Dylan was not okay.
He paced the garage, muttering equations to himself, occasionally stopping to stare at the ion thruster like it was about to reveal the secrets of the universe—or eat his face.
Me? I was busy googling:
"What to do when someone sends you illegal rocket parts in the mail."
Spoiler: No helpful answers. Just paranoia and a website that tried to sell me tinfoil hats.
"I think this is military-grade tech," Dylan whispered, crouching low. "You don't just *get* this shipped to you like a pizza."
"Well," I said, munching a stress-sausage (don't judge), "maybe our mysterious donor *wants* us to succeed. Like a space fairy godmother."
He stared at me.
"Or," I continued, "they're monitoring us. Maybe this whole garage is bugged."
A loud crack echoed from the corner.
We froze.
It was just a wrench falling. But emotionally? We had both peed a little.
——
Later that night, I checked our email.
One new message.
From: no.reply@celestia-watch.org
Subject: YOU ARE BEING OBSERVED (Don't Panic)
My stomach dropped into my socks.
The message read:
Your progress has been noted.
Do not stop now.
The Moon needs you.
Attached was a grainy photo of us from two nights ago. In the garage. Hugging after Rocket Test #11.
"DYLAN!" I screamed.
He came running, tripped on a wire, and knocked over our only working battery pack.
"We're being watched!" I yelled, shoving the screen in his face.
He blinked.
Then, slowly, smiled.
"This is amazing."
"AMAZING?!"
"Babe. This means someone *cares*."
"Babe. This means someone's *stalking us*."
He shrugged. "Stalking with good taste."
——
We spent the next three days:
- Replacing the broken battery pack (with one borrowed from Dylan's dad's boat).
- Insulating the cockpit (with bubble wrap and hope).
- Powering the thruster core just enough to glow, but not enough to destroy the continent.
Oh, and we installed a motion-activated burrito launcher.
(For intruders. Or for us. In case of low blood sugar.)
——
Then it happened.
The garage lights flickered. All of them. At once.
The hum of the thruster core deepened, like it had a throat now.
A spark of blue light shot into the air and disappeared through the ceiling.
Dylan stared, eyes wide.
"Did we just—"
Suddenly, a message appeared on my phone. No app. No signal.
Just… text.
They know. Finish what you started. Time is running out.
My mouth went dry.
I turned to Dylan. "Do you think the Moon is calling us?"
He looked up, serious now. "No. But something out there definitely is."