The train accelerated, faster and faster. I hung on for dear life. At this speed, any sharp rock could puncture my suit. I couldn’t let myself dangle for the whole trip. I had to put my legs somewhere.

I reached up and grabbed the edge of a window—I had to hope no one was sitting there. I pulled myself up and put my feet on the wheel housing. I wanted to peek through the window to see if I’d been spotted, but I resisted the urge. People might not notice a few fingers outside a window, but they’d probably notice a big EVA suit helmet.

I tried not to move. It’d be pretty spooky for people in the train if they heard noise coming from the wall from outside. Attack of the Moon Woman Who Made Bad Life Decisions.

We puttered along the lazy path toward the Visitor Center. By now you’ve probably figured out my plan. The posse was guarding all the Artemis airlocks, but had they thought to guard the one at the Visitor Center?

Even if they had, they couldn’t beat me there. This was the first train.

The trip took forty minutes, as usual. I managed to sit sort of comfortably on the wheel housing. It wasn’t too bad.

I spent the trip brooding about my predicament. Even if I could make it back inside without getting caught, I was screwed. Trond had hired me to destroy four harvesters. I only trashed three. Sanchez’s engineers would undo my sabotage to the survivor and get it back to work. Their production would be reduced, but they’d still make their oxygen quota.

Trond wouldn’t pay me for this debacle, and I wouldn’t blame him. Not only had I failed, I’d made things harder on him. Now Sanchez Aluminum knew someone was gunning for them.

“Damn…” I said as my stomach knotted up.

The train slowed as it approached the Visitor Center. I hopped off and stumbled to a stop while the train continued on to its alcove.

I bounded over to the Visitor Center and worked my way along the arc of its dome. The Eagle came into view as I rounded the hull. It almost seemed to disapprove. Tsk, tsk. My crew would never pull shit like this.

Then I saw a glorious sight: The EVA airlock was completely unguarded!

Hell yeah!

I rushed to the airlock and opened the outer door, hopped in, and closed the hatch behind me. I cranked the repress valve and heard the hiss of glorious air come at me from all directions.

Even though I was in a hurry, I waited through the air cleanse. Hey, I may be a smuggler, saboteur, and all-around asshole, but I’d never leave my EVA suit dirty.

The cleanse finished and I was clean as a whistle.

Back in town! I’d have to find somewhere in the Visitor Center to hide my EVA gear, but that wouldn’t be a problem. I’d stow it in as many tourist lockers as it took, then come back later with a big container. I’m a porter—I’d just say I was there for a pickup. It wouldn’t even look weird.

I opened the inner airlock door and stepped into salvation.

Except it wasn’t salvation. It was shit. I stepped into shit. The smile on my face quickly changed to a “freshly caught carp” expression.

Dale stood in the antechamber, his arms folded and a half smirk on his face.

Dear Jazz,

Are you all right? I’ve been worried. I haven’t heard from you in a couple of weeks.

Dear Kelvin,

Sorry, I had to shut off my Gizmo service for a while to save money. I’ve got it back on now. It’s been tough. But I’m starting to get above water.

I made a new friend. Every now and then I scrape together enough money to get a beer at this hole-in-the-wall in Conrad. I know it’s stupid to spend money on booze when you’re homeless, but booze makes homelessness bearable.

Anyway, there’s a regular there named Dale. He’s an EVA master, mostly working out of the Apollo 11 Visitor Center. He does tourist EVAs, stuff like that.

We got to talking and, I don’t know why, but I ended up telling him my problems. He was shocked at my fucked-up situation and offered to lend me some money. I assumed it was a play to get in my pants so I turned him down. I don’t have a problem with prostitutes, but I don’t want to be one.

But he swore up and down that he just wanted to help me out as a friend. Accepting that money was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Kelvin. But I was out of options.

Anyway, I had just enough to pay deposit and first month on a capsule domicile. It’s so small I have to step outside to change my mind (rim shot!) but at least it’s a home. And true to his word, Dale never expected anything in return. Perfect gentleman.

And believe it or not I’m even dating a guy. His name is Tyler. It’s early days, but he’s really sweet. He’s kind of shy, polite to everyone, and sort of a Boy Scout when it comes to rules. So the opposite of me in every way. But we really click. We’ll see how it goes.

You know what? I’ve been selfish lately. I’ve been so focused on me I didn’t even ask about you. How are you handling things?

Dear Jazz,

Good for you! I was worried your experience with Sean would put you off men forever. See? We’re not all bad.

I have my job at KSC, for which I’m very grateful. I even got a promotion. I’m a loadmaster-in-training now. In a couple months, I’ll be a full loadmaster and I’ll get a raise.

Halima is six months pregnant now, and we’re all preparing for the baby. We’ve worked out a rotation so that my other sisters can take care of the baby while Halima stays in school. Mom, Dad, and I will keep working. Dad was almost ready to retire, but now he’ll have to work another five years at least. What choice do we have? There’s just not enough money otherwise.

Dear Kelvin,

You’re a loadmaster-in-training? Does that mean you sometimes set up cargo pods unsupervised? Because there are a lot of people in Artemis who smoke.

Dear Jazz,

I’m listening…

I stared at Dale like he’d grown a dick out of his forehead. “How…?”

“What else would you do?” He took the helmet from my unresisting hands. “You had to know the posse would cover all the Artemis entrances. That just leaves the Visitor Center.”

“Why aren’t you with the posse!”

“I am with the posse. I’m the guy who volunteered to guard the Visitor Center. I would’ve been here sooner, but this was the first train out. Given the timing, I’m guessing we caught the same ride.”

Shit. Some criminal mastermind I was.

Dale set my helmet on a bench, then took my hand and unclamped the seals on the glove. He rotated the glove at the wrist and pulled it off. “You went too far this time, Jazz. Way too far.”

“You’re going to lecture me on morality?”

He shook his head. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Why should I?”

He rolled his eyes. “Tyler’s gay, Jazz. Gay as Oscar Wilde wearing sequins walking a pink poodle with a tiara on his head.”

“The poodle has a tiara?”

“No, I meant Oscar Wilde—”

“Right, right, that makes more sense. Anyway: Fuck you.”

Dale groaned. “It was never going to work for you two. Never.”

“And that makes it okay for you to fuck my boyfriend?”

“No,” he said softly. He took my other glove off and sat it on the bench. “We shouldn’t have been screwing while you two were still together. I was in love and he was confused, but that doesn’t make it okay. It was wrong.”

I looked away. “But you still did it.”

“Yeah, I did. I betrayed my best friend. If you think that doesn’t kill me inside you really don’t know me.”

“Poor you.”

He scowled. “I didn’t ‘recruit’ him, you know. If I weren’t there he would have left you on his own. He’d never be happy with a woman. It has nothing to do with you. You know that, right?”

I didn’t respond. He was right, but I was in no mood to hear it. He gestured for me to turn around. I did as instructed and he detached my life-support pack.

“Don’t you want to tell your EVA buddies you caught me?”

He carefully set the pack on the bench. “This is a big deal, Jazz. It’s not just an ass-beating. You could get deported. You blew up Sanchez Aluminum’s harvesters. Why the hell did you do that?”

“What do you care?”