by M.A. Harris
Gathering forces
Derry shivered inside his insulated parka. His pants were heavy wool, but the wind slicing across the grim gray expanse of weathered concrete cut through them as if the material were gauze, even with that the shiver was at least fifty percent excitement. The sky was clear and the stars burnt with almost preternatural brilliance even with a fairly full moon, an orb that had more meaning than it ever had before. It wasn’t all that late, but at this time of year night came early and stayed for a long time even in southern Alaska.
Fort Achatka was misnamed; while it had been a Russian Army outpost first it had been in the hands of the US Navy, and later the US Air Force, since Alaska had been part of the US. These days Fort Achatka Air Base was only used as a backup landing field for the northern guard air patrols that kept the Russians honest. The fort’s massive phased array radar was part of the missile defense system, linked to the interceptor missile battery further south by fiber optic cables.
Most base operations were buried now, a defense against weather more than anything else. There were a few old and tired looking surface structures, but they were mostly just entrances that led down into a warren of artificial caverns. He stood in the lee of a huge ancient arch of concrete, originally built to house bombers now it covered a wide slope down into the bowels of the rock. Down below were the military versions of the Gulfstream business jet he and the rest of the party from DC had flown in on.
A warning tone sounded in his ear, five minutes to go. Derry felt a twinge of concern but he was almost certain the Luna colonists would be here, and they’d be on time, Paul hated being unpunctual.
A voice spoke in his earboom; it was one of the officers back in the operations room where the rest of the greeting committee were waiting. “Captain Jenkins, still nothing on the radar. It’s six twenty five.” The major’s voice was a bit sarcastic. A lot of the Fort’s personnel had picked up on the fact that several of the VIPs in the greeting committee thought this a fool’s errand, and there was a palpable air of disbelief and distrust.
It was a reflection of how critical the situation was that there had been some discussion of having the US President take part, but that would have required the meeting be held near DC since the President was currently a near prisoner in Washington. Air Force One was no longer a safe mode of travel and even road convoys were at risk. The President had taken to traveling by rail, in a modified passenger car secretly attached to a regularly scheduled train and getting here by train was impossible
Derry looked out over the bay and was startled to see a deeper blackness drifting down at an angle. His eye couldn’t quite get a hook on it but it was coming down fast, then it was looming huge; a floating onyx Incan pyramid. He heard a metallic whine and crunch as massive landing skids extended from the craft’s belly and it settled onto the concrete ramp.
“Captain Jenkins, where is your friend?” The voice on the other end of the ear boom’s radio link was unpleasantly sarcastic. Among the greeting committee Admiral Simpkins, next to Deputy Secretary of Defense Atkinson, was the most critical of the tentative alliance with the Luna Colonists, he’d been heard to comment that they ought to all be tried as war criminals, or alternately left to freeze dry in their Luna rat hole.
“They’re here Admiral; the moonship’s sitting on the ramp next to me, Jenkins out.” He cut off the sputtering coming back from the other end as he walked toward the ship.
He saw a figure climb down from a dimly blue rectangle about head height off the ground. An arm lifted, a voice called, “Hey Derry, good to see you.”
Derry felt relief, “Hey yourself Mr. President. Am I supposed to bow or something?”
Paul’s teeth flashed in the moonlight, “Yeah, but I’m having the devil of a time getting people to get the flourish right.”
The two men hugged hard, something they had never done before but that seemed right.
Paul pointed at the hangar, “Need to get the Alexis undercover, no way of knowing when one of the spy eyes is going to overfly us. Indications are they don’t come this way too often, but we don’t really know.”
Derry nodded, “Ops, the moonships going to move to the ramp under the Quonset.” He cut the line before he could hear more than a squawk in reply.
Paul nodded, tapped the comm pad on his wrist, “Patsy, get her undercover in the hangar over there.”
The faint growl became a little more intense and the ship lifted slightly and slid away from them. It was disconcerting to see something so huge and obviously massive move with such ease and silence.
As the ship left Derry saw a couple of other figures left behind, their heavy outlines and the odd shapes they carried told him they were soldiers, bodyguards, Paul’s position became a little more real.
Paul turned to follow the ship; at his shoulder Derry spoke softly, “Paul, not everyone’s happy about what the President and Admiral Davies agreed to. Some think it’s too risky, some think it’s a slap to our national honor, some think you and the rest of the colonists are traitors.”
“About what I expected Derry, it’s one of the reasons we have to do this now. Hell, my people have a lot of the same feelings, and you have to remember that most of them have relatives or loved ones held on Palalo Sadong.” Paul spoke quietly.
“Yeah, and that’s a problem as far as some of the military are concerned. Even if you and your senior people are certain, what about everyone else, could you have a traitor, could your people fold.”
Paul sighed, “Legitimate concerns, and the answer is that, given time, things could fly apart. The stress is showing but people are holding up. Give it weeks or months and other defeats and things could change.”
Derry sighed, “But keep wining like the last time?”
Paul sighed, “In two fights we’ve lost half of our fighter force and had to abandon Farside Observatory. We’ve been lucky but the casualties hurt in such a small community.” There was pain in his friend’s voice and Derry touched Paul’s shoulder gently. “You need to stay out of the firing line, and by the way I want to meet your lady friend, you both need to stay out of the firing line.”
Paul touched Derry’s hand, “Thanks, we’ll, I’ll try but I can’t promise. Safety does not come with this job, not yet.”
They finished the walk in quiet friendship. The hangar loomed immense around them. The dim, red-lit interior somehow emphasized the massive wedge of metal and plastic resting at an angle on the slope into the ground. Figures moved around the ship, sentries in battle gear. Near the hangar sidewall a new cluster of figures appeared up the stairs from a tunnel. Derry beckoned Paul towards them.
There were several armed Special Forces types spread out to be obvious but nonthreatening. On either side of the main delegation were groups of lower rank types, the military adjutants on one side, and civilian assistants on the other.
The members of the greeting committee switched their gaze from the moonship to Paul and Derry as the two friends crossed the final few feet. Secretary of State Sean Roosevelt, the senior member, and the President’s emissary, was in front, a tall older man of impressive demeanor. Next to him stood Deputy Secretary of Defense Atkinson, a small older man with a reserved, professorial air. Like most of the President’s National Security Team, he was, at least on the surface, a rabid supporter of the ‘attack despite the consequences’ clique.
The military contingent was lead by General Samuel Wharton, US Air Force, a small, handsome black man. He was the junior member of the joint chiefs and he was a supporter of Luna Haven and the Presidents’ plan. Admiral Foster Davies was there, looking very different in full uniform, his startlingly black eyes punctuated a craggy face fringed by his graying black hair, he was so broad he looked short. The junior member was Army General James Simpkins, a slightly overweight, nondescript white male; he was a specialist in weapons and logistics. He was probably the least impressive and warlike of the men standing there, but the most vocal and sharply
aggressive in his opinions.
Roosevelt moved forward, his hand outstretched, “Mr. President, glad to see you!” there was faint twitch of his lips; he apparently found the rather casual arrival amusing. Atkinson and Simpkins were both looking nearly apoplectic, Wharton and Davies slightly approving.
Paul took the hand, “Secretary Roosevelt, I am very glad to see you as well.”
The two men stood silently assessing for a moment before stepping apart, Roosevelt, looking like someone who had made up his mind, turned, “Let me introduce the rest of the delegation…” Paul shook hands and murmured greetings to all of the other men. Derry stood back and watched his friend deal with the intimidating line of men with calm ease. Paul never seemed to miss a beat and subtle hints told Derry that he knew his friends from his enemies. It reminded Derry once more that Paul had built and run his own company when most men were still trying to understand who they were and what they wanted to do with their lives.
There was a subtle movement, and Derry glanced around to see a tallish, slender blonde woman walking towards them from the direction of the ship. Paul turned and smiled; Derry decided that this was Julia. Paul turned back “Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce Julia Chisholm.”
“Richard Aristide’s granddaughter,” Sean Roosevelt said calmly. This had a galvanic affect on several people, especially Atkinson and Simpkins.
The young woman bowed slightly, “Guilty Secretary Roosevelt.”
“Captain Chisholm! You’re an officer in the US Air Force, what are you doing in the service of a foreign nation?” snarled Simpkins.
She shrugged, apparently unmoved by the attack, “Reserves sir. I didn’t volunteer, shanghaied is more the term. I figure that right now anyone fighting against the Admiral General is on the same side. We can work out the details later.”
“Aristide is an American citizen, you’re a US officer, he’s a traitor who has attacked his country and given aid to its enemies. I’d have to say on the face of it that you’re more of the same!” Simpkins couldn’t let it go.
Julia was about to respond in anger, Paul touched her arm and she bit off her reply and stepped back. Paul glanced at Simpkins, “General if you have proof that Aristide is a traitor I’d like to see it. From everything I have ever been able to tell he is, or was, a man driven by the dream of giving mankind the stars - which he has succeeded in doing - that others, men with dreams of empire, hijacked his dream is hardly his fault. As to your accusation against Julia, you had better check your facts or your mouth, because either one of them could get you in serious trouble.”
Atkinson pulled on Simpkins arm and the slightly portly General shut his mouth with a snap and stepped back. Roosevelt stepped in, “General, please be quiet, this is not the time or place for this. And I agree with President Richards, you need to check your sources. Captain Chisholm has flown for the Human Freedom Foundation for years and the Admiral General has a price on the heads of any HUFF pilots captured on Palalo Sadong.” The diplomat smiled sadly at Julia, “May I extend my sympathies for the loss of life on the MV Constance.”
“Thank you Mister Secretary for the defense and the condolences,” Julia shot Simpkins a poisonous look and turned to Paul. “The prototype Stack and the data package have been off loaded Paul. Luna Defense reports one of the recon platforms did a radical orbital change and is heading this way. It’s possible we’ve been busted. But none of the bombardment platforms have changed orbits, minimum warning time is ten minutes now. But we don’t have a firm fix on some of the fighters or the MoonBeam.”
Paul glanced around, “Is it possible that there’s been a leak?”
General Wharton looked concerned, “It’s always possible. The situation is so confused right now that some people are still acting like this is some kind of half-baked emergency drill and things will return to normal in a few weeks. It’s hard for some people to take a nation called Palalo Sadong with a leader called the Admiral General seriously.”
Paul shook his head, “But what about China, the Chinese have been supporting the Admiral General for years. The news reports would indicate that behind the scenes they are bringing most of the Asian Rim and Oceania into the pro Admiral General camp.”
Admiral Davis lifted his big hands, “Few people have really thought things that far through Mr. President, but you are right. Still, I doubt it; this site was selected rather late in the day. I don’t think anyone knows where we were meeting you; few enough knew we were meeting you at all.”
Paul glanced at Captain Chisholm, “Get ready to skedaddle if things go bad, if I have time I’ll make for the Alexis, otherwise I’ll run for the shelters, you get clear.”
She looked a little mutinous but nodded sharply, looked around, avoiding looking at Simpkins or Atkinson, “Gentlemen.” She spun and ran for the ship.
The secretary spread his hands, “Mr. President the plan is already in motion. This meeting was set up to allow you to drop off the items agreed to and provide us an opportunity to meet. I’d like to tell you that the President of the United States wishes to express his thanks for what you and your people have decided to do, the losses you have taken for the sake of mankind and this country, and the risks you are undertaking.” Roosevelt delivered the little speech with the power and ringing conviction of a professional political speaker.
“Mr. Secretary, please carry my thanks back to the President of the United States for the help he is providing to us, and the risks he is taking as President, and as a person. We will always be profoundly thankful. I am sure that when we get this mess behind us our two countries will have many things to discuss and develop. Most of us are American by birth and beliefs, separated only by circumstances and hundreds of thousands of miles. We are a tiny, tiny population on a frontier so vast that the mind cringes at times. The US has been at the human frontier for more than two centuries, I am sure the Luna Republic and the US, in partnership, will continue to lead the way to the stars.” Paul’s delivery might not have had the practiced polish of Roosevelt’s but what it lacked in polish it made up in raw passion. Derry was in a position to watch the effect on all the delegation and he was quite happy with his friend’s effort. Even Atkinson and Simpkins looked nonplused.
Roosevelt smiled in delight and stepped forward, holding out his hand again, “Wonderful Mr. President, I will most faithfully carry your message to the President. Secretary Atkinson and I will be available for consultation, if you should need us.”
Paul smiled in reply; he and Roosevelt had obviously taken a liking to each other. Atkinson wasn’t happy at being pulled out of the conference, but he had no option, Paul kept his face bland as they shook hands.
General Wharton waited a moment as the civilians withdrew and started down the stairs, then glanced around, “The President of the United States has ordered me to cooperate with you in any way possible President Richards. As the secretary said the plans agreed to have already been set in motion. I’ve seen the operational plans and I have to admit it has the advantages of simplicity and quickness. It’s damned risky, but provides the quick end we need.”
“None of us like it but we don’t see a lot of options,” Paul replied..
Admiral Davies shrugged, “This is one of those times in history where one has to risk all knowing that complete disaster is possible, but unlikely.”
Simpkins spoke up, “The best plan in my opinion, as well as that of Secretary Atkinson and many others, is for your forces to keep out of the way while the US blows the slimy son of a bitch of an Admiral General out of his rat hole.”
Wharton frowned at the pudgy man, “General, you know very well that our war gamers said that was a pretty messy scenario. We would lose almost all of the attacking fleet and the center of several major cities, including DC.”
Paul’s voice was flat, “Not to mention the deaths of the people the Admiral General is holding hostage. You have no way of getting a rescue force in and the hostage
s out without flattening New Port. Our opinion is that you’d have a fifty percent chance of utter disaster, and your only option then would be to go nuclear, which would kill hundreds of thousands. And we know the Chinese have provided the Admiral General with nukes so you could lose millions of your own citizens.”
Simpkins flared up, “What hell is this Chinese paranoia of yours? They’ve been our ally for the past decade; their military has been decreasing in size for decades.”
Davies spoke gruffly, “Their military has been modernizing for decades as you know Admiral. They couldn’t afford quantity and quality and they chose quality after we proved firepower trumps numbers several times in a row. President Richards is quite right, the Chinese are a player in this and we know they’ve already provided nuclear weapons to the Admiral General, though I’d expect them to have some rather draconian safeguards, I certainly wouldn’t trust the son of a bitch.”
Now Wharton stepped in, his voice was mild, “Thank you Admiral; General you are here to provide technical insight, would you please keep your other opinions to yourself for the time being.” Simpkins snapped upright, his face demonic in the reddish light.
Davies spoke again, “General Simpkins, can you tell me if the requested number of small diameter guided bombs will be available and where they can be transshipped from? I know there was some question about our stocks given the work stoppages at the assembly plant over the last year, and our use rate in the ‘Stan.”
Simpkins jaw muscles were bunched, he seemed to struggle within himself, “They are on the way here. We found that there was a backup stock at the Crane, Indiana depot and since I had category A requirements I ordered them shipped immediately. They’ll go by rail to Dayton; from there they’ll be flown here by C-17.”
There was a moment’s stillness after he finished. Simpkins’ eyes grew a little larger as the import of his words came to him.
“When did those orders go out Simpkins?” Wharton’s voice was flat.
Simpkins didn’t seem to be able to say anything, a woman with lieutenant colonel’s flashes spoke up, “About seven hours ago, General.”
Davis glanced at Paul, “Probably explains the visit by the recon satellite.”
Paul nodded, “I hope they don’t see a lot.” He looked out, then back at Wharton, “Hopefully they will simply fly by but they may revisit, possibly very quickly, could you make sure that this hangar stays lit and warmed up a little? Also, you might come up with some kind of cover story!”
The General nodded, “Done Mr. President, what about the bombs?”
Paul grinned, “Let them get lost in the rail cargo system. Get them shunted onto some lonely, out of the way siding in the next few hours, and let me know where they are. The Alexis will drop in and pick them up. I’ll even bring the fork lift trucks.”
“Done Mr. President.”
Admiral Davis nodded, “Fine, the plan is still for a jump off at oh one hundred Palalo Sadong time tomorrow?”
“That’s the time we start the clock unless there’s an objection?”
“None Mr. President.”
“I need to be going then General, good meeting you, you as well Admiral Davies.” He shook their hands then glanced around and smiled at Derry, “Good seeing you again buddy.”
Derry shook his friend’s hand firmly, “Take care of yourself Mr. President!”
“I’ll try Derry, and Derry, call me Paul…my title doesn’t change our friendship.”
“OK Paul…but take care of yourself.”
Paul smiled faintly, “I’ll try and dodge if I can Derry.” He turned and strode away.
Derry watched his friend walk across the concrete floor towards the space cruiser.
Wharton spoke coldly, “General Simpkins, we need to have a conversation about your behavior tonight and earlier.”
Simpkins opened his mouth.
The General held up a peremptory hand, “You probably want to think about what you want to say very carefully General. For now just be quiet.”
-Alexis Aurora Earth Orbit-
The Alexis hummed softly, in a powered orbit far out from the normal ‘orbitals’ around Earth, providing the crew Luna level ‘gravity’ as they got ready for action. The moonship had left Luna carrying a lot more than just the ‘gifts’ they had left in Alaska. The Hopper had been aboard as deck cargo along with a construction shack module, which was acting as a temporary bunk facility for the Marines who would attempt to take the command platform.
Paul, Julia, Patsy and Sunil were in the cockpit, facing the forward screen which was acting as a conference screen. On the other end Arkan, Conti and other senior staff couldn’t hide their consternation. They had expected them to drop off the Hopper and the construction shack and return to Luna for a crew change, Paul had told them that wasn’t happening.
Conti was the first to speak, “...Paul you can’t…damnit.”
“Who did you expect me to order to fly her? Patsy? She’s the next best Moonship pilot. We also need an experienced pilot for the Hopper with Julia, to provide top cover while the fighters are doing the spotting.”
“I thought we agreed we’d have the trainees fly her?” Arkan said a bit weakly, Paul could see the Colonel had guessed this was coming.
“We’re going to be doing things with the Alexis she wasn’t designed to do and putting her in a situation she is totally unsuited for. If there is anyone who is likely to carry that off it’s me. Not even Patsy has as many hours or has done as many stupid things with the moonships as I have.”
Conti looked like he was about to cry, “Paul…I see your point…I suppose I didn’t think it through…damnit can we call this off? We can’t risk you like this, not again.”
“I’m not going to condemn our new republic to obliteration Conti. And you know as well as I do, they will stop at nothing to obliterate us now we’ve gone public and hurt them so badly in the process,” Paul replied tiredly.
Julia spoke up, “And it’s possible they’ll get kudos for it now they have blamed us for the Nukes. The English speaking nations and other tight US allies are all condemning it as an obvious lie but even Canada and New Zealand are wishy-washy. The European’s are using it as an excuse to wring their hands and do nothing. The rest of the world is going along with the big lie because China wants them to and they need the Chinese to keep their new dog on a leash.”
Paul waved Conti down as he began to argue, “Conti, we have a window now. There are a lot of people in the US who want this to go away, for us to go away. Leave it a few more days and the do nothings will gain control. Without the US we are doomed to a war of attrition lasting a few days or weeks, killing thousands and the certain destruction of Luna Haven and its dreams. If the US ever did decide to act later it would have to resort to a nuclear strike. Either way the hostages are not coming home and chances are the Admiral General will get his empire.”
Olarik steepled his fingers, “It’s a risky, dangerous plan. But it is the only one that promises to bring this all to a conclusion rapidly and with the least chance of massive civilian casualties, probably on all sides.”
Paul nodded, “What we’ve all agreed. Look you have an agreement with the US as long as this succeeds we have at least that to support the Luna Republic’s claim of sovereignty. You have at least one public and two private portals to Earth, more when Luna is over the US or Europe; the Stack technology and a foothold on the moon. If we can’t use those as leverage to build a future we are doing something wrong. Look it’s late, or early, or something, we need to launch the Hopper and get back to the pickup and try and get some rest before the balloon goes up, good night,” he cut the conference link and leaned back.
Patsy and Sunil said quiet goodbyes and left, they had things to do.
There was a rustle, and Paul found a sandwich being thrust under his nose, his stomach was tight, he hadn’t been able to eat much for days. The only reason he was eating, sleeping regularly w
as a certain person who he found to be as stubborn as her father in many ways. He took the sandwich without a word and took a bite, it was good.
He felt her cheek on the top of his head, “I’m sorry you had to yell at Conti.”
“So am I, he’s doing the best he can but he’s afraid of being left holding the bag.” He finished the sandwich. Then the small cup of coffee she handed him. “Thanks.” He said at last.
“You’re welcome.” She said softly.
Then, grabbing him by the shoulders of his overalls she hauled him out of the chair and around to face her, Luna gravity helped, but she was disconcertingly strong and now he was nose to nose with her she was also obviously furious, “Conti was a couple of hundred thousand miles away, I’m right here. If you think you fooled me with the bit about needing me on the Hopper for cover you have another think coming. The bombs were my idea and I know them rather more intimately than I like, Charlie’s a great old guy, tech, but he’s no expert with classes and practice. I am going with you on the Alexis, Phil or someone else can shoot the laser, it’s not hard, it does not require specialized training.”
“Uh…hh.” Was all he could think to say.
“You idiot,” She shook him gently then pulled him close and shut his mouth with hers.
Three quarters of an hour later Patsy comm’d from the Hopper, already floating outside with the cylindrical mass of the construction shack and some odd triangular structures on a temporary superstructure built over the original cargo deck, where the laser was still mounted. “Uh, guys, we need to get going, you’re going to be late to the pick up.”
-Graystown OH-
Wedged between steep, partially quarried hills, the old freight yard moldered. The brick built factories at the closed end of the valley had started in the days of waterpower, when there had been an actual town here. In the constricted valley the town had strangled as it grew and then been starved by the development of steam power. It had still bustled during the heyday of US industrial dominance and vast corrugated sheds had been put up during the buildup to WWII but it had all been abandoned by the early sixties. The buildings had been razed to stop vagrants using them so that all that remained was a narrow scrubby plain of tramped gravel and cinders between bleak rock walls and the network of rail sidings that had run down the streets. Most of the short tracks were beyond use, but the main line and a few sidings were still useable.
The current owner saw more money from tax write offs than from anything else but was happy to rent rail space to anyone who needed a temporary, out of the way, storage site. The opening of the valley was narrow, Gray Creek ran fast and rocky side by side with the single rail track cut into the side of the hill. There had only ever been one other way into the dead end valley and it had been closed by rock falls for decades now. The steep valley was too hard to access for thieves, petty or otherwise. The only visitors these days were hunters, and the occasional group of men and boys playing at being anti-government militiamen.
Some people had stored quite valuable cargoes here for months at a time, but times were tough and few cargoes, valuable or otherwise, waited long for delivery. Today only two of the sidings were in use. One had six very old, high-sided gondolas, holding copper scrap metal that the current owner hoped would increase in value to a worthwhile level sometime soon.
Five tracks over, four well cared for boxcars waited. Discrete symbols on the sides of the cars told railroad men in the know that they were government owned and contained munitions. But other than that they were rather nondescript. Of course the sentries at various points around the valley indicated something of value was here, but the young men and women were quite discreet, had been here for less than four hours, and would be gone in a few more.
Snow cloaked the hills and the ground, hiding some of the manmade bleakness under a natural cloak. The moon, riding high in a cloudless sky, lit the scene, etching gleaming black shadows across the silver snow sheet.
With a faint growl a massive shape reminiscent of an Aztec pyramid dropped out of the sky. Stopping a few feet off the ground the shape floated toward the first of the freight cars. As it approached lines of deeper black appeared on the side as a massive hatch swung out and aside. In the dimly blue-lit interior a figure stood speaking into a microphone. The ship came to a rest, the edge of the hull a bare two feet clear of the railcar.
On the ground a figure in the shadow of the end car watched with awe as the huge shape maneuvered to land with effortless silence. Now he trotted into calling distance, “Hey up there, I’m Sergeant Reynolds. Anyone up there hear me?” his voice was a bit plaintive.
“Hey Sergeant Reynolds, I’m Charlie, deck crew. You got the key for these lock boxes?” Came a cheerful voice from above.
“Yeah! You coulda parked a bit further away, I’m gointa hava bit of a squeeze getting’ to the locks.” The sergeant grunted a bit theatrically as walked carefully along the snow-covered sleepers, keeping his head down so he didn’t bash it against the rather sharp looking edge of the hull.
The friendly voice chuckled, “Sorry about that, the boss’s a bit of a perfectionist, wanted to get close enough to keep the ramp from bouncing too much.”
The sergeant felt comfortable with the voice, it seemed a reasonable sort. He fumbled with the cold metal of the first lock, and then disarmed the alarms before unlocking the second lock. Only then did he use his key on the very obvious padlock on the door latching mechanism. He rotated the latch on one door and then the other, he then hit the switch which motored the doors open. He looked around, “Lucky your cargo decks about right for this.”
A chuckle, “Ain’t nothin lucky about it, she was designed for doin this, guys who designed her thought of a lot of things like that.”
The Sergeant moved back towards the next freight car and turned to watch. He heard the clanks and clatters and whine of an electric vehicle. A tongue of metal extended from the ship to the freight car. A very prosaic looking forklift went over the ramp and a half minute later backed out with a freight skid piled high with four oblong objects. As the first forklift vanished back into the ship a second appeared.
In twenty minutes the first freight car was empty; the moonship lifted off and drifted down to the next freight car where the whole procedure was repeated. An hour and fifteen minutes after the landing the last of the deadly oblongs had been transferred. The ship lifted to settle twenty feet clear of the last freight car; Sergeant Reynolds trudged over to the ship and found that a set of steps had been extended for his use.
At the edge of the freight deck he stopped to stare. The inside was nothing like he had imagined, no polished metal and crystal, colored lights and immaculate white. Instead, he found himself on a buckled, dinged and worn decking of industrial pierced metal planking, currently covered with four-packs of small diameter guided bombs, various odd-looking racks and two forklift trucks. At the four corners of the pyramid were what looked like massive structural beams with caged stepladders running up two of them. A third had what looked like some kind of conveyor running up inside the cage. Overhead, between enigmatic mechanical structures and big industrial light fittings, he could see another floor of the pierced planking and through that he could see what must be the ship’s cabins.
“Welcome aboard the Alexis Aurora, Sergeant Reynolds,” The voice was female and faintly familiar, not the older man he’d chatted to during the offloading.
The sergeant turned to find the voice attached to slim younger woman in prosaic jeans and a heavy canvas jacket, behind her was a grinning older man in jeans and a heavy blue workingman’s jacket.
Then Reynolds did a double take, “Uh, Captain Chisholm?” He’d thought she’d look a lot nicer in a gingham dress and bonnet rather than Air Force blues, she looked OK like this as well.
She smiled, “Just Julia right now sergeant. She extended her hand to shake his, she hooked her thumb over her shoulder, “This is Charlie.”
/> The workman pulled off a heavy leather glove and extended his hand, “Good to meet ya Sarge. The Captain’s the deck boss, Me, Stevie, Reggie and Sue are your crew for the day.” Charlie hooked his thumb over his shoulder at the people still at work among the piles of ordinance.
The Captain pointed at the racks, “Those are what we’ll be loading up.”
Reynolds could see they were newly fabricated and the right dimensions for the bombs, they even vaguely looked like the sketch Major Larkin had e-mailed him.
Captain Chisholm nodded, “We need to load the racks, checking the presets on the weapons as we load, if I remember correctly?”
The sergeant nodded, “Yes ma’am, they’re all pre-programmed, but we need to check.”
Charlie sniffed, “Hope that don’t take long, a hell of a lot of em to do!?”
Reynolds pointed at a freight skid with boxes instead of bombs, “The bombs use a secure version of the old Wi-Fi protocol for targeting upload, that way we don’t have to worry about the wiring in bomb-bays so much.”
“Sounds a bit risky to me, but then I still like my telephones to have cords.” Charlie grinned depreciatingly, “Not that I get my way most days any longer.” He turned, “Show us how to handle these toys safely and we’ll get this show on the road.”
Reynolds followed, he found the deck crew made up of people at least five years older than he was, and at least as interested in staying alive. They were also as sharp a collection of deck hands as he’d ever met. Five minutes into the job he knew that the captain had given them a good pre-brief, twenty minutes into it he knew they’d be done in time, he was simply checking them to make sure no one got sloppy.
In another two hours the four racks had been moved so they took up the full width of the cargo hatch, each rack filled with eighty-eight, two-hundred-fifty pound bombs. Forty four tons, a load bigger than any carried by a strategic bomber. Sergeant Reynolds and Captain Chisholm ran through the weapon’s status in one.
He came to the end of the rack, checked a couple of serial numbers and nodded. He looked up, “Well, that’s it Captain, Charlie, all primed, if the civvies’ authorities ever found out we transported the better part of fifty tons of live munitions along the route we took a whole bunch of people are going to be needing a presidential pardon.” He grinned wickedly, “I hear you and the others are taking a ride home with me and the boys and girls freezing their fannies off in the hills? Where are the pilot types we need to instruct in the proper care and feeding?”
The captain smiled slightly, “You’ll take Stevie, Sue and Reggie; Charlie and I are going to be taking a trip to the sunny South Pacific, thanks again for the help Sergeant.” Before he could close his mouth she shook his hand, turned and strode to the odd conveyer contraption. When she had a foot on one rung and a hand on another it started up and swept her up and out of sight.
The older man’s eyes crinkled kindly as he extended his hand, “Thanks for the help Sarge, hope we put these little presents to good use, ruining some punk tyrant’s plans.”
The sergeant extended his hand and found it crushed by the other mans callused grip. Charlie’s goodbyes to the others were almost as quick, though the bonds were obviously strong and they obviously didn’t expect to see Charlie again.
As Reynolds stepped off the ship he realized he never had seen the pilot of the ship. He stood there with the three castaways and watched as the big black ship fell up into the sky and vanished. He found he had a very big lump in his throat.
-Later-
Paul still found the warm touch of someone else lying with him unreal, a mix of comforting, exciting and frightening. Julia was lying tight against him, necessary in the narrow bunk, they were both dressed, still in the cuddling and kissing stage of their romance, earlier they had come close to going further, then they had gone to sleep in each other’s arms.
They were at Luna Gravity again, the Alexis looping up, far above the South Pole with Charlie in the cockpit watching over things, probably dozing if he had any sense.
Julia’s breathing was even and just noisy enough to tell him she was asleep. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder and his arm lay along her back, his fingers could feel the bumps of her spine through her tee shirt. He could feel the pressure of her breasts against his chest and the strength of her jean clad legs entangled with his. In the dark his sense of touch drew a picture of her that was more intimate than any his eyes had ever perceived.
But the warmth and companionship frightened him. In less than two hours now the die would be cast, if it hadn’t been days, weeks, even years ago. In a hundred and some minutes they would have no way back because people, people he knew, would have gone from at risk, to in harm’s way and some weapons would already be in the air.
Julia’s presence made his heart ache, he wanted, needed her near, but ancient instinct and recent memories screamed that he was a fool to risk her, but equally he knew he could not stop her, not and keep her love. But he could not get rid of the images of the ripped and crushed bodies of the children, women and men pulled from the ruins of far side. The effects of exposure to vacuum had accentuated the obscenity of violent death.
Tears trickled down his cheeks; he was an engineer, not a warrior, not even a politician. Though he knew he was, or could be a leader and this is what leaders had had to do, choose the least bad option. He wished there were some other option.
If it survived, the tiny Luna Republic proto state would be an actor, maybe a pawn, possibly a real player in the coming war. The question was how to make sure they survived. Emotions roiled and burned as his mind sorted through what he knew and what he could guess at, intentions formed and reformed, plans unfolded and firmed.
It was a surprise when he felt movement, Julia’s lips touched his cheek, she silently kissed the tears and their tracks away, and then moved around to his lips.