Ben Bova - Moonwar

Joanna scowled with the memory. “That’s right. Faure may think he’s running the U.N., but Yamagata’s running him.”

Leaning back in the little wheeled chair far enough to make it squeak, Doug said, “So we need someone who can negotiate with Faure—and with Yamagata, behind Faure.”

“And who might that person be?” Brudnoy asked, needlessly.

Everyone in the little group turned to Joanna.

“We can’t stay out here forever.” Edith heard the Norwegian’s words in her helmet earphones. He sounded uptight, tense.

It had been nearly a half-hour since he’d sent his report Earthside. No orders had come up from Peacekeeper headquarters.

They were standing off to one side of the open airlock hatch, in the shadow of the mountain’s glassy-smooth flank. The troopers were spread around the crater floor, silent, waiting like obedient oxen, ashamed of their panicked flight from the garage. Edith wondered if they blamed themselves for Munasinghe’s death. Apparently the harsh sunlight bathing the crater floor actually did stop the nanomachines from damaging their suits further.

“If we had missile launchers with us we could blow those inside hatches from here,” Lieutenant Hansen said, “and then run through the garage and inside the base before the nanomachines could do any real damage.”

“But we don’t have missile launchers,” Edith said. “Do you?”

Edith could sense the Norwegian shaking his head inside his helmet. “Well, we can’t remain out here forever. We must do something.”

Then Edith heard Stavenger’s calm, almost pleasant voice again. “I’d like to speak to whoever’s in charge of your operation, please.”

For some seconds no one replied. Finally, “I am Lieutenant Hansen.”

“I want you to know,” Stavenger said,’that we regret very deeply the death of your captain.”

Hansen replied, That’s good of you.”

“We seem to have an awkward situation on our hands,” Stavenger said evenly. “I suggest we try to negotiate some way to solve it.”

“You could surrender to us,” Hansen suggested mildly.

But Stavenger merely responded, “That isn’t negotiating, sir. That is demanding.”

I’m awaiting orders from Peacekeeper headquarters.”

“I’m afraid those orders won’t reflect the actual situation here. The real question is, what can you accomplish? We don’t want you to have to retreat back Earthside with nothing at all to show for your mission.”

“Except a dead captain,” Hansen said.

For a long moment there was no response. Then Stavanger answered, “Yes, except for that.”

Hansen seemed to draw himself up straighter. “What do you suggest?”

Edith listened, fascinated, as Stavenger slowly, gently led Hansen to the possibilities of salvaging something from his captain’s failure to capture Moonbase.

He wants to get the Peacekeepers to go on back to Earth, Edith realized, before they do any real damage to Moonbase. He’s smooth, this Stavenger guy, Edith told herself.

For nearly an hour Stavenger talked with Lieutenant Hansen, soothingly, sanely, trying to move from confrontation to compromise.

Then a new thought struck Edith. If Stavenger’s successful, we’ll all pack up and go back to Earth. I’ll never see the inside of Moonbase! I’ll never get to interview any of their people. All I’ll have is a story about the Peacekeepers being humiliated, and the suits upstairs might not even want to run it!

The hell with that, she told herself. I’ve got to get inside the base. I’ve got to see this Stavenger guy and the other rebels.

But how?

There was only one way that she could think of. Hansen was still talking with Stavenger, the other lieutenant standing glumly by him, the rest of the troopers out on the crater floor, standing, sitting, pacing restlessly.

Slowly, without calling attention to herself, Edith sidled away from the Peacekeeper officers, toward the lip of the open airlock hatch. It was much bigger than anything she had expected to see at Moonbase, big enough to allow two tractors through, side by side.

They wouldn’t let me die from their nanobugs, Edith reassured herself. They didn’t want any of the troopers to get killed, after all. They’ll come and get me. If they don’t, I’ll just run back out here again.

If I have time, she added.

Okay, Edith asked herself. How big a risk are you willing to take for an exclusive interview with the Moonbase rebels?

She hesitated one moment more. Hansen and Stavenger were still talking: something about Mrs Brudnoy coming back Earthside with the Peacekeepers to negotiate face-to-face with Faure.

Edith took a deep breath of canned air, then started to run as hard as she could in the cumbersome spacesuit across the smooth rock floor of the Moonbase garage. The floor that still teemed with deadly nanobugs.

Doug tried to keep the tension out of his voice. It felt weird, trying to negotiate with someone you can’t see. Why did the lieutenant decide to stay off to one side of the hatch, where our outside cameras can’t pick him up? Is there a reason for that, or is it just a fluke?

His throat was getting dry from so much steady talking. Somebody handed him a tumbler of water and he sipped at it gratefully.

No one had left the control center. They were still gathered around him. Doug could feel the heat of their bodies, the sweat of their anxiety.

On the screens before him Doug saw the empty garage and a good swathe of the floor of the crater, where most of the Peacekeeper troops seemed to be milling about aimlessly. We should count them, he thought as he talked with Hansen, make certain they’re all accounted for.

“Mrs Brudnoy is willing to accompany you back Earthside,” he was saying as he reached for the keyboard and began typing. “She’s a member of the board of directors of Masterson Corporation, and its former chairperson. She could negotiate this problem directly with the secretary-general.”

On the screen to his right appeared his message: COUNT THE TROOPERS. MAKE SURE NONE ARE MISSING. THEY COULD BE TRYING TO FIND THE EMERGENCY AIRLOCKS.

Hansen was saying, “I will have to communicate with my superiors. I don’t have the authority to make such a decision.”

“Of course,” Doug said. Anything, so long as they don’t get the notion to cut the power lines from the solar farms, or damage the farms themselves.

The mercenary watched Doug’s performance with grudging respect. He just might pull it off, he told himself. He just might get the Peacekeepers to haul ass out of here and leave us alone.

The mercenary looked at the faces of the people gathered around Doug. Anxiety, plenty of it. But there was hope in their perspiration-sheened faces, too. And more than hope: admiration. Unadulterated admiration for this young man who was shouldering the burdens of leadership for them, and succeeding at it.

Deep within himself, the mercenary felt a tangled skein of conflicting emotions. He admired Doug Stavenger, too. But he knew that the more successful Doug was, the closer he was moving to death. If he really does drive the Peacekeepers off, then I’ll have to kill him, like it or not.

It was strange. For the first time in his life he approached an assassination reluctantly.

But then he realized that it was Stavenger himself who would force the issue. Like all prey, Stavenger was moving willingly toward his final moment. The mercenary wasn’t stalking him; Stavenger was coming to him, seeking death. If the kid would just let the Peacekeepers come in and take over I wouldn’t have to touch him, the mercenary told himself.