A few years earlier, Mari had hired Todd’s media people to produce a recruitment documentary about Goddard. They had made a few converts. But most of the Earth audience rejected the euphoric picture of habitat living. No matter how bad problems were on Earth, space dwelling seemed far worse, an alien, “unnatural” world. To the Goddard citizen, life in the habitat was “clean,” and many looked back on their former existence on Earth with revulsion.
Had the species which built the alien vehicle faced this same division in its ranks? Had one faction adopted space and another turned its back on it? And had a third sought to hold those two opposing factions together?
Was it even possible to hold them together? Or was Todd Saunder fighting a hopeless battle? He wished he could hear the opinion of his counterpart out of the aliens’ past, if there had been such. If they had survived this war of living choices, there might be a chance for humanity to do so, too.
The view panels displayed scenes from Goddard’s outer watchdog cameras. They showed the blasted sections of the wheel. The devastation was, in its way, as severe as that dealt Earth by man-made catastrophes and the Tangshan and New Madrid quakes. Yet there had been no exodus from Goddard. The surviving sections of the torus were lit and bustling with activity under the protection of the lunar soil radiation shields covering the wheel. Reconstruction was already underway. They weren’t leaving.
Planetsiders had moved back into Earth’s ravaged lands and rebuilt, too.
Homo sapiens, the defiant species.
Would the species which sent the alien messenger understand these nuances in human behavior? There were so many questions he wanted to ask—of the messenger, and of Mari and Kevin.
Todd’s ComLink personnel were space-oriented and sympathetic to Goddard. But they spaced for mere four or six-week stints, then were rotated planetside. More and more Goddard Colonists signed on for indefinite periods, and some were turning down leaves to Earth altogether. There were children being born in the habitat. What would those children be like in ten or twenty years? Todd doubted they would adapt to an Earthside existence any better than most present Earthmen could adapt to space. The environments were too different. Goddard citizens were leaving planetary origins behind. Their world was artificial and fully satisfying. Eventually, they would never want to go “home” to Earth.
The elevator cage sighed to a stop, finally. They stepped out onto a platform surrounded by a mini-park. Lush grass, young shade trees, and flowers scented the air and pleased the eye. Mari looked over at Todd. “Did you remember to take your med grays? You look queasy.”
“My God! You’re as bad as Dian . . .”
“Good for her, then.”
“What is this, a conspiracy? Yes, I took the damned medications, a whole pharmacy full.” He was a trifle weak, just the same. As they started through the park, to Todd’s chagrin, he stumbled and nearly fell. Kevin gripped his elbow, helping him toward the pedestrian walkway. “I’m not that feeble,” Todd said. The big man paid him no attention, so Todd decided to go gracefully.
More guards, marching on patrol even here, in a residential section. They appeared to be drilling, the military people instructing the civilians in how to follow orders and handle their side arms. The ranking guard in the nearest group saluted Kevin smartly. “Good afternoon, Governor.”
“Good afternoon, Ma Jiang. It’s okay. I’ll vouch for him.” Again Todd sensed hostility toward him where there had never been any before. Why must McKelvey vouch for him? And what would happen if he didn’t?
Belatedly, another surprising thing hit Todd. “Governor?” he asked, bewildered. That Sino expatriate guard hadn’t sounded as if he were reverting to quaint British slang. He had addressed McKelvey with much respect, setting “Governor” with an initial capital letter.
“We’ll talk about that, too,” Kevin promised. He and Mariette paused in the shopping area near the park, as if giving Todd time to get used to a lot of new things—of which there were plenty. The convenience shops weren’t new, but their goods and displays were. Ordinarily, the stores featured foods and fashions imported from Earth, entertainment tapes and so forth. Luxury and leisure items for the people in this torus section. Now the luxury items were crowded into the corners. Locally produced propaganda tapes, and even a few microfiche printouts and a couple of real books, filled the display shelves. Hard-sell tape presentations blared from the stores’ monitor screens. Images of Goddard’s planetside political allies and Colony orators ranted, blaming Patrick Saunder and Earth First Party for Goddard’s slow economic strangulation this past year. There was not a moderate voice among them, no one pleading for understanding and patience.
Slowly, Mari and Kevin edged out onto the walkway, Todd following along like a puppet. They might be setting this snail’s pace out of consideration for his recent arrival from null gravity. Or was there another reason? McKelvey was stony-faced. Mariette was a drama tape, as she usually was. Todd had no problem reading volumes in her expression. She was wearing her teeth-of-the-hurricane face. She had always gone to that mode whenever Jael or one of her brothers was about to stomp her for some whim or mischief. What was Mari expecting him to blow up about this time?
Todd studied his surroundings carefully. Section One was the oldest residential area of Goddard. After five years’ growth, the saplings brought from Earth were almost full-sized, adorning the lawns, the park, and overhanging the pathway here and there. Decorative shrubs and flower beds bordered the little grassy plots separating each apartment unit. There was some new construction here, and that was most unusual. There was nothing in the Planning Group’s growth projection about this, not for another five years. Yet mini beam-builders and workmen swarmed over the roofs of each in-story dwelling. The changes threatened more than orderly aesthetics. A fourth story added to every unit would severely strain the ecosystem’s precisely planned balance. There would have to be a lot of adjustment.
But they had to have new housing, to accommodate those dispossessed when Section Two was destroyed. Even these extra stories wouldn’t be enough. A fourth floor atop every residential dwelling throughout the torus still couldn’t handle the overflow. Where were the rest going to live?
Maybe they had no need for housing, ever again.
The shocks continued coming. The horizon was wrong. A gently upcurving perspective was a normal part of the torus environment. The lofty ceiling imitated the sky. Reflected solar light made the landscape almost Earth “normal.” The warm, humid air was sub-tropical and very soft.
Abruptly, a quarter of a kilometer away, the curving horizon stopped. So did the sunlight, the open ceiling effect, and there was no air beyond that point. Things hadn’t looked like this since Section Two had been completed and joined to One. A transparent buffer, rimmed by heavily reinforced metal, blocked all access between the sections once more. A vacuum barrier. They had never expected to use them, once the torus sections were joined and the wheel finished. Odds were a million to one that a really large piece of space junk would impact and damage the station.
A million to one odds.
Todd was seeing, from the inside out, the destruction he had observed while he was approaching Goddard Colony. As bad as it had looked from a distance, the damage was much worse from this angle. He was frighteningly aware that he wore no spacesuit, had no protection, should that buffer give way. That was instant death up there, just on the other side of that wall. Somehow, the trees and flowers and grass and people hurrying past him, continuing their daily lives, made the realization more awful.
Section Two had been hit, not by a random meteor, but by the tremendous killing force of a modern antisatellite missile.
CHAPTER FIVE
ooooooooo
The Present Danger
IT must have happened with terrifying suddenness. The shields had held. Section One’s and Section Three’s life-support hadn’t bled away into space. But the planetlike illusion of Goddard’s extended horizon was ruined. Throug
h the transparent part of the buffer, Todd saw space spiders rebuilding. The robots and the human riggers could rebuild bulkheads, radiation shields, and dwellings. The station’s horticulturists could replant trees and grass. But what of the people who had been inside when the missile struck?
Todd had attended a celebration at Mariette’s apartment, not much over three years ago. He had congratulated them on the completion of Section Two and wished them continued success and prosperity.
Good wishes weren’t worth much against missiles.
His thoughts a jumble, Todd walked on toward that gigantic wall. Kevin had let go of his arm, presumably deciding the smaller man wasn’t going to fall on his face if he did. Before Todd could cross the empty zone that led from the last grassy plot to the buffer, Mari and Kevin guided him into Apartment Twelve’s courtyard. More guards. Again they saluted Kevin and addressed him as “Governor.” One of the soldiers cued the service monitors for them, hailing three single-lifters down to ground level for their convenience.
Todd stepped onto one of the little elevators. The safety casing slid shut around him as Mariette got on the carrier next to his. Kevin caught one at the far end of the wall. The miniature platform squeaked loudly when Kevin boarded. Fortunately, Goddard’s metallurgists had allowed for cargo as heavy as McKelvey. The lifter didn’t collapse.
They rode up the side of the building. The smooth ascent gave Todd a widening overview of Section One. He could look across to other apartments and down on the mini-parks and stores. To his right, that ugly barrier soared to the torus’ “sky.” Its top edge was lost in the glow of sunlight filtered in from Goddard’s outer solar collectors.
They alighted at the third-story terrace, where noise assaulted them. Workmen cursed and equipment whined and hammered. The lower stories were solidly faced in lunar clay brick, all doors, windows, and brick terraces fully complete, had been for nearly five years. Up top, there were piles of steel and aluminum and silicate insulation, and a great deal of confusion. It looked as if it would be weeks, if not months, before the apartments would be ready for occupancy.
Another guard was on duty outside the apartment. Kevin returned his salute. “I’ve notified the Planning Group. I’m not on call for the next couple of hours, except for emergencies. I mean that. Let Legislator Mikhail handle things. But if you have to, go Priority Red and grab me, and don’t waste time.”
McKelvey often appeared easy-going, even phlegmatic. But Todd had seen that relaxed amiability disappear in a moment. The guard had, too. He snapped to attention. “Will do, sir. You won’t be interrupted.”
Todd relished the soundproofing inside the apartment. Construction clamor damped to a distant murmur. His sister and Kevin walked by him as he stood just beyond the door, looking around. After so many changes, the apartment was a haven of stability. Kevin and Mariette had changed almost nothing since he had moved in with her a year and a half ago. The place was typical of Goddard, compact but open enough not to feel cramped. The glass, metal, and fabrics were all of local manufacture, produced from lunar raw products shipped to the Colony via the mass driver. Two holo-mode murals divided the sleeping alcove from the living areas, refresher, and food dispenser. The photos reminded a visitor of the occupants’ origins. The picture opposite the entryway was Mari’s favorite aerial view of Saunderhome, drenched in tropical sunight. At right angles to that was a large scene of a brooding, rain-lashed Scottish mountain.
Todd dropped into the nearest chair. The upholstery rustled against his jumper and the fiberglass chair frame. The cloth felt like velvet, but its distinctive underlying texture proved it was Goddard silica fabric. “I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the couch,” Mari was saying. She prowled about fluffing sofa pillows, playing hostess. “We’re a trifle crowded. No guest units available right now.”
“No, not at all.” Todd glanced out the window, remembering how many people had been on the pathways and in the shops, far more than normal. “I was expecting you to be sharing with a family or two, after I saw what happened to Section Two.”
“We volunteered to share,” Kevin said, “but they didn’t assign anyone to our apartment.” That fact bothered the big man, as if he felt guilty but was helpless to rectify the situation. Todd thought of the guards’ saluting Kevin and everyone’s treating him with deference. Maybe rank had its privileges, and that’s why the housing programmers hadn’t taken up Kevin’s offer. A governor, after all, must have some dignity and not be forced to double up his housing like an ordinary citizen. If that was the way it was, Kevin was uncomfortable with those privileges.
“I invited myself,” Todd said lightly. “The couch will be a lot softer than sleeping on the lab floor.”
“You did used to go to sleep there, didn’t you?” Mariette laughed. “After you tried to stay awake until all hours watching Dad’s experiments. You were crazy. Still are.”
“Something to eat, drink?” Kevin asked, waving at the dispenser alcove.
“Talk.”
“Well, I want something,” Mariette announced. She marched into the little room and cued her selections loudly.
Kevin seemed amused by her behavior. He dragged a chair up alongside Todd’s and sat down, waiting, not putting forward any information. Todd sighed in exasperation. This was going to be hard work. “Questions: What’s this about your being governor? And since when does Goddard have combat-equipped ‘Defense Units,’ or civilians wearing side arms? Those were practically drill teams I saw outside. What happened to the Colony Planning Group? Did you get rid of your elected representatives, or what?”
“The Planning Group is still running things. It’s still a democracy,” Kevin said a bit testily. “But things have changed since you were here in September.”
“That’s obvious! Pat would love to know how you got promoted from liaison officer to governor in a mere two months. At that rate, he should have won the P.O.E. Chairmanship a week after he started to campaign.”
Todd’s sarcasm brought angry curses from the dispenser alcove. Mariette took out her spleen on the equipment rather than on her brother. Then she came back to the living area and slapped tumblers of amaranth liquor down on the serving tables, splashing some of the contents. Kevin grinned and picked up the glass nearest him, sipping the dark liquid. “Mari, he has no way of knowing. Let me tell him, since you promised him some answers.”
Grudingly, Mariette nodded. She sat on the edge of the fiberglass bench beneath the holo-mode mural of Saunderhome. The backdrop of waving palms and white sand highlighted her beauty, but she was unaware of the effect. She watched Kevin intently.
The big man stared into nothing for a while. “Todd,” he finally began, “it’s not a military coup. I can tell that’s what you’ve been thinking. I didn’t want the job. The Planning Group and Goddard’s citizens insisted I take it. I agreed, as long as they understood that it’s temporary. I’ll hold office only during the present danger.”
“The present danger,” Todd muttered, considering the term.
“The Colony needs defense coordination, and it needs it fast. The station was never set up to cope with hostile assaults. My people are helping train the citizens to protect themselves, and to protect the Colony, if worse comes to worst. I repeat, the position is strictly temporary,” Kevin said firmly.
“Forgive me if I harbor a doubt regarding that. Temporary governorships or kingships have a way of becoming permanent.” Kevin looked sour, but he didn’t argue the point further. Todd’s mouth was dry. He took a swig of the amaranth and grimaced. The Colony’s home-brewed alcohol was a taste he had never acquired. It left a raw streak down his gullet. He pushed the tumbler out of easy reach, lest he absentmindedly drink more. “Okay. I’ll accept a beefed-up security force and a citizen army, some sort of civil defense. But the way they’re training . . . are you expecting a boarding party? I’ll agree, after what happened to me out in orbit, you need something.”
Kevin’s bright blue eyes shone with a fighter’
s anger. “We had to act first and discuss whether it was overreaction later. We’ll show you why. Defense posture had to go into high gear.”
Mariette had been lacing and unlacing her long fingers. Now she reached for a nearby view monitor, swiveling the screen so that Todd and Kevin could see it easily. “Computer, this is Mariette Saunder, Torus Section One, Unit A-Three, Apartment Twelve. Code Clearance Zero Zero Eighteen Dash Six. Replay October nine missile attack. Exterior scans. Final five minutes. Put on scrambler lock, for viewing at this monitor only. Run.”
Todd saw a missile approaching Goddard’s long-range cameras, coming at incredible speed. Collision systems going to full alert. Tracking plotting and following and trying desperately to outguess the hostile’s changing vector. Claxons rang while numbers flickered across the techs’ screens. Hair prickled on Todd’s neck as, in the center of the monitor, a fast-moving dot grew rapidly into a cylindrical shape.
Shining, inexorable, bringing death and destruction.
“We weren’t prepared,” Kevin said with surprising calm. “We thought we were. We had had advance warnings. Our planetside allies have their spies, and they told us something nasty was likely to happen. We figured it would be another attempt to sabotage our shuttles or sats. We thought if they fired anything at us, it’d be small enough for us to handle. Nobody expected the warheads to be that effective or their jammer overrides so good.”
Todd was hypnotized by the playback. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. There were silvery darts at the edges of the screen now. Ships from Goddard. Not the superfast military craft which had come to his and Gib’s rescue. He could tell without reading the dancing figures that the little ships would never be able to reach the missile in time to do any good.
Tomorrow’s Heritage Page 9
