by R L Dean
The rover jerked to a stop ... Barnes and Weng cursed at each other over the commlink ... then it began moving slowly and stopped again.
"Thirty-nine minutes," Weng said.
Jeffery unbuckled the straps on his seat and said, "I'm going out." He was irritated, and cramped.
Several others unbuckled as well, and Eric suddenly thought it might be a good idea to go outside and stretch a little. They couldn't move again until the satellite was out of range, anyway.
Outside under the shelter of the boulder Eric stood with Barnes and talked over a private channel while their teams stretched and milled around.
"But why blow the whole crater up?" Barnes was asking. There was a moment of static and his voice turned distant, then the commlink cleared.
"Not the whole crater," Eric told him. They had already talked about this during the planning stage of the operation, but Barnes wanted to argue. "Just the north facing wall ... part of it anyway. We've already been over this."
"We should check each of those hangers, Eric. To make sure what's in them is what's on the inventories. That puts us in the hangers. So, we plant the explosives in them."
Eric understood Barnes' concern. It was important, just like at Settlement Base, they should make sure what they were destroying was in fact useless junk and not something important. But there were added risks here. The depot was manned, there would be rent-a-security in the old Control Tower, maybe even patrolling the hangers. Which was the reason why AgraSource and PermaTech felt like the depot was a safe place to keep their merchandise. The thing was, the hangers that they stored their crap in were all on one side of the crater. Like ancient Indian cliff dwellings on Earth. So, why not just bring the crater wall down?
"They won't have patrols in the hangers," Barnes went on. "And if the security pukes are not asleep at their desk, and do happen to see us we'll still have time to get back to the rovers."
Eric let him make his case, for the third time in two days, but ultimately it was his call and they were going to do it his way. They had worked together twice before, and if this had been Barnes' op then Eric would have deferred to him.
"So, how many other cell leaders do you know?" He asked, changing the subject.
"Two. Our main contact in Clement Tunnel, and another cell in Concord Burrow," Barnes told him. "Why?"
He could imagine Barnes shrugging, but the movement didn't carry through very well in the vac-suits and assault armor.
"I've been thinking," Eric said. "How many men do you think it would take to hit Compton's headquarters?"
Barnes stared at him through his helmet's face shield, he blinked. Then he said slowly, "Look, I get that you were in this early on ... maybe even the first cell leader in the whole thing. But attacking UNSEC Command is suicide. For one thing, it's in the middle of the burrow. If you don't get shot first there's nowhere to run."
"I know it's risky, but think about the impact it would have. It would be in the media all the way from Jupiter to Earth. Tell the UN we're serious here."
Barnes frowned at him. "If you're talking about blowing the place up, think about the collateral damage ... the middle of the burrow, Eric."
Eric frowned back at him, then turned away and looked at the rocky landscape. There was a depression about thirty meters to the south where gullies had formed. So, Barnes was out. Maybe he could still get information on how to reach the other cell leaders he knew. Or, maybe he should just contact Jung.
* * *
Another forty minute stop under an overhanging cliff to wait for a weather satellite to pass over, and three hours later, Weng reported they were within sight of their target.
Eric had fallen into a sort of half doze, and was jerked out of it repeatedly by Weng's driving. This last stretch he had managed to remain in a sort of blurry consciousness for ten minutes. When he realized what Weng was saying he yawned and lifted his head. Most of his team was like him, slumped back or heads down. He yelled into the open channel to rouse them.
Linking his HUD with the rover's external camera he ordered it to rotate three-hundred-sixty degrees. It was noon and the Cydonia landscape looked hot, even though the temperature was well below zero. The camera turned slowly ... Barnes' rover behind them ... endless rocks and depressions, dust ... and then the sloping bulge of the crater's north wall.
There was nothing to signify that this was the right crater out of the thousands upon thousands that marred the surface of the planet. There were no roads, no markers, no flashing lights, just a UNSEC symbol on a map and the rover's guidance system assuring him that they were at that little symbol.
"One kilometer," Weng said.
"No signals," Barnes reported. "The sky is clean."
Eric shifted in his seat, pulling on the straps. "Alright," he said. "You have your assigned target locations. Get there, plant your charges, and get back. This is an active site, so comms go off before you hit the dirt."
A few responded with yes sir. It didn't matter, he was confident that they would do their parts. His team was solid, and Barnes had control of his people. Both teams did well in the three days they trained together.
It was another three minutes before Weng stopped the rover and announced they were at the designated coordinates. Almost as one his team unbuckled and lined up behind him at the hatch in the back of the rover.
When the depressurization light flashed complete he popped the hatch and hopped down to the ground. There was a layer of frost, invisible over the eroded ejecta and once loose sand that coated the sloping side of the crater. His HUD warned about the lack of traction on the surface. He moved out of the way to let his team out. Barnes walked out from behind his own rover and looked around, his helmeted head finally coming to rest in the direction of the crater, turned slightly upward.
Jeffery passed seven grappling rifles through the hatch. Jeanne and Henry took them and passed them around, then Jeffery himself hopped out and they waited while the last of Barnes' people assembled.
They gathered in a group and Eric set the timer on his HUD to thirty-three minutes. That's how long it would take him to go to the furthermost target location— to the top of the crater wall— to set his charges and then get back down. He held up his thumb to Barnes and waited while he synced his time, then when Barnes held up his own gloved thumb they started the timer countdown. Their teams did the same.
As the green numbers began ticking down on the inside of his face shield Eric turned and headed toward the slope at a cautious jog.
The crater was his entire view, the HUD outlining it and giving him distance and measurements and warnings of the slippery surface. After twenty meters he had to pick his way around a boulder the size of the rover that had eroded to the point that it seemed to melt into the ground. He glanced back a couple of times, to check on his team. With the comms turned off he wasn't getting any information, no voices and no vitals. Inside his helmet it was silent except for his own breathing. They could have fallen off the planet and he wouldn't have known without turning to look. They were spreading out behind him, moving in the direction of their target locations. Barnes' team was moving off to the west, crossing the tricky gravel and ice that littered the rolling slope of the crater.
He was able to go another fifty meters before it became too steep and too slippery to continue. Pulling the grappling rifle from his back he looked up, craning his neck as far back as his helmet would allow. The HUD marked the thin ledge on the wall that he had studied in images during training. Raising the rifle and adjusting his aim until the HUD flashed a satisfying green 'X' he pulled the trigger. It had a kick. In silence the grapple shot up the side of the crater, pulling a thin cable behind it. It struck the ledge and its claws snapped down on its lip, burying in the rock.
Securing the retractable line from the rifle to rings on his belt he activated the rifle's wench and after a moment the line tightened and Eric began a slow walk up the crater wall.
Jeanne was about eight meters to his
left on the wall face. As he pulled himself up to the ledge, he paused on his knees and watched as she came up. The ledge was her target, she would be done in a matter of moments and repelling back down. Back to his own business— he detached the line from the grapple, attached a new grappled, and reset the rifle. Twelve minutes had passed. His time was off. It might take longer than expected. As he stood and looked up at the top of crater rim, some twenty meters, he wondered if Weng would leave him behind if he were late. Barnes would, of that he had no doubt. Once his team was back at the rover he would leave Eric and his team here. He would have to, if he wanted to make it back to the land formations that would allow him to hide from the satellites.
The same for Weng, Eric, he told himself. She would have to leave for the sake of the team. Now get busy.
He took aim at the top of the crater and fired. When the grapple stuck he repeated his walking climb to the rim— albeit longer. There were slippery spots, and if not for the armor padding over the knees of his vac-suit he would have bruises. He was winded halfway to the top, despite the rifle's wench.
Scrambling over the edge he rolled onto his back, panting and looking up at a red sky washed to pink. Time Eric, time, he told himself.
Rolling to his feet he looked out across the rim. It wasn't wide, perhaps ten meters, and roughly eroded in some parts. In spite of the ticking time he took a moment to look out across the expanse of the crater. Near its center there was a dusty white complex of buildings and a Control tower. To the left and the right, on the arc of the walls he saw hanger doors, spaced a part and marked with faded numbers. He couldn't see his target hangers from this angle, but if you followed the number patterns they would be right below him.
The shuttle hangers brought back a recent memory. He had met Greg Stockerman in a hanger that was on the surface above Capital Burrow. Eric had no idea who Stockerman was, but Jung said it was in the interest of the movement to meet him. So, he let Jung take him to Stockerman's shuttle and then left them to talk.
As it turned out Stockerman was looking for someone that had a high level of coding skills, but off the grid, not easily tracked. He could pay for the job, he just needed an introduction or contact information. Eric hadn't had to think about who fit that description. And he happened to know how to contact her.
How time has gone by, he thought. He turned east, the target location for his first charge was about thirty meters away— he took a step and froze. The HUD wire-framed a figure hunched down beside a group of big rocks two dozen meters away. The figure had a rifle pointed at him, and was wearing the same UNSEC armor that he was.
With his heart thudding heavily in his ears he tried to pretend not to see. With one hand he turned his comms on. Instantly he heard Jeffery cursing ... Barnes yelling orders ... panic ... a mix of voices, both teams talking over one another.
The figure— the UNSEC soldier— realized that he was spotted and stood, his rifle still leveled at Eric. There was no time. Eric couldn't bring his own rifle to bear, so he did the only thing he could do. He slapped the detonator on his belt and instantly felt the ground shake through his boots. There was a succession of blasts, muffled pops in his helmet, as the charges the teams had set below him blew. Rock and dust ejected off the north face of the wall and then Eric was in freefall.
32 - Mat
The last time he was in the business district was to sign a contract with Apex Mining. That was about five years ago. Now, as with the rest of the changing city the only thing familiar was some of the brands found on the advertising screens on the sides of buildings and vending machines.
It was a cleaner district, kept almost like a park, and while the permafab buildings were built of the same material as any other inside the dome the paint seemed different ... smoother, brighter. All set beneath the golden sky of the dome. On the walkway ride he saw a few protestors— someone even tried to shove a flimsy plastic flier in his hand— but here they were absent. UNSEC kept a substation at one corner of the district and made numerous patrols. Business owners wouldn't pay for expensive rent space if it meant the riffraff came with it. Private security kept undesirables out of the buildings, and the soldiers would find a reason to send them on their way out of the area. That included lawful, peaceful protestors.
Change was a part of dome life, but his absence made it stand out. In his life before, an old sign going down and a new one going up would not have triggered his notice. Now, the district seemed like a new neighborhood.
He walked a couple of blocks, heading in the direction of the rep's office and looking at the changes. Ahead of him a small Asian woman walked out of an office and continued across the street. She was in a dark business skirt and white blouse. It was not something he could imagine Misaki wearing, but the woman's hair ... her ponytail ... it brought back the phantom smell of Misaki's own hair, from the time she climbed in the rack with him and he held her. He tightened his jaw and forced himself not to stare.
The Apex Mining rep's office was its own four story building. It was permafab material but they had gone a long way to make it look shiny with polished plexi windows and chrome molding and borders. It stood out. There was a sign on the sidewalk in front of the building made of something that looked like granite with flowers planted around it. The building was the same as he remembered, but the sign was new.
Mat rubbed his face and headed to the door. This was not a visit he was looking forward to, but it had to be done. It would have been done on Butte if circumstances allowed. He was almost inside when a pop, or pup, sound echoed throughout the dome. He stopped and looked around. Did he feel a vibration? Maintenance used heavy machinery that could cause an echo and you could feel it through the ground. If they were tearing down a structure on one side of the dome, sometimes you could hear it as a distant echo on the other side. But this wasn't heavy machinery. Others on the sidewalk sensed it too and stopped to look around. Living on a rock with no atmosphere wasn't safe— just on the other side of the dome's golden polymer and lead surface was the big black, an infinite universe that could kill you— so you took notice of air pressure, smells, and noises that you didn't quite recognize. In Maintenance they were acutely aware of those things. If the general population knew that the dome did in fact have leaks or microfractures in some places they would be rioting in the streets or booking passage back to Earth.
His handcomm beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket. It was Yuri. He accepted the call.
"Yeah, Yuri ..."
"Kep, there is something going on at the Apex plant," Yuri said hurriedly.
"What? The plant?"
"There is some sort of ... explosion ..."
Haydon's voice came in from the background, "I've got a scope on it now ... something definitely blew ..."
The plant was five kilometers away, six or seven from where the Sadie was parked. That was a good ways, whatever was happening at the plant shouldn't affect the dome ... but ... something made Mat feel uneasy. His aunt might call it a word from the Lord.
"Yuri, get Sadie off the ground," he said. "Do it now."
"Control might ..."
"I don't care what Control says. This doesn't feel right."
"Copy that."
Mat turned from the Apex building, a block back there was a walkway. Is this really a problem, he asked himself. Am I overreacting? He should call her ... no, she wanted him to let go of her, and this would seem like he was refusing to. He would just go and look for her at the tram station. He wouldn't talk to her, just look at her. See that she's okay. I'm overreacting, why did I tell Yuri to move the ship? Still, he picked up his pace to a half jog.
He was almost to the corner when his handcomm beeped again ... but he didn't answer. A tremor went through the concrete ground of the dome and to the south Mat saw a gigantic shadow slam into the dome's exterior surface. There was the crunch of things breaking and a hollow thud that reminded him of explosives going off in the background of a war movie. He was knocked to the pavement and a
sign fell from a building across the street.
Oh God, what just happened?
He got to his feet. A couple of others were knocked down as well and they were getting up, running. There were bunkers for this sort of emergency, the dome losing pressure, but there was only one thing on his mind. He called her and when her face appeared on the screen his heart started pounding ... then the handcomm's image changed, flickering colors and shapes, then he was staring at what looked like boots. The screen went dark, but he had seen enough. She was still here.
The emergency klaxon went off as he was running toward the walkway. When he made the block he jerked to a stop— the walkway was stalled and people were crowding around it. He would never reach her ... then he saw a blue hatch at the edge of the sidewalk, a maintenance tube access. The whole underside of Harmony was riddled with those tubes, they were run through with sewage pipes, water pipes, and electrical conduits. There were even equipment lockers and machine rooms down there for maintenance crews.
He bolted for the hatch.
Lord please, let Coop still be in charge. Five years ago Roberto Cooper was still the Maintenance crew chief in charge of this district— a solid mechanic, but only ever used four passwords in his life. Mat knelt down beside the hatch and entered the first code ... nothing. He was working on his second attempt when he saw the dome cracking out of the corner of his eye. Bright lines of gold forming like lightning where the dome was stuck by ... whatever it was. It's really happening. The second code worked— Coop's niece's birthday.
When the hatch popped open he swung down onto the ladder, then hurried to the bottom. There were dim lights on in the tube, they flickered in time and he could feel a vibration through the soles of his boots. Mat took off, heading north. The tubes were interconnected like a spider web, with hatches on the surface spread throughout the district for quick access. He could get close to the tram station ... close to Misaki.