces to retreat to the interior ring and hold it in lockdown. Get as many civilians within the ring as you can, give them twenty four hours and alert me when this has run out,” Mathers replied. He stood up and stretched his spine which ached like that of an old man. “The bridge is yours Acharya, I will be in my quarters.”

“Yes Sir,” Radu replied, “You heard the captain, Officer Dunbar. Relay the command.”

Captain Mathers strode out of the command station and to his quarters. He doubted that he would sleep but he was terrified of doing what he was about to do without trying. He needed to be sure that this was the right choice. In any case he would have time to collect his thoughts.

The hours passed and Mathers returned to the command station. His navy blue uniform was freshly starched and his face was clean shaven. He knew that whatever happened this would mean the end of his post and his career. He wasn’t about to go out looking like a tramp. There was nothing he could do about his pallid complexion or the purple rims around his eyes.

The captain’s impeccable condition unnerved the crew in the command station. Like a copy made with too perfect an eye, he slipped too far into the uncanny. Radu approached him with cautious steps, it seemed he expected something to burst from Mathers and attack him. “Welcome to the bridge, Captain.”

Mathers gave a rueful smiled and glanced at Radu. In that smile, there came the imperfection that the crew were searching for, a fault in his armour to show them that he was indeed still human. “Thank you. Have my orders been fulfilled?”

“Yes sir.”

“And how many civilians have we managed to get inside?”

“Nearly three hundred thousand, sir.”

Mathers pursed his lips anguish in his tear filled eyes. “So few?” A few more seconds, he would give them a few more seconds to evacuate, he owed these people that much. Returning to the observation window he looked out again on the chaotic firework show of revolution. One explosion was closer than any before had been, so close that Mathers’ breath hitched. For the first time he had to watch as the people inside that area of the station were pulled into the vacuum of space. Their coats and limbs frozen in place as the air was pulled from their lungs. Mathers wondered if they had been rebels or loyalists or simply innocents caught in the crossfire. Now they were all corpses pirouetting into the great unknown, unlikely to receive burial or monument.

Mathers looked down at Lieutenant Furness. “Do you have family to return home to Lieutenant?”

The Lieutenant looked up, surprised. “Yes, sir. My family live on Hellas.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Very much sir,” Furness said with an ardent expression.

Mathers nodded with a tight lipped, bittersweet smile. He was holding back great sadness. “You will see them soon.”

Furness furrowed her eyebrows. “Yes sir.”

“Would you set up emergency ventilation protocol twelve for me please?”

“Sir?” A horror seeped into the young Lieutenant’s face.

“I need it connected to my command chair.”

“Protocol twelve? Is that necessary, sir?”

Mathers frowned and looked out at the bodies again. They were already slipping out of view, propelled by latent force from the explosion and their rough ejection from the airlocked section and into death. “It is the only way this will end.”

“Yes sir.”

Returning to his command chair, Mathers reached into his inside breast pocket and drew a small personal data stick and handed it to Radu. “Make sure that Harry gets this. It’ll explain everything.”

Radu took the stick and nodded his ascent before Mathers dismissed him. Bridging his fingers in front of his face, Mathers stared into nothing. He hoped that Harry could understand him. He didn’t dare hope for forgiveness. His only regret was that he would never again look upon those smiling brown eyes and feel those strong arms around him. His hand clenched around the arm rest of his chair as the other reached down and moved the protective glass from the emergency protocols control board. This was what he had to do but it didn’t make it any easier. Fuck the government. Fuck Lunaland. All he wanted was to be good. To do good. Even that is too much. From his tunic pocket, he drew a key and slipped it into the small hole at the bottom of the panel. The lights went out and were replaced by the red glow of the emergency lights, in that moment the cacophonous sound of gunfire which had echoed through the halls of the station went into a confused silence.

“Emergency Mode Activated,” crooned the computer’s voice. It was a different one from the light hearted yet weary voice of the commercial AI. This one was deeper, colder and with a masculine edge befitting its dark purposes. This voice was only to be heard in the most dire of circumstances.

Mathers glanced toward Lieutenant Furness who gave a slight nod. With a sigh he spoke in a croaky but firm voice which struggled to hold back the sobs which threatened to break out of him. “Emergency Ventilation Protocol Twelve, Computer.”

“Command clearance Captain James Mathers recognised. Emergency Ventilation Protocol Twelve prepared, awaiting activation.”

His left hand clung tight to the arm of the command chair, indenting the thin metal it was made of. The right twisted the key as Mathers let out an anguished sob.

All over the station, airlocks began to slowly open and the entire population of the station outside of the cordoned off inner circle were sucked into the inky black cosmos. How easily the flames of rebellion were snuffed out. Yet Mathers wondered how soon it would be before a new rebellion took up the mantle carrying the torch of liberty just a little further.

A solemn silence filled the command bridge. The crew stared at Mathers with a mixture of gratitude and resentment. Gratitude for ending their long post and resentment for what it had cost. Trembling, Mathers spoke to Radu without looking up from the floor. “First Officer, the bridge is yours. Make preparations for the evacuation.”

“Yes sir,” Radu said staring at Mathers as if he were a ghost.

Mathers stood up and walked over to Radu to pat him on the shoulder. He didn’t meet his First Officeer’s gaze once, he was too ashamed. Out he stepped from the command bridge and as Radu took the seat and prepared to give his first order the sound of a single gunshot echoed throughout the halls. No one had checked to see if the Captain was armed. No one had thought to. A moment of silence to give respect to the dead passed.

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