by Ben Bova
The street was lined with restaurants and shops vending beach wear and souvenirs. They were dressed like tourists, as they had been instructed to be. Joanna was in white shorts and a flowered sleeveless blouse, with a big floppy straw hat; Lev wore comfortable baggy slacks, a loose-fitting mesh shirt hanging over them, and sunglasses.
“I see the string bikini is making a comeback,” Lev said, grinning. “I’ll have to buy a few for you.”
Joanna pretended to grimace. “One woman on the entire beach in a string outfit doesn’t make a fashion trend, Lev. And she’s very young, probably still in her teens.”
Her husband shrugged. “She is a bit on the emaciated side, but still she seems quite attractive.”
“Honestly.”
“You would look much better than she does.”
“I couldn’t wear a skimpy thing like that on the beach!”
“Who said you’d wear it on the beach?” Lev countered. “We have fourteen rooms in Savannah. I could spread a little sand in the sun porch and chase you through the entire house.”
“You would, too, wouldn’t you?” Joanna said, laughing. Lev was trying to lighten her mood, she realized. Ease the tension.
Arranging a meeting with Seigo Yamagata had been easier than getting to see Georges Faure. And more difficult. Yamagata was even more inaccessible than the U.N. secretary-general, but his aides had responded with swift politeness to Joanna’s call. Very indirectly they suggested that a luncheon might be of interest to both parties. Joanna refused to come to Japan; Yamagata’s aides said with deep regret that a meeting elsewhere would probably be impossible.
At Lev’s suggestion, Joanna suggested a neutral territory. Within an hour Yamagata’s twenty-year-old son Saito called back to propose meeting at Grand Cayman. Quietly. Discreetly.
“Many corporations conduct business on Grand Cayman,” the young man said, looking earnest. “It would not be out of the ordinary for a very high officer of this corporation to be present on the island at a certain time and place.”
Joanna nodded at his image on her phone screen. “Yes,” she agreed. “Masterson Corporation does business with several banking establishments there.”
The time and place were set. Now Joanna and Lev walked along the beachfront street in the brilliant late morning sunlight and brisk sea breeze, heading toward the Sunrise Hotel.
“I wonder how many of these Japanese tourists are actually Yamagata security people,” Lev murmured.
Joanna had noticed them, too, strolling innocently along the beach walk, window shopping, lolling in the sunshine. “About the same number as our own Masterson troops,” she replied.
Lev’s brows rose. “Are any of these people actually tourists?”
“A few, I suppose.”
At last they stood before the Sunrise Hotel, a quiet little modernistic construction of concrete painted pastel blue on the far end of the beach, away from the gaudier shops and restaurants. The arrangements for the meeting included the requirement that they walk to this hotel from their own corporate-owned condo; no taxi whose trip record could be traced, no ostentatious limousine.
Joanna thought that Yamagata was being melodramatic, overly cautious. It’s understandable to want to keep your movements private and avoid the media paparazzi, she thought, but the man’s acting downright paranoid.
She noticed that Lev walked up the hotel’s front steps stiffly, like a man in pain.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He looked surprised. “Yes, of course.”
“You looked…” Joanna didn’t know how to say it without hurting her husband.
“Like an old man,” he finished for her. “My dearest one, I am an old man.”
“As soon as this mess is over,” she said, almost whispering, “we’re going back to Moonbase and you are going to start nanotherapy.”
Instead of protesting as Joanna expected he would, Brudnoy nodded. That told her worlds about how he truly felt.
Then he said, “Assuming, of course, that there is a Moonbase left standing, and nanotherapy will still be allowed there.”
Joanna murmured, “Yes, assuming all that.”
Once they stepped into the cool shade of the hotel’s lobby they saw that it was completely staffed by Japanese.
“Why do I feel like a fly walking into the spider’s web?” Lev whispered to his wife as they followed a smiling young woman in an old-fashioned kimono through the lobby and out into a small but pleasantly decorated restaurant.
It was completely empty. The minimalist decor was decidedly Japanese: polished wood and lacquered low tables with cushions on the floor. No chairs.
They took off their sandals at the door and the young woman led them to a table by a window that looked out onto a garden of raked sand and bare rocks.
“I’m glad I wore shorts instead of a skirt,” Joanna said as she sat cross-legged on one of the cushions.
Grunting, Lev slowly lowered himself into the cushion next to her. Once his long legs were settled properly, he pointed through the window. “We could have gardens like that at Moonbase,” he said.
“If Yamagata has his way,” Joanna whispered, “probably they’ll turn the entire floor of Alphonsus into a rock garden.”
“An exercise in esthetics,” Lev murmured.
The slightest of noises made Joanna turned her head. A middle-aged man in a deep blue kimono that bore the white symbol of a flying heron had entered the otherwise empty restaurant and was striding toward them.
Lev scrambled to his feet. He towered over the Japanese.
“Please, please, be seated. Make yourselves comfortable,” said Seigo Yamagata, in strong, deep voice. “I am so sorry to be late. A last-minute call from Kyoto.”
He was wiry thin, with black hair combed straight back from his receding hairline, face round and flat with deep brown eyes that sparkled with intelligence and what might even have been humor.
As he sat on his heels opposite Joanna, Yamagata shook his head and put on a rueful expression. “No matter how carefully you pick your assistants and how well you train them, they always seem to find some emergency that only you can resolve.” He laughed heartily.
“How true,” Joanna said. “I trained Ibrahim al-Rashid for many years, and now that he’s risen to the top of Masterson Corporation he’s trying to undermine everything I stand for.”
Yamagata’s brows rose a few millimeters.
Three young women in identical kimonos brought each of them individual trays of sake and, kneeling, placed them on the table.
Yamagata used the moment to consider Joanna’s words. “Yes,” he said slowly, “I can see that you do not agree with the direction Rashid has taken. I hope this little meeting can clear up the difficulty between us.”
He looked directly into Joanna’s eyes as he spoke, ignoring Lev. At least he’s not a male chauvinist, Joanna thought.
“I didn’t realize until just a short time ago,” Joanna said,’that Faure is actually being controlled by you.”
Yamagata’s eyes widened momentarily, then he threw his head back and laughed. “Controlled? By me? Whatever gave you that idea?”
“He’s using the nanotech treaty as a pretext for seizing Moonbase, yet he intends to have your people run Moonbase and continue to use nanomachines just as we are doing now.”
Instead of answering her, Yamagata lifted his tiny cup of sake. “A toast. To better understanding.”
Joanna clicked her cup against his, then Lev’s. As if it were an afterthought, Yamagata touched his cup to Lev’s also.
“Do I misunderstand the situation?” Joanna asked, after sipping the warm rice wine.
“It’s not a question of misunderstanding,” Yamagata answered,’so much as comprehending the entire picture.”
“Please enlarge my understanding, then,” she said.
“Gladly. Moonbase is the leading center of nanotechnology development, that is true. Faure is using the nanotech treaty as a means of esta
blishing U.N. control over the nations of the Earth, that is also true. As long as Moonbase continues to defy the treaty Faure will bend every effort at his command to stop you.”
Joanna nodded. “That much I already know.”
“However,” Yamagata raised one finger, “once the U.N. has taken control of Moonbase, Faure will turn the operation of the base over to Yamagata Industries.”
“I knew that, too,” Joanna said.
“Yes, of course. Yamagata will continue to operate Moon-base just as before, but under the direction and supervision of United Nations inspectors.”
“How will that be different from the way Moonbase is being run now?”
Yamagata took another sip of sake. “The major difference,” he said, after smacking his lips, “is that Yamagata Industries will stop the manufacture of Clipperships and their export to Earth.”
“Stop building Clipperships!”
“The market will be saturated within a few years,” Yamagata said. “Your diamond craft are too good! They are so reliable and durable that the need for new ones will soon decline steeply.”
“But how will you maintain Moonbase?” Joanna asked. “Economically, I mean. Clipperships are our main source of income.”
Yamagata hesitated a moment, then said in a lower tone, “Moonbase will be maintained at a smaller size and level of activity.”
“Downsized?”
“To some extent. Yamagata Industries will support the scientific studies being done there, of course, and the research work in Moonbase’s laboratories.”
“But not Clippership manufacture.”
“Nothing that has touched nanomachines will be exported to Earth,” Yamagata said firmly. “Except helium-three, of course.”
“Fuel for fusion power generators,” Joanna realized.
“Yes.”
“So this is nothing but a power grab, after all,” she said. “You’re using Faure to take Moonbase from us, just as I thought.”
“Not at all! I am offering Masterson Corporation a share of the greatest opportunity since the discovery of fire: a share of the fusion power industry.”
“That’s Rashid’s doing,” Joanna said.
“He has tried to interest your board of directors in fusion for many years, to no avail. Now Yamagata Industries offers you a partnership in this new industry.”
“You want to take over Masterson Corporation.”
“A merger makes much sense. Cooperation is much to be preferred over competition.”
Lev spoke up. “May I interrupt?”
Yamagata turned his head toward the Russian.
“If you gain control of Moonbase, why do you want to pursue a cooperative partnership with Masterson Corporation? You will have the nanotechnology to produce fusion fuel on the Moon. Yes?”
Yamagata smiled politely. “Just so. But why not be generous to a defeated competitor? Masterson can market fusion systems in the western hemisphere while Yamagata markets them in the eastern hemisphere.”
Scratching at his beard unconsciously, Lev replied, “And when the market for Clipperships opens up again, you can resume manufacturing them despite the nanotech treaty. No?”
Yamagata shook his head vigorously. “No. Not at all. That point is clear. The forces arrayed against nanotechnology will not allow Clipperships to be brought to Earth. Not for the foreseeable future.”
Lev frowned, puzzled.
“You must realize,” Yamagata said, shifting his attention to Joanna again,’that not even I can openly flout Faure and the nanoluddites. Helium-three they will accept, diamond Clipperships are too obvious a symbol of nanotechnology for them to put up with.”
Joanna watched the man’s face as he spoke. Even though Yamagata maintained a bland mask that revealed almost nothing of his inner emotions, there was something going on inside him, she was certain. He’s not telling us his real motivations.
“You will maintain the nanotechnology laboratories at Moonbase?” she asked.
Yamagata avoided her eyes. “Yes, I think so. Although we will have to keep their work quiet, so that the fears of the nanoluddites are not aroused.”
“Including the medical research?”
“Of course.”
“But what good will the researchers’ work be, if their results can’t be used on Earth?”
He shrugged. “It is my belief that scientific research should always be encouraged.”
“Even if its results have no practical uses?”
Yamagata dipped his chin slightly.
“Or even if the results can be used only on the Moon,” Joanna guessed.
He seemed to freeze, like a small animal caught in the headlights of an onrushing car. Joanna saw something flicker in his eyes. Fear, perhaps?
At last Yamagata replied, “Yes, even if the results of the research can be used only on the Moon.”
Suddenly understanding, Joanna asked, “Mr Yamagata, do you intend to live at Moonbase someday?”
Yamagata had been sitting ramrod straight. Now he sagged back on his heels noticeably. He eyed Lev carefully, then turned his gaze back to Joanna.
“Perhaps,” he said, in a near whisper. “I may retire there, eventually.”
“So that you can have the benefits of nanotherapy without worrying about the reactions of the luddites,” Joanna said. It was not a question.
Yamagata did not reply.
“What is the problem?” Joanna asked softly. “Cancer?”
Still he did not reply. He sat rigidly on his heels, eyes staring now on infinity, looking stiffly at the wall behind Joanna and Lev.
“It is cancer, then,” Joanna said.
Yamagata’s earth-brown eyes focused on her at last. He sighed, then said tonelessly, “If you even hint to anyone on Earth—or the Moon—that I am afflicted with cancer, I will have you assassinated.”
Joanna stared at him from across the lacquered table.
“Do you understand?” Yamagata said. “I will not tolerate any insinuations or rumors about my health.”
Joanna’s mind was racing. He’s got cancer and he needs nanotherapy. He needs Zimmerman and he can’t bring him back to Earth for fear that the nanoluddites will find out and try to assassinate them both. That’s why he’s surrounded himself with all this security! He’s already tried nanotherapy. If the fanatics learn of that…
“There is no need for threats,” Lev said. “If you want Moonbase’s nanotherapy expertise and Moonbase’s nano-technology to ferret out helium-three for your fusion reactors, why not simply enter into a cooperative arrangement with us? Why the U.N. and this attempt to take Moonbase away from us?”
“The answer is obvious,” Yamagata said, looking squarely at Joanna instead of Lev. “I must be in control. Cooperation is fine—as long as I am in complete command of our cooperative efforts. That is why I must have Masterson Corporation, including Moonbase.”
“But if Moonbase wins its independence—”
With iron in his voice, Yamagata replied, That is why I am helping Faure to assemble a Peacekeeper force. Before the World Court convenes in November, Moonbase will be operated by Yamagata Industries.”
“Or destroyed,” Lev said.
“We will try to avoid that,” said Yamagata. “No one wants to see Moonbase destroyed.”
“Except the fanatics.”
“Yes,” Yamagata agreed. “They are a danger to all of us.”
“Then cooperate with us and stop this military confrontation!” Joanna urged.
Yamagata shook his head. “No. I will take Moonbase. I must take it. I cannot rest easily until Moonbase is in my hands.”
“So all your talk of cooperation is a sham,” Joanna said.
“Not so! I welcome your cooperation. And you will cooperate with me—once I have Moonbase.”
Joanna bit back the reply she wanted to make. Instead, she took a deep breath to calm herself.
Yamagata interpreted her silence exactly. “I know that very little of this pleases
you. But I hope you can understand why I must act so.”
“I can understand,” Joanna replied, “without agreeing.”
Yamagata dipped his chin slightly. “Now that you understand, please tell your son that resistance is futile. If Moonbase resists the Peacekeepers again, the results will be very bad for all of us.”
“What do you mean?”
With an unhappy sigh, Yamagata answered, “If your son tries to fight the Peacekeepers, forces will be set in motion that not even I can control.”
“Forces?” Lev asked. “What forces?”
“You think that I control Faure. I thought so too, once. But he has the backing of fanatics, madmen who send out assassins and terrorists to accomplish their ends. Faure has turned into a monster,” Yamagata said bitterly, “a Frankenstein that I helped to create.”
“You’re talking about the nanoluddites,” Joanna said.
“The nanoluddites. Fanatics who are so frightened of nano-technology that they will destroy Moonbase if you try to resist the Peacekeepers.”
“How could they destroy Moonbase?” Joanna challenged.
“If your son tries to fight against the Peacekeepers, Moon-base will be wiped out,” Yamagata replied. “All its people will be killed. And there is nothing that any of us can do to stop it. It is too late to stop it. The forces are already in motion. That is why I urgently plead with you to allow us to take control of Moonbase. Cooperate with me, or Moonbase will be utterly annihilated.”
DAY FORTY-THREE
Doug’s helmet earphones chirped.
“Doug, this is Jinny.” Her voice sounded weak, faint. “Latest imagery from Kadar’s bird shows Gordette’s tractor parked outside tempo six.”
“Parked?”
“Didn’t move all through the satellite’s pass overhead,” Anson said. “That’s only five minutes or so, granted, but it sure looks like he’s either inside the tempo or out there on foot.”
Pushing the volume control on his wrist keyboard, Doug thought aloud, “Maybe his tractor broke down? Dust. Electrical malfunction.”
“Maybe,” Anson said. He could barely make out the word.
“Okay, thanks. We’re heading that way. Call you when we get there.”