December 24, 2018. The Warehouse. 14:30 Local Time.
The Nomad hovered silently over the Von Kármán crater, a black ghost against the lunar night. On my screen, I watched the first swarm of nanites detach from the hull to begin dismantling the reactor. "Careful with the cooling loops," I murmured, leaning closer to the monitor. "If you rupture a line, we'll leave a chemical signature the rover will spot in two seconds."
"I am performing microsurgery with a 400-meter ship, Surgrim," Archi replied, sounding slightly offended. "My precision is absolute. The—"
Riiiing. Riiiing.
My phone vibrated violently on the desk, cutting through the tension. I glanced at the display. Mom.
I froze. "Oh no. What time is it?" I looked at the clock. 14:32. "I was supposed to be there at two. To help with the tree."
"Ignore it," Archi advised. "We are in the middle of a critical extraction operation. The structural integrity of the base is compromised. I need your oversight."
"If I ignore this call, my structural integrity will be compromised," I said, hitting the green button. "Hi, Mom!"
"Surgrim!" Her voice was loud enough that I didn't need the speaker. "Where are you? Grandma is already asking if you're stuck in the computer again. The potato salad isn't going to peel itself!"
"I'm... on my way, Mom. Just finishing up some... last-minute work. Inventory. Very important."
"Inventory on Christmas Eve? Are you crazy? Get in the car. Now. Or don't expect any presents."
Click. She hung up.
I looked at the screen. The fusion reactor was half-extracted, hanging precariously in the Moon's gravity. "Archi," I said, grabbing my jacket. "You have to finish this alone."
"You are leaving? Now?" Archi sounded genuinely baffled. "We are erasing a fusion-powered facility from a celestial body to evade a superpower's surveillance. And you are prioritizing... potato salad?"
"It's tradition, Archi. Family protocol. If I don't show up, they'll call the police or come here. And we don't want Mom seeing the spaceship."
"Illogical. But... understood. Go. Consume your tubers. I will execute the Vacuum Cleaner Protocol autonomously."
"Don't leave any tracks. And don't crash the ship."
I ran out of the warehouse, locking the heavy steel door behind me.
December 25 & 26. The Family Home.
The next two days were a blur of roast goose, red cabbage, and endless questions about my "new job". "So you sell scrap metal now?" my uncle asked, chewing loudly. "Is there money in that?"
"You'd be surprised," I muttered, checking my smartwatch under the dinner table.
STATUS UPDATE: Reactor Secured. Mass Driver Dismantled. Site Backfilling at 84%.
I exhaled. While I was unwrapping socks and pretending to be excited about a new electric shaver, Archi was literally moving mountains on the Moon. By the evening of the 26th, the notification came through: OPERATION COMPLETE. Site sanitized. Nomad en route to Earth-Moon L2 Lagrange Point. Passive stealth engaged.
I raised a glass of wine to the empty room. "Merry Christmas, you beautiful, invisible monster."
December 31, 2018. Surgrim's Apartment. 23:15 Local Time.
I didn't want a big party. I was exhausted. The double life was draining me. So I had just invited Mereel. We sat on my balcony, wrapped in thick jackets, a crate of beer between us. The Berlin skyline was already starting to light up with eager premature fireworks.
"So," Mereel said, popping the cap off a beer. "Another year over. 2018. We survived."
"Barely," I laughed, clinking my bottle against his. "To survival."
"To survival," Mereel echoed. He took a long sip, then looked at me. His gaze was heavy. "And to expansion."
I stiffened. "Expansion?"
"Yeah. You know." He gestured vaguely at the sky, where the clouds were reflecting the city lights. "Your... business. It's growing fast. Really fast."
"We had a good quarter," I said defensively.
Mereel turned to face me. The playful grin was gone. "Surgrim. I'm your friend. We've known each other since we were trying to beat Halo on Legendary. I know when you're bullshitting me."
I gripped my beer bottle. "I don't know what you mean."
"The latency," Mereel said quietly. "The server that doesn't get hot. The power bills that don't match the hardware. And... the screen."
I stopped breathing.
"I saw it, Surgrim. That night in the office. I saw the telemetry. 44 AU. That's the Kuiper Belt." He leaned closer. "And I saw the ship. It wasn't a game. The shadows were wrong for a game."
A rocket whistled somewhere nearby and exploded in a shower of red sparks. "Mereel..."
"I'm not going to rat you out," Mereel interrupted. "I'm not going to the police. I'm not crazy. But don't treat me like I'm stupid. You're not recycling washing machines. You're building something. Something... impossible."
He held out his hand, palm up. Not a threat. An offer. "I just want to know one thing. Are we the good guys?"
I looked at him. My best friend. The guy who guessed Hitchhiker's Guide from a towel. I looked up at the sky, where the invisible Nomad was parking in the shadows. "Yes," I whispered. "We are the good guys. We're just... efficient."
Mereel stared at me for a long second. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spread across his face. "Efficient. I like efficient."
He raised his bottle again. "To the Nomad," he toasted.
I froze. "How did you..."
"It was on the header of the window," Mereel winked. "You really need to lock your workstation faster."
BOOM. The midnight fireworks erupted over the city. A thousand explosions of color filled the sky. But to me, the loudest thing was the silence between us. The secret was out. And I wasn't alone anymore.