“Before she passed out,” Perez stated, “she said that there were two working on the base of the mass driver when the missile hit.”
“We’ll have the Kyushu use its radar to look for their bodies,” Alex said. “Good job, Thorne. I don’t think I need you here. You can go.”
“Listen,” Thorne said. “I read a book once. It was about space combat. The book’s almost a hundred years old but I remember that to deal with trauma the suits would close off an injury and breach with a thing that would snap closed like a, a...“ he made a circular opening and closing motion with his fingers.
“An iris?” the doctor asked.
“Yes,” Thorne exclaimed. “It would close off the wound, stopping the depressurization of the suit. It also amputated the limb but it saved the life.”
“Yes?” Alex prodded.
“I was wondering,” Throne continued, “if we cut a piece of plate steel and sharpened one end. Then if we shove it into her leg just above the beam and seal the whole thing with DC foam we could save her. Her leg’s gone anyway.”
“Doctor?” Alex asked.
“It might work. If the bone is intact we’ll never get a plate through it, though. But if the bone is shattered, and I think it is, it could work. The steel would have to be sterilized.”
“I don’t think so,” Alex said. “What’s going to survive this vacuum?
“Tsuji, you been listening?”
“Yes, I’ll get right on it.”
“No,” Thorne said. “I’ve used a laser. I’ll cut the metal so they can keep working. You other two,” he said to his security personnel, “Go on and get off this rock.”
They nodded and wished Thorne and Perez luck.
“Good,” Alex said. “Perez, how’s her air?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Okay,” he said and switched frequencies. “Banda, Chun. How’s it going?”
“Slow but steady,” the deep voice came back. “Another 15 or so minutes and we’ll be done.”
“How’s the air?”
“Getting worse.”
“Listen, in about ten minutes we may need to get this injury across that rope immediately. Be prepared to clear the corridor to the airlock.” They were evacuating through an airlock at the end of a tunnel drilled radially from the central tunnel. Under acceleration the tunnel would have been level.
“Yes, sir.”
The room lit up with sparks as Thorne started cutting metal with a miner’s lasers. The flickering light made the rock interior of the asteroid, filled with metal smashed into bizarre and grotesque shapes, look like a scene from hell.
***
Moeller used her authority to enter the room next to McConnell’s and get to the computer. The guest was perturbed but Moeller said she could complain to NESA authorities and that seemed to make her happy.
Moeller accessed the NESA Security net using her ID in the slot and thumb on the plate.
“Damn,” she said as Rodriguez watched over her shoulder.
“What?”
“It’s got a leak. It’s slow but eventually the room will be uninhabitable.”
“What about the door?” Rodriguez demanded.
Moeller shook her head. “It won’t open now for my access code.”
“Then for whose?”
“A Level One executive. The head of NESA Lunar Security, Mr. Takayanagi, could do it.”
“Then get him to open it.”
“Wait a moment. I have to locate him first.”
***
Thorne returned with a crudely cut circle of metal. One side was somewhat beveled to a sharp edge. Tsuji took it and worked her laser against the sharp edge.
“That should be sharp enough to cut through her suit,” she said.
She handed it to the doctor who looked at it disparagingly.
“I said I could handle a laser; I didn’t say I was good at it,” Thorne remarked.
“You’ll have to put it in,” Jubair said.
“What?” Thorne exclaimed.
“I must keep a tourniquet around her leg to slow the bleeding. You must put the plate in and do it in one clean stroke. Tsuji reports she can move the beam any time now. We are ready.”
“I can’t do this,” Thorne pleaded.
Alex’s gloved hand touched Thorne’s suited shoulder.
“Perez, how much longer?”
“Three minutes,” Perez replied. He looked at Thorne in a tacit plea.
“You can do it,” Alex said. “Don’t let another one die.”
Thorne took a deep breath. “Okay.”
Thorne put the sharp end against the woman’s thigh just above where the beam pinched the leg down to nothing. Thorne braced himself and Alex put his mass against Thorne’s back while trying to jamb his legs between two metal beams. Alex hoped Thorne wouldn’t move and the plate would.
Jubair used a miner’s rope to tie a tourniquet. He pulled it tighter and tighter; so tight that Alex thought he was going to breach the suit.
“Now,” Jubair said unexpectedly.
Thorne shoved with all his muscles. The plate sliced cleanly into the suit and through the flesh and only hesitated at the bone. Thorne stopped when he felt the metal bump against solid rock behind the leg.
Perez quickly sprayed DC foam around the plate. Some white foam turned gray as it mixed with blood that was slowly boiling out. They waited interminable seconds while the foam hardened.
“She’s out of air,” Perez said. It wouldn’t take her long to expend the oxygen in her suit.”
“Okay,” Jubair said. “Now, Tsuji.”
The three miners pushed their combined masses against the beam. It moved and Perez and Thorne lifted the woman up.
“To the emergency door, fast,” Alex said redundantly. The two security men moved quickly and skillfully. Jubair followed and Alex stayed out of the way. He watched them go in the first emergency door.
Alex let out a long sigh that his helmet mic amplified. “At least there’s one that won’t die,” he breathed.
Tsuji placed a hand on his shoulder. “You saved a lot of lives, Director.”
Alex turned to look at her. “What? Ten people died because—”
She cut him off. “Because some fools decided to use violence to make their idiotic point. You saved 120 lives. And those who died are the responsibility of those that started the violence.”
Alex turned away from the miners. “Let’s go,” he said angrily. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
***
Charlie sealed the helmet. The damn emergency suit for civilians didn’t have a transmitter, just a receiver for getting instructions. It did have a loud speaker on the chest (she’d heard it called a “bitcher” somewhere). At least she could communicate with the chair until the air ran out. Oh, well, she thought, I can wait. She felt blood and perfluorodecalin from the wounds reopened on her back pooling in her boots. She just didn’t know how long she could wait. She used her gloved hand to push the joystick to the side, turning the chair around to face into the room.
McConnell was running toward her with the bloody glass egg in his hands. Fragments of his broken helmet were lodged in his cranium.
Charlie tried to stand to run but managed only to fall out of the chair.
McConnell stood over her and grinned. She saw him say something. He raised the art above his head.
“Chair, voice command mode, forward, fast,” Charlie yelled superfluously as the speaker amplified her voice. The chair slammed into McConnell throwing him off balance in the unfamiliar gravity.
He dropped the egg, grabbed the chair and heaved it away from him. It bounced over the bed and serendipitously landed on its wheels.
Meanwhile Charlie was crawling away from him. He scooped up the sphere and again towered over her prone figure.
Charlie tried to crawl away but it was no use, he’d trapped her in a corner.
Charlie could see the wheelchair between McConnell’s legs. It was near th
e Crysteel window facing away from it–the window that was already loose.
“Chair, backwards, fast,” Charlie yelled again.
The chair’s back crashed into the window’s bottom edge.
“Chair, forwards, fast, backwards, fast, repeat,” Charlie said.
McConnell smiled at her, ignoring the chair and her commands. He mouthed, exaggeratedly, “Fuck you,” and—
And the chair hit the bottom of the window and the Crysteel plate popped out. There was enough air left in the room that decompression was explosive. McConnell fell back on the floor dropping the egg. It shattered. Everything was dragged to the window. Charlie landed on top of McConnell, who flopped like a landed fish. It was over soon and he was dead.
Charlie rolled off him and looked at his face. It was a portrait of absolute terror, frozen forever like that.
***
Director Chun hung from the rope between the rock and the Kyushu. He was just at the airlock in the side of the ship when he paused to look back at SRI-1961. Because he was the last off, his asteroid was now an empty shell falling through space carrying only the three bodies they’d been forced to leave behind. He wondered as to its fate. If its velocity were sufficient it could escape the solar system. Or it might be captured by the sun again and go on in some other orbit as if indifferent to the human conflict and death that had occurred because of it.
“Director Chun,” Takashara’s voice came over Chun’s suit radio. “Are you okay? Do you require assistance?”
“Negative,” Chun replied crisply and he moved clumsily into the airlock. When it had cycled he pulled off his helmet and wiped tears from his eyes.
Takashara floated in front of him. Her hair was constrained in an intricate braid.
“Captain,” Alex said. “You’ve never looked so good to me.”
“Your doctor,” Takashara said, “reports the injured woman will be all right.”
“Well,” Alex qualified, “as all right as one can be after losing a leg.”
***
Charlie was getting tired of waking up in hospitals. The first thing she saw was that damn nursemaid shaking his head.
She half expected him to shake a finger at her.
Rodriguez’s face was the next thing they let her see.
“We got an emergency airlock in to take you out,” he said. “You lost a lot of blood.”
“That’s okay,” Charlie said softly. “Most of it wasn’t real anyway.”
Rodriguez laughed softly. “When you’re released and feel up to it I’d like you to be the Assistant Security Chief here.”
“I don’t know,” Charlie said. “I’ve been thinking about getting off the Moon. Maybe I should move into asteroids or go to Jupiter or Ceres.”
“Whatever you like,” Rodriguez said.
“Yeah,” Charlie said, “maybe I’ll go to Mars. I’ll think about it.”
“You do that,” Rodriguez said. “You could probably get whatever you want from SRI, at least until Chun gets back.”
“Who?”
“Alexander Chun. He was the director on the asteroid the GA attacked. They say he saved many lives.”
“Hum,” Charlie said. And all she did was end a few.
Rodriguez stood and said farewell. Charlie ignored the nursemaid.
She wondered why she didn’t feel better about killing McConnell.
***
Caroline Zalesky wondered why McKenna had called her into the chief’s office. Caroline had finally gotten to sleep after hours spent worrying about David on the asteroid that had been attacked. When McKenna called her, she had to get dressed and downed some coffee to wake up.
“Chief?” she asked poking her head through the open door to McKenna’s office.
McKenna looked up. She was strapped in her chair working at her computer. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. Her blue eyes had dark rings about them and her usually lustrous red hair was stringy and uncharacteristically slovenly.
“Caroline,” she said. “Come in; close the door, please.”
Pulling the hatch shut, Caroline asked, “What is it?” She held on to a handhold in the air.
“There was a second attack on the asteroid,” McKenna said softly.
“Yes?”
“David, your husband, was killed.”
Silence coagulated in the compartment.
“Caroline?” McKenna asked.
She didn’t respond but, letting go of her grip, she started floating in the air, staring straight ahead.
***
The Kyushu was too slow a ship for just about everyone on board. For the most part the asteroid crew spent the trip back in a somber, bitter mood that was the antithesis of the trip to the belt. It was better when the ship was close enough to Earth to make conversation practical, but Captain Takashara limited everyone to one ten minute call to Earth or the Moon. That gave Alex just enough time to tell Kirsten he loved her and was all right.
There was time spent in the saloon, but most of it was spent in gloomy reflections on lost friends. Alex saw Thorne very little and when he did see his friend, Thorne was surly at best and enmeshed in grief to the point of almost being comatose. Alex hoped he’d pull out of it.
He met Bente in the corridor one day as they approached the Moon.
“Did you call home?”Alex asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“How’s your father?”
“He’s alive, at least,” she breathed. “The doctors say it’s still indefinite if he’ll be all right.”
“I’m sorry,” Alex said. “I hope he’s okay.”
“Thanks, Alex.”
Eventually the old, balky ship entered lunar orbit. Since this was unusual, the intra-lunar shuttle had to be used to take everyone off and down to the Moon. The extra passengers meant it had to make two runs, taking it off its profitable LEOF-Moon run for twice as long.
Alex suspected that with the asteroid loss and the shuttle losses, SRI’s profit would be exceptionally low this year. SRI was self-insured, meaning all the loss came straight off the bottom line. That meant the stock wouldn’t increase in value, or might even decrease. A lot of normal folks’ retirement accounts would take a hit.
On the lunar surface the head of SRI’s Lunar Facility, Mr. Takeda, the new security head Rodriguez, and just about every SRI employee on the Moon was there to greet them. There was no media, thankfully.
Alex was surprised to be greeted as a hero. The crowd actually cheered when he entered the shuttleport. Takeda enthused at length about Alex’s actions. Alex’s own opinion of his actions that, in his mind, cost ten people their lives, contrasted directly with the proclamation that he was a hero.
Alex quickly paid his respects to Takeda and then, to the disappointment of the gathered throng, went to a hotel where SRI had rented rooms for the crew of the asteroid. There he began writing letters, actual hand-written on paper letters. He had to write ten of them.
***
Bente passed through the gauntlet of well-wishers and finally broke out into an open corridor. Akio was there. Bente ran to him and grabbed her brother, giving him an embrace.
“Akio, I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry?” he asked a little embarrassed by her display of affection. “For what?”
She looked at him. “I don’t know–for being away and not being here.”
“Don’t worry. And Father will be fine. He needs to slow down, that’s all.”
“Can I see him?”
“Of course,” Akio said. “And he wants to see you.”
They took the subway to the hospital.
Mrs. Naguchi was inside the room with her husband. She came out and greeted her daughter. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” she exclaimed happily.
Bente entered the room alone. She took in a breath—her father looked so fragile. He had more wires and tubes hooked up to him than most computers she’d seen.
“Hello, Bente,” he said. She was surprised how
soft his voice was.
“Hello, Father.” She moved to his bed and carefully took his hand that had no tubes in it. She gently held it.
“I’m glad to see you’re all right,” he said.
“I’m glad you’re okay, too,” she answered.
Father and daughter looked at each other.
“Father?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I know,” he said. “I love you, too.”
There didn’t seem much more to say. Father and daughter sat holding hands for a long time.
Finally he said, “There were news reports that you helped stop the attack by the terrorists.”
“I didn’t do much,” she responded.
“You did your job well,” her father said. “That is something. I’m proud of you, Bente.”
“I’m proud of you, Father.”
Chapter Nineteen
“It was a group effort.”
Mitchel entered his office in the morning. The crisis was over and it was back to work as usual. Sure, in a few days he’d board the corporate spaceplane for Esmeraldas to greet his friend Chun as he returned to Earth. In the meantime, he had a lot to catch up on; first the reports from the information gathering departments and the news services.
From Pyongyang, Republic of Korea: there was a report that a group called the Yuk’ee-oh yo’don, or June Twenty-fifth Brigade, was making threats against SRI interests on the peninsula. The name, according to the report, referred to the date when imperial American and South Korean armies invaded the peace-loving People’s Democratic Republic of Korea in the first Korean War.
He wrote a memo to remind himself to have someone look to see if the Chinese, the last bastion of Marxism outside academia, were succoring the Brigade.
Mitchel shook his head. Hard to believe there were still idiots in the world trying to rewrite history.
From Tel Aviv: United Baathist Radio announced the murder of hero of the Socialist/Arab Revolution General Zuabi and a presidential aide by Israeli death squads operating in what used to be southern Lebanon. A protest to the UN was expected.
From San Francisco: the governor of California named Green party member Mike Winston to fill Linda Trent’s seat in the House of Representatives as the “alleged” terrorist had resigned. Also, the governor planned to protest to the World Trade Organization on the unfair trade practices of Japanese Space Resources Incorporated’s move to pull all their business out of his state.
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