Battle Luna

by Travis S. Taylor

She reduced the image, shifted, chopped off everything in sunlight and brought up the brightness on the rest.

  “God, that looks like crap,” she said. Even chopping off the area in direct light left saturation from the reflected rays. That and the internal illumination created a lot of irregular outlines. “I’m going to say that ghost is the tech whose boot we saw in sunlight.”

  Andre followed the outline and said, “He’s bent over a bench.”

  “Yeah, likely prepping components for something.”

  “What about back there?” he pointed.

  Rojas said, “That is just barely another person. I think that’s the arm. That might be the helmet shadow on the forward airwall.”

  Godin asked, “Is there a driver as well?”

  Andre said, “Typically, the driver is part of the element, and especially here with them having limited support.”

  He looked over the array of images and considered.

  “Okay. Two crew. They apparently weren’t injured. No one evacced them or looked overly concerned. That’s definitely long-range commo gear. Figure they have enough oxygen for sixteen hours nominal, which means under ten the way they’re exerting.”

  Rojas said, “They could detach someone back for more supplies. Is it wrong of me to hope they were injured?”

  She was icy calm, but there was hot anger under that.

  Andre tried to sound neutral. “No, though it won’t really help.”

  “It would certainly be fair, though.”

  Then his brain caught up with the comment about going back for more supplies.

  “They could, but I suspect they figured to resupply off us as soon as they secured entry. There’s still nothing to suggest a large logistics footprint.”

  Malakhar commented, “That means in another six hours or less they have to either be back at their craft, or cry uncle here. They need at least a half hour, call it an hour with safety. Five hours.”

  Andre said, “Hopefully before that. I can’t risk cycling them in that fast. And we need to watch out for a sympathy ploy.”

  Rojas was wide-eyed. “You think they’d violate Geneva like that?”

  “We aren’t at war. They’re police as they see it. Don’t count on them abiding by anything. Especially after claiming residual vapors in vacuum constitute a chemical weapon.”

  “Good point.” She was looking pissed, but still acted calm. She trembled slightly, though.

  He said, “But, in the four hours they’ve had, they’ve done some damage. I don’t think we can hold them another six. Or even four.”

  Godin noted, “They’re now using the lock and passage as their sun shade. But outside is brutal if they’re going back and forth.”

  Rojas looked at the outside of the image, full screen. “We damaged their solar package. That means they’ve got onboard power for everything, and the conversion cell aboard each vehicle.”

  Godin said, “That will still last well over the remaining time they need.”

  “I have another aerial picture and report,” Malakhar said. “Their numbers are down. I think they detached some for the Old Lock.”

  Andre felt another adrenaline burn and said, “Crap. The only defensive measure possible there is a rockfall.” He looked around. “I guess that’s up to me, since I’ve done them.”

  Godin said, “I’ve done one here. Want me to do it?”

  His tone suggested he’d enjoy it.

  “Yes. You need to pop the lock, shoot the protrusions outside, drop the debris. Keep the backblast outside, and remember arming distance.”

  “I’ll let you know if it’s clear,” Rojas said.

  Good point. “Yeah, no reason to open it if they’re right there.”

  Malakhar added, “And I’ve got imagery from the skimmer, and our man on the mountain. There actually was an element heading for the Old Lock, but it looks like they couldn’t get over the ridge even in low G, and are now heading back.”

  “Good.” That was less of a concern, then.

  Looking at the view, Godin said, “Well, they picked the low saddle, which isn’t the easiest route, just least altitude.”

  “Right,” Malakhar agreed.

  Andre asked, “Are there enough in that element to account for the balance of their force?”

  “No!” Rojas replied. “But I do see several on a dolly crawler. It looks like they’re heading back to their ship.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Two with probable suit damage, including the one who got stuck. One other who may be an exertion or heat casualty, or has a suit malfunction. There’s one driver and one other I think is escort.”

  “So, five out of commission for now, and the twelve we have detained.”

  Malakhar said, “A notable amount of the element. Given their support numbers, and the count on those moving around, we’ve probably cut their effectives by a quarter.”

  “And run out half their time,” Andre said. “They have to be exhausted.”

  “It’s working, boss,” Malakhar said. “Also, my observer is going down for oxy and power. He’ll be back in a half hour.”

  “I’d ask for quicker, but I know how much of a struggle even that is. I’m glad of the support.”

  The man leaned back and mused, “I wonder how much support we actually have among the other Loonies.”

  Andre said, “Probably a very mixed bag.”

  Rudy Zeiss did not like the American trait of doing as one pleased. Or possibly it was a civilian scientist habit. The military people he served with understood patience, chain of command, and inquiry. Some of the workers here . . .

  The disturbance outside resolved as Doctor Cheung Lee, who despite his Chinese name, was born and raised in San Diego. He was apparently a brilliant scientist, but he had no ability to comprehend resource limits, time constraints, or other people’s feelings.

  Lee pushed right past the Entry Controller, who shrugged at Zeiss and looked sheepish. It wasn’t his fault. His task was to log people in and out and account for them, not be an actual guard.

  As Lee strode right through the middle of the consoles, he started demanding loudly.

  “Colonel Zeiss, I need to talk to you.”

  Zeiss sighed and made an attempt at being good natured. That was hard, seeing as he’d just lost a man.

  “I presume the nature of your issue precludes an appointment, Doctor?”

  Lee replied, “It does. I demand to know what is going on.”

  As he approached, Lee almost ran into Zeiss, apparently not having a good internal grasp of inertia on the Moon even after three months.

  “Doctor, I don’t take demands. That’s why I have a commission.” Zeiss gestured faintly at the badge on his chest. “However, I am happy to answer clearly phrased questions within the limits of my authority and your need to know.”

  Lee paused and breathed. “Then what is going on, sir?”

  Zeiss looked around the entire complex and replied, “This is the control room. We’re currently monitoring several EXTACs, planning a schedule for June, working on arranging lift and drop for personnel and supplies, and dealing with a solar storm.”

  Lee had the sense to shrug off the deflection. “You know what I mean, sir. The apparently alien device we’ve not been informed about.”

  Zeiss replied, “I’m not sure what you’re referencing, but if there’s an alien device, you seem to have been informed by someone. As I noted, not all activity falls within your . . . purview or need to know. Nor mine, for that matter.”

  Lee stood up almost to Zeiss’s height and said, “Sir, I recognize your military reticence and will not be toyed with. The UN wants the rightful property of humanity, and it certainly can’t be trusted to a conspiracy of anti-communitarians and military officers here.”

  Zeiss kept his eyes clearly on Lee, only peripherally watching the two security guards moving up behind him. Coffman had called them.

  He said, “That’s a rather serious charge about my staff
, without any grounding in reality.”

  The guards very smoothly each took one of Lee’s arms.

  The sergeant, Tyler, on his third tour here, said, “Sir, you must leave Central Operations at once.”

  Lee didn’t struggle, but said, “Then this shall be taken up with higher authority.”

  Coffman said, “Good luck with that. We have no outside communication at this point.”

  Lee gave him a cold stare and said, “It is illegal to restrict my communication.”

  Coffman grinned. “Actually, no. It can be restricted on the colonel’s orders, your section’s orders, my say-so, or that of anyone who is Echelon One and has a security concern logged. But what I said was, ‘we have no outside communication.’ I am unable to get any signal outside of moonside LOS.”

  Lee started to say, “Well, if you—”

  Zeiss cut him off with, “Doctor, while I respect your expertise, I must place you under observation. You may work in your lab or lodging. You may not approach other groups or any communication equipment. I hope this will all be resolved shortly and you will be happy with the outcome.”

  Lee sounded very scholarly when he said, “That latter will not happen, sir.”

  As he left, without trouble, Zeiss muttered, “I am glad security remains loyal for now.”

  Coffman must have heard him, as he replied, “As long as the orders are in writing, and within their limits.”

  “That’s the best we can ask for.”

  Coffman said, “He’ll blab. Or try to.”

  Zeiss said, “If he sounds crazy enough, they’ll be busy. It’s not as if they can get out without our help anyway. I’ve hard-locked inside the surface interface. They’d have to break out, as much as the Ueys have to break in.”

  Operations Officer Gallatin came over, and spoke very quietly.

  “I hate to ask, sir, but at what point do we give it to them?”

  Zeiss said, “We don’t. Physicist Cutsinger is trying to figure out how to hide it or destroy it. Hide if we can, destroy if we must. But no government can be trusted with that.”

  She said, “You better destroy it, then, sir. They won’t stop looking, and they’ll shake people down until they get it.”

  “For now, we have it as a bargaining chip, because they don’t want to destroy it.”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “They might assume it’s immune to explosive decompression. The value of a bargaining chip is directly proportional to the value of just killing and taking it. Are we going to be martyrs?”

  Even the dispute was causing panic. Either it had to be destroyed, or it had to be so widely shared that no one had an upper hand. The irony was that universality solved more problems than it created, but sole possession would only lead to negative outcomes, either in repression or fights for possession.

  He wanted to be reassuring, and said, “No, if it comes to that, we let them have it if we can’t dispose of it. But I don’t want to live in that future.”

  Coffman was close enough to overhear even whispers, but was utterly trustworthy. He put in, softly, “The intel will leak out eventually, if it hasn’t already.”

  Zeiss agreed. “Eventually. In the meantime, it’s the ultimate tool of repression, and I don’t trust the Ueys to keep it. Some asshole will abscond while ‘studying’ it and it all comes crashing down. We have to keep it here as long as possible, or destroy it.”

  Coffman said, “Seeing as the lab can’t touch the shell with any known force, I’m not even sure a nuke will hurt it. They’re able to crack the controls, but not damage it. It’s like it was made to withstand attack. Or two-year-olds.”

  “Either is possible,” Zeiss smiled. “I certainly wish more of our gear was resistant to scientists or two year olds.”

  Coffman sat up, held a finger in the air, and said, “Sir, the UN officer is calling directly for you.”

  That was expected. “Ignore.”

  The commo tech nodded and tapped, then said, “Yeah, but maybe they have an offer?”

  Zeiss shook his head. “No. They can back off and make an offer. There’s no fair deal with a knife at your throat. And there are reasons I can’t talk to them.”

  “Understood, sir, but plausible deniability only goes so far.”

  “Yes, but it exists until proven otherwise,” he replied.

  Coffman said, very quietly, “One of our people had to leak the info.”

  Zeiss said, “Yes, and that disturbs me, but I can’t address it at this time. Do we have anything else on observation?”

  Coffman shook his head. “Still nothing.”

  “You have the feed from Technician Malakhar’s observer, yes?”

  “I do, and from the cameras. I’m wondering if we can launch a sounding rocket?”

  Zeiss considered. “Maybe. They can’t have much in the way of overhead cover. The worst case is they shoot it down. But we’ll have to let a mapping crew know what we’re doing, given the all-hands notice on radiation. Let’s wait for now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Andre sighed and rubbed his eyes. They were gritty.

  “Well, we’re whittling them down. But we don’t have much left to keep them out with. And if they think this won’t work, they just might crack the roof.”

  Godin asked, “Really? For the . . . device?” He was Canadian. Canadians tended to be very civilized about such things.

  Andre said, “If they either want to assure they have sole control, or simply prevent its existence, yeah.”

  Rojas put in, “For that matter, why aren’t we uploading the blueprints to makerspace?”

  He said, “That’s still under discussion in Control. There are political ramifications to doing so. Also, they haven’t completely reverse engineered it yet.”

  Godin shrugged. “Okay. So load it as we go.”

  “Yeah. Remember what I said about any terrorist org wanting it? Any separatist or rebel group? Organized crime? Disorganized crime? For every bit of good it does, it also does bad.”

  Godin shrugged again. “Once someone finds out, it’s all moot.”

  “Right, but while it’s here, there’s some delay on that.”

  The young man said, “Delay . . . just like we’re doing to them stealing it. In the end, it will get out anyway, over our dead bodies or theirs.”

  “Wars never make sense, son.” Never had, never would.

  The radio pinged again. It was Arris.

  “Engineer Crawford, since I’m unable to reach your leadership, I am contacting you again.”

  “What do you need, Colonel?” he replied.

  “I want to persuade you to do the right thing regarding the device.”

  “Regarding a device I know nothing about other than its claimed existence? Okay.” While talking, he gestured to Malakhar and Godin to look for an incoming attack.

  “It does exist, and it’s not safe here, without proper oversight.”

  Andre keyed the mic, let it go, waited a timed thirty seconds, then said, “Stand by one moment, please.”

  He really wanted Control to handle this. He felt far over his depth. He called Coffman.

  Colonel Zeiss heard Coffman call. “Sir, flagged message from Crawford. He says the Ueys want to bargain.”

  “Tell him to stall and cut them off. I have confidence in him, and the less I’m involved, the tougher the Uey position.”

  “Understood. What are his limits if they do try to bargain?”

  “Did he ask that?”

  Coffman said, “No, sir, but I’d like to tell him.”

  “They can surrender. That’s the bargain.”

  “Understood.”

  Zeiss still had a base and operations to run. With the sun up, heavier power loads were sustainable, and industrial research and local production of resources came online. Then, there were science projects that required sunlight, or mixed shadow and sunlight, many of which took place at remote sites.

  He had EXTACs that were actually critical, even
with an invasion, and he was trying to find some way to clear people to sites that wouldn’t be in LOS and could continue, with the fabricated advisory that there were radiation issues.

  It wasn’t uncommon to move personnel out through secondary locks that were either closer, less crowded, or more private, depending on the function involved. SolGen had their own remote station, and often used an overhead hatch to launch their commuters. Unless they needed an entire plant assembly, they didn’t use the main lock.

  Much of the lunar operation was inside. The selenology, solar science, and vacuum physics processes and research, though, had regular trips in Rollys. It wasn’t going to be easy to stall them for hours or days.

  He knew it was tough on Crawford, but the longer Zeiss stayed uninvolved, the better the position when he had to. He had no intention of betraying his people, but he could start a lengthy investigation that might string things out in court, and lead to publicity the UN wouldn’t want.

  He also still wanted to know who the leak was. He would find a way to rotate them home, assuming this concluded favorably.

  “Mr. Coffman, get Astronomer Victor and ask him to help delay EXTAC. He knows the issue, and he can create a far better story than we can.”

  “Got it.”

  Andre got the reply. It was unrealistic, but at least it was a simple order. They could surrender or go to hell. Fair enough.

  He keyed the mic and spoke.

  “Colonel Arris, you’re saying this is some sort of material fabricator. I’m familiar with the concept, of course. We have printer mills here that can produce almost any part from a blueprint. This would be more than that, then.”

  Arris replied, “Exactly. A material fabricator that takes raw material, possibly even unprocessed material, and delivers a broad range of product.”

  At once, Andre replied, “At what energy cost?”

  The pause was at Arris’s end. When he finally replied he said, “We don’t have that information. Not until we get hands on.”

  Andre waited again, then returned, “If such a thing really exists, and if it is powerable with anything smaller than a five-gig pebble bed, every terror group in the world will be producing bombs. Every gang making guns and ammo. It won’t feed anyone. People want to kill each other and you know it. Northern Ireland. The Middle East. Balkans.”