by Allen Steele
She stopped. "But what?" I asked.
Hannah looked away from me, her gaze traveling to the roses Eddie had planted nearby. "It means you're going to be putting yourself in harm's way again. Maybe sooner than you think."
Something in the way she said that sent a chill through me. Before I could ask, she leaned a little closer. "Maybe I shouldn't tell anyone about this," Hannah said quietly, "but I've heard Mr. Porter talking to town council members about what's happening back home. Looks like Lina Shapar is getting set for an invasion. They believe it could happen any day now."
"What makes them think that?"
"For one thing, the government has stepped up the propaganda. The newsnets back home have been carrying a lot of stories the last few days about how terrible things are here. How Americans on Apollo have become second-class citizens and are being forced to work without pay. How we're on the verge of starvation. How the ISC intends to use the embargo to topple the United States..."
"That's crap! None of it is true!"
"Of course it isn't. But look at history. When a country is seriously gearing up for war, one of the first things they do is concoct stories about the enemy so that the public will believe that theirs is a just cause. Mr. Porter persuaded the local net not to rebroadcast the stories. He's afraid of what might happen to morale if people here saw what was being said about them. But that's not all."
"What else?"
"They've received reports of increased activity on Matagorda Island. A number of shuttles are being prepped for lift-off, and it looks like troops are being mobilized." She paused. "It's hard to know what's going on. Our sources...the Resistance, I mean...can't get close enough to see exactly what's happening. But..."
"Jamey! Hey, Jamey!"
I looked around to see Logan jogging down a path toward us. I closed my eyes and mentally swore a curse against him, and Hannah sighed in an annoyed way. Bad timing, pal, I thought, and he must have realized the same thing himself, because when he saw Hannah and me sitting together, he'd stopped in his tracks.
"Oh," he muttered, his face going red. "Sorry, man. I didn't...y'know..."
"S'okay," I said, even though I could have strangled him. "What's going on?"
"You didn't answer your wristband, so the Chief sent me to find you." Logan quickly walked over to us. "We're being called up. The Rangers, I mean."
"Called up?"
"Uh-huh. Priority One. Everyone's supposed to report to the barracks for a emergency briefing, right now."
As he said this, Hannah's wristband chimed. She glanced at the readout, then looked at me. "The hospital's calling me in, too," she said quietly. "It's starting."
I didn't have to ask what she meant. We both knew that it was the very thing we'd just been discussing. I gave her a quick kiss, then she rushed off to Apollo General while I followed Logan toward the nearest elevator. We'd only walked a dozen yards when he glanced over his shoulder at where Hannah and I had been sitting.
"So...are you two a pair now?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
"Yeah...yeah, I guess we are."
"Good." Despite our hurry, he stopped and turned to me. "Look, man, I know things have been kinda...y'know, difficult...between us because of what's been going on with Nicole and me, but..."
His voice trailed off, but I knew what he meant. "Forget it," I said. "I guess both of us got who we deserve."
"Since you put it that way..." Logan stuck out his hand. "Friends again?"
"Sure." I was glad that he was willing to put all that behind us; I'd missed not being able to talk to him. So I shook his hand. "Friends again."
"Good. Now let's get going before the Chief fries us for being late."
When we arrived at the barracks, we found a note on the door, telling us that the meeting was going to be held in the civic auditorium. A couple of other Rangers were heading over there, so Logan and I fell in with them. The auditorium was located just off the solarium, a large hall that had been cut within the crater wall and normally used for plays or lectures. I wondered why Mr. Garcia was holding the meeting there instead of at the barracks, but it wasn't until we arrived that I saw why.
Lunar Search and Rescue wasn't the only organization to show up. The town council was there, too, as were representatives from the various major departments: Main Operations, Life Support, Maintenance, Agriculture, and so forth. Logan and I had just found seats in the second row along with the other Rangers when several members of the hospital staff arrived. A few steps behind Dr. Rice was Hannah; she and I spotted each other, and she gave me a little wave, but neither of us made a move to sit together. This wasn't the time to be boyfriend and girlfriend.
Mr. Garcia was seated at a table on the stage along with Mr. Porter. The city manager waited until everyone was seated, then he stood up and walked to the podium. "Thank you for coming," he began, his voice carried by the ceiling speakers. "I apologize for the short notice, but a situation has come up that can't wait for an official town meeting. I'm counting on the various department heads to report everything discussed here to their staffs, so that they can work together in making preparations."
Murmurs passed through the auditorium. About seventy people were in there, and from what I overheard it seemed as if everyone already knew something of what was going on. Mr. Porter raised a hand for silence, then went on.
"As you know, President Shapar has made public statements hinting that the United States may resort to using military force against Apollo in order to break the embargo. Over the past several weeks, we've responded by preparing for a possible invasion. We've retrained our Lunar Search and Rescue personnel to act as a defense force, asked the staff at Apollo General to initiate emergency procedures to be used in the event of an attack, and requested other departments to develop ways and means of coping with damage that might come from a military assault. I don't think I'm speaking only for myself when I tell you that I was hoping none of this would be necessary, and that the current crisis would resolve itself without violence."
He took a deep breath. "Unfortunately, it appears that we were right to take precautions. Reliable sources on Earth have informed us that, over the past couple of days, there's been a surge of activity at the US military spaceport on Matagorda Island. Our sources haven't been able to determine the extent of those preparations, other than to say that it appears that military personnel have been transported to the island and that magcat shuttles have been prepared for liftoff."
Mr. Porter pressed a button on the podium keypad, and the wall behind him became an enormous screen. Displayed upon it was a shot of Earth as seen from the Moon; it was in third-quarter phase, with the sunlight terminator falling across the Gulf of Mexico. To the right was a bright spot of light, a star more brilliant than those around it.
"Early this morning at 0800 Greenwich Meridian Time, 0300 Eastern Standard, two shuttles lifted off from Matagorda, about a half-hour apart. Shortly after that they rendezvoused at Station America, where the freighter Charles Duke has been docked since the embargo began." Mr. Porter pointed to the screen. "This picture was taken about two hours ago by our observatory telescope. It shows the Duke's nuclear main engine being fired. Consequent footage shows that the engine hasn't been shut down, and that the freighter itself is on course for lunar rendezvous and orbital insertion."
Again, murmurs passed through the room. Everyone there knew the Charles Duke. It was one of three heavy-lift lunar freighters built to transport cargo to the Moon and haul He3 and other lunar materials back to Earth. If its gas-core nuclear engine was under constant thrust, the Duke could make it to the Moon in a fraction of the time it took for an LTV to make the same journey.
Before anyone could ask the obvious question, Mr. Porter answered it. "We estimate that the Duke will arrive in approximately twenty hours, including time for braking and orbital insertion. Mr. Garcia will now take over the briefing. Luis...?"
The Chief stood up and approached the podium, with Mr. Porter s
tepping aside to make room for him. "What the Duke will do once it gets here is anyone's guess, but I think we can safely assume that it's not coming to bring us chocolates and roses." A few chuckles, but most of the people in the room weren't in the mood for a joke, and Mr. Garcia wasn't smiling either. "Chances are that it's carrying two or more landing craft which will descend to the lunar surface. So, we can count on a direct attack upon Apollo...and chances are also that they know we're ready for them."
He touched the keypad, and the light in the sky was replaced by topo maps of the Moon's two hemispheres. "Because of that, it's possible that they may try to pull an end-run around our defenses, and attack what they may consider to be our Achilles heel...Cabeus Station, our lunar ice mine at the South Pole."
Mr. Porter pointed to the map of the lunar nearside, and a small yellow circle appeared above a small crater an inch or so from the very bottom of the map. "They may believe that if they seize Cabeus, they can take control of most of our water supply, which would then cut short any prolonged siege of Apollo...and they would be right. Cabeus is our weakness. We can hole up in here almost indefinitely, but if we run out of water, surrender will be inevitable. So Cabeus Station must be protected as well as Apollo."
He looked at the Rangers. "I want to send a team of twelve Rangers to the South Pole while the rest of us stay here to defend Apollo. Gentlemen, ladies...do I have any volunteers?"
I didn't think twice. I held up my hand. Logan didn't hesitate, either; his hand went up at the same time as mine did. Nicole was seated in the row in front of us. She glanced over her shoulder, saw what Logan and I were doing, and then her hand rose as well. Nine more hands were raised--Mikel, Greg, Mahmoud, several others I didn't know quite so well--until the Chief had his dozen volunteers.
"Thank you." Mr. Garcia nodded in satisfaction. "Once this briefing is over, I want this group to report at once to the Airlock 7 ready-room for suit-up. You'll depart for Cabeus Station within two hours."
I was ready to go that minute, but had to wait while Mr. Porter returned to the podium to cover other items on the agenda. Mining operations were to be immediately suspended, with the regolith harvesters relocated to the nearby mountains and camouflaged with tarps to prevent them from being bombed. Airlocks would be sealed, and only Rangers and a few support personnel would be allowed to leave the crater. Colonists were to be evacuated to the storm shelter if and when Apollo came under attack. The shelter was already stocked with food and water, and the Apollo General staff were asked to set up emergency medical facilities down there. Once he'd covered everything on the list, the city manager asked if there were any questions.
From the back of the room, Donald Hawthorne raised his hand. Mr. Porter seemed reluctant to acknowledge him, but he did so anyway. Mr. Hawthorne was still using a cane to get around, and his face expressed irritation as he used it to push himself to his feet.
"Loren," he said as he stood up, "considering the danger we're in, shouldn't we at least think about the obvious solution...immediate surrender?"
Angry mutters and whispers rose from the audience. Although Mr. Garcia glared at the mining operations director, Mr. Porter remained stoical. "We've thought about that, Donald," he replied. "In fact, the council discussed that at some length. And the answer is no. We will not surrender. President Shapar is engaged in unilateral actions that are in clear violation of international treaty, and..."
"Then you can count me out!" Mr. Hawthorne snapped. "I refuse to be a traitor to my country!"
"No one here is a traitor!" someone yelled. "We're defending ourselves!"
Mr. Hawthorne ignored him. Without another word, he turned to stalk out of the room, leaning heavily upon his cane. Quite a few people hissed and booed, and when I glanced over at Billy Tate, I saw that, even though his expression remained stoical, his face had gone red. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him; his uncle had just made an ass of himself.
Mr. Porter waited until the auditorium door slammed shut behind Mr. Hawthorne before he spoke again. "Are there any other questions or comments?" he asked. No one raised a hand. "Very well, then. If everyone knows what they need to do, then the meeting is adjourned."
Everyone stood up to leave. I wanted to head over to Billy and talk to him, but he shoved everyone aside and hurried from the room. "Leave him alone," Logan murmured as we watched him go. "Not his fault that he's got a jerk for an uncle."
Not long ago, I'd decided Billy was a jerk himself. I'd since learned that Nicole was right: he could be a pretty good guy when he wanted to be. Maybe his bad side came from his uncle. Still, the fact that he hadn't volunteered for the mission made me wonder where his loyalties lay. Was he staying here to defend his home...or did he agree with his uncle?
I didn't know, but I had more important matters to deal with just then. Mr. Garcia had just come down from the stage, and the other Rangers who'd volunteered for the mission were gathering around him. I didn't think he was planning to lead the mission, but it looked as if he was about to give us some last-minute orders. I started to head over there when I felt a soft hand on my shoulder. Looking around, I saw that Hannah had come up behind me.
"Hey, you," she said. "You planning to run off without saying goodbye?"
Damn. I was about to do that, wasn't I? "Y'know what's a drag?" I asked, trying to change the subject. "Before Logan found us, I was about to ask if you...well, wanted to go out with me. Like, to get a pizza, or see a vid, or..."
"Jamey Barlowe...is that the date you promised me?" A sly smile appeared on her face.
I'd forgotten about that. Obviously she hadn't. "Well...um, yeah, but if you don't want to..."
The smile vanished, "What makes you think I don't?"
I guessed I'd confused her a little. Maybe I was bit confused myself. I was trying to figure out how to answer that when something else occurred to me. "Oh, yeah," I said, "and there's another thing." I reached into my pocket, pulled out the medallion she'd given me a few days earlier. "Here...you can have this back."
Hannah looked down at the medallion. "I think you should hold onto it a little while longer," she said. "You need it more than I do."
"Maybe, but..." I hesitated, not knowing how to say what was on my mind. "It belongs to you, and...well, y'know, it'll be safer with you, I think."
My mind was on the mission, not her. I was going to a dangerous place where there was a very real possibility than I might lose my life. If that happened, I didn't want my body brought back to Apollo with her St. Christopher's medallion still around my neck. I wanted to spare her that...but I didn't realize that she might not see things the same way I did.
Hannah stared at me for several seconds. Behind us, I heard Logan calling for me. I paid no attention to him. Hannah's mouth trembled, and behind the tears that crept into the corners of her eyes I saw a hint of anger.
"You really don't get it, do you?" she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I didn't give that to you because I think it's a good luck charm. I gave that to you because...because..."
I glanced past her. The briefing was already underway; Mr. Garcia's back was turned to me, but several other Rangers were looking my way. I was supposed to be with them, receiving final instructions from the Chief, not fooling around with my girlfriend.
"Because what?" I said, more impatiently than I should have.
Hannah's mouth fell open; now the anger was obvious. "If you haven't figured it out by now, then you probably never will," she snapped, her voice no longer subdued. "God, I'm so tired of chasing you..."
"Hannah..." From the corner of my eye, I could see several people staring at us. "C'mon. I didn't...I mean, I don't..."
"I think I figured out what you don't want." Before I could stop her, she snatched the medallion from my hand. "Good luck," she finished, and then she turned and dashed out of the auditorium.
In the early years of the 21st century, NASA sent its Lunar Crater Observation and Sensing Satellite to the Moon to confirm the presence of subsu
rface ice deposits at the South Pole. Upon reaching the Moon, LCROSS released its spent second-stage booster and sent it crashing down into Cabeus Crater. The probe's cameras and spectroscopes caught the plume of debris raised by the rocket's impact; when scientists back on Earth analyzed the images, they discovered that as much as 8.5 percent of the regolith was comprised of ice, possibly the remnants of an ancient comet collision. Since the crater floor lay in perpetual darkness, this ice had never melted.
That meant Cabeus was an oasis, a large source of water--nearly a billion gallons, it was eventually learned--in a place where H2O was hard to come by. The Chinese would later discover another ice deposit about a hundred miles to the east in Scott Crater, but by then the ISC was making plans to exploit the Cabeus ice field as a primary source of drinking water for future lunar colonists.
Cabeus Station had been manned for only as long as it took to build a semiautomatic mining facility at the bottom of the crater; it was much too remote for anyone to live there for long, and helium-3 deposits were sparse in the polar regions. Instead, robots teleoperated by controllers in Apollo prowled the crater floor, using diamond-head drills to sink narrow shafts into the ground wherever their spectroscopes detected ice crystals. The robots extracted the ice-laden regolith and carried it back to the station's main facility, where a fusion furnace melted the ice and processors distilled pure water from the heavy metals within the sediment. The water would then be stored in tanks to await pickup by a Pegasus.
Sure, the loonies could extract H2O from the regolith mined closer to the colony, but not nearly in the same amounts as from Cabeus. Moon Dragon had its own lunar ice mine at Scott, and they were welcome to it. So long as both the ISC and the PSU exercised water conservation at their separate colonies, there was enough ice to keep everyone happy for years to come. No one had ever seriously thought that Cabeus Station would need to be defended...until now.
From the passenger compartment windows of the Pegasus, I could see the terrain over which we flying. The lunar South Pole was a wilderness of dust and stone, its ragged mountains and deep craters shrouded by an endless twilight. The landscape was nothing like the basalt oceans of the equator. This was one of the Moon's most treacherous regions, harsh and unyielding, where Earth barely peeped above the horizon and the Sun was almost a stranger.