The Problem with Shining the Moon

-=-(*)-=-

Three hours before, his systematic world had fit nicely into the windowpane; slightly smaller or larger if he moved forward or back, but there, steady and strong like always. Yes, there was his world just barely small enough to fit through a peephole the size of a basketball hoop. He had frowned a few seconds later. It fit better, and then after that it shrunk until it was a baseball through a basketball hoop. And now, three hours later, his systematic world was a marble that he could've plucked out of the sparking sky and stuck neatly in his pocket.

Dan blinked and shook his head a little to chase out the homesickness; it wasn't like they'd be gone for long. It was only that Uncle Fiske would be freaking out in the morning when they weren't in bed - like usual - and Nellie wouldn't bake her amazing pancakes - like usual - because she would be so worried for them. And Mr. McIntyre, of course. The poor old lawyer would probably be out of his head with concern later - unlike usual.

"... Yo, cuz! Amy's freaking out!"

Dan glanced over his shoulder at the prominent face of Jonah Wizard sticking out from a white spacesuit-a bit on the large side, but Sinead had said that wouldn't make a difference - with two crutches under either arm and grinned, sticking out a hand. Up, down, back bump, fish hand, side-slap, fist bump. "Why?"

Jonah shrugged, favoring his bad foot by making the shrug purely one-shouldered. "How'd I know? Anyway, she wants you. I think. Ian was looking for you, but the dude's a complete maniac so I stepped in and figured you'd be here-"

"This is the cargo hold," a British voice snapped. "And if you two are in there, I suggest you get out."

Dan stuck his tongue out at the silhouetted figure in the doorway. "... car-gau hould..."

Jonah covered his mouth to hide the snickers.

"I'm serious," Ian snarled. "Out. This is off limits. And if you're in there, Daniel, get out and start working with Natalie on cleaning the helmets."

"... geot oout..."

More snickers.

Ian scowled at the stairs leading down to the hold and the pitch-black floor where awful imitations of a probable Irish accent were taking place. "Fine." Stepping back, he slammed the door shut and locked it. That ought to keep them quiet for a while; at least till the girls started wondering where they were.

Spinning around on his heel - it was terribly hard to do that in a spacesuit on plastic floors - Ian started off down the hallway. There were handles sticking out at multiple opportunities for the times when zero-g was needed, but for now, Sinead had acknowledged the simplicity of gravity and had enacted it. Ian made a left, then a quick right down the still-white, narrower hallway at the front of the spaceship. At the end of the corridor was a sliding door; he opened it, shut it, and scanned the enormous paneled windows for anything other than the moon. Nothing. The moon, in fact, looked like nothing but dust and rock. Craters, maybe. No 'secret' seeable hideout. No neon signs: HELLO CAHILLS, WE ARE HERE ON THE MOON IN THE FOURTH CRATER ON THE LEFT, ASTROID AVE., VESPER COLONY.

"And so, why are we doing this again?"

Sinead spun around in her swivel, commander-like chair, hair flicked over her shoulder in a long, auburn ponytail with an exasperated look on her face. "Be-cause, Ian Kabra, we're saving the human race; if you can think that far ahead."

Amy glanced at her from her chair to the right. "I think that's more a matter of heroism than thinking. A kid of three can wish to be a hero, but he can't think that far ahead."

"But you have to be able to think to activate any heroism. There's a reason most heroes aren't three-year-olds." Sinead turned away from Ian and tapped her fingers impatiently on rim of the enormous control panel. "Speaking of which, we reached Fiske."

"What'd he say?"

Amy stuck a bookmark in her book-Ian craned his neck a little to see what she was reading; The Complete Study of the Moon: 1200 B.C. to Present, Volume Two-and glanced at Sinead. "Well... he was... encouraging-"

"He was pissed, Amy," Sinead snapped. She whirled around in her Commander Chair to face Ian again with a dry look. "He was pissed."

"Why don't we summarize this mission with the fact that everybody who knows us and those that don't, are, or are going to be pissed at us. It's rather a fact of life. To be honest, I'm surprised Father hasn't sent up another shuttle to chase us."

Comandress rolled her eyes. "More like steal it back and leave us to die floating in the atmosphere. Anyway, granted with the fact nobody is happy we're up here and eighteen to fourteen year olds are attempting a blow-up-the-Vespers'-stronghold-on-the-moon mission, I think we've done well. Our trajectory is straight to the place Fiske mentioned they might be with calculations for the rotation of the moon; we have the buggy to explore, should we need to go farther. And honestly-" she examined her fingernails for no reason "-algebra is awesome."

Amy forced a smile down and she opened her mouth to speak as the door slid open. Hamilton Holt's massive frame filled the doorway, a tiny burrito clutched in his hand. He sauntered up to Ian and gave him a gentle pat on the back. "Dude, this snack bar is AmAzing!"

Ian crumpled like a starched shirt collar and stumbled past Sinead to land windshield-bug-like on the control panel. Turning his neck a bit, he straightened up and ironed out the wrinkles in his spacesuit with his palms.

"Sorry man, didn't mean to do it that hard."

"No hard feelings." Yeah, riiight. Ian scrounged around for whatever shreds of dignity he had left. "Anyway, Natalie should be taking care of the helmets, have you-"

He stopped at the sound of quickly clicking keys. Whirling around, both boys watched Sinead hunched over the panels, fingers moving so fast over a touch-screen they were a blur. "The plant part of the shuttle," she finally managed, straightening up and jostling the chair so it moved to the right-over to another panel where she continued clicking. Amy stood up and hurried over. "Our oxygen. You made it detach."

Ian looked out the window. Sure enough, there was an object floating off into space. He whirled around to face Hamilton, eyes flashing. "Well that's just bloody great! If it wasn't for your pea-sized hunk of ham that you call a brain, and those porker-bulk, grape-colored-"

"Who are you calling names?" Sinead snapped. She teetered perilously on the edge of her chair. "You were the one that slammed into the panel!"

"He shoved me!"

"I didn't even touch you!"

"Touch me?! You hit me!"

"Hitting is a verb, touching is a verb! They're different! Even Ted could see that! Specify!"

Amy pursed her lips, somewhat in the verge of sitting down, but not wanting to. She glanced at the three of them. "Look guys-"

"Specify what?! Everyone saw it!"

"Saw me congratulate him on his amazing burritos?"

"Pointer, this isn't 'mine'. We stole it. Private property of Lucians."

Amy clenched her teeth. "Ian!"

"Woohoo," Hamilton waved his arms above his head. "Private property. So they have to pay for whatever we break anyway."

"We are in space, dumbbells! The term 'private property' means everything up here. And do you think there are random space stations where you can buy a random conservatory that will randomly fit with a customized spacecraft of which there are only five in the world?! Even if you X-ed out the fact that they don't sell conservatories in space, the odds of the matter would still be about 500 million to one!"

Amy decided to stand. "Sinead!"

"So we're screwed?"

"Basically."

"And it's all your fault! If you hadn't waltzed-"

"I didn't 'waltz'! I don't know how to waltz, and I don't care to learn!"

"There! There! Right there! That proves exactly what I'm talking about! A hunk of baloney inside a meat locker!"

"IFYOUWANTTOTALKABOUTTHAT, YOU CAN TALK ABOUT IT OUTSIDE WITH A BROKEN HELMET!"

"EVERYBODY, LISTEN TO ME!" Amy screamed. It echoed around the room for five seconds, giving everyone a long enough time to turn and look at her before they throttled each other. There was a moment before she realized she had her hands up in the universal 'calm down' motion. "Please," she said. "It's better quiet in here. And anyway, isn't there a stored amount of oxygen? There ought to be; you don't go into space without one."

Ian pursed his lips as if unsure whether to continue lathering Hamilton with the worst insults he could think of or answer her question. "Seven days, I think."

"Three," Sinead corrected. She sat down primly in her commandress chair as if the fight had never happened and she was once again ruler of her universe. Spinning around, the computer keys started clicking and a whirring from deep in the shuttle resounded in the room.

Ian raised an eyebrow. "There should be seven."

"Seven for three," she glanced at Amy who'd sat down and taken out her book although she was looking over the pages. "Three for seven; probably less. And that's not even including filling up our space suit supplies; that'll probably be half a day right there. I told you there were too many people on board." Bending over the control panel, she started typing again, fingers blurred.

Hamilton finished his burrito and crossed his arms. "We could shoot Dan and Natalie off in the escape-bot."

Everyone stared at him. And riiiight. That wasn't going to work.

Sinead looked up. "Here's an option. We don't have to do this. There's enough air if we use the gravitational pull of the moon to rocket us back to earth; Apollo 13-style. You know, Amy."

"They had the same problem," she pointed out with a wry smile.

"That's no laughing matter."

All three of them looked at her. And Amy felt herself clamming up like she always did. She had no knowledge of space aside from what she'd been reading; no knowledge of the moon, its orbits, the earth's pattern. They had nothing to go on except a few vague hints of Vesper activity from Tomas workers at NASA and still they were here; 150,000 miles from home without any grownups or base to speak of to help. Even Apollo 13 had had mission control. Oh right. They had her. And Amy Cahill was supposed to be even better than mission control.

Amy glanced out the windows. They were big and curved, like the windshield of a giant, rocket-propelled car without any wheels to speak of. The moon had gotten larger. Or - no - they were getting closer. Millions of tiny stars dotted the heavens around the pale grey sphere, and in comparison, the shuttle felt very very small.

"Ian," Amy finally managed. "Why don't you grab Natalie? Hamilton, find Dan and Jonah, wherever they are. Sinead and I will wait for you in the counsil room; brief them while you're walking, will you? We don't have a minute to waste-literally."

The two boys glanced at each other, shrugged slightly and the door slid shut after them.

-=-(*)-=-

"I call all the blue ones!" Hamilton's voice boomed around the small council room, which contained a set number of seven plastic chairs and one very flimsy, very plastic table with a neat jar of jellybeans poised as centerpiece on top.

Dan squeezed in behind-literally-with a little popping noise as he weaseled free of standing-Hamilton and the door. "I call licorice."

For a second, Amy glimpsed Jonah's face peek around Hamilton's bulk as if going to do the same thing Dan did, then Hamilton stepped forward and glanced behind him. Stepping through the doorway, Jonah glanced rather appreciatively at his crutches before pulling up a chair to the right of Sinead.

"... but I hate cherry, so I won't eat it. And every flavor other than strawberry is disgusting, except watermelon if it's red. So if the watermelon's red, I'll have the watermelon and strawberry ones. Oh. But the strawberry can't be pink. Pink turns your tongue a nasty color." Dan plopped down in the chair next to Jonah and yawned the largest fake yawn ever as Natalie walked in. Sniffing politely, she sat down across from him with a prim air and Dan slouched lower in his seat, effectively radiating his boredom.

Amy shook her head and watched as Ian sat next to his sister, leaving an empty space for Hamilton to her left. "Are you sitting down?"

He shrugged, leaning back against the doorframe. "Not unless you mind me here."

"That's fine. Anything-" Amy glanced at Dan's jelly bean-reaching hand. "No, Dan. Anything anyone would like to say before this starts?"

Exchanged glances around the table. Consecutive shaking heads.

"Good. In that case, I suppose everyone was filled in on the activities of the hour; right now it isn't life-threatening, or it may not seem that way, but-"

"Ooh! Ooh! Pick me! Pick me!" Dan waved his hand wildly in the air, half standing, half lying on the table in his excitement. "Pleeeeeease- pleasepleasepleaseplease-"

"Daniel takes the floor," Sinead snapped quickly before Amy could tell him to shut up.

"It's Dan, and yeahthanks 'cause I was going to anyway if nobody called on me; so this is basically what's going on-" he suddenly flopped onto the table clutching his throat. "H-h-hhhheeelp meee, I can'tIcan'tbreeeathe-" And with a very dramatic last gasp, he slid off the table and onto the floor. 'Dead'.

Amy lifted a hand to massage her temples and counted to three under her breath. "Other than- other than Dan's demonstration, do we understand?" Everyone nodded, except Natalie who nodded and looked under the table to see if Dan was alright. He was dead, except for a twitch in his left shoulder. "Are there any suggestions?"

For a minute, nobody answered. They fidgeted and looked uncomfortably at each other or the jellybeans in the center of the table. Sinead finally huffed out a breath and spoke. "We could still turn back."

"But," Amy frowned, realizing everyone was now looking at her. "We still have supplies; and this is our mission. We all dedicated ourselves to this. It wouldn't be right to go back without something, do you think?"

The question hung in the air and they all mulled it over, even Dan, who was climbing back into his chair with a serious expression on his face for once.

"If every option has been exhausted, it might be too late," Sinead finally snapped. She turned to look at all the others, eyes flashing into each of their faces to get her point across. "It takes four days to get to the moon and back. We only have enough air for three. If we go back, we need to do it now. We have enough air to round the moon and double back on our steps."

It was a challenge, and it was heavier than the question. Everyone looked at Amy again. And then Dan snorted softly, breaking the tension. "They aren't steps, it's called a flight plan."

"There's Fiske," Hamilton suggested, making everyone look at him. "We can just ask and get more."

"We're a gazillion miles away from earth," Ian snapped. "We can't refill our supply from here unless an orbiting satellite would do it for us. I checked though when we were coming from the closets. There are only four, and they're too far away. Besides, we're not authorized by the government. They won't refill an unauthorized spacecraft. Not even with Lucian influence." He shot a glare at Hamilton as if it was personally his fault for the government's incompetence.

Amy sighed and sat down. "Good point. Open floor." Only nobody stood up; apparently they were out of ideas as well.

And Dan stood.

"Why don't we ask the Vespers?"

Everyone stared at him and they spoke in one voice: "Do what?!"

"Ask the Vespers; we're close enough, right? I mean, we've got to be close enough."

Sinead pursed her lips and everyone fell silent for her jurisdiction. "It's close enough-" she finally said. "-more than close enough, actually. But it's too risky."

"But that's it!" Amy slammed an old book on the table and it gave a huge puff of dust. Sinead sneezed and everyone else leaned away. "That's what we have to do! We have to ask the Vespers!"

There were more stares.

"We can't-" Jonah frowned and looked at the table. "We can't do that. Unless someone here wants to commit suicide. I was thinking more a- a gangsta mission, ya know?"

"But can't you see?" Amy glanced around at the blank faces around her and decided to change tactics. She flipped open the book with another puff of dust but waved it impatiently away and searched through the fraying pages for a certain section, or page. She stopped after a moment and looked up, eyes alight. "Alright, so the Vesper founder, was Gideon Cahill's sister."

"He's got my undying sympathy," Dan muttered. Hamilton heard him and snickered. They met each other's gaze and grinned.

Amy ignored them. "Her name was Valerie-"

"She sent Valentines, ate vegetables, and had a very variable temper." Hamilton snickered again.

Amy glared at them. "I've got a plan for us to get out... alive. Would you like to hear it?"

"Oh yes, please." Dan nodded eagerly at her and flipped an imaginary switch in the air. "Lecture alert-on."

She blinked once - twice and her eyes narrowed into malicious little slits. Dan gulped and sank down into his chair with an apologetic look on his face. Amy lost the angry expression and reverted back to her lecturees. "See, her name was Valerie and she was very pious. That's probably where the Vesper part of it comes in. But when Gideon started his work and married, Valerie grew jealous."

"So?" Dan snorted and leaned forward, thrusting his elbows on the table. "All Cahills get jealous at one point or another; it was 500 years ago. That's the difference."

"Five hundred years ago is all the difference, Dan! She and her children tried to get Gideon's serum again and again, but they failed; so the went on to create the Vespers line."

He yawned. "Nice story, but parallel to the very important fact that it's COMPLETELY UNIMPORTANT TO MY IDEA. And anyway, I was thinking more along the creep-in, steal-air, avoid-Vespers, go-home scenario... What made you go into this lecture? It's boring."

"Because it is your idea, nit-wit!" Amy snapped. "Fiske wants us all to work together, right?!" There were condescending shrugs from around the table. "I'm not saying that the Vespers are close family, but they are family; just as much as we are right now. Her name was Valerie Cahill before she married. Besides, doesn't that give them a reason to help us?"

The shrugs were replaced by wide-eyed stares.

"You're seriously not going to try that, Amy," Sinead breathed. "It's- it's impossible. They hate us." The word came out in a broken whisper but it echoed around the silent room, bouncing off the walls until it was lodged firmly in their minds. The girl - she really wasn't a young woman, not now - swallowed, a light sheen of sweat illuminated on her forehead. "We don't even know where they are; the heat test never came out positive."

Amy waited. When Grace was going to say something important, she always waited. It was supposedly an old trick of leadership, and the old woman had used it to its full purpose. Amy clenched her hand to stop it from wandering up to touch the jade medallion; it wasn't supposed to be there as it posed a safety risk under the spacesuit. "Fiske told us they're there, and he wouldn't let us down."

The whisper bounced around the walls, holding just as much power as Sinead's plea; perhaps more so. "It has a risk, but doesn't everything have a risk?" Amy leaned forward, palms flat on the table and she looked at everyone. "Isn't a little risk better than tucking our tails between our legs and running home to be cowards because we thought we could, and we didn't even try?"

More silence.

Dan slumped lower in his chair and pursed his lips. Amy caught his eye. Well?

Is responsibility that stupid feeling you get when you're saying I should put down my ninja swords? 'Cause that lecture just made me feel responsible, and it's really stupid.

Amy fingered the book and decided it was a bit on the large side to bash Dan's head in; even if it needed serious bashing. "Ian, what do you think?"

As if on cue, Ian's eyes flickered over the people in the room, from Hamilton to Amy and when that was done, he let out a quiet breath. He stood and pushed back his chair. "I say we go. It is an option, and they are family - if they recognize the word. And if we can kill two birds with one stone - two pints for the price of one - however you Americans say it, it's easier, isn't it?"

"I'm in." Everyone glanced at Hamilton leaning leisurely against the wall. He shrugged. "Duh. It's kinda a no-brainer. Don't go all political, will you?"

Sinead rolled her eyes and didn't stand. "I think you've all gone and taken hallucinogens but Ned would do it, and for once, Hammer's got a point."

Jonah stood up, wincing a bit. Amy caught his gaze and guessed the pain medication was wearing off by his unusual silence throughout the meeting. Perhaps it had something to do with the weightlessness too; it wasn't often a broken-legged astronaut went into space. "I'm... not in top-dawg shape right now," Jonah laughed a little. "But cool isn't how you look, it's how you act, right, Homie?"

Dan held out his hand and they started the complicated up, down, back bump, fish hand, side-slap, fist bump maneuvers of the best-buddy hand shake. "Yeah- I'm in. I just want to know how we're going to make friends with him, because, I don't know; they're gonna be all: 'OMG MUST KILL' And we're all the Martians coming in peace-ish. Are we gonna make them peanut-banana sandwiches? Or- wait, I know! Amy can put them to sleep with boring facts about Russia! Perfect strategy!"

Amy snapped the enormous book shut, making Sinead hurriedly turn her face aside. "Dan!"

"Yeah... well, it was only a suggestion."

There was a long second of eye-rolling and muffled snorts until the attention turned to Natalie, the undecided one. She leaned forward in the chair, gripped the armrests tightly and looked around the room as if she couldn't possibly be left to decide. For half a second she glanced at her standing brother who was watching her and debated for another half second if she was to sit or stand; if she sat, she'd have to say something, and so she stood. She looked quite pretty and out of place with her silky hair stark on the white suit; contradictory to herself, as if she wanted to stand but was too nervous. Only Kabras didn't get nervous.

Everyone waited and she realized with a quick tremor she was supposed to say something. "I'll- I'll do it."

Amy closed her eyes and let out a quick breath to keep down a rising smile. Straightening up, she glanced around the room again in an attempt to look as professional as possible. "Thank you. The meeting's ov-"

"ALLL MIIINEE!" Dan screamed. There was a blur that swept over the table, grabbed the centerpiece of jellybeans and suddenly there was a plastic bag flying through the air Hamilton caught and then Hamilton was gone, Dan with him and Jonah was hopping out of the room as fast as his crutches were carrying him.

Natalie scowled and slammed her fist on the table. "Dang it, I wanted one!"

-=-(*)-=-

Yes, I have read Vespers Rising; I know the whole Damien/Gideon falling-out touchy subject, but for one, this story would/will be much more complicated without the storyline I had planned, and I really don't feel like reconstructing the story as well as rewriting it. :P Call me lazy, but hey; at least the writing has improved a tiny bit. Eh? Eh?

For anyone reading this story for the first time, this is a reconstruction of an earlier story I wrote. It might've been original, but it wasn't very good and so I am now rewriting it the best of my present ability. It takes place after the tenth book. If you like original stories, you might like this one; if you want interesting, touchy romance, you might like it, but if you're the Ian/Amy fangirl and want fangirl mushiness in every chapter and Ian/Amy to instantly love each other, this is not the story for you. :) I thought I might iron that wrinkle out now.

Anyway, now you see where 'I'm so excited I'm going to do this really fast and all you guys will love me 'cause it's going to be so much better' gets me. :P Here it is; a bazillion hours after the due date. I can blame it on the fact I've had writer's block, I'm exhausted and have been getting up reaaally early for the past few weeks, but those are excuses. The really ironic thing is that I wrote two thirds of it tonight while I was bored and- and I'll shut up now. :)