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The clank of the air conditioner compressor kicking on jolted Alejandro upright. He'd been stuck in that superposition between sleep and daydream for 3 hours, so the shock of compressor combined the sensations of falling off a building whilst also being hit in the head with a cartridge with rattling nails. The dull amber lights mounted on the four corners of his barracks room flickered into a low hum. Back sore, feet swollen, nose dry like in the midddle of a long-haul flight. Fitting, because he had done just that.

Three days ago Alejandro and 11 other foreign military servicemembers had set off for the Moon from the American Space Terminal Pontiac—last stop on the Great North American Space Elevator (GNASE, pronounced gee-naze). The GNASE was anchored 50 miles north of Detroit, Michigan, a location that the government commercials say was chosen to give ready access to America's Canadian friends. Although it was more realistically selected due to a confluence of cheap and available land, proximity to people and industry, and President of the day Ralla Singh Khatter's former station as Governor of Michigan. Most terminals along GNASE's length were operated by private companies, but Pontiac—the final useable terminal located at geostationary orbit—was publicly inaccessible, operated by the U.S. Army's 10th Terminal Battalion for exclusively military uses. Common applications included resupply trips to the Moon or the asteroid belt, orbital spacecraft factories, and a classic, the good old militarization of space.

Alejandro's trip was the first, part of a biannual rotation of foreign servicemembers to the USAF Battery Blue. The battery, called "the bluff" when the officers weren't around, was one of many exoatmospheric defense installations on the Moon. It was basically an array of missiles and lasers to protect American private interests and military operations. The foreign servicemembers were part of an exchange program, one of the few that could take them into space. Most Alejandro's fellow passengers were members of their respective air forces as Battery Blue was an air force installation. However, Alejandro was different. While everyone else wore blue, he wore white. His black shoulder boards showed a thin ribbon looping in the center. He was a Guardiamarina in the Mexican Navy, a recent grauate of la Heroica Escuela Naval Militar as a Marine Infantry officer.

Because Battery Blue was a common public relations stop for politicians and generals wanting to make a big show of the Moon's militarization—and it housed nuclear warheads deep underground—the bluff had a Marine Detachment of about 300. Guarding dignitaries and nuclear weapons was a mission of the U.S. Marine Corps as set by law. While Alejandro would not be let within a mile of a nuke, he would be billeted in the Marine wing of the base, take part in their perimeter patrols, receiving the less valuable visitors, and getting schooled by the Lieutenants. The Marine wing was much more ratty than the Air Force wing—where his fellow passengers would be staying—but beggars can't be choosers. There was no other conceivable way for a Mexican naval officer to get into space and Alejandro won the lottery.