October 7th, 1984

Unregistered Children of the Moon compound

Oceanus Procellarum, Luna

The asteroid boom of the '70s had hit Luna hard. Magnetic accelerators, actual concentrated ore bodies, and vast demand had kept the cities going, but smaller mining outposts and private settlements reliant on ALOX lifters had gone bust in alarming numbers.

The localized recessions had not quite been cushioned by the Powersat Program and the rapid growth of the overall space economy.

Add that to a jobs market flooded with many of the Joint Government's brightest (thanks to an ongoing colonization effort) and you had a recipe for discontent, especially among second-generation Lunans of military age.

Discontent manifested itself in the ways it had since the Shang dynasty overthrew the Xia in 1600 BC. First calls for change, politicking, and "peaceful" protests. After that, terrorism, assassinations, and rioting. And finally, open revolt, revolution, and civil wars which killed up to two-thirds of the population.

The second and third parts had yet to happen here, and it was the job of the Unified Security Service (USS) to make sure that they did not occur.

The job was especially critical on Luna, where a riot that got to environmental control could kill hundreds of thousands of people.

Special Agent Kimberly A. Possible, Unified Security Service, reminded herself of that as she tried to focus on the view of the compound through her helmet-optimized night-vision binoculars. Three feet away, her longtime partner and friend, Special Agent Ronald D. Stoppable, continued blabbering on about how much better he could prepare yeast extract than the Lunans, whose cuisine he was colorfully disparaging.

"…and bugs! Who the heck eats bugs except maybe those guys from Beijing? They put bugs in a perfectly good dumpling! They mix bug parts with normal foods, which means their normal foods become inedible!"

"Ron, shush."

"It's not like anyone can hear us without air…"

"Ron, I can hear you. Shush or get off the line."

Ron rolled his eyes. Kim rolled hers back, and continued to survey the Children of the Moon compound. If the rumors were accurate, somewhere amidst the several regolith-covered converted propellant tanks was a cache of illegal explosives and weapons. The regional USS office had tasked Kim to sneak into the compound, determine whether the enemy had acquired weapons, and place explosives in strategic locations to rip the compound to shreds if the follow-up raid went south.

"Kim, the ground's freezing. Can we get up yet?"

"Ron, stay down. Okay. No vehicles, only three buildings heated… looks like nobody's home. Follow my lead."

Kim crouched down, and, keeping her profile low, darted forward to a boulder ahead. Her skintight elastic suit – which used elastic force to counterbalance her body's internal pressure – offered minimal protection against radiation and enemy fire, required pre-breathing, and took forever to don and doff, but it was agile, lightweight, and compact.

It also looked a lot better (at least to her eyes) than the bug-like hardsuits and semi-rigid suits preferred by Marines and space workers.

Kim and Ron crept up to the first module, a converted shuttle external tank, and approached an airlock jutting from the grey dirt that covered the humble dwelling. Kim pulled off the keycard access panel, plugged a small computer into it, overrode the lock, and yanked the airlock door open.

The airlock cycled, and Kim and Ron entered the darkened module, guns drawn. They raced through the modules, checking that they were clear one after another. At every corner and airtight door, Kim tensed, fearing that she would turn the corner to find a group of armed hostiles.

There were none. Ron looked questioningly at Kim. "Sniffer?"

Kim nodded, and pulled a chemicals sniffer from her pocket. The sniffer blinked yellow.

"Oxyliquit, Semtex, bound HMX and... gunpowder?"

The first item was innocuous. Mixtures of metal powders and liquid oxygen were the standard explosive mixes (and rocket fuels) on hydrogen and nitrogen-poor Luna. Semtex and bound HMX were common military explosives. Since Kim and Ron only had HMX on them, the Children of the Moon were definitely hiding something.

The last item was puzzling. Who would go to the trouble of importing traditional ammunition with shell casings to the moon, when caseless ammunition weighed half as much and packed double the punch?

A more thorough search of the facility turned up a small, unconcealed weapons pit, buried amongst tools and equipment in a cramped workshop. Blocky M29s caseless assault rifles (JOINTGOV copies of the German G11), M31 rocket-bullet rifles, grenades, and a stash of military explosives. Evidently, the Children of the Moon had not been expecting an unannounced search. As Kim finished placing the charges on a brightly-lit module filled with hydroponic troughs of tomato plants, a bloodcurdling scream went off in her earpiece.

She ran into the adjacent module (a darkened storeroom of some sort), pistol drawn. Ron was standing on one leg atop a crate, finger pointed at a large rat.

"Ron, it's just a rat."

"What are rats doing on the moon?"

"Rats have been hitching rides on ships ever since humans started building 'em."

The rat scurried into a notch in the floor paneling.

"Ron. Does that look like a door to you?"

Ron nodded, but took no action.

Kim, hands on her hips, groaned. "Okay, if you don't want to touch the rat, then I'll open it."

Kim threw open the door with a grunt – it was heavier and thicker than she had expected – and light poured out from a secret deck below.

Six men and two women in unmarked black uniforms stopped their conversation – Kim couldn't hear anything through her helmet – and reached for boxy assault rifles or holstered pistols.

On instinct, Ron pushed Kim out of the way. Kim's helmet hit the deck with a thud as bullet holes pockmarked the metal skin of the module. For an instant, Kim wondered why the module had not depressurized – then remembered the two meters of regolith covering each module.

Kim pushed the switch on her remote, six explosions went off, and the damaged roofs of three modules caved in under the weight of regolith they could no longer support.

Kim heard a ghastly noise, and a howling wind dragged her a few meters across the floor. A Caucasian, seemingly undeterred by the maelstrom, tripped out the hidden chamber.

Kim dropped him with a barrage of poorly-aimed shots from her pistol.

The room fell completely silent as the last of the air left it.

Kim, a few meters from where she had fallen, stood, and yanked Ron to his feet.

Ron started to run towards the hole. She held him back, and started counting.

"…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty."

Then, and only then, did Kim poke her head over the lip of the trapdoor to the brightly lit floor below.

Eight bodies lay still. "Ron, check the room for contraband. I'll check the bodies."

None of the uniforms had any insignia on them. The hardsuits were of Japanese manufacture.

The maps, however, were in Russian.

Ron's voice was hesitant. "Uhh… Kim? Overwatch just called. Backup's en route."

Kim turned towards Ron. "Tell them we may have found Soviet personnel on-site."