Moonbase - Moonwar Part 16

Edith blinked with surprise. He really means it! He's putting the whole base in jeopardy to save my neck.

The hissing and chugging noises stopped, and for a long moment she stood alone and still in the metal sarcophagus.

Then the inner door slid open and a lanky, grave faced old man with a ratty gray beard stepped inside. Behind him was a shorter Afro-American, solidly built. He looked somber, too.

"Welcome to Moonbase," said the old man, breaking into a boyish smile. "It is my pleasant duty to help you take off your clothes."

TOUCHDOWN PLUS 3 HOURS 25 MINUTES.

Wilhelm Zimmerman scowled at the woman. She was pretty, in an All-American, blonde, coltish way. And completely stupid.

"You came this close to killing yourself," he growled at Edith, holding his thumb and forefinger a bare millimeter apart.

Sitting on the examination table, wrapped in nothing but a thin sheet, Edith nodded somberly. "I didn't realize I'd be putting the whole base at risk."

"You think perhaps all this is a game?"

"Not hardly."

Zimmerman locked his hands behind his back and stared at the readouts on the display screens lined above the exam table. Everything looked normal. The UV lamps had deactivated the nanomachines infesting her boots. None of them had penetrated to the inner soles. This woman was clean of nan.o.bugs. Her boots and the rest of her s.p.a.cesuit were in the nanolab, down in the old section of Moonbase. Zimmerman wanted to inspect those boots personally, to see how much damage the gobblers had done to them. He intended to play back the video of the reporter's dash through the garage and establish a time-line to determine the rate at which the nan.o.bugs ate through the plastic of the boots.

"When can I get my clothes back?" Edith asked, clutching the sheet under her chin.

Startled out of his thoughts, Zimmerman waved a pudgy hand in the air. "Now. They were not contaminated."

With a shy smile, she asked, "Then where are they?" Zimmerman scowled again. "Am I your valet? How should I know where they are?"

Hansen had returned to the Clippers.h.i.+p and spent a weary hour discussing the situation with his superiors. He started with his commanding officer at the Peacekeeper base in Corsica, then was bucked up to Peacekeeper headquarters in Ottawa and finally to the U.N. secretary-general, Georges Faure himself.

Patiently he explained how Captain Munasinghe had been killed. Faure listened, a strange little smile playing about his lips.

"The captain died in battle against the rebels, then.' Faure made it a statement, not a question.

"He killed himself accidentally," Hansen corrected.

Faure's expression hardened once he heard the lieutenant's words. "No, no, no. He died in battle. How it happened is of little consequence. If the Moonbase rebels had not resisted, he would not have been killed."

Hansen let the point pa.s.s. More than one soldier had become a hero after the fact, he knew.

"Tell me then," Faure said, "what do you propose to do now?"

"Our only alternatives," he reported, "are to return to Earth with our mission unfulfilled, or to destroy Moonbase's electrical power equipment, which will force them to surrender within a few hours."

Faure's face, on the c.o.c.kpit's small screen, looked perfectly composed. Only the slightest tremble in his voice hinted at the seething rage boiling within him.

"And if you destroy the electrical equipment," Faure asked, with exaggerated patience, "what happens to the people of Moonbase?"

Hansen said, "They will be forced to surrender."

Three seconds pa.s.sed. Faure asked, "Why will they be forced to surrender?"

"Because without electricity their air-recycling system will shut down and they will soon have no air to breathe."

Another three seconds. "And once they surrender, do you have air for them to breathe? Do you have s.p.a.ce aboard your s.h.i.+p to carry two thousand men and women back to Earth?" Faure's voice rose to a snarl. "Or do you propose to let them all die, choking to death while you watch?"

Hansen stared back evenly at the secretary-general's image. "I was merely stating what our options are, sir. I was not recommending a course of action."

While waiting for Faure's response, Hansen glanced at Killifer, who seemed grimly amused. "Friggin' politicians want to have their cake and eat it too," Killifer whispered. "And when they can't, they blame it on you."

"Attend to me, Lieutenant," Faure snapped. "You were sent to Moonbase to take over its operation and remove its leaders from control. It now seems that you cannot accomplish that task."

"Not without destroying the base, sir," Hansen replied. "And killing everyone in it."

Faure seemed to mull the situation over. "You say that Mrs Brudnoy is willing to accompany you back to Earth?"

"To negotiate directly with you, yes, sir."

The secretary-general toyed with his moustache. Then he asked, "And this news reporter, this Edie Elgin, she is still in Moonbase?"

"Apparently she intends to stay there. She says she does not wish to return with us."

Hansen thought he might be mistaken, it was hard to tell on this small screen, but Faure's face seemed to be getting quite red. As if he might explode into fury at any instant.

But instead, the secretary-general said mildly, "Very well. Bring Mrs Brudnoy back with you. Leave the news reporter. The mission is a failure, Lieutenant. A complete and utter failure."

Then he added, "Except, of course, for the martyrdom of Captain Munasinghe."

TOUCHDOWN PLUS 4 HOURS 48 MINUTES.

"At least we don't have to pack anything," Joanna said as she sat at her delicate curved writing desk of light walnut and booted up her personal computer.

"Are you sure?" Lev Brudnoy asked, from the doorway to their bedroom.

"Of course," she answered, without even glancing up at him. "We'll go to the house in Savannah. My G.o.d, I'll be able to go shopping again!"

Brudnoy ambled into the living room and sat on one of the little Sheraton sofas. "Are you sure we'll get to Savannah?"

Joanna looked up from her computer. "What do you mean?"

"We're being carried Earthside on a military transport. It will land at the Peacekeeper base in Corsica. Has it occurred to you that we might be held there, incommunicado?"

"Incom- what makes you think Faure would do that?"

Brudnoy shrugged. "It's easier to negotiate with someone when you have him in prison."

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

"Lev, I'm not some n.o.body that Faure can hide from public view. I'm Joanna Brudnoy! There'd be an uproar if he tried anything like that."

"Maybe. Maybe I'm just a worried old man. But," Brudnoy ticked off on his fingers, "One: Faure has controlled the news media very effectively. Two: As far as everyone Earthside is concerned, you are at Moonbase. Faure isn't telling anyone that you're returning with the Peacekeepers. Three: You would make a very good hostage."

"I'm sending word to Savannah right now," Joanna said. "The board of directors will know that I'm coming back with the Peacekeepers."

"Can you trust Ras.h.i.+d to inform the board?"

Joanna stared at her husband for a long, silent moment. Then she nodded. "I don't think he'd have the guts to keep this information from the board, but just in case, I'll send the word to each individual board member."

"Good," said Brudnoy.

"And the news media, too."

Brudnoy gave her a sad smile. "Don't expect a bra.s.s band when we arrive in Corsica. Or reporters, either."

"You really are a reporter for Global News," Doug said, feeling foolish even as the words left his lips.

"I really am," said Edith Elgin, sitting in front of his desk.

She was back in the coveralls that the Peacekeepers had given her: sky blue with white trim. The color showed off her thick blonde hair very nicely, Doug thought. Her eyes were her best feature: big, l.u.s.trous, emerald-green eyes. Startling eyes. Eyes that made you want to believe whatever she told you. Long legs. She must be almost as tall as I am.

Edith was studying Doug, too. She saw an earnest-looking six-footer in his mid-twenties (which she knew from checking his bio before coming to the Moon). Olive skin, nice smile, dark hair, gray-blue eyes. Broad shoulders. His coveralls were a couple of shades darker than her own.

"I'm glad you decided to come into Moonbase," Doug said, "although your presence here is a little awkward for us."

"Awkward?"

He made a gesture with both hands. "You don't have any clothes except what you're wearing. And I'm not quite certain what to do with you, now that you're here."

"Do with me? I want to interview you and the others here. I want to beam your story back to the news media on Earth."

"The media haven't paid any attention to us," Doug said. "They even ignored our declaration of independence."

"Declaration...? You've declared independence?"

"Five days ago, when Faure told us he was sending Peacekeepers here to take over the base."

"I didn't hear a word about it!" Edith seemed genuinely shocked.

"You see what I mean?" he said. "The media have smothered us."

"Well, they won't now," she said. "Not with Global News' top personality on the scene."

Doug almost laughed. She seemed serious, and not at all embarra.s.sed at describing herself that way.

"There's more to it, though," he said, sobering at the thought.

"More? What?"

"Well...' he hesitated, then decided he might as well let her know. "You might be a spy."

"A spy?" Edith's emerald eyes went wide. Then she burst into full-throated laughter.

"You find that funny?" Doug asked, feeling a little disconcerted.

"Man, I've never kept a secret in my life! Some spy."

Doug found himself grinning back at her. But he heard himself saying, "Look at it from my point of view. The Peacekeepers just happen to bring a news reporter along with them. Once it becomes obvious that they can't muscle their way into Moonbase, this reporter talks her way into the base-"

"By risking her neck," Edith pointed out.

"By depending on the good graces of the Moonbase people," Doug countered.

"And now this reporter is in your midst, and she's going to stay with you while the Peacekeepers are leaving."

Doug nodded.

"That doesn't make me a spy."

"Probably not, but the thought has crossed my mind."

Edith stared at him. He was pleasant and charming and very careful. He took his responsibilities seriously.

"For one thing," Edith said, "how would I get information back to Earth, if I'm a spy?"

"In your news broadcasts."

"Really?"

"In code, I guess."

She could feel her brows knitting. "Are you serious or are you just pulling my leg?"

"I'm serious," Doug said, "although I've got to admit that the more I think about it, the less likely it all seems."

"Good. I'm not a spy."

"I hope not."

"In fact, I can do you some good. I can get your story out. The media can't ignore me."

Doug nodded and decided that, whether she was a spy or not, she might be useful at that. And it's going to be fun showing her around Moonbase, he thought.

TOUCHDOWN PLUS 8 HOURS 3 MINUTES.

Georges Faure took Ras.h.i.+d's call in his office atop the U.K. secretariat building because his comfortable, luxurious apartment was a wreck.

The secretary-general had spent long, agonized hours speaking with the timid lieutenant who had taken command of the Moonbase mission. Faure had felt his blood pressure rising, his innards burning with rage and frustration as the Peacekeeper officer reluctantly admitted his failure to capture the base.