A Minor Lunar Standstill

A Minor Lunar Standstill

As war rages on the moon, everyone just wants to get off.

TW: Mild suicidal ideation, references to past unhealthy relationships, threats of violence, explosions, burn wounds, references to long hospitalizations, war, mildly dubious consent, sex work, mildly degrading language toward sex workers, homelessness, joblessness, drug side effects, body image issues, passing out

Chapter 1

"Ok, folks! Listen up! Got an update for you."

Each prospective passenger in the waiting area perked up. Amina held her breath. The woman making the announcement need not have paused to make sure everyone was listening; They were. After what felt like minutes, she finally said, "It's gonna be another couple hours, at least."

A groan rolled over the crowd, punctuated by exclamations like, "Unbelievable," and, "Seriously?" and at least one person on the other side of the room just shouting, "FUCK!" The space port employee was not perturbed. "I know. I know," she continued apathetically. "Remember folks, you do not want to travel through space in a tin can that has failed a safety inspection, right? Just give our crew a little more time to make sure everything is up to code, ok? That's all." She walked back to her desk in the corner, completely ignoring the murmuring mass she left behind.

Amina Sultanova was cold, tired, and hungry. She had been that way for months and still wasn't used to it. But now, at least, she was slightly relieved. While everyone else was becoming increasingly frustrated at the delays, she welcomed them. Or rather, she

needed

them. Despite having been waiting at the space port at Chandrayaan for the better part of a day, she still hadn't found anyone willing to pay for her ticket home.

She was nearly out of money. This ship was her last chance. Every time the crew did a final safety check, something failed and needed to be fixed. Amina was grateful for the reprieve, and she supposed that she was also grateful that at least they

were

fixing things. Still, part of her thought it might be better to die quickly out in open space than to slowly starve or freeze to death in this shabby port.

Most of her thoughts had been similarly dark lately. Luna had never been an easy place to live, but when full-scale war broke out after the Shackleton Blow-Out, life there became unbearable.

It was stupid, really. Some members of the extremist group Luna-C had been trying to reroute power from the Shackleton Dome. They weren't doing anything directly violent, but of course, the military just had to react with maximum force. The firefight that followed caused a puncture in the Shackleton Dome, and the resulting loss of life also killed any hope of peaceful reconciliation between the Lunar Government and Luna-C. Anyone with any sense in their head wanted off Luna. Unfortunately, space travel that wasn't government-sponsored didn't come cheap. And if the government didn't like you enough to sponsor you, then you

definitely

didn't have any money.

The poverty on Luna predated the Lunar War. In fact, many thought of the conflict as a war between rich and poor, with the government representing the rich and Luna-C the poor. As she sat directly on the dusty floor and leaned against the wall, Amina looked at the disgruntled crowd before her. She was just as poor as any of them, but one major thing separated her from them: she had worked for the government. None of them would be able to tell that, of course. She looked as dilapidated as anyone else with her frayed skirt covered in moondust from wiping her hands off on it. But as she sat there surrounded by an angry hoard that was certainly mostly comprised of Luna-C sympathizers and/or members, she felt like she was deep in enemy territory.

She fiddled with the wide red ribbon on her left wrist, partially to distract herself from her misery, but also to advertise her status to any potential takers. Since most people on Luna couldn't afford to return to Earth through usual means, they had to be creative. They turned to all the old stand-bys to get money: Beg, borrow, steal... or in Amina's case, the world's oldest profession.

The first time Amina got a rejection notice after a private sector job application, she was surprised. She didn't think her past association with the government would be a hindrance to doing basic manual labor. The second time, she was angry. She needed to make money somehow. How did they think she was supposed to live like this? After she was kicked out of her apartment for not being able to make rent, each subsequent rejection came with more and more fear.

Now, sitting in the kitchen of Reddy's apartment, she was at such a crisis point that she almost felt numb. It was like her brain was refusing to respond appropriately out of exhaustion. She wished she could just go to sleep and wake up at some unknown time when things were better.

As soon as she heard Reddy stride into the room, Amina closed the notification on her chip display, but Reddy had clearly seen her looking at some kind of message. "Good news?" she asked, though not sounding at all hopeful.

"What do you think?" Amina said flatly.

Reddy sucked her teeth and then sighed deeply. "Look, I know you don't want to hear this right now, but your time's coming. You need to start planning your next move."

"Are you going to kick me out?" Amina asked, bracing herself for the inevitable.

"Not

today

," Reddy said, with a little too much emphasis on the second word, "But I can't keep being a halfway house for everyone who needs a place to crash."

Amina was incensed. How was that

her

fault? Hadn't Reddy brought this on herself for agreeing to let displaced government cast-offs stay at her place? She continued by bluntly stating, "I'm stretched too thin as it is, and you've been here the longest."

That was true. Reddy had a decent government stipend, but Lunar apartments only had so much space. Amina silently chided herself for being so ungrateful. She had been living off her former CO's hospitality longer than any of the other strays she had taken in. Well, all except one.

"What about Skell? Didn't she say she was coming back?" Amina asked, knowing full well that it didn't really matter.

Reddy let out a derisive

tsch

through her teeth and shook her head. "No. Skell's been back on Earth for a few days now."

This was news to Amina. "What? How'd she manage that?" Jealousy welled up in her stomach. How did someone like Skell manage to find her way out of this nightmare?

"She took a flight out of Chandrayaan," Reddy said out of the side of her mouth, as though it was privileged information that she shouldn't really be divulging but really wanted to.

"I meant how did she manage that, money-wise," Amina clarified.

"That's what I mean. You don't need money to get a flight out of Chandrayaan." Reddy was raising her eyebrows like she was alluding to something unspoken between the two of them, but it was only comprehensible to one.

"Explain," Amina demanded.

Reddy simply said, "Someone covered her."

This hardly explained anything to Amina. "But why?" she asked, more confused than before.

"I mean, she became a Cover and got covered," Reddy said, as though this was a sufficient explanation. Amina recognized the look on her face. It was the face Reddy made when she was trying to show someone pity while secretly relishing in their misfortune.

Amina was completely lost as to what that misfortune could be. "You're not making sense," she told her reluctant landlady.

"You do know about the Covers, right?" She replied condescendingly. "

Cover my fare and I'll get under the covers with you? Get me off Luna and I'll get you off?

You've never heard of this stuff?"

"You're saying Skell became a prostitute?" Amina asked. She didn't care about Reddy's attitude. She was used to her mean-girl bullshit and was just grateful to finally have an explanation that made some kind of sense.

"Basically, but there's more to it than that. I can't believe you're never heard about this. I thought it was common knowledge." Amina was rapidly beginning to care about Reddy's attitude as she continued to condescend. "Covers hang around the port in Chandrayaan. They tie those red ribbons around their wrists trying to catch the eye of anyone wealthy or horny enough to pick them up."

"I've had more important things to worry about than gossip about sex work." Amina grumbled.

"Well, then, allow me to tell you all about it, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes." Reddy clapped back gleefully. She had always loved being more knowledgeable than someone else. "Look, the port at Chandrayaan is the least government-regulated port on Luna, right?"

"If you say so," Amina said, just wanting her to get to the point.

"Ok, so, the ships that go between there and Earth are old cargo ships that have been converted to hold extra passengers. They charge per person, not per room. Each room has one bed." Reddy spoke as though she had devoted a lot of brain space to this topic. "Sometimes you get couples or close friends who want to room together, but most people reserve a whole room for themselves because the alternative is sharing a bed with a stranger or sleeping on the floor. So, the space limit gets reached long before the weight limit, leaving plenty of room for the few people who

are

willing to squeeze in with a stranger who's willing to pay for them. You following?"

"I think so..." Amina said slowly. She could see how prostitution would flourish in that kind of environment, but she didn't understand what made this situation worthwhile for the crew. "...But why would they modify a freighter like

that

? Wouldn't it be more cost-effective to just put lots of beds in one giant room or something?"

Reddy smiled wryly. "That's the beautiful part. By filling up rooms with less people than they could hold at max capacity, the ship ends up way below its weight limit when all the passenger rooms are filled." Her smile widened as she ramped up to the big finish, "Then, the crew can fill up the remainder of that weight limit with contraband."

"Ah," Amina said in recognition.

"The crew makes some extra money, most passengers get a little extra room and privacy, and anyone who wants to hitch a ride with a John has a shot at it. Everybody's happy as long as the government doesn't find out," Reddy finished her story looking quite satisfied with herself.

"More like, as long as the government doesn't start caring about it," Amina retorted. "There's no way they don't know about something like that."

"Well, whichever it is, it's the best place to hitch a ride off Luna if you're broke," Reddy replied.

Something in her smile made Amina think she might be hinting at something, but... no. She couldn't be suggesting that Amina do something so drastic herself. "Skell was really that desperate?" she asked.

"Well, you know how she is." Reddy smirked. "I don't think she really cared one way or the other. She might have even had fun with it!"

"Yes, that does sounds like... Skell..." Amina trailed off, lost in thought.

The idea of becoming a Cover had gestated in her brain until her circumstances finally necessitated birthing it into the reality she currently found herself in. The more she had thought about it, the more Amina thought that those words about Skell not caring one way or the other could easily have applied to her.

She wasn't bothered by the idea of squeezing into a tiny room. She had lived in dorm rooms and barracks before, so she was used to the lack of space. As for having sex with a stranger, she wasn't worried about that either. Everyone who comes to Luna is required to pass rigorous health screenings and to have an IUD or a vasectomy. No one wants to deal with pregnancy or kids on Luna.

Sex didn't really have much emotional value to Amina. She wasn't asexual; she very much enjoyed doing sexual things on her own, and she

wanted

to do it with a partner... It was just that no partner had ever made her feel good during sex. It was always uncomfortable and painful. Maybe she was trying too hard. Maybe her taste in men just sucked. Maybe

men

just sucked. Unfortunately, she wasn't attracted to anyone else.

Amina certainly wasn't worried about competition at the moment because there was no one to compete with. She hadn't seen that many other Covers to begin with, but in the hours she had been waiting (God, how many was it now? 13? 14?), everyone else had either given up or found a partner... or partners in that one woman's case. Amina appreciated the frugality of all those guys splitting the cost up among them and hoped the Cover could handle them all, but when she spotted the group in the distance, she stopped worrying. The other Cover did not look intimidated by so many men. In fact, if anything, they looked intimidated by

her

. She was clearly a professional.

Not too long ago, before she was in the exact same position, Amina probably would have judged all of them more harshly. Her parents had taught her that everything in life was either halal or haram. The military had taught her that people were either good guys or bad guys. Though she had thought she knew better than to subscribe to such broad binaries, being immersed in a new world had shown her that such rigid worldviews had shaped her subconscious in ways she never knew. But it was her experiences on Luna... seeing the corruption in the government, the paranoia and violence of the military, the apathy toward human misery from the very people who were supposed to help the helpless... Those were what really blew a hole in that rigid worldview that nothing could fix. She shuddered and turned her mind away from holes getting blown in things.

Her eyes shifted away from the group to scan the room for any change in the crowd. There was still that group of rowdy drunks posturing to each other. The only male Cover she had seen had found an older man who looked like he could afford better than to ride out of this place. Maybe he chose this port specifically to find a Cover. There were lots of single people trying not to make eye contact with anyone, especially her.

And that one guy...

...he was still staring at her.

Amina was embarrassed to admit, even to herself, that she had been calling him Strider in her head. She had always gotten picked on for her fervent love of cheesy old movies. But this shady looking guy reminded her so much of Aragorn when he first showed up in the old

Lord of the Rings

movies from the beginning of the 21st century that she couldn't help but make the comparison.

Just give him a pipe, and we're in the Prancing Pony and I'm Frodo.

And just like Frodo, she didn't feel too good about the way he was looking at her.

He had been staring at her on and off for hours now with his lip curled in what she could only read as contempt. Amina's first thought was that he was just a misogynist who hated her for being a dirty whore. But it was also possible that he was just staring wistfully because he was interested but couldn't afford to cover her. The man looked ragged even for Luna, which was saying something. In his beat-up duster and faded cowboy hat, he definitely didn't look like he had a lot of money. Maybe he just couldn't decide whether or not to go for it, but she doubted that. She had seen him talk to several different people since he'd arrived, people he didn't seem to know, so he didn't seem to be the shy type.

Despite her misgivings, he

was

the most interested in her out of anyone so far today, so Amina tried to subtly preen for him. She wasn't the most confident in her appearance overall, but one thing she was very confident in was the size of her breasts. She was wearing a very low-cut top to show off her cleavage. It was way more skin than she would normally have chosen to show off, but beggars can't be choosers, and she was

literally

begging. Making sure that he was still looking at her, she turned her chest in his direction and slowly spread her legs apart while taking a deep breath in to cause her chest to rise. She ran one finger down her collar bone and then chanced a glance to see his reaction.

It was impossible to read him from this far away with any kind of accuracy, but she could still see that same sneer on his face. Then, after a few seconds, he stood up with not a small amount of effort and started walking. His gait was stiff, and he moved slowly. Amina soon realized that he wasn't walking towards her. Instead, he moved towards the woman at the desk who had been giving them periodic updates on the ship's status. He didn't look at Amina at all until he was talking to the woman, who also looked at her.

Shit. Does he know about me and Shackleton?

No one she had ever tried to get a job from after getting kicked off the force ever did until the background check. She worried that those two could make things very difficult for her if they knew that she had been involved in the Blow-Out.

Then, the woman at the desk started laughing. Now, it seemed like she and Strider were just chatting like old friends. Though they were too far away to hear them over the chatter around her, Amina relaxed a little. She was probably just being paranoid. Even if they were talking about her, they had no way of knowing who she was or what she had done. She was just another Cover trying to hitch a ride in exchange for sex. She wasn't doing anything technically illegal... though when had laws ever mattered to anyone here?

As the ragged man parted ways with the port employee, he looked over at Amina again. She looked away quickly. Funny how after he'd been eyeing her all day, now she was the one trying to make it look like she hadn't been staring. When he got back to where he was sitting before, he activated his telcom and began talking to someone. After a few minutes, he stood up again and walked out of Amina's sight.

Her nerves were starting up again, but speculation wouldn't do her any good right now. She tried to focus on a problem she could actually do something about: hunger. She did still have half a protein bar somewhere on her person... or at least she thought she did. She checked her pockets- Right... She had no pockets in this skin-tight pencil skirt. Maybe it was in her bag? She rummaged through the backpack which contained everything she owned until she remembered: No food past security checkpoints. She had had to wolf down the rest of the protein bar that she had spent some of her precious remaining credits on before she was allowed through.

She hugged herself and dug her nails into her bare arms to distract her from the burning sensation prickling at the corners of her eyes.

Focus. Focus. You are strong. You are a survivor. You are not a victim.

A tiny voice piped up deep in the dark recesses of her brain.

You could always tell your parents what happened and ask them for help...

Amina's parents had never really wanted her to leave. They weren't big fans of space. She had tried to convince them she was doing the right thing. She'd be helping to liberate the people of Luna from terrorists. If she asked her parents for help, she would have to admit that she had been wrong... or at least, mostly wrong. She still couldn't forgive Luna-C for their part in the chaos of this stupid Lunar War. She didn't really know what she believed anymore. How could she explain everything to her parents in a way they would accept or even understand?

No. She put that thought out of her mind. There was still time for someone to pick her up. Who knew how much longer it would take to fix the ship, anyway? She wasn't starving. She just needed to calm down.

Amina took a long steadying breath. She closed her eyes and pressed her whole back against the cold wall behind her. She went to the calm place in her memories that she often visited to find a moment of peace. She was riding Qant across the steppes. The sun was hot, but the wind rushing past her was cool and refreshing. There was no one else there but the two of them galloping along under a sky stretching out forever. She was free.