by Scott Mackay
She observed him quietly for a few seconds. ‘‘You’ve described several symptoms of transient ischemic attack.’’
‘‘What kind of attack?’’
‘‘Transient ischemic attack. It’s like a ministroke. And considering your family history—’’
‘‘It wasn’t a ministroke. Johnsie, please, listen to me. Colonel Pittman’s going to be here any day now. He’s not going to play games with Alpha Vehicle. I read up on some of his involvement in the PRNC War. And while I admit he was instrumental in getting the North Chinese to stand down, he was absolutely brutal in the way he went about things. He’s eager to fight because that’s what he does best, and he’s good at what he does, and the country needs men like him, but in this particular case, things might get bad quickly if he declares war against Alpha Vehicle. So please, there’s no need to tell him about this little attack I had. Or how I saw these symbols. At least not until we understand the significance of what’s happened to me. If you tell him about my attack, he might end up shooting first and asking questions later, and that’s the last thing we want.’’
That night, while he was asleep, the alarm sounded.
He sat up in his bunk. His intercom light flashed. He pushed the button.
‘‘Yes?’’
‘‘Dr. Conrad?’’ It was Lamar Bruxner.
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘We’re picking up the approach of several space vehicles. Seventeen in all. It looks like the expeditionary force is here two days early. I thought you might want to know.’’
It didn’t surprise him that Pittman was here two days early—the colonel was that kind of man. ‘‘I’m on my way.’’
Cam clicked off, got out of bed, and put on his coveralls. He left his quarters and bounce-shuffled down corridor 2 to the hub. He climbed the companionway and went up through the hatchway into the tower.
The phases of the Moon had reached the point where the sun was hidden behind the horizon. The blackness outside was like a vat of tar. Only a few tracking lights in the SMCP, ones that hadn’t been destroyed during Alpha Vehicle’s moonfall, illuminated small pools of lunar landscape. The Sumter Module and Command Port was mostly in shadow.
Bruxner and his assistant, Laborde, sat hunched over the tracking screens. Bruxner turned as Cam emerged from the companionway. ‘‘They’re coming this way. We’ve hailed them. They haven’t responded.’’ Bruxner turned back to his console. The blue light coming from the screens illuminated his wide face.
Cam went over and looked.
In the graphics, the Moon was at the center, and the seventeen vehicles, marked in red, were closing in with tightening orbits toward the curve of the lunar surface. Compared to the Builder energy cells, these vehicles moved at a conventional speed, heading westward at just over fifteen thousand kilometers per hour.
Cam initiated a spectrographic overlay on the screen. ‘‘It’s them all right. The burn signature is unmistakable.’’
‘‘Why didn’t he tell us he was coming early?’’
Cam lifted his chin. ‘‘Because he wanted to maintain radio silence. He’s under the impression that security is still an issue. He forgets Alpha Vehicle can probe the human mind.’’
The three watched for the next several moments.
Then Bruxner, with a nervous reach of his arm, toggled the communications apparatus. ‘‘This is Gettysburg One. Gettysburg One to incoming vessels. Identify yourself. Repeat, identify yourself.’’
Nothing.
Cam pictured Alpha Vehicle sitting in Crater Cavalet—for they had named the crater after their dead friend—staring up at the lunar heavens like a big silver eye, watching the approach of the seventeen vessels the way a large and predatory fish might watch seventeen minnows.
Over the course of the next twenty minutes, graphics showed the vehicles descending.
Laborde was the first to make a naked-eye sighting through the tower windows, and pointed to the dark sky. ‘‘Look.’’
They watched seven vehicles approach from maybe forty kilometers up, nothing more than chalky smudges at first.
Then the spectrometer graphics showed sudden burns—the vehicles braking.
At last Cam saw seven ships over Shenandoah Valley. ‘‘I wonder what happened to the other ten?’’
The vehicles came down one by one, shining their spotlights on the ground, kicking up dust with reverse thrusters. The craft were beetle-shaped—head, thorax, and abdomen. Each had six landing legs. They descended silently, as they must in the vacuum. They were painted in a camouflage pattern of gray, black, and taupe—Moon colors. The other ten vehicles seemed to be landing out there.
Unexpectedly, the Crater Cavalet alarm sounded. The monitors blinked to views of Cavalet. Unlike Shenandoah, the crater was bright with permanent floodlights now.
Alpha Vehicle shimmered like a giant crystal ball in the center. Laborde remote-commanded the cameras to swivel away from Alpha Vehicle and fix on the new arrivals.
Beyond the crater’s rim the other ten vehicles sank; these vehicles were much larger than the ones landing in Shenandoah. While still beetle-shaped, several weapons sconces could be seen, appearing as angular shadows at various points along the stout fuselages. The ten craft surrounded the crater.
The vehicles didn’t simply land, but burrowed as well. Rotary scoops shot dirt into the sky. As trenches deepened, the vehicles sank from view. The scene was chilling, bizarre, and worrying. Loosened particulate drifted around the crater, sometimes obscuring vehicle activity—until all such activity stopped, and the Moon once again regained its eons-old stillness.
Movement now became noticeable out in Shenandoah. The rover access bays on the seven spacecraft opened and an armored vehicle emerged from each. Headlamps shone from these vehicles. They snaked in a column toward Gettysburg. Because of the vacuum, Cam couldn’t hear the vehicles, but as they rounded the eastern edge of the SMCP, he could feel them—the tower vibrated gently.
The radio blared into life, and the images on the screens were overpowered by a visual hail coming from the lead vehicle. A moment later, Cam saw Colonel Timothy Pittman on the screen, goggles over his eyes, a military helmet on his head patterned with the same gray, black, and taupe, and a massive energy-pulse rifle in his hands.
‘‘Operation Moonstone to Gettysburg, this is Colonel Timothy Pittman, Orbital Operations Team Commander. Please acknowledge and make ready for fourteen new billets. I repeat, make ready for fourteen new billets. Activate Air Lock One immediately.’’ Then a pause as the man’s face settled like freshly poured concrete. ‘‘We’re taking over.’’
9
Cam felt like a civilian in a besieged city as he watched soldiers march through the main air lock. By this time a number of the other scientists were up as well, including Lesha. In their armored suits, the troops looked like big black robots. They weren’t tidy about their movements, but clumped down the hall with the belligerence of warriors preparing to go to battle.
Cam, Lesha, and Bruxner trailed a few steps behind Pittman.
A lieutenant named Haydn, like the famous old composer, accompanied Pittman. So did a smaller man, Newlove, who was loaded with gear.
Events in the next ten minutes unfolded at a rapid pace.
Pittman and his troops went into the common room. Pittman said, ‘‘Haydn, have the troops conduct an electronic sweep. Newlove, get the field unit going in the corner. I want linkups to our positions around Crater Cavalet, and target-acquisition visuals on Alpha Vehicle as quickly as possible.’’ Haydn and Newlove went about their tasks. ‘‘Wake the others,’’ Pittman told Bruxner. ‘‘We’re having a briefing.’’
Bruxner went to the intercom, unable to hide the ill grace on his face, and sent a general hail through the public address. ‘‘All personnel, please report to the common room, repeat, please report to common room immediately.’’
In a few minutes, Newlove had his equipment up and running, including a large monitor that showed vari
ous views from the emplacements around Crater Cavalet. At the center of Newlove’s gridded screen sat Alpha Vehicle, serene, inscrutable, like a giant pearl in a gray dusty shell.
Other Stradivari Team members now came into the common room—Mark Fuller, Blaine Berkheimer, Lewis Hirleman, campus types, with long hair and brutally intelligent eyes.
Support staff member Harland Law followed.
Renate Tennant came a few minutes later with the Princeton Team—Peggy Wilson, Silke Forbes, and Maribeth Finck.
At last came Johnsie Dunlap. She looked around at the new arrivals with deep misgiving, then glanced at Cam, as if acknowledging that his concerns about Pittman shooting first and asking questions later might be legitimate after all.
One by one, as the soldiers finished their security scans, they came to relay their findings to Haydn, who in turn reported them to Pittman. The colonel slung his weapon to his shoulder and clasped his hands behind his back. He looked around the room. Cam surveyed the room as well. On one side were nine academics in pajamas. On the other stood fourteen soldiers in black armor. The contrast couldn’t have been greater.
Pittman addressed the group. ‘‘As you’ve probably guessed, from this point on, Gettysburg is under my command. My command consists primarily of Marine Corps enlisted personnel operating under the Orbops umbrella, and they are trained specifically for hard-vac, high-rad, low-grav missions. They are here to help you. And protect you. At the same time they will have authority over you. That’s not to say I’ll be imposing martial law. I understand we have a respected and responsible group of scientific and support staff here, and under the circumstances, I don’t think martial law will be necessary. But I may, from time to time, issue directives, and I’ll expect them to be followed to the letter.’’
Then something approaching a grin came to the colonel’s hard face.
‘‘I’m pleased to say that your own civilian rescue shuttles are scheduled to reach lunar orbit in the next eight days.’’ There came sudden murmurs of approval, and even a little applause from the Princeton group. ‘‘But we are urging all of you to stay on the Moon for the duration, as your research efforts have been invaluable to us.’’ The applause immediately died down. ‘‘In particular, we are asking Dr. Cameron Conrad, Dr. Lesha Weeks, and Dr. Renate Tennant to stay, and I even have presidential orders to that effect. The rest of you won’t be compelled to stay, but we hope that you will volunteer to stay. You are now conducting your research under the auspices of Operation Moonstone. For those of you who want to be taken back to Earth, we urge you to continue your research there. You’ll be given funding to study Alpha Vehicle. On Earth you’ll be answering directly to one of my subordinates, Lieutenant Colonel Oren Fye. You’ll be given full contact information for the lieutenant colonel presently, and if you do return to Earth, he’ll be expecting daily reports from you. Meanwhile, if you feel the need to speak to me here on the Moon, you may do so through Lieutenant Haydn. In the event of hostile action on the part of the enemy, certain secure military channels will be established—’’
‘‘The enemy?’’ Cam couldn’t stop himself. ‘‘Why do you call them the enemy?’’ He could feel Alpha Vehicle prompting him, even more so now that he had had his second episode with one of its Moon towers. ‘‘Let’s not get carried away, Colonel.’’
Pittman looked disgruntled by Cam’s interruption. ‘‘Have I misspoken myself, Dr. Conrad?’’
‘‘Let’s not characterize the Builders as the enemy. They’re anything but.’’
A forbearing grin came to Pittman’s face. ‘‘If it’ll make you feel any better, we’ll call them potential belligerents for now.’’
Feeling an uncustomary evangelistic zeal, he said, ‘‘I happen to believe they’re a potential godsend.’’
‘‘Dr. Conrad, common sense dictates we must exercise caution. Now, please, I don’t mean to be rude, or to start off on the wrong foot, but if you could refrain from further interruption?’’
Cam let the misbegotten semantics of the thing go.
Pittman went on to describe the kind of consumables he’d brought to support his troops while on the Moon, adding that he in no way wanted to utilize Gettysburg’s obviously limited resources. The more Cam listened to Pittman, the more nervous he got. Newlove’s radio continued to erupt with sporadic bursts of chatter, and several times Cam heard references to ‘‘the enemy’’ or ‘‘the target’’ or ‘‘the Moonstone objective.’’ By the time Cam finally spoke with Pittman one on one at the end of the briefing, it was in what he thought was a context of looming disaster.
‘‘You’re going to mount a preemptive strike, aren’t you?’’
‘‘I’m not at liberty to discuss our tactical plans, Dr. Conrad.’’
Lesha, Renate, and Bruxner crowded around to listen.
‘‘If you’re not planning a preemptive strike, what’s all that armor doing around Alpha Vehicle?’’
‘‘Should a response be required, I want elements in place.’’
‘‘But how do you expect the Builders to take this?’’ persisted Cam. ‘‘You haven’t even given Renate the chance to complete her communications effort yet. Why don’t we at least try to talk to them first?’’ He remembered his hallucination of the bizarre and indecipherable written symbols, and added, ‘‘At least in terms we can understand.’’
As if reminded of Renate’s communications effort, Pittman turned to her, and with weary impatience, said, ‘‘I’ll want a full report on your efforts by eighteen hundred hours, Dr. Tennant.’’
‘‘Of course, Colonel.’’
‘‘Whatever you do, don’t mount a preemptive strike,’’ warned Cam.
‘‘I’ll do whatever it takes to protect the United States. Look at it from the Pentagon’s viewpoint, Dr. Conrad. Unknown visitors have breached the territorial sovereignty of the solar system without our welcome.’’
Cam frowned. ‘‘The solar system has territorial sovereignty?’’
‘‘Legislation to that effect is being drafted as we speak. And in breaching our sovereignty they’ve become de facto aggressors. They’ve landed on our Moon and destroyed, without provocation, our primary lunar module and spaceport, a facility that took three and a half decades to build, and eighteen-point-six billion dollars to finance. They’ve killed one of your own scientific staff. They’ve stranded you and your colleagues, necessitating a rescue mission costing American taxpayers millions of dollars. They’ve forcibly confined you. And while all these things are of grave concern, what worries us most is the way you’ve been talking to them. Because of that, the senior team and I think you might have been compromised in some way. We discussed this possibility extensively after we learned you hid the red giant anomaly in Tau Ceti from us, and the outcome of our discussion is that we’ve decided to take extra precautions with you once you return to Earth. Our plan is to run some diagnostic tests on you to see if anything has changed inside your brain, anything that might possibly influence the way you’re thinking about this whole thing.’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘Since such is the case, when you return to Earth, you’ll be put under the direct care of Dr. Jeffrey Ochoa, one of our staff physicians. We feel this is a reasonable course of action. He’ll be responsible for running these tests on you.’’
Cam was alarmed. ‘‘Why?’’
‘‘Surely you don’t object to this. Dr. Ochoa has extensive knowledge of brainwashing techniques. He’s also well seasoned in various medical strategies that help obtain the truth. We want to find out what they’ve been saying to you. In fact, it’s essential we find out what they’ve been saying to you.’’
‘‘Nothing I can figure out. Which is why it’s so important we wait until Dr. Tennant’s efforts yield some results. Let’s attempt a meaningful dialogue with them before we start shooting, or picking my brain apart strand by strand. Forget this Dr. Ochoa. He’s just going to end up muddling the whole process.’’
‘‘Comm
and personnel of Operation Moonstone have deemed it necessary that you be put under his care once you’re no longer needed here on the Moon. He’s going to help us get to the bottom of what they might have been saying to you.’’
‘‘In other words, he’s an interrogation specialist.’’
‘‘He’s a fully trained practicing physician.’’
‘‘This is ridiculous. You don’t need to do this to me. Alpha Vehicle is not a threat.’’
‘‘What about the construction of all the Moon towers, the launching of the energy cells, and the transformation of one of the solar system’s closest neighbors into a red giant?’’ He tapped his head. ‘‘You’re not right up here if you think that’s not threatening. And that’s why Dr. Ochoa needs to take a look at you.’’
Later that day, when Cam was suiting up to investigate another Moon tower, the mood in the air lock was grim.
Lesha came up to him and put her hand on his arm. ‘‘You shouldn’t be coming out with us today.’’
‘‘I’ll be fine.’’
She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. ‘‘Pittman’s a study, isn’t he?’’
He shook his head. ‘‘I went to this bar once, and there was this guy, and he staggered from patron to patron looking for a fight. Fighting was his idea of a good time. There didn’t have to be a reason for it. Fighting was what he did. That’s the sense I get from Pittman.’’
‘‘This Dr. Ochoa worries me. Can they do that to you? I mean legally?’’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘‘Apparently so.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘But what bothers me more is how I seem to be the only one stopping Pittman from blowing up Alpha Vehicle.’’
‘‘You’re not. I’m behind you a hundred percent. And so’s Johnsie.’’
His brow rose. ‘‘Johnsie is?’’
‘‘I was talking to her. She’s agreed to suppress her latest assessment of you.’’
He nodded. ‘‘Good.’’
‘‘But you should stay in Gettysburg today. You don’t want to aggravate things. If you get too close to another tower, you might have another attack, and who knows what Pittman will do to Alpha Vehicle if he thinks it’s giving you attacks? He’ll most likely call it an act of aggression and give the okay to retaliate.’’