Ben Bova - Moonwar

Ibrahim al-Rashid was not happy when his executive assistant—a lissome sloe-eyed Jamaican woman with a delightful lilt in her voice—informed him that another news broadcast was coming from Moonbase. Rashid watched Edie Elgin’s report from Moonbase’s farm in glum silence. His heart sank when she told the world that Moonbase could sustain itself indefinitely and did not need supplies from Earth.

Even before her report ended, Rashid’s intercom chimed softly. He glanced at the phone screen: GEORGES FAURE, UNITED NATIONS, NEW YORK.

With a sigh, Rashid muted the news report from Moonbase’s farm and activated the phone. Faure’s face, even on the small screen, looked bleak.

“You have seen this latest news broadcast from Moonbase?” Faure asked, without preamble.

“I was just watching it now.”

“The situation deteriorates with each moment,” Faure said. “Now the entire world knows that Moonbase has asked for independence.”

“I thought Global News had agreed to the blackout,” said Rashid.

“They did. But once Kiribati broke the blackout, Global and the other networks broke their agreements with me.”

Rashid sank back in his chair. Kiribati. That means Tamara Bonai has betrayed me. And Joanna’s out there whipping up the other directors against me.

“It was my belief,” Faure almost snarled,’that the Kiribati Corporation was under your control.”

“It was my belief, too. Apparently we were both wrong.”

“Then something must be done to correct them!”

“What do you have in mind?”

Faure’s image glowered out of the screen, like a little imp trying to look threatening. “I might ask of you the same question,” he retorted.

I’ll call the person responsible for this. I’ll see to it that it doesn’t happen again.”

“Too late for that,” Faure snapped. “Now that the cat is out of the sack, we will not be able to stuff it back inside again. All the news networks are besieging my public information office for permission to send reporters to Moonbase.”

“You don’t have to grant such permission,” said Rashid.

“Certainly not! But this means that the news networks will carry any propaganda that Moonbase beams to Earth!”

Rashid thought about that for a moment, and reluctantly decided that Faure was right.

“In that case,” he said to the fuming image, “all we can do is counter their propaganda with information of our own.”

“Yes, and in the meantime the World Court will meet to decide whether or not Moonbase can be considered as a nation of its own.”

“Surely you can delay the World Court.”

“Only to a certain extent.”

“Long enough to send a stronger contingent of troops to seize Moonbase?”

Faure nodded tightly. “Yes, long enough for that, I should think.”

For some time after Faure’s call, Rashid sat in his desk chair, fingers steepled before his face, swivelling back and forth slightly. He was wondering what he could do about Tamara Bonai. This broadcast from Moonbase had to be her doing. She was defying everything that Rashid had worked so patiently to achieve.

There would be a showdown with Joanna soon, he knew. She’s trying to drum up support on the board for a special meeting. Bonai will undoubtedly be on her side, unless I can prevent her from it.

The problem was that Bonai was not merely the figurehead president of the hollow-shell Kiribati Corporation. She was also the head of the Kiribati council of chiefs; technically, legally, she was a chief of state.

I will have to deal very carefully with her, Rashid thought. But she must be dealt with, one way or another.

A slow smile worked across his face. Bonai is a very beautiful woman. It could be quite enjoyable dealing with her—one way or another.

Joanna’s call woke Doug. He almost told the smart wall to answer it without canceling the video, but Edith stirred drowsily beside him and mumbled, “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” he whispered, bending over her and kissing her bare shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

Doug slipped out of bed and padded to his desk on the other side of the partitioned room. The phone kept on chiming softly, insistently.

The chair felt cool to his bare rump. He picked up the old-fashioned receiver and spoke softly, “Stavenger here.”

From the delay he realized the call was coming from Earthside. His mother’s voice asked testily, “Where are you? Why isn’t there any video?”

A smile creased Doug’s face. “Because it’s almost four a.m. here, Mother, and I’m not dressed.” He pressed a stud on the phone console and his mother’s features appeared on the wall screen opposite his desk, slightly larger than life.

“Are you all right?” he asked, and heard the same question from her, almost at the same instant.

“I’ve had a long talk with Rashid. He’s as much as admitted that he’s working toward a merger with Yamagata.”

“A merger?” The thought alarmed Doug. He had never considered that Masterson Corporation might be taken over by another company.

“It would be a buyout, really. Lord knows how much cash Yamagata’s promised him under the table.”

“What can you do about it?” Doug asked.

He knew her answer before he heard it. “I’m rallying the members of the board. If Yamagata wants us, it’s going to be a hostile takeover, and we intend to fight it every inch of the way.”

“Do you have enough votes?”

As he waited for her response, Doug realized he didn’t know the board well enough to count the votes himself.

“It’ll be close,” Joanna admitted. “Rashid’s got a solid bloc on his side. But I think I can turn some of them around. Tamara Bonai might be the swing vote.”

“Tamara?”

A slight smile turned the corners of Joanna’s lips. “It might be worthwhile for you to visit her with the VR system. She’s a year or so older than you, but a little sweet talk might help us.”

Doug stared at his mother. Despite the smile, she meant it.

“Mom,” he said, thinking of Edith sleeping in his bed, “I’m no Romeo.” He couldn’t help smiling.

But Joanna was already saying, “Faure’s been ducking me, as usual. His office has set up a meeting with two of his underlings, so I’m sending Lev to meet with them.”

“We want to send some of the people here back Earthside,” Doug said. “The dance troupe… and there’s at least a dozen others who want to get home as soon as they can.”

Joanna nodded once she heard his words. “I’ll tell Lev to see what he can work out. An evacuation flight might be good publicity for us. Faure won’t be able to turn down such a request. If he does—”

“Speaking of publicity,” Doug interjected, “are Edith Elgin’s reports doing us any good?”

Her face lit up once she heard the question. “Are they! She’s going to get a Pulitzer, you mark my words.”

“Great,” said Doug. “But are they having any effect?”

“Everybody knows you’ve declared Moonbase’s independence,” Joanna said excitedly. “All the talk shows and newsheets are full of debates about it. I’ve gotten three U.S. senators to ask the White House to request a hearing in the World Court. Faure’s turning blue over it!”

“Good,” Doug said. “Great. How soon will the World Court take up our case?”

Joanna’s reply came three seconds later. “We’re pushing for an emergency session of the court. Otherwise it’ll have to wait until November, when they convene again. At least they’ll put it at the head of their agenda, even if it’s November.”

“November? That’s more than six months away.”

“I’m trying to get to them sooner.”