High Moon Page #4

We have a duty.

And how do you plan

on getting out of here?

Trash chutes?

Look, if you hack the doors

they'll be on you like stink.

Ironically, stink will

also be on you like stink.

It's my access card

to everywhere

on tranquility station.

For the Moon.

Not just for the Moon.

Your main suspect

and my main suspect

are heading right into the belly

of the beast. Together.

Oh. They are not

working together.

I mean, they are now,

but they weren't earlier.

I mean "earlier" earlier,

not like, "3 hours ago" earlier.

Though they weren't then either,

right, 'cause clearly, they...

How are you standing

in artificial gravity?

- Doctor, sit.

- No, no, no. I'm fine.

You know what?

I accidentally

took two caffeine pills

and forgot that I had, like,

a pot of coffee this morning.

Yama, did you happen to see

when the security cameras

were disabled?

Maybe the Indian Assassin

did it before he attacked?

Or whoever that other guy was...

He seemed wily.

Wily enough to get out

through the trash chutes

without setting off any alarms.

That is pretty wily.

Why were you in the infirmary,

anyway?

Trees don't grow

on the Moon, Thurgood,

so whatever you're barking up

is wrong.

No more coffee.

Java jitters don't give people

superhuman strength.

There's only two eggs

in our basket...

My spy and your brother,

and right now,

they're heading straight into

an Indian omelette.

Trash chutes were opened

with a universal access code.

Your spy have one of those?

Remember that speech you gave me

about being "compromised"?

So I trust my daughter

and you trust your brother.

Now we just have to

trust each other.

So what's our plan

for getting in?

You're the guy smart enough

to disable the ion

wrist restraints,

you tell me.

Are y...

Are you kidding me?

You really don't have a plan?

How did you get out

of those cuffs?

Silicone absorbs the electricity

generated from the ions...

Ah. No electricity,

no lock.

Clever.

Maybe we can just use

the trash chutes again?

The Indians burn their trash.

We're walking right through

their front door.

I'm just sayin'...

When you got a loaf of dark rye,

people tend to notice

the slice of white bread

in the middle.

Why don't ya take the wheel,

"wonder bread"?

Oh!

Holy crap!

Relax.

I collected his D.N.A.

after he attacked you.

Put these back on.

You're bait.

Try to act beat down.

What, you mean like this?

Oh...

Yeah.

That's better.

This is Eve St. John-Smythe

for Indra Ravimurtha.

Please respond while

this is still a diplomatic call.

This is Eve St. John-Smythe

for Indra Ravimurtha.

Please respond while

this is still a diplomatic call.

Well, you hit me for nothing.

Where is everybody?

Is that statue breathing?

That thing's breathing on me.

What are you looking for?

Oh. Okay.

Let me just go look for...

Something.

Oh, look.

I found absolutely

nothing over here.

After you.

Oh, no. I don't

do first anymore.

Nice.

This looks

exactly like the interior

of that shaft of death

I climbed into

by the sinkhole.

Could be connected.

Indians might be

siphoning U.S. helium.

Is that even possible?

It's been known to happen.

Check this out!

Flowers.

Indians may have learned

how to grow crops in moon mud.

Or maybe they're trying

to create oxygen.

This is some heavy science.

Game-changing,

moon-shattering,

big money,

I'd-kill-me-too science.

It's gonna take

a little bit more

than some crumbling dirt

to shake the pillars

of creation.

Like, maybe an actual Indian

to tell us what's

really going on here.

Yeah...

Where is everybody?

Russians.

Trofim?

6 of us, 6,000 Indians.

What would custer say?

Time to take a stand.

Blink that trigger-happy

glint from your eyes.

The Indian base

has been abandoned.

The Indians don't appear

to be anywhere on the Moon.

None of them?

Could another base

be hiding them?

No one has requisitioned

the extra oxygen it would take.

There are no bodies.

No signs of trauma.

Thousands of people

don't disappear

into thin air...

There is no air.

You didn't come here

to tell us that.

I beg your pardon,

but I most certainly did.

Then the question

is why you came here,

seeing as we would've found

all this out ourselves.

There's a team of russians

already inside the Indian base.

Since when did you

start guard-dogging

the russians?

Since I found out

you were racing

to the Indian base,

guns cocked.

The Moon can only handle

one international incident

at a time.

So you're lying.

I'm stalling.

My experience on the Moon

has been that there's

one-sixth the Earth's gravity

and roughly the same quotient

of truth,

and stalling is just

one more way to avoid it.

In fact,

the only person I've spoken to

who's been honest

to the point of absurdity

is my brother,

and if you're satisfied

the russians have had

time to abscond,

I'd like to go find him.

What is the deal with you two?

What's going on?

Okay, well, why is he yelling?

Whoa-whoa-whoa. Whoa.

Whoa...

Whoa.

W-w-w-wait, wait!

Lunar Japan welcomes you.

I thought everything

japanese up here

was fully-automated.

It is.

Mikiko's supposed to

be in hibernation.

I wake up when something breaks.

I am like "the maytag man."

Oh, uh,

w-what's broken now?

Just the rules.

I didn't come

to the Moon to sleep.

I have unlimited tools

to build lots of toys.

Besides the t-Rex,

I'm also building

working replicas

of stegosaur and triceratops,

so people on Earth

with telescopes

can look back in time

to when dinosaurs

ruled the Moon.

I found that glowing pollen

from your spacesuit...

But it's gone... ish.

I absorbed it.

Accidentally.

It made her go bananas.

But...

You seem pretty cool

with the fact

that your liver might be choking

on lunar hemlock right now.

We scanned her bodily humors.

She is full of nothing

but the blood and guts

of Yama winehart.

Yeah, I mean, I feel fine.

I respect your need

for a vision quest or whatever,

but look at the Indians.

Oh... wait.

No, you can't, actually,

because they're all gone,

very possibly because

of that same sap

that you absorbed.

I'm just saying...

Maybe it's time to get your dad

to dig for flowers

so that you

don't end up like them.

Look, finding this flower

is a discovery for science.

Not business.

Not the military.

It's a discovery for us to make.

We don't need help

to dig for flowers.

T-Rex digs.

Filipov!

I want these consoles fired up

and cooking me

a hearty dish of

"what the hell happened here?"

Now.

Somebody else had the same idea.

Russians.

I'm going to search

the ambassador's office.

Corporal, private.

Escort

miss St. John-Smythe.

No. I'll go with her.

Keep a weather-eye out

for wayward Indians.

What are you hiding?

You'll have to be more specific.

What did you find back there?

Oxygen logs.

But I haven't seen real

paper since I was a girl.

Only two kinds of people

use paper...

Romantics,

and spies afraid

of being hacked.

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