Greater Good Protocol (3)

Part 3 – Judge, Jury & Executioner

Part 2 – I’m that kind of Guy

Part 1 – Safe Atmosphere

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trigger warning: murder, death, insanity -the usual darkness, 
you have been warned

Larry stares over Tycho Crater, arms hanging by his side, like broken wings. “Last murder.” He sighs. Rustling with its feathers, the vast blackness above him stirs. Its many empty eyes blink down at him curiously. He deactivates the jammers – still, the silence of the lunar remoteness echoes through his com.

Cold and loneliness pierce him, like an insect to the ash colored background of an oversized display case. He needs to move. The suit adds weight to his weary limbs. Only the oxygen injectors hiss their reliable song.

Greater Good Protocol (2)

Part 1 – “SAFE ATMOSPHERE” – here

Part 2: published here

Part 3 – Judge, Jury & Executioner

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I’M THAT KIND OF GUY

It’s no fun,  being tied up and dragged behind a vehicle at breakneck speed.

In case you’re wondering, and want to try it yourself – DON’T! Contain your beer-fueled impulses, folks! Don’t kid yourselves, I only make this look easy and enjoyable!

The Greater Good Protocol

Part 1 – Safe Atmosphere

part 2 – I’m that kind of guy

part 3 – Judge, Jury &Executioner 

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"Safe atmosphere..."

The safe sign and the notification flash on the screen shield, blink and then fade away. The pressure sensors in the seats activate the engine. Gently purring, the rover comes to life, instruments flare up on the dashboard and project unto windshield. The underground magnetic guidance system pings back on its navigation, showing their position on the southern hemisphere of the Moon.

“Great booty, innit?” Terry nudges Larry’s elbow, as they take their helmets off.  Larry, Terry’s twin brother, is paler than usual. His grey eyes scan the inside of the cabin. No Chinese or Cyrillic characters, he sighs with relief. Blue arrows project unto the screen, showing the routes to the nearest landmarks. Tycho Crater is eighteen kilometers away. Surveyor Tycho City is six points seven, and Surveyor Seven fourteen kilometers north-to-northeast. “Lots of bucks.” Terry pats and kisses the console affectionately. He pulls his thin lips into a satisfied grin and straps into his seat. In the knowledge of a job well done, he holds out his palm and awaits the high-five.