Luna

by Garon Whited

  The cargo bay camera showed us the doors opening. The top deck guns swung into place while Kathy started her burn to slow the Luna relative to the remains of the space station.

  An OTV came into view, apparently planning on ramming her. Railguns fired in ripples, pumping a hundred or more projectiles through it. The blaze of metal was technically just a fire, but the punctured oxidizer tanks provided a cloud of liquid oxygen to hasten it along; it looked like an explosion. Kathy used the lateral jets to change course slightly and the blazing debris floated by a few meters off her port wing.

  “Luna base, I’m getting suit radio traffic,” she reported. “It sounds like one guy with Galena and two or three OTVs.” As she spoke, we saw the flare of the Ares’ main engine. The partially-completed ship shuddered free from Heinlein Station and boosted rapidly. It came nowhere near the Luna.

  “Roger that,” Captain Carl replied, his voice hard. “Carry on, Commander.”

  The Luna rotated to give the cargo bay a line of sight on Heinlein Station. Ripples of projectiles fired into the OTVs, one after another, stitching holes along their frames and through their control modules. Most were fueled. Aluminum structural members burn in the presence of pure oxygen. Most things do.

  “Firing,” Kathy reported, and I heard a frosty, steely tone in her voice. “OTVs targeted. Marine gunners engaging. All active habitat modules appear to be disabled. The Ares has successfully launched from the station and is boosting toward the Moon. I am intercepting.”

  Captain Carl leaned forward, tensed, and checked himself before answering. When he spoke, he sounded quite calm. I found myself glad someone on base was.

  “Understood, Commander.”

  The Luna rolled slightly and yawed a bit to bring her nose into line. The space-suited Marines handling the manual guns in the cargo bay shifted with the movement, keeping their sights on the station and its orbital vehicles.

  I switched our view to the forward cameras. The trouble with the Ares was the potential disaster to Luna Base. Kathy didn’t have enough fuel to abort the rescue and chase after it; it had a better acceleration than the Luna, at least with the Luna’s present fuel. If Kathy finished the rescue, she would never catch it before it reached us. If she chased it right then, she would have to come home to refuel before picking up Galena. So she did her best to stop it before it got out of range. But stopping it was more important than anything else in the universe right then.

  Even an OTV could reach the Moon from Heinlein Station, eventually. With a suicidal pilot, it could be a large bomb. But the Ares was sixty times more massive than an OTV, even in its partially-completed state. The engine alone was larger than an OTV.

  From the looks of it, the structural members of the Ares had large tanks welded and strapped into it. It wasn’t a ship anymore; it was nuclear-propelled chemical warhead.

  There’s irony in that.

  I have no idea if there was a pilot aboard the thing or if the computers aboard the Ares survived World War Three. Either way, Kathy fired her personal guns at it. The first rounds scored a clean miss, but they left nice tracks on the cockpit radar. I could almost see Kathy touching the maneuvering jets lightly, delicately, flying by sight and touch, her hands correcting by instinct for the pulsing fire of the railguns spiking Heinlein Station, judging the course and acceleration of the Ares by eye, triggering another burst to graze the large, cylindrical radiator array, holding down the trigger and walking the stream of projectiles into the hydrogen propellant tanks and then the liquid oxygen—

  The camera image went white for several seconds. Someone shouted over the communications channel, a wordless cry of excitement and glee. It could have been Kathy; it could have been a Marine. It could have been all of them. The light dimmed, expanding, thinning in the vacuum of space like the breath of a dying star.

  The Ares was gone.

  “Luna Base,” Kathy called. “Come in.”

  “Go ahead, Luna.”

  “The spaceborne threats from Heinlein Station have been neutralized. I request permission to switch to rescue operations.”

  “Send in the Marines,” Captain Carl ordered.

  “Roger that. Marines away.”

  Kathy finished her maneuvers gently, conserving fuel, and brought the Luna close to Galena’s module. The cargo bay camera watched space-suited figures drift grandly across the open space. One grabbed a handhold by a porthole and looked in. The rest moved on to the access tube and began cutting a hole. With luck, the airlock at the module itself was in working order. If not… well, Marines are supposed to improvise, adapt, and overcome.

  “I have a report that Galena is alive,” Kathy said. “One of the Heinlein station personnel is holding her prisoner. Her captor is both armed and in a space suit,” Kathy said. “His weapon is a large knife. He is demanding that we cease and desist, or he will kill her.”

  “Tell him that we will give him his life if he surrenders immediately,” Captain Carl sent back. “His entire station is defunct and his compatriots are dead. Tell him his only chance for survival is to give us our officer. Make it clear that if he kills her, we will kill him.”

  “Roger that, sir.”

  Li switched the speakers to the suit channel and raised the gain on the directional antenna. We heard Kathy talking to the man; he sounded panicked. Kathy had to repeat herself a couple of times before he started to grasp his situation.

  “Listen, you moron!” she finally snapped. “Half a dozen Marines are boarding your space station, and you are alone with a prisoner they want. You’ve got two options, and only two options! One of them is a very bad option; that would be to kill Galena right now, which will get you shot on sight if you’re lucky, flushed out an airlock if you’re not.

  “There’s also a good option! You can give us what we want, and we can let you live. Do you want to try reentry in a space suit?”

  “No!”

  “Good! Would you rather live?”

  “Y-yes…”

  “Then hand her over without a fuss. Do anything the Marines tell you, the instant they tell you, and you might just come through this alive. If you don’t do what they tell you, I guarantee you’ll live long enough to regret it. Ever see a man’s eyeballs pop in zero pressure?”

  There was a swallowing noise. “No.”

  “Surrender now or you’ll find out what it looks like from the inside. Give Galena the knife and put your hands up and maybe you’ll manage to keep yours from exploding.”

  “They’re at the airlock!” he shouted. “They’re at the airlock!”

  “Then throw the knife away and put your hands up! RIGHT NOW!”

  There was a long, tense moment. We couldn’t hear anything from the guy with Galena; space suits don’t make it easy to hear anything outside the suit itself. The silence dragged on forever, broken only by a gasp and what might have been a thud. I forgot to breathe for what seemed like weeks.

  “Luna, this is ensign Tsien. Come in, Luna.”

  “This is Luna,” Kathy responded. “Go ahead.”

  “I regret to report that we have had a weapon malfunction. The surviving member of the Heinlein station crew has been accidentally shot through the faceplate with the antique slugthrower.”

  “That’s a shame. I’m terribly disappointed in you,” Kathy replied. She sounded like he’d just reported staining his uniform at lunch.

  “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll not disappoint you again, commander.”

  “Make up for it with some good news, ensign.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I have our officer, alive and unharmed. We’re sealing her in a life-support ball now.”

  I heard the cheering all the way from the messhall, and despite a long passageway and a pressure door in the way.

  The rest of the mission went smoothly. They loaded Galena into a vacuum sack, drifted back aboard the Luna, and started heading home. Kathy did pause to work Heinlein Station over with a bit more care; she didn’t want to miss any OTVs. The threat of on
e with a load of liquid oxygen wasn’t something to be ignored. She spiked everything with the railguns on the double theory that it would be better safe than sorry, and it would lighten the ship for the return orbit, thus saving a little fuel.

  Heinlein Station looked like it was in pretty sorry shape by the time Kathy was out of ammunition. It hurt, a little, thinking about the loss of a perfectly good space station. I like machinery and don’t appreciate it when machinery is abused. But nothing was broken that couldn’t be fixed… eventually.

  Someday, I promised myself, I’ll put that station back together.

  I watched the station vanish as the cargo bay doors closed, and I hoped I’d be able to keep that promise.

  * * *

  That stage was complete. Galena was aboard the Luna and they were on their way back.

  Ensign Tsien did his job and did it very well. We weren’t after prisoners. We weren’t after captives. As for survivors, we only wanted one. And, frankly, I couldn’t really feel too bad about any of the people on Heinlein Station. Some of them might have been reluctant, but they were still responsible. If there had been a way to sort them out, I would have taken it. As it was, I did my best to put it behind me and keep my head in the game.

  Kathy sent back reports and video for Anne. Galena was mostly all right; her experience aboard Tchekalinsky Station hardened her for this one. Her physical troubles included malnutrition, bruises, abrasions, and the expected mistreatment. I didn’t have the heart to ask how she had been mistreated. She looked pretty bad, but she smiled at seeing us and it looked like she had all her teeth.

  “Da, was very bad,” she replied, answering a question from Captain Carl. “Worse in some ways then on Tchekalinsky, in many ways better. In this, rescue was certain. Patience was all I required.”

  “I’m sorry we took so long,” Captain Carl said.

  “Was quick as you could, da?”

  “Yes. We’re still not done on our prep work, but we hope to be able to land you safely.”

  She quirked a smile. She looked piratical, sort of. The thinness of her cheeks, the harder line of her jaw made her seem more like a hunting bird, at least to me.

  “So was even quicker than you really could, sir. Is fast enough for me. Is that Max behind you?”

  “Yes.” Captain Carl gestured me forward and I bent over his shoulder to come into the camera pickup field.

  “Hey. How’s my favorite cosmonaut?”

  “Bent, but not broken. Unhappy you did not leave one for me to kill. Again.”

  “I swear, it wasn’t my idea,” I said, holding up both hands. “You know Kathy…”

  “Hey!” I heard, shouted from off-camera. Galena smiled again. I was glad she could.

  “I forgive you, Max,” she said. “Kathy is another story.”

  “Now wait just a minute,” Kathy said, still off-camera.

  “We will discuss her trigger finger on way home,” Galena finished.

  “I was making sure no one would be sending over unpleasant surprise packages!”

  “And enjoying it?” Galena asked, sweetly, looking to the side. “Da.”

  “Well…”

  Galena laughed and turned back to the camera. There were tears in her eyes.

  “Am pleased to be coming home.”

  “And we,” Captain Carl said, “are pleased you will be home soon. This is Luna Base, signing off.”

  “Luna, over and out.”

  Captain Carl turned to me. I straightened up.

  “Can they land?”

  “As per your orders, I’ll be heading out there shortly, sir, to try my hand at mountain-moving.”

  “Good. Once the Luna is down, I’ll expect you back to discuss events.”

  I glanced around the control center and wondered, Who in here might he suspect?

  I hate feeling paranoid.

  “Yes, Sir. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “That will be all.”

  I saluted and got moving. With the Luna on her way back, there wasn’t a lot of time to blow a notch in a mountain range and then clear a path through the debris. It irked me that I was required by the Captain to be out of the base to do it.

  The holes were drilled and the ammo dumps finally supplied. An unexpected snag was the detonation procedure; we didn’t have enough radios to waste on it, so we had to make a couple thousand kilometers of wire, then string it from the bunker to each point. We also needed some basic pumping equipment and hose-handling equipment at the sites… but we did it, and almost on time. I hate unexpected delays.

  What really irked me was the way the trip out to the ringwall played hob with my timetable. Captain Carl wanted me in the command center for the rescue, but I had to go out and actually do the mountain-moving personally. This put me behind schedule again. Everything else was in good shape, ready and waiting for the blast, though. It was still doable, but it was going to be tight. Really tight. What little margin for the unexpected I had was melting rapidly away.

  It’s not always good to be a miracle-worker. People start to expect it.

  Still, the Captain did have a point. I’m very big and physically intimidating. If anything happened to the Captain while I was still on base, I’d be right there to take over, shout orders, and crack skulls. For any rebellion to be successful, I’d have to be somewhere else. Worse, the guys and gals in my shop section… I trust them. I like them. They like me. And we could beat the living green crap out of any half-assed rebellion. We have laser welders, cutting torches, power saws, and a variety of other, equally lethal tools. Besides, most of the Plumbers’ Corps is made up of staffers—younger, stronger, and more agile than the residents.

  With me out at the ringwall, that would leave Peng in charge of the shop. He’s a great organizer, but not a leader. The difference is...

  Well, I don’t know that I can describe it. A leader is someone people follow. An organizer is someone who makes what the leader wants to happen, happen. In my own way, I’m an organizer; Captain Carl wants it done, I make it happen. Compared to him, I’m just an also-ran in the leadership race. But compared to Peng, I’m a leader. For me, it’s a question of scale. I don’t think I could run the whole base, not even with everyone pitching in to help. But the Plumber’s Corps? That’s my baby. That’s my field. I can handle that.

  But for Peng… I think Peng could make a good assistant for anyone, including the Captain. But he’ll never be an officer. He can organize with the best of them and get results, but… people just don’t want to follow him. Even on the Liwei Habitat, he wasn’t their leader, just the guy with the ideas.

  If I gave the order, the boys and girls in my shop section would follow Peng. If I didn’t, Peng would have to persuade, cajole, and convince them. People would argue with Peng, have their own ideas, protest, question, and grumble. They don’t argue with me; the most they do is ask for clarification or offer suggestions—there’s a big difference.

  I may not be the Captain, but I run my shop with efficiency and dispatch.

  So I went to go suit up and make Luna Base a more tempting target. As is usual whenever I’m on my way somewhere to do something important on a tight schedule, I was interrupted.

  Svetlana accosted me in the passageway, looking upset. Before I could say anything, she started talking.

  “Max, may I please come with you?”

  I blinked. If the Captain was right about her…

  “What for?” I asked. “I’m just going to be running robots and blowing things up.”

  “I understand that petty officer Moss will not be joining you. He is in sickbay, confined for radiation dosage?”

  “Yes.” Richard would have ignored radiation hazards until he dropped dead. Anne had to order him to shut up and lie down—and then I had to. I don’t understand that. I mean, get the job done, yes; that I grasp. But if it isn’t necessary to kill yourself in doing it, why take the risk? I wondered if Richard had a martyr complex, or just a deathwish.

 
Considering everyone he knew on Earth was gone, he might. Best not to dwell on that.

  “I… I really wish to be with you for a while, Max,” Svetlana continued. “Please? I have not had a chance to be out and see stars, not with my eyes.”

  “That’s a pity, but I really don’t have—”

  “It was also busy, very busy here. I have time, now, when the telescopes will not be needed. Please, Max? I must get out from under this mountain and stand under the sky. Please?”

  “I’ll call the Captain,” I sighed. Maybe having her out of the base would prevent problems, or maybe she didn’t want to be around when it started. I had no idea, but the Captain would; keeping an eye on her and her friends was his project. “If I remember right, we should have a suit that fits you now. Go start getting into it and I’ll see what he says; I’ve got a schedule to keep. Slow me down and you’ll miss the bus.”

  “Yes, Max.” She hurried away immediately. I frowned and watched her go. Then I called the Captain my radio.

  “Captain Carl,” he responded.

  “It’s Max. The secure channel, sir?”

  There was a click and a momentary burst of static.

  “Secure channel. Go ahead.”

  “Svetlana wants to hitch a lift out to the dig site.”

  “Interesting,” he mused. “Have you any thoughts on what she wants?”

  “She’s a woman, sir, and I’m a man. I haven’t got a clue what she wants.”

  “A valid point, Maxwell. Very well. Do it. Keep an eye on her.”

  “Sir, I’m going to have my hands full with a demolitions job. Keeping an eye on her is going to be like watching a five-year-old while preparing Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “So lock her in the bunker while you work.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but it doesn’t have a lock. It’s not even pressurized; it would just start leaking after the demolition charges go off. There’s just a stack of air tanks.”

  “Figure something out.”

  I suppressed a few choice swear words. Did I mention that the Navy teaches many things?

  “Aye aye, Sir.”