The moon’s silence had been heavier than I’d expected. The first few months living on the edge of that crater were the longest months of my life. But Luke had wanted to start a new life, and he’d brought his whole family out there, and I’d wanted to be a part of it. I hadn’t known what I was getting myself into.

We’d built the hab ourselves. Me, Luke, his wife Natalie, and his kids. I’d known him my whole life, and he’d never been worth more than an honest day’s labor, but he’d come to me one day with all the parts he needed to build a hab on the dark side of the moon. He’d just needed my rover to drive him out there. It had taken three trips. I’d offered to stay and help build it because that’s what you did for friends. I hadn’t had much going on in my life anyway.

We’d kept busy building, but once it was done, there was a whole lotta nothing. The dark side of the moon was barren, far away from LunaCorp and its big cities. Far away from the government and its rules. Far away from civilization. And when you’d looked up, you didn’t even see the Earth. It was just dusty stars filling a black void. Luke had found it exciting. I hadn’t.

I was out by the solar array, my boots crunching in the regolith, when I saw it—a glint, sharper than the stars, moving slow across the black. My breath caught, fogging my visor for a second. “Luke,” I muttered into the comms, my voice low like I was afraid the thing could hear me. “You see this?”

Luke was at the hab’s control panel, probably tinkering with the water recycler again. His voice crackled back, rough but steady. “What’s that, Brody?” I could picture him, squinting through his scruffy beard, his hands never still.

“Ship,” I said, my eyes locked on the glint. It was no star. It was sleek, black, with a faint red pulse—LunaCorp’s logo, I’d have bet my last oxygen tank. “Coming our way.”

There was a pause, too long. Then Natalie’s voice cut in, soft but sharp, like she was holding back a storm. “Brody, get Petey inside. Now.” Petey was out there with me, fourteen and gangly, poking at the rover’s battery with a wrench. He was humming some old Earth tune, oblivious, his helmet bobbing. I grabbed his shoulder, maybe too hard. “C’mon, kid. Move.”

Petey looked up, his eyes big behind his visor. “What’s wrong, Brody?” His voice was all curiosity, no fear, and I hated that it was there. I nudged him toward the hab, my heart thudding against my ribs. “Just go. Tell your mom we got company.”

He bounded off, kicking up dust, and I turned back to the ship. It was closer now, a dark shape against the void, its engines silent but deadly. LunaCorp didn’t send ships out here for fun. They were looking for something—someone. My gut said it was us. 

A while back, before we built the hab, Luke had been selling modified laser rigs to homesteaders—rigs that didn’t meet LunaCorp’s precious regulations. I never questioned him on it; it wasn’t my business. But LunaCorp had obviously caught wind of it, and they weren’t happy.

I backed toward the hab, my pulse rifle heavy in my hands. The airlock hissed open, and Luke was there, his suit patched from a hundred repairs, his face hard behind the visor. “They got no claim here. No jurisdiction,” he growled. “This is our land.”

“Is it?” I muttered, my eyes on the ship as it descended, kicking up clouds of dust that hung like fog in the low gravity. “They don’t care about that.” LunaCorp had laws, charters, rules that said every inch of this moon belonged to them. But this crater, this hab—it was ours. We’d bled for it, sweat for it. Me, Luke, Natalie, the kids—we’d carved a life out of this dead rock. And now they were here, their red lights flashing like blood in the dark.

Natalie was at the airlock, holding baby Eliza, her face pale but set like stone. “Brody, get inside,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear I knew she was hiding. Talia and Lexi, the girls, were behind her, their eyes wide, clutching each other. I wanted to say something brave, something to make them feel safe, but my throat was tight. I just nodded and stepped inside, the airlock sealing with a thud that felt final.

Through the hab’s window, I watched the ship land, its ramp dropping like a jaw. Exo-suited figures spilled out, their armor glinting under the artificial lights we’d rigged up. LunaCorp marshals, armed with rifles that could punch through our walls. “Luke Warner,” a voice boomed through the comms, cold and mechanical. “You’re in violation of Lunar Trade Act 2087. Surrender now.”

Luke was beside me, his rifle ready, his breath heavy in my earpiece. “They can’t take this place, Brody. It’s ours.” His voice was a low growl, but I heard the crack in it, the weight of Natalie’s silence, Petey’s absence.

I gripped my rifle, my hands sweating inside my gloves. “What’s the play, Luke?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The marshals were fanning out, their boots kicking up dust that floated like ghosts. I thought of the girls, of Natalie’s quiet strength, of Petey’s lopsided grin. This hab, this crater—it was everything we’d had. But LunaCorp had the guns, the laws, the power. Could you own a piece of the moon when they said it was theirs? And if they came for it, how much blood would you spill to keep it?

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