Battle Luna

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Battle Luna Page 11

by Travis S. Taylor


  He checked the man’s suit monitor and said, “He should be fine. Bring him some water. Take it easy, sir. You’ll need a few minutes to recover.”

  The second man said, “May I report in to assure them we are well?”

  Andre said, “Yes. I’ve already assumed you’re going to try to pass intel. As soon as you do, I cut the signal.” He handed over a wired mic.

  The man scowled, took the offered mic, and said, “Clarity, this is Sergeant Vinson. Aigule and I are both well and unharmed. They have our weapons. I count five of them. The third lock is—”

  “I cut you off after ‘weapons.’”

  The man shrugged. “Of course I was going to try.”

  “And of course you were going to lose. Please consider yourselves our guests, rather than prisoners. Either way, escape means entering hard vacuum without even a helmet. I recommend against it. If you succeed, you suffocate instantly. If you fail, you will probably have been injured. There’s no benefit to either of you.”

  There was a message from Coffman. “Paul will be at the Hut shortly. We’ll transfer these two in.”

  “Roger.” He checked the corridor monitors. “I see him.”

  Security Officer Paul arrived with two others. The Ueys were bound with cable ties, hooded with pillowcases, and looked very wary as that happened. Then they were marched out in front of the security officer with one of their rifles.

  Andre said, “They’ll each be put in a separate compartment. That should minimize risk.”

  Morton asked, “And if we capture enough to run out of compartments?”

  He smiled. “We declare victory conditions.”

  Having transferred the two troops in, the Ueys in the Middle Bay sat to conserve oxygen. One of them tried to pry the elastic goop out of the track, and the hatch closed more. He stuck a tool in the latch side to prevent it being closed by the Loonies and apparently decided not to keep messing with it without support. The element outside waited.

  There were obviously lengthy discussions ongoing with the leadership, possibly all the way back to Earth.

  Shortly, the outside element trotted to one of the vehicles and pulled out a roll of material and some struts. Then they started assembling it.

  Rojas noted, “Mylar sun shield.”

  Malakhar said, “For note, the shadow is nowhere underneath it this time of day. Quite distant. We can knock it down with no risk of injury.”

  Andre smirked. “Heck, a properly placed gas bottle will blow it across the landscape.”

  Rojas added, “Especially if we can find a way to cut it with debris then blow it to shreds.”

  The element outside were almost certainly trying to open Lock 1 intact. It existed for a reason, and even if they succeeded in entry, they’d need it, too. It was probably also sturdier than their gear could easily override. Blowing a hole in it would be easy. Actually opening it to admit entry was a different matter.

  It was obvious they were using tools, moving around, probing, trying to determine some way to force an almost featureless aluminum panel on a grooved track.

  Crawford asked, “What do your observers have, Ravi?”

  Malakhar said, “There are two small detachments patrolling slowly through the crags, and they will probably find the personnel hatches. I told Coffman, who says Zeiss is aware.”

  “Good. But most of them are right here?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d question their logic, but really, this is the best place to get a force in. The narrow passages are bottlenecks and could lead to a lot of casualties. Here they can get more force in, and maneuver.”

  During all this, the troops in Middle Bay were still sitting there patiently, not using more resources than they had to.

  “Does this matter?” Rojas asked. She looked tired.

  “How do you mean?” Andre asked.

  “Even if we win, do we win? What do we win?”

  Andre had to think about that. He stretched back in his chair.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “On the one hand, if the Ueys do keep it secret, there’s no benefit but no loss. On the other hand, I can’t imagine it staying secret. Too many scientists would want it to be public, and too many people would benefit.”

  Morton said, “I rather think there’d be a lot of fighting over it, with serious physical assaults to secure it for one group or another. Probably national, but possibly corporate.”

  “Very possible,” Andre agreed.

  Godin said, “If it gets out, there’s guaranteed violence. If it stays secure, guaranteed violence, but you know, we have plenty of violence without it. I don’t see it having that much of an effect on things overall, as far as that goes.”

  Andre said, “Logistically it matters. Military engineers are a force multiplier for an army. We let them move faster, be secure, pin the enemy in place. That takes money—logistics. If I could have as many mines and traps as I wanted produced on-site by shoveling crap—even literally crap—into one end, it would definitely make it easier.”

  Godin said, “And that would apply equally to everyone who had one, right? Even poorer, less equipped armies.”

  “It would. There’d be no superpowers anymore.”

  “Not really a bad thing, then?”

  Andre thought. “I don’t know. I mean, at present the superpowers are basically the US and China with Brazil, India and Japan moving up fast. I certainly don’t fear the Japanese with it. The Indians I’m not sure about. Sorry, Ravi.”

  Malakhar looked up from his screens and shrugged. “I agree, given our internal issues and some of our fringe groups that the government is not able to control.”

  “But say some of the more rabid nations, like some of the Arab countries of thirty years ago, get it, or some of the Stans. And then there’s any number of groups who could become national powers if they had it, and as long as they have enough people, this means they will have enough material. The entire power dynamic of Earth is about to change.”

  Rojas said, “So they’re not going to let us keep it, no matter what.”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “There are military, diplomatic, cultural and economic factors and I’m nowhere near an expert.”

  Godin said, “If someone thinks they can make a buck off it, they’re not going to destroy it.”

  Morton cocked his head and raised his brows.

  “There are groups opposed enough to capitalism that bombing it will be their first response. They’d rather have nothing than let anyone profit.”

  “Yup,” Andre agreed. “All we can do is hold off for now and see what’s next. For now, everyone should take a bathroom break in turn and get more food. And we need some water bottles.”

  “I’ll go,” Morton said, standing.

  It was an hour later when Lieutenant Kasanga came over the radio.

  “Lunar Element, Engineer Crawford, we are low on oxygen.”

  Theoretically, those were six-hour tanks with good filters. But they’d been exerting since arrival, and their trip from the ship was probably an hour. So two and a half hours? Yeah. No one had thought to use fresh bottles for a short incursion into an airlock.

  Andre opened the mic. “Are you asking to surrender?”

  After a long pause, the response was, “Yes.”

  “One at a time into the lock. Gear first, then the individual in a stripped suit.”

  He cycled them in one by one, and they were escorted off, hooded, to further detention.

  He examined one of the gas bottles left behind. It probably held twenty minutes of oxy. So they hadn’t been desperate, but were certainly thinking ahead to avoid being so.

  How big a reserve did they have in those vehicles? Replenishment tank or individual bottles? On the Moon, spare bottles were the rule. Lose one, you went on. Lose an entire replenishment supply . . .

  He said, “We need to find a way to attack their support vehicles.”

  Godin said, “I’ve got a skimmer. We can shovel it ful
l of dust at the pit out east.”

  “Is it out of view now?”

  Godin explained, “As in, it’s out at the hole where we found the thing. Remember they were doing geo surveys and mining outlines. They still are.”

  Crawford asked, “Okay. Who’s piloting?”

  “Seville.”

  He understood, he thought. “Aha. She hops to the pit, loads up with dust, flies over and opens the bay.”

  Godin said, “It’ll be really messy to load it into the craft. There will be sealing issues and then we’ll have to clean it all out afterward.”

  He understood. “Right. Still, it’ll be a lot worse on their vehicle than the skimmer.”

  Godin said, “Yes. Want me to get her going?”

  “Have her load up and stand by. We want to stage our response. Every time they think they’re making headway, we knock them back down.”

  Godin turned to his console. “Got it. I’ll code a message through.”

  Right then, the radio came through in clear.

  “Lunar Element, this is Colonel Arris, UN Forces. I request response.”

  Crawford waited ten seconds, then keyed and spoke. “Go ahead, Colonel.”

  “May I ask who I am speaking with?”

  “Sure, why not? As I told your lieutenant, I’m Andre Crawford, systems engineer.”

  There was dead air for about fifteen seconds, then Arris said, “Ah, here you are. You served with the US Army.”

  Crawford agreed, “I did. What about it?”

  Arris said, “I want to discuss our positions, and hope to resolve this peacefully.”

  Crawford counted five. “I can talk. I can’t make any decisions. That has to go through Control.”

  “I understand. I am unable to get a response from your Central Operations.”

  Five more seconds. “Okay.”

  Wait . . . Command wasn’t answering Arris. But, Command hadn’t told him not to talk to the Ueys. So the Ueys might think this was unsanctioned. That was interesting and potentially useful.

  He typed a quick query to Command.

  Zeiss responded, Correct. As I said, we decided to ignore them, force them to deal with you alone for now. He tried to contact us on the official freq about 30 seconds ago. I was just sending that note. If it gets complicated you’re authorized to ask us for advice, ask us to step in, or ignore him. Basically, keep him talking and unaware of anything else.

  He typed back, Roger, but we might want to split his attention shortly. Distraction. I’ll see what I can arrange.

  And as long as they were talking, the clock was running.

  Arris said, “Ultimately, we have the upper hand.”

  He paused again. It was all delay. “You believe so?”

  The colonel said, “We do. We have weapons and position.”

  Crawford waited his standard five seconds and said, “We have weapons now. And your troops are our prisoners.”

  He could almost hear Arris smirk. “We have a lot more than six weapons.”

  Crawford had to smile. “We have oxygen recycling and food. Do you propose a siege? We’ll win.”

  “Until we bring more forces from Earth.”

  Leaning back to feel casual so he’d sound casual, he replied, “That takes time. Something we have a lot of.”

  “Something you have a finite amount of. Eventually our positions reverse.”

  He really did sound casual as he said, “Eventually.”

  Arris said, “We need to talk about the device.”

  “What device?” He’d rehearsed sounding as casually ignorant as possible.

  “The device that is the reason we’re here.”

  Noncommittally, he said, “I’m listening.”

  “You understand what it is, yes?”

  “No. I don’t know of any ‘device.’” Actually, he knew a lot, but the longer they talked, the better, as long as his people kept an eye out for maneuvers.

  Malakhar smiled and winced, and looked impressed at the flat-out lie. Andre had to stifle his own giggle.

  “It didn’t occur to you to ask why an armed force was landing with demands to enter, and orders for same?”

  He replied, “One of the things I learned in the Army was not to ask questions about things I didn’t want to need answers to. That’s also good policy here, with all the military, technical and research secrets floating around.”

  Arris said, “Interesting. But you were told not to admit us.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  “That is correct.”

  Arris said, “And have gone to lengthy measures to delay us.”

  Crawford leaned back in his chair and replied, “Those were my instructions.”

  “You understand my orders place me superior to your command authority.”

  That ploy. “Well, I’m sure they do from your point of view, but I don’t recognize it.”

  “You don’t recognize UN authority?” Arris sounded surprised.

  “Not from outside, without a bona fide emergency. Central Operations is fully functional, and there’s no reason for external control. They told me to hold out any incursion. I wasn’t given a reason, but seeing as they’re functional and not under any kind of duress, I’m assuming their orders are legit. Talk to them.”

  Arris sounded irritated as he replied, “As I said, they are not responding.”

  “Well, I’ll send them a query. Right now, in fact. Stand by.”

  He did nothing for a measured thirty seconds. Really, this was eating up minutes.

  He keyed and spoke, “Okay, that’s done. You should hear from them as soon as they have comm time. But you understand I can’t speak for them and have no control over their decisions.”

  Arris said, “I—”

  Crawford cut him off and said, “So tell me about this device.”

  Arris replied, “It’s a fabricator. Raw material goes in, it processes out as product.”

  “So, a printer?” He tried for just a hint of scoff.

  “No, this is far more sophisticated. Much like a science fiction replicator.”

  That was a good rough approximation. Someone with firsthand knowledge had probably leaked.

  He replied, “I see. Or rather, I don’t. Why invade over that?”

  Arris sounded surprised at the question. “The risks of it. Any weapon one wants, instantly.”

  Crawford replied, “Or food. Medicine. Shelter. Apparently, though, you and your bosses went immediately to the bad potential.”

  Morton whispered, “Andre, they’re charging Lock One now.”

  “Case in point,” he said. “You have no desire for a peaceful outcome.” He slapped the channel closed.

  “Let’s do Round Two,” he said. “They’re actually going to try to blow their way in.” He punched an alarm to Control.

  “Explosion possibly imminent. Stand by for decompression protocols, and probably seismic as well.”

  Coffman replied, “Understood.”

  Was he justified in using lethal force yet? They hadn’t so far, but this could be considered an imminent threat, except of course, the Ueys would argue with the known status of the locks that it wasn’t.

  “Go with the dust,” he ordered. Though eventually someone was going to become a casualty.

  Far back alongside the ridge, six emplaced fougasse detonated, their initiation felt as a rumble through the regolith. In vacuum, the tons of dust they launched prescribed near perfect parabola, arcing up and back down to land in a huge, coordinated pile on and in front of Lock 1, utterly burying several Ueys.

  “Run the vid, count them,” he ordered. “And go with shot two.”

  Outside and right of the entrance was a boulder that had been moved when the track was cleared. Several others had been stacked around it, then, over time, arranged into a loose sculpture. It had been there for a decade and no one questioned it.

  Last week a large bladder had been erected among the rocks, and shoveled full of dust. A centrifugal pump spooled up
, throwing the dust in its scroll out across the moonscape, followed by the dust above it, as it trickled in, like a massive hourglass. The blower would jam soon enough, or abrasion would cause failure. Until then, though, they were using electricity but wasting no oxygen.

  That blew a huge stream of dust across the way, blocking pretty much any frequency of sensor, and almost certainly clogging equipment.

  “Hopefully, that will take them a while to dig out,” he said in satisfaction. Clicking open the general channel, he asked, “Colonel, are you still there?”

  “Well done, Mr. Crawford.”

  “Thank you, sir, though I think we can do better. Would you like to give us another chance?”

  “You can hold the mock derision. I am impressed. On another level, not at all. We know how this ends.”

  “Not my department, Colonel, as we’ve discussed.”

  He cut the channel. Let Arris stew for a while.

  The video feed from the observer was fascinating. The dust had settled instantly in vacuum, and the pile was impressive. It wouldn’t be hard to dig through in this G, but it would take time.

  However, Arris knew there were no serious weapons in play, and simply had a hundred troops descend on the pile and dig like dogs, tossing the dust into a wider dispersion. It didn’t take long for them to turn it from a mound to dig through into a pile they could merely wade through.

  The sunlight, though, had to be sweltering and draining their suit power, and the dust clung to everything from static, made worse by solar ionization. The troops were constantly wiping their visors with gloves, then someone brought towels. It didn’t help. That dust was flour, worse than Arabian Desert sand. It was probably contaminating a lot of their gear, too. Potentially even some weapons, though only a handful of troops were armed for this detail. Most of their gear was still in the vehicles.

  Twenty minutes later, the pile was a broad pan rather than a sloping mound.

  “That was an impressive and quick workaround,” he muttered. “I think we have to consider the outer hatch permanently compromised.”

  Rojas said, “They’re not in yet.”

  A flash, crack and rumble indicated the Ueys had blown the latches on Lock 1. Approaching again, they started cranking the manual. That not working, someone brought up a Johnson bar and started prying. In moments it was big enough for passage.

 

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