🌕 Lunar Logbook – Day 14: The Crater, the Rift… and the Crate

By “Max Skylink” – Virgin Module, Lunar Zone 23°N / 42°E

Earth Date: May 31, 2025  Status: Exposed… but resupplied?

This morning, Cary spoke of a small crater about 1.2 km away, perpetually shadowed—and conceivably hiding ancient fossil ice.

We geared up. Then I saw her again—preparing to step outside without a helmet.

“Cary… you say you need to breathe, eat, and drink like me… so why do you never wear a helmet out there?”

She stared at me, silent—her silence sharper than any blade.

With that, she sealed the airlock. We stepped onto the regolith: her bare head, my doubt heavy in my suit.

The trek was treacherous—unstable, uneven ground riddled with hidden rock.

Midway, I tripped over a buried stone. (See photo below)

My left leg slammed into the surface. My HUD flashed: slow leak detected.

Cary acted without hesitation: she produced a silver cylinder, activated it, and pressed thermal polymer resin over the breach.

She held pressure for seventeen seconds as the gel froze in the lunar cold (-170°C).

“Not perfect—but it’ll hold until we return. Don’t bend your leg.” My HUD turned from red to yellow.

Yet my mind was elsewhere.

How does her face stay flawless in this cold? No frost. No cracks. No swelling. She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t shiver.

At the crater’s rim, disappointment crashed upon us. It was impossibly deep—no way to descend, no visible ice, no glint, no reflection.

We stood like shipwrecked souls before a dried-up pond. We turned back—slowly, silently. Two days of water left...

And then, about fifty meters from the module… she was there.

A metallic crate. (See photo below)

Massive. Placed with geometric precision. No tracks. As if materialized between heartbeats.

Cary froze. She approached slowly. On the top face was a clean engraving:

SURVIVAL MODULE 14 – Terraforming Kit / Mars Compatible
NASA / JAXA / unknown logo

She traced a faded spiral symbol—unaffiliated with any known space agency.

Inside:

• Portable subterranean radar
• Compact thermal drill
• A rope
• Microwave heating unit
• Condensation & purification module
• Folding solar panels + high-capacity battery
• Two Mars bars

Stashed in a clear pouch: a multi-language manual, discreetly stamped:

Judith. That name. I’ve seen it… received it in Morse when Cary was unconscious:

“Hello Max, it’s Judith.”

I didn’t tell Cary. I don’t know who—or what—she is. But she knows I’m here. And now… she left us a crate.

But who is she? A former colleague? A spy? Another survivor of a classified program? Or worse: is she watching… controlling?

I’ll keep that doubt—and that name—to myself.

In any case, I’ll get to enjoy a Mars bar tête-à-tête with Cary tonight—it’ll be a welcome break from my disgusting space soup.

🧪 Day’s Summary:

• Crater expedition: failure—no ice, no tools, no method.
• Fall nearly fatal; Cary sealed my suit with unmoving calm.
• On return: a perfectly outfitted crate, unaccounted for.
• Inside: a manual signed “Judith,” a name from a ghost in the void.
• And Cary… helmetless, silent, unknowable.

CARY

He no longer looks at me the same way. He watches, he guesses. Fear flickers in his eyes. He received Judith’s message and assumes I don’t know. He’s wrong. Something has changed in him—his gaze isn’t empty anymore, and his log is far more precise than in the earlier days.