by Ben Bova
Someone said, “But if Yamagata’s going to take over the base—”
“They’ll staff it with their own people,” another voice countered. “Yamagata’s not going to keep us, that’s for sure.”
“What the hell can we do?”
Jinny Anson turned her back to Doug, to face the crowd. I’ll tell you what we can do. Fuck ’em! We don’t have to ask the U.N. for independence. We are independent! We can live here indefinitely. And if we have to expand the farm or build more solar cells outside, we can do that! We don’t need those fuckers! We’re free!”
The crowd roared, but from Doug’s vantage atop the table it seemed that almost half the people in The Cave were roaring in protest against Anson’s outburst.
“Okay, okay,” Doug said, waving his hands to quiet them down. “I’ve got to admit it, Jinny, I agree with you about ninety-five percent.”
“Only ninety-five?” She planted her fists on her hips defiantly.
“Hey, I wanna get back home!” a man hollered. “I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life here.”
“Me neither.”
“Listen,” Doug said. “For the time being, nobody’s leaving. We’re in a state of siege, looks like.”
“For how long?”
“Until this thing gets settled, one way or the other,” Doug answered.
“Or until the Peacekeepers come back with more troops,” came a voice from the rear.
Doug conceded the point with a nod, thinking that if he were pushed far enough, Faure might destroy Moonbase rather than admit defeat.
“Okay,” Doug said, loud enough to bounce his voice off The Cave’s back wall. “We’re going to have to act as if we really are independent. Jinny’s right about that. As long as we’re under siege, nobody can leave, so we might as well go about our work and show Faure and the rest of those flatlanders that we can get along without them.”
“Then I can launch my rocket?” Kadar asked.
“We’ll look into it.”
“But I still wanna get home!” a voice wailed.
“Once this matter is settled,” Doug told them, “anyone who wants to leave Moonbase will be free to do so. And anyone who wants to stay here permanently and become a real Lunatic, you’ll be free to do that, too.”
They asked questions and gave opinions and griped and argued among themselves for more than another hour. As Doug watched and listened, he realized that very few of these men and women had ever thought about remaining at Moonbase indefinitely. They were all contract workers, even Jinny Anson, accustomed to working on the Moon for a fixed period of time, then returning to Earth, to home.
Of all the people here, he realized, only Zimmerman and Kris Cardenas and her husband have consciously decided to live in Moonbase permanently. Maybe Jinny, he conceded. Her marriage had broken up because she spent so much time at Moonbase while her husband stayed Earthside.
And me. If I have to go back Earthside with these nanobugs in me, some crackpot nanoluddite will kill me, sooner or later. That’s the sweet part of religion, Doug thought, you can be as fanatical as you want in the name of God.
The mercenary hung at the rear of the crowd, wondering how long these people could go around the same mulberry bush. Then Kadar climbed up on the table beside Doug and began telling them all, in elaborate detail, how wonderful the Farside astronomical observatory was going to be and how important it was to the future of the human race.
People started to drift out of The Cave, most of them still talking among themselves as Kadar droned on, unperturbed. As if talk’s going to do any good, the mercenary thought. They’ve been talking for damned near four hours with nothing to show for it but a bunch of sore throats.
He watched Doug climb down stiffly from his perch on the table. Okay, he told himself, Doug’s going to go back to his quarters now. Christ, it’s after midnight. Okay, just tail along behind him and when he gets to his quarters, invite yourself in and get the job done.
DAY ELEVEN
“It’s past midnight,” Claire Rossi said tiredly as she trudged along the corridor that led from The Cave to her quarters. Nick O’Malley, at her side, towered over her like a redheaded bodyguard.
He nodded. “I’ve got the early shift tomorrow. Gotta be up and moving by six a.m.”
She smiled up at him. “You can sleep in my place. It’s closer.”
He smiled back. “How could I refuse?”
But once they were snuggled in her bunk together, Claire whispered in the darkness, “Maybe I should get an abortion.”
She felt the shock that went through him. “Abortion? Why? You can’t! I don’t want you to.”
Feeling more miserable with each word, Claire said, “With all this going on, all this uncertainty… and if there should be any complications…”
He touched her bare shoulder tenderly. “You feel okay, don’t you? There’s nothing wrong, is there?”
“No,” she said, “I feel fine.”
“Then what’s this talk about abortion? I don’t like it.”
“It’s just…” She couldn’t put the words together.
“Just what? This siege thing? Don’t let that frighten you. Even if we have to go back Earthside we still have employment contracts. Masterson Corporation’ll have to honor our contracts. We’ll have our jobs.”
“Suppose there’s fighting?”
“How could there be?” he said. “We don’t have anything to fight with.”
“But Doug said Yamagata wants to take over the base.”
He propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her. “And what’s that got to do with it? We’d have to go back Earthside anyway, now that you’re pregnant.”
’I’d have to go back,” Claire said. “I’m the one who’s pregnant.”
“Well, I’d have to go back with you, wouldn’t I?”
“Why? We’re not married. You’re not under any obligation.”
For a moment he was silent, then Nick chuckled softly in the darkness. “So that’s it, then. You’re worried that I won’t make an honest woman of you.”
“I never tried to—”
He smothered her lips with a kiss. “Listen to me, Claire darling. I love you. I love our baby, too. I’m going to marry you… if you’ll have me.”
She wrapped her bare arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. “I love you, Nick. I’m mad about you.”
After a few moments he caught his breath and said, “So there’ll be no more talk of abortion, right?”
“Right.”
He fell silent for several heartbeats. Then he murmured, “I wonder if there’s anybody here in Moonbase who can perform a wedding?”
Doug sat on the table’s edge up at the front of the cafeteria until even Kadar ran out of steam. Only a handful of people were still in The Cave. Most had left long ago.
Edith was still by her minicams, recording every word of Kadar’s monologue. Doug walked slowly over to her as the astronomer at last climbed down from the table and headed for the double doors to the corridor.
“You’re a glutton for punishment,” Doug said as she clicked off the two cameras.
Edith grinned. “He seemed to enjoy being recorded. He played to the camera for the last half-hour or so.”
“Is any of that stuff useful to you?”
She started to dismount the minicams. “Maybe,” she answered over her shoulder. “A couple of sound bites, add a few clips of the artist’s renderings of what the Farside base will look like.”
“Artist’s renderings?”
“You do have drawings of the facility, don’t you? Architect’s sketches?”
“Computer graphics.”
“Fine,” said Edith. “Perfect.”
Doug helped her to collapse the tripods, then hefted them both in one hand.
“I borrowed those from your photo lab,” Edith said.
“Oh. I thought you smuggled them into the base beneath your Peacekeeper’s uniform.”
She gave him a searching look. “For a guy who’s staring disaster in the face, you’re pretty chipper.”
“Must be the company,” Doug said.
He walked with her, still gripping the folded tripods, toward the double doors. The Cave was empty now, except for them and Bam Gordette lingering by the doors.
“Now which way is the photo lab?” Edith asked. “I still get a little lost in these tunnels.”
“Corridors,” Doug corrected. “We call them corridors. And I’ll take these back to the photo lab. No need for you to walk all the way there; it’s ’way past your own quarters.”
“You mean that teeny little monk’s cell you gave me?”
“It’s as spacious and luxurious as any compartment in Moonbase, almost.”
I’ll bet your quarters are bigger.”
Doug felt his cheeks coloring. “Well, yeah, but I’m a permanent resident—”
“And the big cheese.”
“Your quarters are just as good as any part-timer’s. Better than most, in fact.”
“Really?”
She’s teasing me, Doug realized. And I’m enjoying it.
Gordette held one of the doors open for them and they passed out into the corridor.
“Thanks, Bam,” Doug said.
Gordette nodded without saying a word. Doug walked along the corridor with Edith, toward her room, and forgot about him and everyone else.
“Tell me about the nanobugs,” Edith said. The corridor lights were turned down to their overnight level. It made the bare stone walls seem somehow softer, less austere.
“The ones we used to scare off the Peacekeepers?”
“No. The ones in your body.”
Doug looked into her bright green eyes. She’s a news reporter, he reminded himself. Her interest is in a story, not in you as a person.
“I took a really bad radiation dose, about eight years ago. Got caught out in the open during a solar flare. My mother brought Professor Zimmerman up here, and Kris Cardenas, too. But Zimmerman was the one who pumped me full of nanobugs.”
“They saved your life.”
“More than once,” Doug said.
“And they’re still in your body?”
He nodded. “Zimmerman turned me into a walking experiment. The bugs he put in me are programmed to protect my cells against infection or any other kind of damage.”
“And they just stay inside you? Do they reproduce?”
“According to Zimmerman, they rebuild one another when they wear down or become damaged themselves.”
“Can you feel them inside you?” Edith asked, grimacing at the thought.
Doug laughed. “No more than you can feel your white blood corpuscles or your alveoli.”
“My what?”
“The air sacs in your lungs,” Doug said. “Here’s your door.”
“The Moonbase Hilton,” Edith said.
“Is it really that bad?”
She tapped out her combination on the electronic lock. “See for yourself,” she said, sliding the door back and motioning him into the room with a sweeping gesture.
Doug propped the tripods on the wall outside the door and stepped into Edith’s quarters. It was a standard compartment, roughly ten square meters, maybe a little more. A bunk with built-in dresser drawers, a desk and chair, a sling chair made of lunar plastic, a table that folded into the wall with two stools beneath it, an empty built-in bookcase.
“You’ve got your own bathroom,” Doug said, pointing to the half-open door. “You’ve got nothing to complain about.”
“The shower turns off just when I’m getting relaxed,” Edith said.
He shrugged slightly. “That’s automatic. Water’s not scarce, exactly, but we don’t play around with it.”
“And then those air blowers come on.”
“Electricity’s cheap. And the heat is recycled.”
“It ain’t the Ritz.”
“You’d feel better if you had some of your personal things with you.”
She agreed with a rueful nod. “I did come kind of light, didn’t I?”
Doug went to the wall panel at the head of the bunk and turned on the display. The far wall showed a camera view of the crater floor.
Edith gaped. “Hot spit!”
“Didn’t anybody tell you about the smart walls?”
“Well, sure, but I didn’t know you could see outside. It’s kinda like a window, isn’t it?”
Doug pulled one of the stools over to the bunk and began to show Edith how to work the electronic display.
She sat on the edge of the bunk and watched views of the bleak, harsh lunar landscape. Then he started showing videos from Moonbase’s library: educational stuff, mostly, although he rippled through a menu of entertainment vids.
“And we have all the university courses available. Some of the lectures are fascinating; they’re all illustrated of course, multi-media.”
Gradually Edith’s attention wandered from the wall screen to Doug. She saw an intense young man, so strong within himself that he didn’t even realize the aura he radiated. He’s only twenty-five, she told herself. You’re damned near ten years older. Well, seven, at least. So what’s age got to do with it? another part of her mind answered. You’ve bedded enough old farts. Maybe robbing the cradle would be fun.
But not tonight, Edith decided firmly. You’d be giving him totally the wrong impression if you flopped in the sack with him tonight.
Doug let his hand drop from the wall panel and turned to face her. “Well, there’s a couple of hundred choices available. And that’s even with Earthside communications blacked out.”
“You can’t get anything from Earth?” Edith asked.
“They’re not transmitting to us. Even the commercial commsats have gone dark.”
“That’s pretty damned rotten.”
“All’s fair in war.”
“Still… what harm would it do to let you see commercial TV?”
Doug smiled. “It might do us all some good to be without commercial TV for a while. Improve our minds maybe.”
“Thanks a lot!”
“I didn’t mean news broadcasts,” he apologized quickly.
“No, you’re right. News is just as bad, almost.”
“I’m sure you’re a top-flight serious journalist,” he said.
He was sitting inches away from her. She could touch his knee merely by moving her leg slightly. Don’t do it! she warned herself.
Doug could smell her perfume: like the flowers Lev grows in the farm. She certainly is beautiful, with those big green eyes. But she’s an important news reporter back Earthside. She probably thinks I’m just a kid. Or worse, a freak stuffed with nanobugs.
Yet Doug saw her strange half smile, as if she were waiting for him to say something, do something.
“I’m not contagious, you know,” he heard himself say, surprised at his own words.
She blinked, as if stirring from a dream. “What?”
“The nanobugs. They won’t contaminate you if we touch, or… er, kiss. You can’t catch anything from me.”
Edith laughed, softly, gently. “Shee-it, back Earthside you’ve got to be worried about catching all kinds of diseases from the guys you date.”
Doug raised both hands. “I’m disease-free, believe me.”
“You look pretty healthy.”
“And you look very lovely,” he said.
“I’m a lot older than you.”
“Does that bother you?”
She hesitated only a moment. “No, I don’t think it really does.”
Doug moved next to her on the bunk and put his arms around her. Her lips felt soft and warm on his.
That voice in Edith’s head was still warning her not to do this, but she almost giggled in the middle of a kiss as she answered, What’s the matter, you scared he won’t respect me in the morning?
What the hell, Edith said to her voice. And then she stopped thinking altogether.
Out in the corr
idor, almost exactly thirty meters from Edith’s door, the mercenary let his back slide down the stone wall and hunkered down on the floor.
Goddamn, he said to himself. Looks like the kid’s going to spend the night with her.
He draped his arms across his upraised knees and rested his head on his arms. Get some sleep. Maybe he’ll come out before the morning shift starts to come through the corridor.
But he felt pretty certain that Doug was the kind who would spend the whole night.
DAY TWELVE
Edan McGrath, president of Global News Network, was sometimes called Edan Me Wrath. This was one of those mornings.
Unexpected because he was on vacation, he had stormed into his Atlanta office and demanded that his vice presidents for programming, news and legal meet him in his office immediately.
He was a big man who radiated power even though his once hard and muscular body was now weighed down with the fat of overindulgence. Bald, he kept the same trim moustache he had sported when he’d been a Georgia Tech football lineman. Even though his grandfather had handed him Global News as an inheritance, McGrath told anyone and everyone that being born with a platinum spoon in your mouth wasn’t easy. “I’ve had to work to keep Global on top of the international competition,” he would say. “I earn my keep!”
For an industry that rewarded egomania, his office was comparatively modest. No bigger than a minor airfield, its decor was muted Persian carpets and quiet little marble busts and statuettes from ancient Greece and Rome. No desk, but a large round table dominated the room. The walls were display screens, naturally. One of them perpetually showed the Global News feed from its Atlanta studios. The other at present displayed a trio of sleek yachts slicing through New Zealand waters in a trial heat of the Americas Cup race.
The head of the round table was wherever McGrath chose to sit. At the moment he was standing, big hands gripping the back of one of the padded chairs, a stern overweight father figure in an white open-necked sports shirt and whipcord navy blue slacks. He was deeply tanned and obviously boiling mad.
His three (out of dozens) vice presidents dutifully arrived in his office and took chairs around the table. McGrath thought of them as Larry, Moe and Curly, although his evaluation of which was which changed constantly.