Sporadic, inconsistent, and scrambled—the readings on Hector’s tactical suit jumped and dove. His datapad, along with its communicator, was worthless. All these disruptions pointed to there being a cloaking device somewhere nearby. His guess had been right. But what was the XLS hiding and how had they managed to get a cloaking device into the 1970s?
Hector grunted and held his head as though the moonscape around him was spinning. Lack of sleep and weariness were taking their toll. He paused another second to let his tactical suit adjust to the moon’s gravity. Once it had, he tapped the Heads-Up Display panel. The scrambled readouts weren’t helpful. He had no connection to command, nor did he have critical information about his location or the status of his tactical suit. Oxygen levels, damage report, health status—none of it worked.
He had transferred into a small crater. Everything above the crater’s rim was out of sight. Clambering up the slight embankment, he reached the edge and peeked over the rim. Barren, gray moonscape. Except…Apollo 14’s lunar module, Antares, docked in the ashen dust. But something was wrong. There was a gaping hole in the side of the lunar module. Debris scattered all around it. A tattered USA flag.
Hector loosed his sidearm and climbed out of the crater. No sign of any other timeslingers, or other humans. He took a cautious step forward. And then he saw the bodies. Two of them. Sprawled out and covered in the moon’s powdery soil. Hector approached slowly and bent over the first body. A bullet hole had punched through the copper-colored visor. Red stripes adorned the helmet, arms, and legs of the suit. A golf club rested inches away. With the exception of the red stripes, the other body looked similar to the first.
Hector fought the urge to puke. He’d missed the attack. Something had gone wrong in the transfer process. He was too late. Astronauts Alan Shepard and Edgar Mitchell had been murdered.
