by Ben Bova
"It sounds lonely."
"No, it's beautiful. Watching the ice vents outgas right after the perigee quakes. There's just enough sulfur dioxide in the rocks to tint the' vapor pink—the stuff puffs up and out like a ghost escaping from its grave."
Angela shuddered. "That doesn't sound beautiful to me."
"Wait 'till you see it."
"I'll never see it," she said. Sadly.
"Yes you will. I'm taking you there, remember?"
"No . . ."
He hunched forward in his chair. "God, you're beautiful. Let's go to bed."
She didn't look surprised. "There's more to it than that, Alec."
"What?"
"If Douglas finds out . . ."
He pulled back from her. "He means more to you than I do."
"No, it's not that," she said. "Alec ... I don't mean anything to you. Not really. You can screw me one minute and try to trick me the next."
"You did the same damned thing!"
"Because I knew that's what you were doing! You didn't fool me, not for one minute."
"Then why did you go to bed with me?"
Her voice rising, "Because you saved me and I was scared and you were kind—no, you killed those two . . . oh, hell! I don't know. I did it because I wanted to."
"And you don't want to now."
"Yes, I do want to."
It took a moment for Alec to realize what she had said. Then, leaning back in his chair, he wondered aloud, "Then what are we arguing about?"
Angela shook her head. "You don't understand any of it, do you? Not a bit of it."
But she got up from the table and took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom.
The first light of dawn woke Alec. He lay with Angela's soft warmth beside him, her head cradled in his arm, and watched the day slowly brighten through the bedroom window. The sleeping bag was spread lumpily over them.
"Are you going to stay?" Angela asked very quietly.
"Huh? I thought you were sleeping."
She smiled at him. "I've been thinking for the past couple of hours."
"With your eyes closed?"
"Are you going to stay here ... at the base, I mean?"
"Do I have a choice? I'm a prisoner."
Pushing away from him slightly, she said, "Oh, that. You don't have to worry. Douglas just wanted you to come here without any fuss. He wouldn't stop you from leaving. He does love you, you know."
"The hell he does."
"Don't be a fool. Of course he does."
Then why did he leave us? Alec demanded silently. What kind of love is that?
"Well?" she asked.
"What?"
"Are you going to stay here?"
"Would you come with me if I left?" he countered.
"No. I couldn't."
"Because he needs you more than I do."
She laughed. "Don't be silly. Douglas doesn't need me. He doesn't need anybody except one person."
"Who's that?"
"You."
He huffed. "Don't be funny."
Angela sat up and pulled her knees up to her chin. The cover slid down to her ankles, and Alec shivered; not from the room's chill, but from the curve of her smoothly fleshed back and hip.
"Look," she said, "What you don't . . ."
"I'm looking," he murmured.
She intercepted his reaching hand. "Not now. You've got to realize a few things. Douglas is an old man . . ."
"Fifty-five. That's not old."
"It is when you've lived the way he has," Angela said, completely serious. "He needs help. Your help. That's why he brought you here. He was overjoyed that you made it all the way here from Oak Ridge. He bragged about how you got through the summer on your own."
"I'll bet."
"He wants you to join with him, help him bring the lunar settlement and his own territory here together. If the two of you can work together you can build a real civilization that links the Earth and the Moon. But if you fight ..."
"Listen to me," Alec snapped. "He ran out on us. Not just on my mother and me, but on hundreds of men, women and children who depended on him, trusted him. He's stolen the fissionables that we need. Without them we'll all die. He won't let us have them."
"Yes he will!" Angela insisted. "If only you'll agree to help him."
"Help him make himself into another Genghis Khan? He can rot first."
"You just don't understand!"
"Wrong! I understand far more than you do. Far more."
She shook her head. "No, Alec, you're wrong. You're all wrong about so many things."
Instead of answering, he got to his feet. The bare floor was cold.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Back to my own quarters."
"Not yet." She slid one hand up the side of his leg. He turned and sank to his knees on the mattress.
"You don't have to go now," Angela said, almost in a whisper. "And stop pouting. What's going on between you and your father has nothing to do with what's going on between you and me."
Doesn't it? he demanded in his mind. Aren't you doing this to make me stay here, to get me to join forces with him?
But although he thought it, Alec did not say anything as Angela pulled him back into the warmth of the bed again.
Chapter 23
It was easy to slide into the routine of daily life at the base.
The leaves fell steadily from the trees, the grass turned brown and brittle. The wind came always from the north or west, cold and sharp enough to cut through the heaviest of coats. The sky turned gray as the days shortened. The Sun did not climb far above the horizon and the Moon seemed to have disappeared from the cloudy night skies. One titanic rainstorm stripped away the last of the leaves, blew off roofs and tore limbs from the bare trees. Alec's quarters stayed dry, although the heat and electricity went out for several days.
Angela's house was flooded to a depth of ten centimeters in the cellar.
Then the weather turned fine and dry. Days were cold, invigorating. Nights were arctic. More and more, Alec slept with Angela. If Douglas knew about it, he said nothing, even though they dined together frequently in his house with Will Russo and others of Douglas's aides.
It was an easy time. The summer's fighting was over and everyone was preparing for the long winter. Trucks and wagons came in every day from the outlying villages, heaped with produce from the harvest. They went out with tools, guns, and ammunition that had been manufactured in the base's shops.
Troops of warriors came in from the hinterlands, reunited with families and friends that they had not seen all summer. There were parties, celebrations, even dramatic offerings by self-styled actors and singers in the base's mammoth, bare auditorium.
Alec found their efforts amateurish, but he attended every performance, sitting with Angela next to him. Douglas always sat front row center and it always appeared to Alec as if the performers were playing especially to him. He appeared to enjoy himself hugely, guffawing at the jokes and applauding every effort lustily.
Will had brought in a cache of whisky, "liberated" from a long-deserted city that his troop had detoured through. He rationed the stuff carefully, except for one long night when he gave a party and they all—even Alec—sang drunkenly until the Sun rose.
All except Douglas, who left early in the evening after a few drinks. And by the time they started singing "The Frigging Bird" for the fourth time, Angela slipped quietly away, too.
"I wanted to check on Douglas," she explained the next morning. "He didn't look too well when he left."
Through his thundering hangover, Alec said, "So you had to nursemaid him."
"You seemed to be having fun," she answered, smiling.
But I don't want you with him, Alec said to himself.
I want you with me. And suddenly he realized that he loved her.
A few nights later they were walking arm in arm from the mess hall to her house, heavily bundled in thick coats and wool hats and glove
s. The water in the nearby lake had a thin layer of ice over it, and the only birds still remaining around the base were hardy brown sparrows who puffed up their feathers and hopped over the dead grass looking for seeds or crumbs.
For the first time in weeks, Alec noticed the Moon. It was only a sliver sailing eerily among the clouds scuttling by.
"I wonder how my men are doing?" he mused aloud.
"Have you asked . . ."
"I've tried to get to them, but Will said it's better if I don't. He told me they're all okay, but I shouldn't ask anything more about them."
"Will wouldn't lie to you," she said.
Gazing at the thin slice of a Moon, he wondered, "Do you think Kobol's still in Florida? Or has he returned to the settlement? What's he up to? What's his game?"
Angela said nothing.
"He'll be back in the spring," Alec went on. "I'll bet he heads this way, next spring."
"Then there'll be fighting," she said.
"Plenty of it."
They had reached Angela's house. "And when the fighting begins, which side will you be on, Alec?"
He thought about it. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I just don't know."
The first snowfall came early and caught everyone by surprise, Alec most of all.
He walked out into the howling wind, turning dizzily round and round to watch the strange white flakes bury the world in their clean coldness.
They spattered against his face and hands as drifts built up against the buildings. He trudged to Angela's and dragged her out into the snow. She taught him how to make a snowball and they pelted each other until they laughed themselves into wet exhaustion.
Then they spent the rest of the day by her fireplace, not thinking of food or anything else except each other.
It was Will Russo who pulled Alec away for a few days.
After more than a week of steadily heavier hints, Will finally asked Alec if he would go with him into the woods on a hunting trip. Something in the way he asked implied that he had more on his mind than simply hunting. Alec agreed.
They set off across the solidly frozen lake early one morning, as the Sun was just starting to brighten the eastern sky. Alec felt plainly nervous about walking on ice, even though the snow atop it made the going easy. All that water below, he kept thinking. But Will chattered happily, even hummed to himself occasionally, perfectly at ease.
So Alec shifted the heavy pack on his shoulder harness and tried to forget what would happen to them if the ice broke.
They spent the whole day up in the hills, moving straight ahead, following some inner sense of direction or purpose known only to Will. The snow was thinner up under the fir trees, barely a dusting on the ground.
"Will," Alec asked, pulling up alongside his long-striding companion, "what are we hunting for?"
"Three men," he replied, trying to replace his happy grin with a serious look. He was only partly successful.
"What? Men? With these?" Alec hefted the long-barrelled rifle Will had given him. It fired only one shot at a time.
"Well, maybe we won't have to use the guns. They might come peacefully."
"I thought we were going for meat ... to eat."
With a swipe at his nose, Will answered, "Nope. Trappers bring in plenty game for the table. Oh, we might bag a deer or something on our way back. But only after we deal with the thieves."
"Thieves?"
Still striding along fast enough to force Alec to trot every few moments to catch up, Will answered, "They joined one of our scout parties late summer. I thought all they wanted was a safe, warm place to spend the cold months. But a couple weeks ago they took off with a wagonload of food, guns, and ammo."
"A couple of weeks ago? They could be in Asia by now!"
"Nope, they're not. They had to shoot their way past the gate guards, and one of 'em was wounded. Killed two of our guards, by the way. Other guards followed them for a while, and we've had relays of scouts trailing them—at a distance. Don't want anybody hurt unnecessarily."
That made sense to Alec. But now, "We're going to take them in?"
"Right. They're holed up in a cave, out of food. One of them's still in bad shape from his wounds, I imagine. The other two might listen to reason."
"And if they don't?"
Will hiked his eyebrows. "That's why we're carrying the rifles."
They camped in the woods overnight and ate from the food they had carried with them. Only a small fire. They slept in sleeping bags. Alec was shivering when he woke up next dawn.
By midmorning they were halfway up a barren hill. Underneath its coating of snow, where the wind had blown bare patches, it looked as if the ground had been scorched black. No trees grew on the hillside, and only a few stunted, gnarled bushes stuck their tortured bare limbs out of the snow.
"There's the cave," Will said, pointing with his rifle.
Up near the top of the rocky hill was a black fissure between two large boulders.
A clatter of pebbles behind them made Alec whirl around, rifle cocked and levelled. He saw a man, old and gnarled as the nearby bushes, whiplash thin, with a cold-whitened face that was mostly bones and eyes. His mouth was sunken, toothless, and his heavy fur hat was jammed down until it merged with the bulky collar of his rough coat.
"They're still in there" the old man said to Will as he advanced carefully toward them. "Haven't seen any signs of smoke or a fire for three days now." He said fie-yuh for fire, an accent Alec hadn't heard before.
"Not much firewood to be had around here, that's for sure," Will said.
"Eh-yup," said the scout.
"Okay. Good." Will wriggled out of his shoulder harness, reached inside the pack and took out two oblate metal objects. Grenades, Alec realized.
Pushing one grenade into each of his coat pockets, Will said to them, "You two stay here and cover me. I'm gonna see if they'll listen to some sense." He picked up his rifle and started scrambling toward the top of the hill.
Alec kneeled in the snow and clamped his rifle under his arm, pointing it in the general direction of the cave.
"They're bad poison," the scout muttered in his strange accent. "Caught Johnny Fullah last week and shot him through both knees. Left him crippled to bleed to death in the snow. Lucky I found him before the wolves did."
Alec glanced at the old man, then put the rifle to his shoulder and aimed it dead at the cave opening.
Will was nearly at the edge of the big boulder on the left of the cave.
"Hello the cave!" he shouted.
No reply.
"We know you're in there. We know you're cold and hungry and your friend needs medical help, if he's not dead already. Come on out and we'll take you back to the base. I'm a medic, I can help your wounded man."
"And then hang us!" a voice shouted back. It sounded young and trembly to Alec.
"That's up to the jury. You'll get a fair trial."
"We ain't comin' out!" It was definitely a young voice, cracking with fear.
Will talked with them for half an hour, patiently, almost pleasantly. He pointed out to them the hopelessness of their situation, urged them to come out peacefully.
Finally the voice said, "Okay . . . okay, you win Will grinned back down toward Alec, then rose to his feet. "Good," he said toward the cave. "I knew . . ."
The shot exploded, echoed by the cave walls, and knocked Will completely off his feet. He tumbled, flailing legs and arms, down the rough hillside. A yellow-haired figure darted from the cave mouth and dashed off toward the right.
Alec had let his rifle rest on his knee, but without thinking about it he snapped it to his shoulder and fired. The rock chipped in front of the fleeing blond. He skidded to a stop, pawing at his eyes. Alec fired again, slamming him back against the rock. Again, and the figure jerked once more and crumpled to the ground.
Alec swung his rifle back to the cave's mouth.
Another shot boomed out, and the snow puffed a few centimeters in front of Will's
sprawled body.
Alec emptied the rest of his clip at the cave's entrance. The firing stopped. He scrambled up the few steep meters to Will's side. There was a spreading red stain across his coat front. His eyes were open, but hazy.
"Don't . . . don't . . ." Will mumbled. Alec heard more shots, from behind. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the scout was aiming a smoking pistol rock-steady at the cave's mouth.
"Give them a chance . . . they're scared ..."
Will said weakly.
"I'll give them a chance," Alec said. He pulled the two grenades from Will's pockets. One of them was slippery with blood. Hooking a finger through their firing rings, Alec grabbed Will's rifle with his free hand and made his way, doubled over, toward the entrance to the cave.
There was no more firing. Flattening himself along the boulder beside the cave entrance, Alec yelled, "You've got five seconds. Come out with your hands up or I'll blow you all to hell."
The same high, cracking voice shrieked. "Wait! Gimme a chance . . . he's out cold ... I gotta drag him . . ."
But Alec was counting, not listening. He reached five, glanced at Will still sprawled on his back in the snow halfway down the slope, then pulled the pin from one grenade and tossed it into the cave.
"Hey . . . wh . . . no . . . wait!"
The explosion sounded strangely muffled.
Smoke poured from the cave and Alec heard a high, keening screech, long and raw and agonized.
He yanked the pin and threw in the second grenade. The explosion blotted out all other sounds, and by the time the smoke had wafted out of the cave, all was silent inside.
Alec edged into the cave carefully, rifle cocked.
It took half a minute for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. There was enough left of the two bodies to recognize that they had once been human. Barely enough.
He walked out and went to the blond he had shot. The kid could not have been more than fourteen.
He lay where he had fallen. There was no gun or any other weapon near him.
The wind gusted. Alec looked up and saw that the scout was at Will's side.
"Don't look too good," the old man said as Alec joined them. "Think they got a rib. Mighta punctured th' lung."
