Ben Bova - The Silent War

Fuchs eyed her dispassionately. Of the three, she was the feistiest, the most likely to ask questions. Is it because she’s a woman? Fuchs wondered.

“I’ll have to acquire an identification chip for myself, so I can get down to Selene’s lowest level.”

“How can you get one?”

“I’ll need help,” he admitted.

The three Asians looked at him questioningly.

“I’ll call Pancho. I’m sure she can get an identification tag for me that will give me access to Humphries’s grotto.”

He was grasping at a straw and he knew it. Even worse, when he called Pancho from one of the phones set along the walkways of the machinery spaces, he was told that Ms. Lane was away from her office and unavailable.

“Where is she?” Fuchs asked.

“Ms. Lane is unavailable at present,” the phone’s synthesized voice answered. “Please leave your name and someone will get back to you as soon as possible.”

Fuchs had no intention of leaving his name. “Can I reach her, wherever she is?”

“Ms. Lane is unavailable at present,” the computer replied cheerfully.

“How long will she be gone?”

“That information is unknown, sir.”

Fuchs thought swiftly. No sense trying to pry information out of a stupid machine, he thought. Besides, he didn’t want to stay on the phone long enough to draw the attention of Selene’s security monitors.

“Tell her that Karl Manstein called and will call again.”

Feeling desperate, trapped, he punched the phone’s OFF key.

It wasn’t easy to surprise Douglas Stavenger. No matter that he had been officially retired from any formal office for decades, he still kept himself informed on everything that happened in Selene. And beyond, to a considerable extent.

He knew that his wife was pressing the news media chief for more coverage of the war raging out in the Belt. He knew that the corporations were pushing in the opposite direction, to keep the story as hushed up as possible. The Starlight tragedy had forced some light into the situation, but both Astro and Humphries Space Systems exerted every gram of their enormous power to move the media off the story as quickly as possible.

But now, as he sat at the breakfast table with his wife, Stavenger was truly shocked by her revelation.

“You’re going to Ceres?” Edith smiled prettily over her teacup. “Nobody else wants to open up this story, Doug, so I’m going to do it.”

He fought down an impulse to shake his head. For several moments he said nothing, staring at his bowl of yogurt and honey, his thoughts spinning feverishly.

Yet when he looked up at her again all he could think to say was, “I don’t like it, Edie.”

“I’m not sure that I like it myself, darling, but somebody’s got to do it and I don’t see anyone else stepping up to the task.”

“It’s dangerous out there.”

Her smile widened. “Now who’s going to harm the wife of Doug Stavenger? That would bring Selene into the war, wouldn’t it?”

“Not automatically, no.”

“No?” She arched a brow at him.

He conceded, “I imagine the corporations would fear Selene’s response.”

“If anyone harmed me,” she went on, quite seriously, “you’d see to it that Selene came into the war on the other side. Right? And that would throw the balance of power against the corporation that harmed me. Wouldn’t it?”

He nodded reluctantly.

“And that would decide the war. Wouldn’t it?”

“It could.”

“It would, and you know it. Everybody knows it, including Pancho Lane and Martin Humphries.” She took another sip of tea, then put the cup down with a tiny clink of china. “So I’ll be perfectly safe out there.”

“I still don’t like it,” he murmured.

She reached across the little table and grasped his hand. “But I’ve got to, Doug. You can see that, can’t you? It’s important: not just to me but to everybody involved, the whole solar system, for god’s sake.”

Stavenger looked into his wife’s earnest eyes and knew he couldn’t stop her.

“I’ll go with you, then,” he said.

“Oh no! You’ve got to stay here!”

“I don’t think—”

“You’re my protection, Doug. What happens if we both get killed out there? Who’s going to lead Selene?”

“The duly elected governing council.”

“Oh, sure,” she sneered. “Without you pulling their strings they’ll dither and shuffle and do nothing, and you know it.”

“No, I don’t know that.”

She smiled again. “I need your protection, Doug, and I can only get it if you’re here at Selene, keeping things under control.”

“You give me more credit than I deserve.”

“And you’re the youngest eminence grise in the solar system.”

He laughed. It was an old standing joke between them.

“Besides,” Edith went on, “if you come out to Ceres all the attention will be on you. They’ll fall all over themselves trying to show you that everything’s all right. I’ll never get a straight story out of anybody.”

He kept the argument going for nearly another half-hour, but Stavenger knew that his wife would do what she wanted. And so would he. Edith will go to Ceres, he realized, and I’ll stay here.

Nobuhiko was brimming with excitement when he called his father to tell him that Pancho Lane was walking into the Nairobi base on the Moon.

The elder Yamagata was in his cell in the monastery, a fairly sizable room whose stone walls were covered now with bookshelves and smart screens. The room was furnished sparsely, but Nobu noticed that his father had managed to get a big, square mahogany desk for himself.

Saito was sitting on his haunches on a tatami mat, however, directly under the big wallscreen that displayed an intricate chart that Nobu guessed was the most recent performance of the Tokyo stock exchange.

“She’s going into the Nairobi base voluntarily?” Saito asked.

“Yes!” gushed Nobu. “I’ve ordered an interrogation team to get there immediately! The Africans can drug her and the team wring her dry and she’ll never even know it!”

Saito grunted. “Except for her headache the next day.”

Nobu wanted to laugh, but held back.

His father said nothing for long, nerve-racking moments. Finally, “You go to Shackleton. You, yourself.”

“Me? But why—”

“No interrogation team knows as much about our work as you do, my son. You can glean much more from her than they could without you.”

Nobu thought it over swiftly. “But if somehow she recognizes me, remembers afterward…”

“Then she must be eliminated,” Saito answered. “It would be a pity, but it would be quite necessary.”

Since the battle that shattered Gormley’s fleet, the HSS base at Vesta had been busy. Ships were sent out in groups of two or three to hound down Astro freighters and logistics vessels. Although Astros crewed ships were armed, they were no match for the warships with their mercenary crews that Humphries was pouring into the Belt.

Sitting in the command chair of Samarkand, in charge of three attack ships, Dorik Harbin wondered how long the war could possibly go on. Astro’s vessels were being methodically eliminated. It was clear that Humphries’s mercenaries were on the verge of sweeping Astro entirely out of the Belt. Astro’s pitiful effort to stop HSS freighters from delivering ores to the Earth/Moon region had backfired hideously with the Starlight fiasco.

Yet the rumor was that more Astro ships were heading for the Belt. Better-armed ships, vessels crewed by mercenaries who were smart enough to avoid massed battles. The war was settling down to a struggle of attrition. Which corporation could better sustain the constant losses of ships and crews? Which corporation would decide the war was costing too much and call it quits?