02/17/2025 Snippet, PICKMAN’S MODELS.

I absolutely hate it when it turns out that blocking out a story ahead of time is the answer to my write-a-story problems. It feels like I’m vaguely letting down the pantser team.

Finding more margin wasn’t easier said than done. It couldn’t be done at all. At least, that’s what the cold equations told Tobias, and Asenath couldn’t find any give in the numbers, either.

Even the half-acknowledged settlers at Luna City couldn’t help him, not really. “We’ve cleaned this place out, Boss,” Corporal Buckley told him over a secure line. One secure enough to let Buckley show his face. He and the other Loonies had gone through some changes. A permanent sardonic grin on his anomalous face was the least of them.

There was nothing but respect in Buckley’s tone, though. “We’ve packed up we can. Volatiles, supplies, spare batteries and gear, you name it. If we don’t need it to survive ourselves, you got it already, Boss. And we can survive a lot. Actually, if you ask me…”

“I’m not asking you, Corporal,” Tobias interrupted. “We’ve had this conversation already. The Lifeboat is our last ride home, and we can’t send it back. Anybody left behind is stuck on the Moon. Forever.”

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