by Garon Whited
Our wedding night is not something I will detail. Suffice it to say I became convinced that people are basically decent at heart when I discovered that every possible convenience, comfort, and contrivance was within arm’s reach. Food and drink for a couple of days was already in there, along with an irreplaceable delicacy: two chocolate mints.
I asked around, later; nobody admitted to contributing them. But they were delicious.
As for the rest of it… mind your own business.
* * *
Captain Carl gave us two days. It’s not the longest honeymoon on record—just a weekend, essentially—but time is a luxury. Besides, it really puts a damper on the honeymoon when you start thinking about a friend who might be doing what you’re doing… unwillingly.
I admit I didn’t think of that until the second day. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but I was powerfully distracted.
The good news is that nobody bothered us. A knock at the door would have been a Very Bad Thing during the first twenty-four hours. During the next twelve or so, it might have just resulted in the offender’s ears being unscrewed.
We gave up the last few precious hours of our honeymoon to make ourselves shipshape and get the news. I think it was mostly out of guilt—my guilt. There I was, having a wonderful time, when I could have done something to further the rescue of Galena. Kathy had it easier, mainly in that there was literally nothing she could do until I finished getting things ready. But she kept me from helping, and she was trying to develop a sense of moral obligation.
Kathy noticed I was uneasy. When I told her why, she thought about it for second and agreed that I was right to feel that way.
“You’re right,” she said. “We should be doing something. But I’ll be going into battle; there’s no guarantee that I’ll be coming back. Whatever happens, I’m glad to have this time with you. I can’t manage any guilt over that, Max, and I won’t try.”
When she put it like that, I found I didn’t want to argue.
We cleaned up and dressed for work. Out in the corridor, someone had painted “Just Married” on our door—our new door, in the married officers’ quarters—and there was a lot of fiberglass ribbon hung around the hall. I learned later there was a reception committee planned for our scheduled end-of-holiday; I’m glad we came out early.
We went to the main control room, hand in hand, and found the Captain chatting with Galena over the radio. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if he ever slept. I’ve never looked for him and found he was unavailable. Then again, I don’t see him every day, so maybe he just naps while I’m busy. Maybe there’s a trick to it that I have to learn before I can become a Captain. One of the tricks, anyway.
“I am hungry, but all here are hungry,” Galena was saying over the radio. Her voice was clear enough through the speaker to recognize it. “As guest, I get nothing. They say they will feed me if they get supplies and more machines for growing food. Station has little enough of hydroponics; most life support is from high-power method.”
“Very well. Do they have the capacity to send a ship to pick up supplies?” asked the Captain. There was a delay while the signal traveled to the station, then the delay for her signal to come back—a matter of a few seconds. He glanced at us and nodded hello.
“Nyet. Is orbital transports only. Might could land on Luna, perhaps, but not take off.”
“Very well. I will send the Luna over with supplies, but it will still take some time to complete the repairs; she was badly damaged… earlier. Do they understand we will not give them anything if you are not alive to ask for it?”
“Da. Is very clear. George listens and nods.”
“That’s good. I’ll have the supplies readied and get an estimate on the repair time. Do you have any personal messages you want me to relay?”
“Da, please. Is for Max.”
“Go ahead. I’m ready to record,” he said.
“Is about my room on base. When I come back, please find one for me away from everyone else. I wish to be alone for a while, not see anyone. But I am afraid of the dark, so I would like many lights. Will make me feel better to have light. Okay?”
“I’ll tell him,” the Captain said. “I think we can find you suitable quarters. Are you ready for personal messages to you?”
“Da.”
“First, from Kathy,” he began. Kathy blinked and looked surprised. “She says, let me see,” he brought up a text file and read, “‘I’m sorry I had to leave like that. I hope you’re all right. Don’t worry; we’ll give them what they’re asking for as quickly as we can. It might be longer than we like, so don’t hold your breath; you might expire, and we wouldn’t want that. Sit down, stay quiet, and we’ll watch over you.’ End of message.”
“Spaseba. Is more?”
“Many. Everyone has a word of encouragement. Shall I send the file?”
“Nyet. Computers unhappy, not many working. Will read when I get home, okay?”
“As you say.”
Galena’s voice went away; George came on the speakers.
“Happy now, Carl?”
“No, but I’m satisfied. We’ll get our ship launched as soon as we can.”
“I’m sure you will. Meanwhile, the little lady is going to get nothing but hungrier.”
The lines around Captain Carl’s eyes tightened. I found myself thinking that a guillotine only works when there’s decent gravity. I guess George will just have to settle for being shot. Someday.
Unless I build a railgun-guillotine. I started to give it serious thought.
“I understand that,” Captain Carl replied, voice level. “I also suggest that you give her at least enough food to keep her strength up; she has to be able to talk. It would be a shame to go all the way out there only to turn around because she can’t confirm our docking port.”
There was a longer pause.
“She’ll talk,” George promised. “How long will it be?”
“I’ll get a report from our maintenance department and see. I’ll call you when I have something.”
Captain Carl switched off without waiting for a reply. He turned in his chair and regarded us for a long second.
“Well, welcome back and congratulations. I trust the honeymoon went well?”
Kathy blushed. My face acted as a blood storage facility again.
“Yessir,” Kathy said. I just nodded.
“Good. Get back to work.”
“Yes, Sir!”
I hesitated. “Sir? I have a couple of questions.”
“Certainly, Maxwell. Katherine, go check on the progress of the Luna, please; I’ll send him to join you as soon as I can.” Kathy nodded and did an about-face to hustle out. Captain Carl turned to me. “What’s on your mind?”
“What do you want first? The question about that bit regarding Galena’s room or questions about what your plans are for the station? If I know what you want to shoot and how, I can set your guns up for it.”
“Have a seat. Here’s what I interpret from Galena’s message: First, she’s not being kept in the heart of things on Heinlein Station; she’s being kept in an outlying pod. Second, it doesn’t have any lighting inside it; it may be powered down to make her miserable and give her no chance of hot-wiring something. It’s much safer, from their viewpoint, to lock her in a metal box than in a comfortable room.”
“I guess that could be it.”
Captain Carl smiled at me. “It’s not an unreasonable guess, but you’re right to doubt. Still, I’m certain of it.”
“You’re the genius, sir.”
He laughed. I think I last heard him laugh at a poker game. How long ago was that?
“We all have our areas of genius,” he replied, still smiling. “In this case, I merely have more information.” He touched the keyboard again and called up telescopic imagery. “See Heinlein Station?”
“Yep.”
“Now, we switch to the infrared imaging.” The open gridwork of modules changed colors dramati
cally. “Svetlana has been doing a superb job in gathering intelligence for this mission; I did not think an astronomer could be so useful.
“See the inhabited sections?” he continued, pointing at a loose cluster of five. “They’re quite warm. With some enhancement, we can make out anyone who sits still for the length of an exposure.”
His finger traced a few darker lines. “These are pressure tubes between modules. Their life support is from the modules at either end. Note that several end in modules that are relatively cold. They can all be powered up, but they don’t appear to be using them all—I’d say it’s a limitation of their air recycling, but we can question anyone fortunate enough to survive if we really want to know.”
“Got it.”
He cycled through a dozen images before stopping. “Here. See this module? As far as I can tell, it has one human figure in it. The person is moving, so the heat signature is all over the room—I believe it is trying to keep warm.” He cycled through other images. In most of them, that module had the same lonely heat signature.
“Kathy’s message,” I said. “It told her to hold still, didn’t it?”
“That was part of it, yes. If she interprets it correctly, our next exposure should see a human figure in this module.”
“Provided she gets put back in that module.”
“She is returned to it with some regularity.”
“And why would she be out of it?” I asked. “Strike that. I know the answer; I just don’t want to admit it.”
“Very well. The plan is to kill everyone on Heinlein Station except our officer. Petty officer Li tells me our ballistic accuracy with the coilgun is not enough to be certain of a hit on any particular module at that range. To this end, I have asked our latest recruits if they have any electronics experience. Patrick Heimann has been building proximity radar and radio controls for you; I want you to look them over and test them.”
“You bet, sir.” I felt immense relief; electronics expertise was in short supply, and someone who could build electron-pushing equipment was worth his weight in gold. Or water. Or nitrogen.
“First,” Captain Carl said, “we launch coilgun rounds west, around the Earth. The Luna will approach Heinlein Station from the opposite direction. The timing will allow the Luna to act as a forward observer and control the coilgun rounds’ terminal guidance. I’m told the closing speed will be more than sufficient for a coilgun round to go through a module.”
“Like a bullet through tofu, sir.”
Captain Carl shook his head. “Remind me to talk to you about your choice of metaphors when we have some free time,” he told me.
“I’ll pencil you in for sometime late next decade. What happens next in the plan, sir?”
“We will breach the inhabited modules with a combination of coilgun artillery and the Luna’s railgun armament. The only exception will be the module ensign Mishenkova is in. With the corridor hatch at the hull of her module shut, the corridor will be in vacuum. We will put a marine in the corridor, seal the corridor, pressurize it, and remove her in an emergency life-support ball.”
“What about the other modules?” I asked. “Some of them may still have pressurized compartments, or people in suits.”
“I have ten volunteers who have been training to act as marines for a boarding action. We will kill anyone who survives our initial fire and does not immediately surrender.”
I gulped. “Yessir.”
Captain Carl raised an eyebrow at me. “You have an objection, Lieutenant-Commander Hardy?” he asked, sounding very formal.
“No, sir,” I replied, equally formally. “I merely wonder if all of them are in on it.”
“Explain.”
“Well, when you have a dozen guys doing nasty things and apparently willing to kill people, one guy doesn’t usually open his mouth to argue. If he does, he gets eviscerated. If he’s smart, he blends in and tries not to do anything too gruesome.”
“Your point is taken, but there is little I can do about it aside from offering all survivors the chance to surrender. If there are such people aboard, we will have to hope they survive the initial bombardment and surrender. If they do anything but surrender instantly, they will be shot on sight.”
“Right, sir.”
“That’s my plan. Do you have any questions?”
“No, sir. I see what you want to do and I have some idea of what I’ll need to do to make it possible.”
“Good. Now, I have a question for you.”
“Fire away, sir.”
“Is there any choice about who flies the Luna on this mission?”
I thought about it. The original crew can fly the Luna, at least in orbit; landings and launchings are the sole property of the Captain and Kathy. But this was a combat run, not a simple point-to-point.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, something said, Kathy’s pregnant, you moron.
Oh. So that’s why the Captain was asking. It hadn’t occurred to me that anyone else might even be considered for the job.
“Sir, I don’t see that we have a choice.”
“Oh? Explain.”
“Well, sir, no offense, but Kathy’s faster than you are. She’s faster than anyone, really.”
“I am not a potential pilot, Maxwell. I can’t be. I can’t abandon my command.”
“Right, sir. But Kathy’s also our best, if you’ll forgive my biased opinion. If anyone is going to take the Luna into combat and come back, it’s her. While Kathy is irreplaceable to me, the Luna is irreplaceable to all of us. If someone else went and the Luna didn’t come back—and, therefore, everyone aboard her didn’t come back, and Galena didn’t come back—well… I don’t know how I’d take that, sir.” I licked my lips. “I don’t think I could live with that, sir, and I don’t think I’d have the heart to try. I don’t think Kathy would, either. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Understood. Go on.”
“If Kathy takes the Luna and doesn’t come back, the job simply can’t be done. It’s that simple. We won’t have a spaceship until I build another one. But, weird as it sounds, I think I could live with that. If she dies doing the right thing, that’s… not ‘all right,’ but it’s better than knowing we gave up without a fight—didn’t even try. I don’t know if I can explain it any better than that. And, of course, if they succeed, all is right with the world.”
Captain Carl nodded. “Not entirely my chain of reasoning, but close enough.” He sighed. “Yes, Kathy goes. I just wanted to know how you felt about it, Max. If she doesn’t come back, you’ll be my XO. Besides, while I know you’ll do your best no matter who winds up flying the Luna, I suspect that you’ll take extra care when your wife is doing the flying.”
“You’ve got me there. Uh, sir?”
“Something else?”
“There’s another point I didn’t mention.”
“What is it?”
“If you try to tell her she can’t fly this mission,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, “she’ll probably kill whoever you assign to go in her place. Eventually, you’ll run out of people who can fly the Luna. I’d like to live to see my son or daughter, sir.” I was kidding about her killing people, and he knew it. Mostly kidding, anyway.
“That’s a very good point,” he answered, sounding very grave and serious. “It’s also much closer to my thinking, son. We’ll make a C.O. of you yet.”
“Good god, I hope not, sir.”
Captain Carl smiled at me, eyes all a-twinkle. “Aha! Now you know how I feel when you mention making me King.”
“I’ll never say another word about it. Promise.”
* * *
Patrick was an ancient fellow, one of the eldest of the survivors of the Liwei Habitat. In his younger days, he’d been a design engineer for a company that supplied arms to the United States member of the Federated States. Eventually, he got bumped up to management and retired after two ulcers and three heart attacks—probably from running a lot of the company. Now he was back to designin
g and building equipment again and seemed positively happy.
I was impressed with his work. I understand electrons like I understand English: Well enough to get by. Patrick was a poet. His talent for putting things together on the small scale was at least equal to mine in the large scale. I told Li to get his brightest electrical guys and start following Patrick around. Patrick seems to enjoy teaching, too. We’re lucky there. I’m only medium-indifferent to teaching; I prefer to be doing.
Meanwhile, I had Hashiko work on a bursting charge for a coilgun round. I wanted some cargo shells that would burst open and spread a bunch of what were essentially aluminum baseballs. The effect, if the casings exploded somewhere around the right distance, would be like a giant shotgun. Punching a thousand smaller holes and turning a module into Swiss cheese would be even more effective than one big hole. That would save us wear and tear on the Luna’s railguns.
Kathy was supervising her ship refitting. The guys were installing the railguns in the cargo hold and she was watching with an eagle eye. Suits were not required; we closed the hatches and pressurized the cargo bay.
Underground pressure hangar. Mental note.
“I don’t like the limited arc of fire,” she complained. “Mounting them on the deck puts them behind the sidewalls of the cargo bay.”
“For volley fire, that’s not a problem; you’ll orient toward the target,” I countered. “But, as a wedding present, I promise to mount a pair of them somewhere convenient, just so you can have a couple of guns under your personal control.”
That got me kissed. There was more than a little cheering and whistling. Someone offered to clear out the bay if we wanted some privacy.
“No, thanks. We’ll be on the bridge,” Kathy replied; she took my hand and led me away. There were more whistles and some applause. Roger—another of the new guys—made a show of not going onto the bridge and even held the door for us. Grinned with everything but his mouth, too. Oh, he would fit in just fine.
I swear, I’m going to hook up a mask to a thermocouple and see how much wattage my face produces. Someday.
