"It's possible that some troops made it inside the ship before it reached vacuum, but we don't know. If any soldiers did make it inside, we don't know if they seized the ship, or if the expats took them captive."
The president had been following along, nodding neutrally, but at the last sentence her face darkened.
"What do you mean 'you don't know if they seized the ship'? General, you said you had, and I quote, 'some wins.’ This doesn't remotely look like success to me - this looks like rank incompetence." She stared at Bonner for a long hard moment. "I'll have this done right no matter who I have to call on to get it done."
Restivo sat frozen. Like everyone else in the room, he looked at Bonner.
The four star didn't seem moved by the attack - and that was puzzling. It made no sense that Bonner would present a video like this, mention that all of the men might be dead or captured, present that as a success, and then not even respond to the inevitable attack. Bonner was too good at the Washington game to -
And then Restivo got it. Bonner was letting the president think that he'd screwed up, building anger and anxiety. Pressure and release. Give her the good news up front, and she'd forget it by the time you gave her the bad news a minute later. Bonner had an ace up his sleeve. He must.
There was a reason that Bonner had four stars on his epaulets while he only had two. This. This was how the game was played.
And as if on cue, General Bonner spoke. "Yes ma'am. Absolutely. I know that this assault isn't everything we'd hoped for." He paused and let the tension build. "- but there were two other assaults."
Restivo smiled inwardly. He knew it.
Bonner continued, "The second team also boarded a ship, and managed to seize it before the expats could launch. Given the possibility that members of the first team -" he gestured over his shoulder at the paused video "- were taken captive, or seized the ship but were already destined for the moon, I gave the second team approval to launch. Bottom line: the second team is a success. We've got sixty troops heading to the moon at this very moment."
He looked to the president, who was beaming. Restivo shook his head with grudging respect; Bonner was an expert at what he did.
The president's smile was something to behold: both wide and honest. He had to acknowledge that, despite her nasty temper and her scathing remarks, that smile was world class. The entire room felt brighter. He realized - viscerally, not just intellectually - why her talk show had been a long running hit, and why her rise in politics had been meteoric. Her charisma, when she chose to turn it on, was truly compelling.
The president slapped the mahogany conference room table. "Now that is the kind of news I like to hear!"
General Bonner smiled modestly and tipped his head, then continued. "There's more, ma'am."
Restivo blinked in surprised. He'd figured that Bonner had an ace up a sleeve, but he didn't realize that he had two.
"We seized a third ship, the Xin San Diego, and we've not only arrested the crew, but we've already got techs on board right now disassembling and analyzing the anti-gravity drive."
President Johnson's smile became, if possible, even brighter, and she leaned back in her chair.
The tension that had choked the room was gone, and Restivo could tell that he wasn't the only one enjoying it.
That is, until President Johnson grew grave and turned to him.
"And what have you accomplished?"
Chapter 51
2064: surface, Aristillus, Lunar Nearside
Mike gunned the throttle and raced the surface transporter through the path scoured by the Wookkiee, balancing the desire for even more speed with the need to avoid the wreckage - fragments of the solar farm equipment and huge chunks of the ship's keel. Ahead the path dead ended at a berm of house-sized boulders. The Wookkiee was... nowhere.
What the hell? Had Darcy managed to hop the ship over the berm? Mike slowed the vehicle and negotiated an access ramp, brushing against debris from the destroyed solar farm and pushing it aside. He reached the top... and there it was. The Wookkiee. Battered, torn, and listing badly - but the bridge was intact. He let out his breath. Maybe she was OK. He looked back the way he'd come and saw the other construction vehicles racing after him on the clean path that cut through the sea of destruction.
Mike put the transporter back into gear and drove down the far side of the berm and then to the Wookkiee. A dozen meters from the ship he stomped on the brake, throwing a splash of gray dust ahead of him. The vehicle's systems were still powering down when he pulled the huge red override handle, vented the cockpit's air in an explosive roar, and threw open the inner and outer airlock doors.
Mike hopped to the surface and looked up at the ship. The Wookkiee towered over him, listing to one side. The damage was even more heartbreaking from here: hull plating peeled back like tinfoil, battery packs ripped out and tossed around the landscape, stubs of huge copper bus bars blackened and melted and pushing out through the tears.
The wreckage of the solar farm he'd just driven through to get here represented just as much destroyed value - but he had no emotional attachment to someone else's power plant. The Wookkiee, though...the Wookkiee had been his ship once. The memories came flooding back: seeing it for the first time rusting in a Vietnamese port, lowering the first TBM over the side, working long days in the primitive suits Katherine Dycus had fabbed up, sleeping in the cramped quarters of the first tunnels.
Even before the wreck the Wookkiee had been a stubby, outdated ship. Now it was crashed and ruined. It would never fly again. And yet it was still beautiful.
"Mike?" It was Wam, over the radio.
Mike turned; the first vehicles of Excavation Team 26 had pulled up and more were arriving behind them. Wam waved to him from the lead battery truck. Mike looked past the excavation team's vehicles. Behind them cabs, surface crawlers, and ATVs were converging from a multitude of airlocks. The rifle club.
Mike set his radio to broadcast, then addressed the crowd. "Guys, here's the plan."
Chapter 52
2064: bridge of AFS The Wookkiee, Aristillus, Lunar Nearside
The PK swung the rifle and Darcy ducked, but not fast enough: there was an explosion of pain. Her legs fell out from under her and she crashed to the deck.
Her vision swam. She blinked but it didn't get better. The steel was cold against her face. Something was dripping on her neck. She reached up. Blood, from a cut over her ear. She could hear the PKs talking, but their words were nonsense in her ears. Suddenly her arms were yanked behind her.
Her head cleared, just a bit. Frodge was saying, "- briefing said the expats have contacts with the Texan and Alaskan militia movements. So they might be armed."
Another PK disagreed. "They don't have any central organization - there's not going to be any resistance."
Darcy tried to roll over to see who was talking, but a boot landed between her shoulders and pushed her back.
Tudel issued an order. "Sergeant Slattery - take your team and secure the airlocks."
"How do I -"
"Look at them. If there's some mechanical latch that locks them, do that, but if there's not, brace them, tack weld them, whatever - and then guard them." Darcy's eyes focused on the deck a few centimeters in front of her face and she saw blood. Behind her she heard Slattery and several men leave the bridge.
There was a pause, and then Tudel spoke again. "Anward, Hamid - you two guard the hostages - ”
He was interrupted by a small explosion somewhere on the ship. Darcy wrinkled her brow. What was going on? Had one of the RCS fuel tanks blown up because of the crash? Wait, no - all the tanks were empty. So what -
No, it couldn't be Mike. The Wookkiee had only been on the ground for three or four minutes. Mike probably didn't even know the Wookkiee had crashed yet.
Another explosion.
Darcy smiled, and then winced as the movement tugged at a wound on her scalp. It had to be him. Maybe someone had seen the nav lights? She turned her hea
d and saw Waseem next to her on the deck, bound like her. She caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, ignoring the pain.
Waseem's eyes widened.
A third explosion.
Tudel yelled out, "What's going on? God fucking damn it!" He paused, and then Darcy felt a boot prod her in the bottom. "You - Can you radio the expats?"
Darcy looked around the red-lit bridge. The controls were all dead, batteries at zero. "The ship has no power, so the radio -"
"You're only worth something to us if you can figure out something."
Darcy swallowed. "Wait! Yes! I've got a phone. That might be able to reach -"
Tudel paced. "Call whoever's in charge. Tell them we've got host- prisoners."
"I need my hands."
A quick tug and her hands were free. She pushed herself off the deck and staggered, still dizzy from the blow to her head, and then patted her pockets. Where was her phone? Not in her pocket - it was in her purse, which was -
She looked over to the lockers on the far side of the bridge - and was overwhelmed by a sense of weirdness. It had been just Monday that the Wookkiee had been sitting in Lai Docks. She'd stepped into the bridge, put her purse in the locker, then started the launch checklist with Waseem. Just - what? - six days ago? And yet now it seemed a lifetime ago, a different world.
Tudel was looking at her and she pushed the thought away. "My phone is in my purse, in the locker. I'll -"
Tudel shook his head. "No. You -" he indicated one of the PKs, "- get it for her."
Darcy directed him to the locker. The man pulled out her purse and rooted through it. He threw a handful of sanitary pads to the floor, then came up a bottle of medicine and dropped it. He snickered and held up a tube of - she turned away and felt her face flush. And then the embarrassment was replaced with rage. How dare he?
The PK found the phone and tossed it to her. In the low gravity his instincts were off and she had to reach high to snatch it from the air. She turned it on and hit the button for Mike.
How far was the Wookkiee from the nearest tower? Would there be signal this far out? The phone rang once, and then twice. She looked at Tudel, who looked at her grimly. What if Mike didn't answer? Her life might depend on Tudel thinking she'd reached him, so if he didn't answer she'd pretend to have a conversation. She could -
Mike answered. "Darcy?" His voice was serious. And determined.
"Mike?! I -"
"You've got PKs listening?"
"Yes. I -"
Tudel prodded her. "Tell him the deal. Whatever those explosions were, stop it. If he's got men nearby, have them fall back. And they need to get us recharged ASAP - or they'll have problems."
"Mike, the lead PK says that if there are any lunar forces nearby they have to back away from the ship. And you need to recharge the Wookkiee, or -" she stammered "- or you've got problems."
Mike ignored the information. "The crew - you're all prisoners? Unarmed?"
Darcy looked at Tudel. Could she answer Mike's questions without letting Tudel know what he was asking? Yes. She could do that. "Yes, Mike, a full recharge. Enough to get us all back to Earth."
"Are all the crew in one room?"
Darcy paused. "Yes, he's serious."
"Are the PKs in a separate compartment from the hostages?"
"No, Mike, he's not joking."
"OK, Darce, I need you to get the crew separated from the PKs. Get everyone in a room with a solid door between them and -"
Darcy swallowed. How was she going to respond to that? She needed to tell Mike that she couldn't do that, but without letting Tudel know what she was saying. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. She looked at Tudel - who looked suspicious. He leaned in and pulled the phone from her. "Who is this?"
Tudel had the phone now - but Darcy knew what Mike needed. She looked around the room. All of the Wookkiee crew were here and most of the PKs were out in the corridors, guarding the airlocks. But Tudel and two PKs were still here on the bridge. She had to get them out of the room, somehow, while keeping the Wookkiee's crew here. How?
Tudel spoke into the phone. "No, fuck that. I've got hostages." He paused, listening. "No." He listened. "No." He shook his head. "Yeah, I'll prove it. I'm going to put one in an airlock without a suit, and if I don't get what I asked for in five minutes, we're opening the outer door." He paused. "Five minutes." He flipped the phone closed and pocketed it, then turned to Darcy.
"You."
Darcy grew cold. For a moment she'd fallen into the trap of thinking that Mike was in charge, that he had this all worked out, that the danger was over, or if not over, at least mostly past. But it wasn't. She was still surrounded by unpredictable lunatics.
Darcy felt cold sweat on her forehead and put her hands up. "No, wait. Wait, no! You can't do this. Mike will get the batteries recharged, but five minutes isn't -"
Tudel barked, "Shut up", and then raised his chin at the other two. "Anward, Hamid - are these prisoners all secure?"
"Yes sir, they're all tight."
"OK, grab her and let's go to the lock."
"No - no!" Darcy screamed. A hand grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced her head down.
Tudel stepped out into the hallway first and Anward and Hamid pushed her after. Darcy tripped as she stepped over threshold of the watertight door. She caught her footing and began to plead, "This isn't right - look, you -"
A massive wall of noise - as much a punch to her diaphragm as a sound - hit her from behind, and a spray of hot chunky liquid splashed her. Before she knew what was happening the noise - a rifle shot? - hammered her a second time, and then a third. Her hair was thick, hot and heavy with what felt like gallons of blood and brain matter. Darcy gasped for air, filling her lungs to scream, and then the bodies of Anwar and Hamid fell against her. Ahead of her Tudel looked over his shoulder, saw something behind her, and then turned and sprinted in a low crouch. Incongruously she realized that Tudel still had her phone and then someone yelled "Move!" at her. What? Move where?
More shots rang out, the sound like sledgehammer strikes, and she felt - literally felt - the bullets fly past her. Ahead of her Tudel reached the end of the corridor and disappeared around a corner.
Darcy choked down the scream and turned. Three men, all in spacesuits, and all carrying rifles. Even with their faceplates up, she didn't recognize any of them... but she knew the logo on their suits. Red Stripe.
One of the men addressed her. "Are all the captives in that room?"
Darcy found it hard to breathe. She wiped her face and her hand came away covered in blood. She looked at the two bodies on the deck, almost headless from the -
The man in the Red Stripe suit yelled at her. "Miss Grau! The captives - are they all in there?"
She heard gunshots from somewhere else in the Wookkiee.
Darcy looked up from her bloody palm and found her voice. "Yes. Wait! All except Captain Kear, he -"
"We've got him. Is that an airtight compartment?"
"Yes. It's a 3-hour room, but there's more people than -"
"Later!" The man she'd been talking to put a gloved hand on the small of her back her and pushed her toward the hatch.
She stumbled and then caught herself on the edge of the hatch. She turned and saw a fourth man behind the three others, facing away. That suit - she knew it. "Mike! Mike, is that -"
Mike turned. "Darcy!"
The sound of more rifle fire rang from distant corridors. Darcy yelled to be heard over the gunfire. "Mike, is everything -"
Mike shook his head. "No time!"
"Mike, wait! I-"
One of the men in the Red Stripe suits pushed her through the hatch. She tripped over the flange and fell, sprawling, into the bridge. Behind someone yelled "Blow the e-lock!" and the hatch clanged shut behind her. With a rusty scraping it locked shut.
A second later she heard an explosion somewhere below, and then the sound of howling wind.
Chapter 53
20
64: Goldwater refining facility, Aristillus, Lunar Nearside
Darren Hollins stood in the smelter control room and looked through the glass wall at the machinery below. "How long until the new chlorine pumps are on line?"
"Another six hours, if there are no more problems," Hans, his chief chemist, said, "...but there may be more problems. I've told David before that this isn't the right way to do the Miller process. We can lower the gas temperature and increase the pressure and we'll -"
Darren held up a hand. "Don't ask me to break ties; my knowledge is ten years out of date. I trust the two of you."
Darren could tell from the look on Hans' face that the man wasn't happy, but then again, he never was, and never would be. It was his perfectionism that made him find fault in everything. And it was his perfectionism that made everything run smoothly. The only down side was the incessant fighting with the other chief chemist.
Arnold cleared his throat and Darren turned. "Yes, Arnold?"
"Boss, can we talk?" He inclined his head. "Outside?"
Darren turned back to Hans. "Good work with the chlorine. Make it work." He clapped the man on the shoulder and got a harrumph in return, and then followed Arnold out of the control room.
"OK, Arnold, what's going on?"
"The Wookkiee - that's a Five Rings ship - crash landed. It was hijacked by PK forces. The war is starting. I've talked to Reggie and he's put the vaults on lockdown and called in the second shift of the security team, but we need to implement my plan to -"
"Not yet."
Arnold ran a hand over his bald head. "Darren, I'm afraid you're not taking this threat seriously enough. This is for real, and I-"
Darren fixed him with a look. "Arnold, have you ever known me to not pay attention to threats?"
Arnold pursed his lips. "Well, no, but -"
The Powers of the Earth (Aristillus Book 1) Page 20