by Bruce Bethke
that troops be conditioned to get off the receiver pad before the next transportee came through.
The lunar technicians never came up with an adequate word to denote the condition that existed when two teleportees tried to occupy the same place at the same time. They simply knew that the results were unmistakably bad for all parties involved, and that it left a nasty stain on the receivers.
— Chaim Noguchi, A History of the Lunar Revolution
Chapter 20
Office of the Governor, Port Aldrin
26 November 2069
15:15 GMT
Patrick Adams sat tensely in his chair, watching Pieter von Hayek talk The governor was looking bad these days: haggard, and worn out. Sometimes Adams thought it was sheer force of will that kept the man going. That and pure anger at the UN.
He watched Von Hayek nod to the five Security Council members on the wall-mounted UNET screen and bring the video conference to an end. "Sirs, madam, I thank you in the name of the Free State for your thoughts and your time. I trust that you will consider some of the matters we have discussed today, and I hope we will be able to find more common ground as these discussions continue. Good day." Von Hayek tapped a button on his desk, and the link to Earth was broken.
Adams was on his feet, moving to the governor's side.
"My God," von Hayek said as he sagged back in his chair and ran his hands through his thinning gray hair. The hands, Adams noted, came away dripping with sweat. "It's like the mating dance of some kind of crane. One step forward, two steps back, squawk once, crap twice."
Adams handed the governor a paper towel. "I thought you did well. You're becoming quite the slippery politician."
Von Hayek glared. "That was not a compliment, Patrick."
"I agree." Amalia Trelstad, governor of Kepler Colony and silent up to this point, entered the conversation. "We don't need a canny negotiator now. We need a leader. Far be it from me to question your priorities, Pieter, but did we really need to waste two hours discussing the shape of the negotiating table?"
"Jaw-jaw is better than war-war," von Hayek said, quoting Churchill. "No, you're right, today's discussion did give new meaning to the word 'pointless.' But as long as the UN is still talking, they're not shooting, and every moment we prolong these discussions increases the chances of a peaceful settlement. One of these mornings they're going to wake up and realize they're in bed with the NDE, and on the day that happens, this war will be over."
Trelstad looked unconvinced. "I sincerely hope you're right, Pieter."
"Frankly, so do I." He stood, bowed slightly, and waved a hand toward the door. "I trust you'll inform the rest of the council of today's discussions?"
Trelstad took her cue and collected her things. "Yes, of course. And I trust you will remember to attend the council meeting tonight? Eight o'clock, Picard B. And you'll bring Josef?"
Von Hayek was slightly surprised. "The colonel? Why?"
"We need to make it clear to the hard-liners just how precarious our military situation really is and what we'll face if these negotiations collapse. Otherwise ... well, some of the governors are getting impatient."
"I understand. Very well, I'll see if I can pry Josef away from his duties. See you then." Von Hayek squeezed Trelstad's hand, then smiled as Adams escorted her out the door.
The moment the door was safely shut, von Hayek collapsed rather than sat in his chair.
Adams darted to his side. "Pieter?"
"Patrick, I don't know who's worse, the Security Council or my own—" Von Hayek's desktop alarm pinged. "Now what?" he said, with some irritation.
Adams read the alert message upside down, a skill he had long ago cultivated. "Personal e-mail, for you. Looks like another bogus technical report."
Von Hayek looked at Adams narrowly. "Oh, so you've figured that much out?" He sighed. "Hell, then you may as well know the rest. Watch this." Von Hayek acknowledged the message, grabbed the report file, and dragged it over to his desktop compression processor. Covering his hand to hide his fingers, he punched in the decryption key, and a few moments later the real contents of the message were displayed: "Something wicked this way comes; the storm is rising. Advise you castle posthaste. Concerned, Beacon."
Patrick and Pieter's eyes met. "Oh, hell," Adams whispered. Von Hayek blanched a ghastly shade of white, and the vein in his forehead started to throb. "I'll call the Tycho Research Station and tell them we're coming," Adams said.
Von Hayek shook his head. "No," he gasped out. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. "Alert Josef first." He gulped hard, then fumbled open the center drawer of his desk and fished out a medicine vial. Adams caught a glimpse of the label: cardiac nitroglycerine.
Von Hayek got the vial open and dumped out some tiny pills.
"I'll get you a glass of water," Adams said, as he started to turn toward the door. Von Hayek caught his sleeve with surprising strength.
"No. Tell Josef!"
UN Headquarters, New York
26 November 2069
9:17 a.m. EST
Jurgen Flanders burst through the oaken double doors, causing Allegria Saldana to look up with a start. "Where's Aguila?" Jurgen demanded. He hadn't slept in days and was in no mood to negotiate.
Allegria darted a glance at the closed inner door, which gave the game away. Jurgen swept past her. "You can't go in there!" she called after him, as she tried to rise from her desk and got tangled in the headset wires. "He's in a meeting!"
"I don't care!" Jurgen got to the inner door and threw it open before Allegria could hit the power-lock button.
Three faces turned to greet him: Aguila, obviously annoyed; Heinrich Graf, obviously surprised; and Shi Cheng Wu, obviously ... unreadable.
"I broke their code!" Jurgen shouted.
Aguila still seemed annoyed. "Jurgen, can't this wait until—"
"I know who the mole is!" That made even Aguila shut up. Everyone looked at Jurgen; tense, expectant.
"It's Haversham," Jurgen said softly. "He's been setting the rebellion up for ten years—papering over the weapons and armor shipments, handpicking radicals for important posts on the Moon, and tipping von Hayek off to your every move."
The silence hung a moment longer. "How... interesting," Shi Cheng Wu said.
"Are you certain of this?" Heinrich Graf asked.
Jurgen turned to him. "Did you just launch a raid from Lacus Mortis on Port Aldrin?"
The little German paled. "The rebels know about it," Jurgen said. "They're ready."
"Damn!" Aguila slammed a fist on his desk. "That deranged old fool!"
"I could have him arrested," Wu offered.
"No," Graf purred in an oily voice that made Jurgen shudder. "He would post bail and hold a press conference. I suggest that he's about to have a medical emergency."
Aguila looked at Graf, his mind obviously working through the implications. "You can arrange that?" Graf nodded. "Good." Aguila turned to Wu. "We need to get through to Leighton-Smythe. The Germans will need reinforcements if the Loonies know they're coming."
Later it would occur to Jurgen that he'd just seen a turning point in history, and he was amazed that they'd let him out of that room alive. But at the moment he was simply too exhausted to care.
Port Aldrin, Warehouse District
26 November 2069
15:20 GMT
Bunny's squad was moving forward in a two-four-two leapfrog pattern, practicing an assault. First Britt and Stahl would step out into the corridor, laying down covering fire as Oshikatta and Jeff moved forward. Then with Oshi and Jeff providing cover, Britt and Stahl moved up, followed closely by Bunny and Dalton.
"Closer to the wall, Jeff!" Bunny shouted as she ran by, her shoulders hunched to make a lower profile. "You don't want your butt sticking out and getting shot off!" Then she slammed up against Dalton, forcing him back against the closed door as she attempted to fit both their bodies into a niche barely deep enough to hold one. "Always keep flat, Starkiller. You
never know when one of your squaddies might need to share your cover."
Dalton nodded. They weren't wearing battlesuits for this exercise, and the warmth and smell of Eileen Mahoney's body against his made him tremendously conscious of how uncomfortable he was. He squeezed back closer to the wall. "Yes, sir."
"Go!" she shouted, and again they dashed forward,
twelve meters to the next cover, where another corridor intersected the one they were in. As he'd been trained to do, Dalton took the left side and kept his pistol pointed down the intersecting corridor as he went around the corner. When he saw someone in a battlesuit charging toward him, he reflexively jerked the trigger.
He almost screamed when he saw the blue flare of shields around the man and realized he'd just shot someone in white LDF armor—with a gold eagle on the helmet.
"Colonel!" he shouted. He dashed forward and helped Josef von Hayek to his feet.
"My mistake," the colonel said as he shut down his shields and opened his faceplate. "I should have warned you I was coming down. Nice shot, by the way—center chest. But next time take your weapon off the low setting."
"Sorry." Dalton blushed, reset his pistol's power setting to high, then engaged the safety and holstered the weapon.
Bunny joined Dalton and Josef. Britt and the rest weren't far behind. "Come down to inspect us, Colonel?" Bunny asked, smiling. "It's going pretty well. I think my boys'll give you some surprises in that scrimmage with Captain Berghoff's squad tonight."
Von Hayek shook his head. "Sorry, Mahoney. Game's canceled. I came down here to tell you that we've just scanned two squadrons of hopshuttles leaving Lacus Mortis on a heading for here. ETA is twenty-five minutes."
Bunny's smile faded. "Blacksuits."
Von Hayek nodded. "Yeah."
Dalton objected. "Wait a minute. What about the ceasefire?"
"That's with the UN," Bunny pointed out. "This is the NDE. Maybe ATFOR is trying something slippery, or maybe the Germans have gone freelance."
Von Hayek nodded again. "Right. In any event, I want you suited up and ready to go in ten minutes. Observe comm silence; that's why I came down here to tell you myself. That, and I'll be tagging along with you."
"Maybe it's a bluff," Stahl mused hopefully.
"Maybe," Von Hayek said. "The governor is trying to contact the UN right now. But if it's for real, we'd better be ready."
"Right," Bunny said firmly. "Rock and roll in ten, boys!"
First Division
Forward HQ USN
Schwarzkopf, CNV (S] – 93
26 November 2069
15:27 GMT
"General Daniels?" the tech sergeant said. "We scan six armored shuttles on course from Lacus Mortis to Port Aldrin."
Marcia Daniels looked up from the report she was reading. "That's odd. Nothing was authorized. You sure they're not our gunships?"
"No, sir, they're definitely troop shuttles."
Daniels frowned. This didn't smell right. "Very well—"
"General Daniels?" This was another tech, the long-range telecomm officer. "Sir, I've got an urgent message for you from Chairman Wu of the CWP."
"Wu?" Daniels weighed the two events, then decided the mystery shuttles could wait and opted to receive the message. "Put him through." A few seconds later the calm, unreadable face of Shi Cheng Wu popped up on one of her smaller viewscreens. "Chairman Wu," she said, nodding slightly. "What can I do for you?" Out of habit, she waited the three seconds for the light-speed lag.
"General Daniels," Wu said curtly, "by now you should be tracking a flight of troop shuttles en route from Lacus Mortis to Port Aldrin. They are not to be hindered in any way, and you are to stand by to render them assistance, if needed."
Marcia Daniels's surprise quickly turned to anger. "With all due respect, Chairman, I take my orders from Field Marshal Leighton-Smythe and General Buchovsky, not from you."
The light-speed lag seemed to crawl by.
"Bernard Leighton-Smythe and Fyodr Buchovsky have been relieved of their duties for insubordination, General. Do you also wish to be relieved?"
Daniels shook her head emphatically. "No, sir."
Seconds ticked by.
"Very good. Then I suggest you follow my orders. Those shuttles are carrying commandos from the New German Unity. They are operating under my authority. You are to do nothing except stand by to assist them if they request help. Is that clear?"
Daniels nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Wu out." The screen went black.
Baldwin, the general's adjutant, stepped up beside her. "Bit of an icicle, isn't he? What do you make of it, General?"
"I think someone is trying a power play, both on the Moon and in New York. Maybe in Berlin, too." "So what do we do, sir?"
Daniels drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair, then came to a decision. "Call Colonel Houston. No matter what's going on, we've got POWs down on the lunar surface, and I don't want our people falling into NDE hands. I want Houston and a platoon of ATFOR heavies on the ground five minutes after the Blacksuits land."
"But, sir," Baldwin protested, "Wu told us to stand by and do nothing."
"No," Daniels corrected him. "He told us to stand by to assist if the Blacksuits need help. I clearly heard a call for help. Didn't you?"
"I absolutely did, sir." Baldwin saluted and dashed away to find Colonel Houston.
Chapter 21
Port Aldrin, Luna
26 November 2069
16:27 GMT
"Get down!" Bunny screamed on the broad band as a squad of LDF militia came running toward her. "Down!"
The retreating fighters dropped to the ground, and immediately Stahl fired two grenades toward the end of the hallway. The lethal silver balls spun slowly through the air, exploding against the far wall just as two Blacksuits came around the corner. The double impact tore the first soldier to shreds, and hurled the other one back down the corridor to the left. Even as the explosion faded, Bunny's squad of regulars was moving forward, stepping over the militiamen.
"Get up!" Josef shouted at the prone militia, most of whom were too frightened to move. "Fall back to the central shield generator. There's some ACRs there!"
Dalton knew that even with the laser rifles, the militia would be outgunned by the NDE regulars, and the NDE heavy infantrymen, with their standard grenade launchers, would brush the commandos aside without even breaking a sweat. But at least the ACRs would give them a fighting chance.
Ahead of him, Britt was pointing at the fallen Blacksuit, who was still moving. Dalton couldn't hear what Britt was saying, but he checked his oxygen sensor, and guessed the oxygen generator hadn't been shut down yet. Dalton switched off his internal tank, trying to stretch his resources, knowing the suit would warn him when the dome's atmosphere became unbreathable.
Britt fired a burst from his plasgun into the wounded Blacksuit's head.
"... been there by now," Britt was saying as Dalton moved into range. "If the Blacksuits are not goin' for the oxy, they must be goin' for the shields." He pointed to the weapon of the man he'd just killed and indicated that Dalton should pick it up. Without hesitation, Dalton obeyed.
The railgun was a strange weapon, looking more like an industrial device than a traditional gun. But it had more in common with the machine guns of the previous century than modern energy weapons in that it fired rapidly bursts of long, thin metal projectiles meant to quickly overload an enemy's shields, then penetrate his armor. In low- or no-atmosphere combat, a railgun was a lethal weapon. It required two hands, though, so Dalton strapped his ACR to the tanks on his back.
"No, that doesn't make sense either," Bunny was saying to Colonel von Hayek. "They can't teleport in; they don't have the disks."
"The council!" Josef exclaimed. "They think the Council of Lunar Governors is here! They don't realize we do everything by teleconference."
But before anyone could suggest a plan of action, they heard the clattering of a railgun just around the corner. O
shikatta, Jeff, and Stahl were already in position, and Dalton leaped back behind the corner, seeking cover with Britt and Bunny.
"Hold your fire!" Bunny commanded via the suit-computer comm system. The squad waited as the first four Blacksuits came around the corner, moving quickly in a leapfrog formation. Dalton couldn't see what was happening, but he forced himself to wait until the order to fire appeared on his display. "Fire!"
The first two Blacksuits were felled by Stahl's grenades, and the general barrage accounted for a third. Dalton popped out from behind the corner a bit late, but apparently the last Blacksuit's shields had been weakened, and the first burst from his railgun killed the man. He started to move forward, but Bunny waved him back.
"More coming." There was a flash at the far end of the corridor, then another, and suddenly the hallway seemed to be filled with deadly silver balls. "Christ, they're heavies!"
Tycho Research Station
26 November 2069
16:30 GMT
"What is the meaning of this blatant violation of the cease-fire agreement?" Pieter von Hayek was practically frothing at the mouth as he raged at the screen, but the two faces on the screen reflected nothing but surprise at his words.
"Am I correct in assuming that you are imputing responsibility to the United Nations for an attack of some kind?" Shi Cheng Wu asked. "Governor von Hayek, none of our troops are currently involved in any sort of action on the Moon. If they were, rest assured that I would know about it. We have not violated the agreement in any way." Chairman Wu was unflappable, and his placid black eyes revealed no sign of emotion.
"You're lying, Wu. Who sent those fascists up here in the first place? You know as well as I do that the NDE has no space capability. And where's Haversham?"