by Allen Steele
"Later. We've got work to do."
Logan was right; just then, our top priority was assisting in a medical emergency. But later, yes, we'd have a little discussion about who was trying to impress who.
We couldn't open the suit of the man who'd fallen from the harvester, of course; that would have to wait until he'd been brought into the ambulance and it had been pressurized. But when Mr. Garcia accessed the miner's suit comp, its associate told the Chief that it appeared as if the worker had suffered a cracked rib along with a fractured femur in his right upper leg. That diagnosis wasn't necessarily accurate, since it was based on the suit's internal biofeedback systems, yet it gave us something to work with until we got the miner to the ambulance.
Nicole found a cartridge inside the case she'd carried from the ambulance and handed it to Mr. Garcia. As I watched, the Chief tapped a combination into the cartridge's keypad, then attached it to a valve in the miner's life support pack. A push of a button, and the cartridge released a sedative into an epidermal skin patch located within the miner's suit. The poor guy's groans and muttered obscenities soon became a relieved sigh. The pain was gone, at least until he reached Apollo General.
By then, Logan and I had opened the container we'd brought from the ambulance, pulled out the stretcher, and spread it out upon the ground. Once the miner's condition was stabilized, Mr. Garcia told the two of us to pick him up and place him on the stretcher. This wasn't as hard as I thought it would be; with his suit included, the miner weighed only about 75 pounds, easy enough for both of us to carry. And I knew a bit about putting people on stretchers. After all, I'd spent my life being carried around by other people. So I knew how to be gentle and told Logan what to do, and the Chief seemed to be impressed by the fact that I had this sort of knowledge and experience.
Mr. Garcia, Nicole, and Greg walked alongside Logan and me as we hauled the injured man back to the ambulance. This time, it was Greg, the Chief, and I who got to ride in the back while Logan and Nicole shared the cockpit with Gordie and Sam. Mr. Garcia waited until the Pegasus had lifted off again before he pressurized the ambulance, then he opened the miner's faceplate so that we could talk to him.
Until then, I didn't know who we'd rescued. His helmet had been covered with regolith that hid his face. So it came as a surprise when I saw that the injured man was Donald Hawthorne, Billy Tate's uncle.
He recognized me, too. "Hey...you're Crip," he said, peering up at me. "You're the kid my nephew was telling me about."
"My name is Jamey Barlowe," I said evenly.
"Ranger Third Class Jamey Barlowe," Mr. Garcia added.
"Yeah, well...good luck with that." He said this as if he believed that my new job was only temporary. "So when are you going home?"
"Not any time soon."
"Uh-huh. Sorry to hear that. You...ow! Dammit, Luis, what are you doing!"
"Just checking you out, Donald." The Chief had twisted Mr. Hawthorne's broken leg ever so slightly...and perhaps a little more roughly than necessary. "I figured that if you're going to pull my Ranger's leg, I'd return the favor."
Mr. Hawthorne glared at him, but wisely shut up. All the same, when he look at me, the hostility in his eyes was obvious. He clearly blamed me for all of Apollo's current problems.
And I had little doubt that I'd be hearing the same from Billy as well.
My premonition was correct. I saw Billy shortly after my search and rescue team brought his uncle to Apollo General.
A bus was waiting for the Pegasus at the landing field. Its boarding ramp connected directly to the long-range transport, and since we'd removed Mr. Hawthorne's suit on the way back to Apollo, that allowed us to carry him aboard the bus without having to depressurize the Pegasus again. Dr. Rice met us in the garage along with a couple of ER medics, and they took Donald Hawthorne straight to the hospital.
In the meantime, Mr. Garcia escorted Logan, Nicole, Greg, and me back to Airlock 7 so we could get out of our suits. He congratulated Logan and me for a job well done. I didn't think our performance had been anything special, but I wasn't about to argue with him.
Nicole was proud of us, too, but it was Logan who got a hug as soon as we were out of our suits; I had to settle for a smile. Better than nothing, I suppose, but all the same it became obvious Nicole had picked him as a boyfriend. Maybe he should have been happy about this, but the look on his face told me that he hadn't forgotten our unfinished conversation. Instead of picking up where we'd left off, though, I went to Apollo General.
I told myself that I wanted to see how Mr. Hawthorne was doing, but the fact of the matter was that I was looking for an excuse to avoid Logan. A wall had come up between us, and there was no easy way to tear it down.
I was able to dodge my friend, but I wasn't so lucky with my nemesis. Someone had notified Billy that his uncle had been in an accident, because he was already at the hospital by the time I arrived. He was sitting in the ER waiting room when I walked in; he silently watched as I went to the front desk and asked how Mr. Hawthorne was doing. The receptionist told me that he was in surgery, but that his condition was satisfactory and he was expected to make a full recovery, and that a doctor would soon come out to speak with us. Meaning Billy and me, since we seemed to be the only people who cared enough about Donald Hawthorne to come to the hospital.
Billy hadn't said very much to me after I joined the Rangers. Someone had apparently told Mr. Garcia that there was bad blood between us--probably Mr. Speci, who'd coached both of us during my attempt at moonball--because I'd noticed the Chief was doing his best to keep Billy and me separated. But even though I'd tried to keep clear of him during school, it was only inevitable that we'd eventually meet up.
I had a choice. Either I could make a long and detailed study of the potted ferns, or I could talk to him. So I walked over to where he was sitting.
"Hi. Mind if I join you?"
He shrugged. "Suit yourself."
There was a vacant seat beside him; he didn't seem to care if I took it. "Sorry about what happened to your uncle," I said as I sat down. "Glad to hear that he's going to be okay."
"Yeah, I guess." He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor's patterned tiles. He didn't look at me, and seemed to be indifferent to my presence.
I looked around the room, saw no one else there. "Umm...don't you have an aunt, or someone else who...?"
"My aunt moved back to Earth a couple of years ago after she got a divorce from my uncle. Haven't seen her since. I'll try to call her when I hear something from the doctor, but--" another shrug "--y'know, I think she'd care only if he died."
Wow, I thought, that's cold. I knew a little about Billy; he was born on the Moon, but his parents were divorced when he was a little kid and both had decided to return to Earth. Neither of them could take him with them, though, or otherwise he would've ended up in a mobil just like I had, so he'd remained in Apollo with his uncle and aunt. I wasn't aware that his aunt had left, too.
That made his uncle the only family he had on the Moon. Given the way Donald Hawthorne had carried on during the town meeting, it was no wonder that they didn't have many friends. However, when a half-dozen or so Americans loyal to President Shapar had left Apollo when the ISC embargo began, Mr. Hawthorne wasn't among them. I figured it was because he didn't want to give up a high-paying job as mining supervisor, but maybe it was because he would have had to leave his nephew alone.
I had taken a dislike to Billy the first moment we met, when he'd made fun of Eddie for being slow. But just then, I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him...and wonder if he'd become a bully in response to his own insecurities.
I was trying to think of something to say when he beat me to it. "I suppose I ought to thank you now for saving Uncle Don," he said, still not looking at me.
"You don't have to. I didn't do much. Just put him on a stretcher, that's all."
"Yeah, sure, but..." He reluctantly stuck out his hand. "Thanks anyway."
> That surprised me. I hesitated, then shook his hand. "No sweat. Just doing my job, that's all."
For the first time, he raised his eyes to meet mine. "You're serious, aren't you? About wanting to be a Ranger?"
"Sure, I'm serious. Why wouldn't I be?"
Billy didn't say anything for a second or two. He simply looked at me as if he was trying to make up his mind whether I was putting him on. "When I heard you were joining up, I thought you were just doing this to...I dunno. Try to be a big shot or something. I didn't think you could do it. Not after the way you screwed up at moonball."
My face became warm. "Moonball's a game. This is for real."
"I know how real it is...and I know you can screw up on an S & R mission even worse than you can playing moonball. But you didn't." He paused, then went on. "Look, if you think you can handle being a Ranger, then I've got your back. Understand?"
If a stray asteroid had crashed through the dome just then, I couldn't have been more shocked. "I understand, yeah. Thanks...I appreciate it."
He nodded, then a wry grin spread across his face. "Just don't screw up, or it's back to calling you 'Crip' again."
I was about to ask him if it was too much trouble if he'd simply call me Jamey when the treatment room door opened. I looked up, thinking I'd see Dr. Rice or another one of the doctors, and instead saw someone I hadn't expected: Hannah.
I had completely forgotten that she'd taken a Colony Service job at Apollo General. Although she was only a nurse's assistant, she wore doctor's scrubs, complete with a stethoscope around her neck. I was still staring at her when she walked over to us.
"Billy?" she asked. "Dr. Rice sent me out to talk to you. Your uncle is going to be fine. His right femur is broken and he has a couple of cracked ribs on his right side, but there was no damage to internal organs."
Billy took a deep breath, slowly let it out. "Good. Great."
"He'll probably have to walk with crutches or a cane for the next several weeks, and the doctor is barring him from EVA until he fully heals, but he'll be okay after that." Hannah looked at me. "By the way, the doctor also sends her compliments for the nice work you and your team did out there. She's impressed with the way you handled your first rescue mission."
"I didn't do..."
"That's just what I was telling Cri...Jamey," Billy said. "For a provo, he showed that he's got what it takes to be a Ranger."
I bit my tongue, remembering that only a few weeks ago Billy had been busting my chops for the way I played moonball. But Hannah's eyes were shining, and there was no mistaking the fact that she was proud of me...and maybe more.
"Can I see him now?" Billy asked.
"Umm...I think so, but let me check first, okay? Be right back." Hannah turned and went back into the treatment room. Billy waited until she was gone, then he turned to me.
"Want some advice?" he murmured. "You're not going to get anywhere with Nicole."
I blinked, wondering if my feelings for Nicole were so obvious that even the guy who'd been my enemy had noticed them. "But Hannah..." Looking away, he shook his head in disgust. "Man, you gotta be blind if you can't see she really likes you."
"We...we're just friends," I stammered. "I mean, she..."
The door swung open again; Hannah was returning to take Billy to see his Uncle Don. I shut up, but Billy had a sly grin on his face. "Don't pass up a good thing," he murmured, then he stood up to let her lead him away.
Hannah gave me one last glance before they disappeared through the door. There was a smile on her face. I wondered if Billy was right.
Even if I'd wanted to see more of Hannah, though, I didn't have much opportunity to do so. Matters back home soon took a turn for the worse, and they would affect everyone living on the Moon.
Demonstrations against President Shapar had become widespread over the past few weeks, occurring almost every day in one American city or another. Some may have been organized by the Resistance, but I suspect most were spontaneous. Not very many people believed the White House's story about President Wilford having been the victim of an assassination plot, and the administration's refusal to allow an independent investigation reeked of a cover-up. The demonstrations were usually broken up by police or National Guard, and scores of protesters being carried off to jail, yet the crackdown did little to prevent them from happening again.
In the meantime, the ISC embargo was beginning to have an effect. It doesn't take a lot of He3 to fuel a fusion reactor, but its scarcity meant that American power plants usually maintained low stockpiles. As reserves began to run low, utilities suddenly realized that it wouldn't be long before they might not be able to provide electricity to all their customers. When government negotiators failed to reach a settlement with the ISC to end the embargo, President Shapar reacted by withdrawing the United States from the consortium. This decision may have pleased the reactionaries in her party who didn't trust "Eurosocialists," but it didn't do anything to solve the looming energy shortage. And since it was now late October, the prospect of a long winter made colder by rolling blackouts didn't do anything to boost her standing in public opinion polls.
The real crunch came in the last week of October when a White House insider came forward to state that President Wilford had died of natural causes: Dr. Owen Edwards, the late president's personal physician, who'd fled the country a few days after Wilford's death. Speaking at a press conference in Germany, Dr. Edwards confirmed Hannah's assertion that her father had suffered from a preexisting condition that had been kept secret from the public. To prove his claim, he released Wilford's private medical records, including a list of medications he'd prescribed to the late president. Other doctors quickly verified that the records were real and hadn't been falsified.
That was the smoking gun. Overnight, Lina Shapar's last shred of credibility vanished. It could no longer be denied that she'd lied to the American people about President Wilford's death. Her claim to the White House was still constitutionally legitimate, but the actions she'd taken--particularly the arrest of ISC officials and others--were a clear abuse of power. On Capitol Hill, key members of her party realized that they couldn't continue to support the president. Within days of the Edwards interview, forty-seven congressmen from all three parties--including her own--cosigned a formal motion calling for her impeachment.
But Lina Shapar wasn't about to go down without a fight. On Halloween night, she went live on the net to declare martial law.
The excuse she used for such an unprecedented action were the demonstrations and the coming energy crisis. Both posed a danger to civil order, she said, and so it was her responsibility to deploy military forces in order to keep the peace. The fact that the Constitution doesn't give the president the authority to impose martial law meant nothing to her. Within hours, trick-or-treaters were being swept indoors by their parents as federal troops moved to enforce the dusk-to-dawn national curfew ordered by the White House; by morning, the entire country was in lockdown, with arrest warrants being issued for known dissidents. Vice President H. P. O'Hanlon, the former New Hampshire senator who'd become Shapar's hatchet man on the Hill, officially dissolved the Senate, and when Speaker of the House Mildred Ferguson refused to do the same, she was detained by federal marshals and taken away from the Capitol in handcuffs.
On the Moon, we saw the president's speech on a netcast transmitted to Apollo. Until then, the problems back home seemed remote. Not that we didn't care what was happening, but 240,000 miles is a long distance; we weren't likely to have federal agents knocking on our doors any time soon. Yet one thing in the president's address was particularly ominous:
"The gravity of the situation demands that we take active measures to insure that all Americans continue to have sufficient electricity for their homes and businesses. Our country's access to vital lunar resources cannot be interrupted, and we must reclaim that which has been taken from us."
The next day at school, during a break between classes, a bunch of us kids discusse
d the speech. Mr. Lagler had just left, and Mr. Rupley's lit class was next. He was running late, though, so while some guys went outside to stretch their legs with a quick game of hackey-sack--which is amazing in one-sixth gravity, by the way--a few of us chatted about what we'd heard the night before.
"She's going to invade us." Billy leaned against the teacher's desk, arms folded across his chest. "She'll send in the Marines, and they'll take over."
"She wouldn't dare." Nicole shook her head. "The other ISC members wouldn't let her. They'd consider it an act of war."
"Really?" Billy raised an eyebrow. "Do you think Canada, India or Brazil would declare war on the US just because Shapar sent troops up here?"
"They might..."
"No, they won't," said Gabrielle Frontnauc. Along with Greg Thomas, she was the oldest kid in the room. "I hate to say it, but all my country really cares about is whether it receives its helium-3 shipments. So long as America makes a deal with France and the other ISC countries..."
"That's the whole point." As usual, Logan was sitting next to Nicole; I tried to ignore the fact that their hands were almost touching. "That's what this is all about. Shapar's not going to make a deal with anyone. She wants total control of the helium-3 pipeline, because she knows that if she gets it, the US will have a monopoly over most of the global energy supply."
"You're forgetting the PSU," Greg said. "Moon Dragon refines almost as much He3 as Apollo does."
"Yeah, but it all goes to China, Korea, and Taiwan," Logan replied. "They're not going to share what they have with Europe or South America...and especially not with Japan."
"Why not?" Melissa asked. "I mean, they're on the same side of the world, aren't they?"
Gabrielle turned to stare at my sister. "Short of a major earthquake, there is no way China will ever go to Japan's aid." There was just a touch of condescension in her voice. "The two of them have a long-standing distrust of one another. They've even gone to war a few times. We studied that last week in World History...remember?"