by Ben Bova
Malik came closer. Dan hung motionless, his eyes on the knife. As Malik hunched himself together to launch another attack, Dan turned slightly, away from the knife, offering the profile of his body as a target. Malik lunged, but Dan sideslipped and wrapped his left arm around the Russian’s throat. Ramming both his knees into Malik’s spine, he yanked hard. The two bodies tumbled wildly in midair. Dan suddenly let go and grabbed Malik’s arm, twisting it and forcing the knife from his suddenly numbed fingers. Then, planting both feet solidly against the consoles, Dan launched a straight right fist against Malik’s jaw with every ounce of strength in him.
The crack of bones breaking sounded loud enough to make the others in the control center flinch. Dan felt pain shoot up his arm as Malik’s head snapped back and his eyes rolled up blankly. The Russian floated unconscious, arms lolling, jaw hanging open. Blood filled his mouth and drifted in tiny globules.
“Jesus Christ,” Dan muttered, grabbing for a handhold with his left hand and wringing his right. “I think I broke my double-damned knuckle.”
He saw the knife hovering, and reached out to take it with his good hand.
Lucita was suddenly at his side. “Don’t kill him, Dan! Don’t… .”
He laughed. “I’m not going to kill him. I won’t have to. His comrades in the Kremlin will do that. Breaking his jaw was good enough for me.”
Sudden understanding filled her eyes. “You provoked him into attacking you!”
He nodded sheepishly. “I didn’t stop to think he might threaten you, though. I’m sorry about that.” Throbbing pain made him grit his teeth. “Didn’t think I’d bust my hand, either.”
Lucita tried to frown at him. “You deserve it. For frightening all of us.”
Chapter FORTY-ONE
Despite the Novocain and the plastic cast, Dan’s hand still throbbed. He was laughing, though, as he sat sprawled on the bunk of his utilitarian compartment aboard Nueva Venezuela and lifted a glass of amontillado with his left hand.
The little room was crowded with visitors. Saito Yamagata had just offered a toast to victory. Lucita, perched on the little plastic desk chair next to the bunk, looked radiantly happy. Dan ignored the others, men from half a dozen different nations, and reached out to touch his glass against hers.
“You have won a great victory,” Yamagata repeated.
The slim, gaunt-cheeked Egyptian colonel who was representing the Pan-Arab coalition nodded in agreement. “For the first time in thirty years the Russians have been forced to back down. A new day is dawning, I can feel it.”
Dan tried to shrug, but the movement sent a tendril of pain along his right arm. “We’ve won a battle-maybe. Not the war.”
“The battle has been won definitely,” Yamagata said. He was sitting on a stool commandeered from one of the workshops, next to the cabinet where Dan kept his meager supply of sherry.
The Indian representative, a tall, turbaned Sikh with a handsome curly gray beard, said in the deep, authoritarian tones of an experienced diplomat, “The General Assembly will insist that the Soviet Union pay reparations for this outrage. And the I AC will undoubtedly move to allow competition for lunar resources.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Dan countered. “The Soviets won’t give up their monopoly on the Moon that easily.”
“At the very least,” the Sikh insisted, “the IAC will approve your claim of the asteroidal materials.”
“And allow future expeditions to collect more asteroids,” Yamagata added.
“Under IAC control,” Dan added.
“Of course. No nation should be allowed to claim ownership of a natural body of the solar system. And the orbit of such a body should be altered only after the IAC has approved of such a maneuver.”
Lucita asked, “What will happen to the Russians who are on their way to Dan’s asteroid?”
The Sikh frowned at her, whether because a woman had the temerity to interrupt the men’s conversation or because she granted a private individual ownership of the asteroid, Dan could not tell.
Yamagata answered, “They have been ordered by Moscow to return without altering the asteroid’s present trajectory. A UN mission will be sent to the asteroid within a few days.”
“They’ll claim possession of it,” Dan muttered.
The Japanese grinned at him. “Naturally.. But the materials of the asteroid will be available for mining by Astro Manufacturing Corporation-and its partner in the venture.”
Dan drained the last of his amontillado. “Do you really think,” he asked, “that we’ve gained anything? That we’ve broken the Russian stranglehold?”
“Yes!” Yamagata said immediately. “Definitely. We have opened up the solar system for all the nations of the world. You have done that, Daniel. We all owe you a very great debt of gratitude.”
“I’ll accept a small percentage of your profits,” Dan quipped.
Yamagata laughed. The Sikh raised his stern white eyebrows.
They chatted for what seemed like hours. Dan’s mind drifted, their voices became a blurred background, like the hum of electrical equipment or the soft lapping sound of waves at the beach. He was bone-tired. His eyes closed.
Suddenly realizing that he was being impolite, Dan snapped his eyes open again. The room was empty, except for Lucita, still sitting beside the bunk.
“What happened to everybody?”
“You fell asleep,” she said softly. “They left.”
Seeing his empty liquor cabinet, Dan said, “They took the rest of the sherry with them. I’ll bet that was Sai’s idea.”
“No,” Lucita said. “I told them to. I didn’t think they would leave without it.”
He grinned at her. “Come here.”
She sat on the edge of the bunk and leaned over him. He kissed her, gently.
The phone buzzed.
Holding Lucita close to him with his good arm, Dan clumsily snapped his fingers. It took two tries before the phone’s little screen on the desk lit up and showed the face of a communications technician.
“Mr. Randolph?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Oh. Hard to see, your room’s dark.”
“What is it?” Dan demanded.
“The President, sir. She wants to talk to you.”
“The President of the United States?”
“Yessir!” The technician was an American, Dan could see from her attitude. “She’s calling from Washington.”
Dan hesitated a moment. Then, “Tell her I’m resting. Doctor’s orders.”
The technician’s eyes went wide with disbelief.
“Dan,” Lucita whispered urgently, “you can’t make the President wait. …”
“I’ll call her back,” Dan said to the phone screen. “Tell her I appreciate her call, and I hope she takes advantage of what’s been accomplished today. And give her my thanks for her help.”
“Yes, sir,” the technician replied. “Is that all?”
“That’s all for now.” He snapped his fingers and the phone screen went dark.
Lucita looked alarmed. “Dan, La Presidenta …”
He pulled her closer and covered her lips with a kiss.
“You’re much more important to me,” he said. “America’s an old nation, Lucita. Maybe she’ll become great again, maybe not. We’ve given her the chance, now it’s up to the people and their leaders. You and me, though, we have other places to go, other worlds to see.”
“But I thought …”
He smiled at her. “You’re the only woman I’m interested in, amada; I’ve found what I’ve been searching for.”
She nestled her head against his shoulder. “Truly?”
“Truly.” He nuzzled her dark, fragrant hair. Then he laughed softly. “How would you like to spend your honeymoon on Mars?”
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