There was very little of the text that still puzzled him. In essence, just one single word, added before the dark network went silent, and only because it occupied the space between Operation and of timing in such an odd way, as if it didn’t belong there.
MoonLight
That’s what he’d assumed it said, at any rate.
‘Diane. Fragment analysis. Attribute the origin data to the text building stones.’
‘Colour recognition?’
‘Yes, please.’
A moment later, words like payload rocket and Enterprises were transformed into colourful chains of alphabet letters. Ent erpr ises was, for example, assembled from three sections of data and other terms like Operation and implemented, came from a single data section.
Four fragments created Mo o n light.
‘Oh, God,’ whispered Jericho.
‘What’s wrong?’ Yoyo jumped up, came over and leaned over his shoulder.
‘I think we’ve made a mistake.’
‘A mistake?’
‘A huge mistake.’ How could he have missed it? It was right in front of him. ‘We may have put them on the wrong track. The bomb isn’t supposed to go off in Gaia—’
‘Not in Gaia? But—’
‘There would be no point if it did, and we knew that the whole time. Idiot! I’m such a stupid, blind idiot!’
Operation Mo o n Light
Operation Mountains of Eternal Light.
Chinese Mining Station, Sinus Iridum, The Moon
Jia Keqiang was no politician. He was a taikonaut, a geologist and a major, in that order, or possibly the other way around depending on his mood, but he was no politician, that was for sure. In his experience, the only difference between Chinese and American spacemen, or indeed Russian, Indian, German and French, was the ideology behind them, and whether they were called astronauts, cosmonauts or taikonauts. What they all had in common though was a way of looking at the big picture which politicians, in his experience, never had, except of course for those few statesmen who had been in space themselves. Hua Liwei, his predecessor up on the Moon, had been an American captive for a while and still took every official appearance as an opportunity to accuse the Americans of hair-raising breaches of the lunar peace, but this couldn’t shake Jia’s opinion that spacemen were easygoing, unpolitical people. It was just that each and every one of them followed their script faithfully. Even Hua Liwei, once he had a drink or two inside him, in private, would happily admit that he liked the Yanks, that they had treated him very well and that, as it happened, they had some excellent Scotch tucked away in the catacombs at Peary Base.
Mind you, Hua also reckoned that the Americans were to blame for the whole farcical episode, and Jia agreed with him there. Nevertheless, he had done his best during the Moon crisis to argue for de-escalation and understanding all round, using what influence he had. The Party held him in high esteem as a bright young hope of the Chinese space programme; he was a highly decorated officer in the Air Force and had trained as a taikonaut under the watchful eye of the legendary Zhai Zhigang. On top of all this, he also had a doctorate in geology, specialising in exo-geology, qualifying him to work on the helium-3 mining operation. Zhai had passed on to Jia his love of ballroom dancing, and he was also inordinately fond of naval history, spending hours on end researching the brief flowering of Chinese seamanship in the fifteenth century and the fabled nine-masted ships of the time; he had painstakingly built a three-metre-long scale model of Admiral Zhang He’s flagship. When he wasn’t up in space, he loved to sail with his wife and sons, to read books on maritime history and to cook, which he did as a sort of meditation. He was proud that his country had become the first after the USA to make it to the Moon, he was irked that Zheng Pang-Wang hadn’t made any progress on the space elevator, he was worried about America’s dominance in space and he was slow to make predictions about the future. He was a perfect public face for China, friendly, media-savvy, patriotic, and always careful to keep to himself his own personal opinion that politicians both sides of the Great Wall were not the brightest bulbs in the shop. ‘Frankly’, as the Americans would say, he thought that politicians were idiots.
But right now he had to think about politics, if he didn’t want to lose control of the story he’d suddenly found himself caught up in.
Julian Orley was sitting across from him.
The very fact that he was here was remarkable enough, but what Orley had to tell him was even more startling. Twenty minutes ago he had appeared from the dustbowl of the mining camp, along with his daughter-in-law, the American talk-show queen Evelyn Chambers and some Russian Jia knew nothing at all about, all riding on grasshoppers like a squad of defeated Jedi fleeing the field, and they had asked for shelter and for help. Everyone in the base had been asleep, of course, since it was half past three in the morning, though Orley seemed surprised when Jia pointed this out to him. They had hurried to take care of their unexpected guests, fussed around them and made hot tea, but even so the commander found himself in a tricky situation, since—
* * *
‘—without wishing to offend, Mr Orley, last time the Americans entered our territory, there was some trouble.’
They had tried talking Chinese for a while, but Orley’s laborious, broken Mandarin was no match for Jia’s fluent English. Jia’s crew, Zhou Jinping and Na Mou, were in the next room, looking after the others. Evelyn Chambers in particular was in a bad state, showing signs of an imminent nervous breakdown.
‘Your territory?’ Orley raised an eyebrow. ‘Wasn’t it the other way about?’
‘We are of course aware that America takes, let us say, a different view of the matter,’ Jia said. ‘That is, regarding who intruded into whose territory. Perception is such a subjective thing.’
‘It certainly is.’ The Englishman nodded. ‘But you see, Commander, I couldn’t give two hoots about any of that. I’m not answerable for the local mining operation, or for Washington’s territorial issues. I’ve built an elevator, a space station and a hotel.’
‘If you will permit me an observation, that list is not quite complete. You benefit from the mining, because you’re the one who can build the reactors.’
‘Still, I do it as a private businessman.’
‘NASA’s technologies would be inconceivable without Orley Enterprises, and vice versa. In China’s view, that makes you more than just a private businessman.’
Orley smiled. ‘So why does Zheng Pang-Wang constantly remind me that that’s just what I am?’
‘Perhaps to reassure you that you have a free choice in the matter?’ Jia smiled back. ‘Please don’t misunderstand me. I would not presume to question the honourable Zheng’s motives, but he is no more a private businessman than you are. You have more influence over world politics than many a politician. More tea?’
‘Please.’
‘You see, I am concerned that you should understand my situation, Mr Orley—’
‘Julian.’
Jia was silent for a moment, uncomfortable, then poured the tea. He had never understood what made the English and the Americans so keen to get onto first-name terms at every conceivable opportunity.
‘The extended agreements signed in November 2024 commit us to helping one another here on the Moon,’ he said. ‘We are taikonauts, you are astronauts, we are all of us humanity’s ambassadors to the stars. We should stand shoulder to shoulder. Speaking personally, I would allow you to use our shuttle the moment you ask for it, but the very fact that it is you asking gives the whole thing a very political aspect. On top of all which, there might be nuclear bombs involved.’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had Chinese help in the matter. Without that, we’d probably know nothing at all about the bomb, and we’d be hiking happily around the lunar hills with Hanna until the whole place blew up.’
‘Hmm, well—’
‘On the other hand—’ Orley steepled his fingers. ‘I’ll put my cards on the table. The people
who warned us can’t rule out that China might actually have a hand in the planned attack—’
‘Preposterous!’ Jia snorted. ‘What interest would my country have in destroying your hotel?’
‘You think it’s ridiculous?’
‘Quite ridiculous!’
* * *
Julian looked thoughtfully at the man sitting across from him. Jia was a pleasant enough chap, but he was a Beijing company man through and through. If the plot against Orley Enterprises really had been hatched in China, then Jia might well have some part in it. In which case, he was speaking to his enemy right now, which was one more reason to speak openly; he would have to make the man understand that the puppet-masters were about to be unmasked, and that it might be a good move to spill the beans. If Jericho and his friends were wrong, then every secret and suspicion he aired was just one step closer to winning Jia’s trust. He leaned forward.
‘The bomb was put into orbit in 2024,’ he said.
‘Okay, so?’
‘That was when we had that crisis you mentioned.’
‘We did everything that we could to ensure a peaceful resolution.’
‘There’s no arguing, though, that at the time, Beijing wasn’t very well inclined towards Washington. This being so, you may be interested to learn that the bomb was bought from Korean stockpiles, on the black market, and that the buyers were Chinese.’
Jia looked at him in astonishment. Then he passed his hand over his eyes, as though he had just walked head-on into a cobweb.
‘We’re a nuclear power,’ he said. ‘Why would the Party buy nuclear weapons on the black market?’
‘I never said that it was the Party who bought it.’
‘Hmm. Go on.’
‘It’s also worth noting that although the bomb was launched from African soil, the president of Equatorial Guinea at the time was just a puppet, and one that your government had installed. From what I understand, the technology for the Equatorial Guinea space programme all came from Zheng—’
‘Hold on!’ Jia expostulated. ‘What are you saying? That Zheng wanted to destroy your hotel, with an atom bomb?’
‘Please persuade me otherwise.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘I have no idea. Because we’re commercial rivals?’
‘But you’re not! You’re not competing for the same markets. You’re competing for know-how. So you spy on one another, pay bribes, argue your corner, try to form alliances – but you don’t start hurling nuclear bombs about.’
‘The gloves are off now.’
‘But an attack like that would be of absolutely no benefit to Zheng, or to my country! What would destroying your hotel do to change the balance of power, even if you died as well?’
‘Quite so. What?’
For a long moment Jia said nothing at all, but kneaded at the bridge of his nose and kept his lids shut tight. When he opened them again, the question in his eyes was easy to read.
‘No,’ Julian answered.
‘No?’
‘My visit here isn’t part of some double-cross, honourable Jia, it’s not a plan or an operation. I truly have no wish to harm you or your country. There’s a lot I could have left unmentioned if I had wanted to steer your decision-making.’
‘And what do you expect me to do now?’
‘I can tell you what I need.’
‘You want me to take you and your friends back to the hotel with our shuttle?’
‘As fast as you can! My son and daughter are in Gaia, as well as the guests and staff. We have reason to fear that Hanna is making his own way back there. I also need the use of your satellites.’
‘My satellites?’
‘Yes. Have you had any trouble with them in the last few hours?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Ours have failed completely, as I told you at the beginning. Yours seem to be working. I need two connections. One to my headquarters in London, and another to Gaia.’ Julian paused. ‘I have put my trust in you completely, Commander, even at the risk of your refusing my request. I can do no more. The rest is up to you.’
The taikonaut fell silent again, then said slowly, ‘You would of course be in China’s debt if I were to help you.’
‘Of course.’
Julian could see the wheels going round in Jia’s head. Right at this moment, the commander was worrying about whether his visitor might actually be right, and his government had plotted some dirty trick that he knew nothing about. And whether, perhaps, he was in danger of committing high treason if he offered unconditional help to the man who had put America where it was today.
Julian cleared his throat.
‘Perhaps you might bear in mind that somebody is trying to make a cat’s paw of your country,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t take too kindly to that, if I were you.’
Jia glowered at him.
‘Entry-level Psychology.’
‘Ah, well.’ Julian shrugged and smiled. ‘Something of the sort.’
‘Go next door and join your friends,’ Jia said. ‘Wait.’
* * *
Chambers couldn’t stop the loop from playing. Over and over again she saw the beetle’s foot coming down to crush her, and suddenly she began to twitch epileptically. She slid down the wall of the hab module like a wet rag. Amber and Oleg were in there with her. It was cramped in the station, horribly cramped, quite unlike the American living quarters. Na Mou, one of the taikonauts, was fussing over them with tea and spicy crab cakes. While Julian was softening up the commander, Chambers had been telling the Chinese woman about the events of the last few hours. Perhaps Na understood more English than she spoke, but Chambers herself was so horrified by her own story that the words stuck in her throat.
‘You lie down,’ Na said, kindly. She was a Mongolian-looking woman with broad cheekbones and strongly slanted eyes, with something of the past about her, a suggestion of marching parades and collective farms.
‘It keeps on coming,’ Chambers whispered. ‘It keeps on and on.’
‘Yes. Legs up.’
‘Whether I shut my eyes or keep them open, it never stops.’ She grabbed Na’s wrist, and felt ice-cold sweat start up on her own upper lip and forehead. ‘I’ll be squashed any moment. By a beetle. Isn’t that crazy? People squash beetles, not the other way around. But I can’t stop seeing it.’
‘You can stop.’ Amber turned away from Zhou Jinping, the third crew member at the base, who had been questioning her eagerly. She sat down next to Chambers. ‘You’ve had a shock, that’s all.’
‘No, I—’
‘It’s okay, Evy. I’m pretty close to collapsing myself.’
‘No, there was something there.’ Chambers rolled her eyes, rather like a voodoo priestess in a trance, a mambo. ‘Death was there.’
‘I know.’
‘No, I was over on the other side, do you understand? I was really there. And Momoka was there, and – I mean, I knew that she was dead, but—’
Two dams broke, grief and shock, and tears spilled down over Chambers’ beautiful Latin features. She gesticulated as though trying to ward off some spell, then let her hands drop, exhausted, and began to cry. Amber put an arm around her shoulder and drew her in close, gently.
‘Too much,’ Na Mou said, nodding wisely.
‘It’ll all be all right, Evy.’
‘I wanted to ask her what happens to us next,’ Chambers sobbed. ‘It was so cold in her world. I think she laid a curse on me, she makes me see this terrible sight over and over, she must have seen something just as awful before she died, and—’
‘Evy,’ Amber said quietly but firmly. ‘You’re not clairvoyant. Your nerves are shot, that’s all.’
‘I didn’t even like her very much.’
‘None of us liked her very much.’ Amber sighed. ‘Apart from Warren, I suppose.’
‘But that’s awful!’ Chambers clung tightly to her, racked by sobs. ‘And now she’s gone, we couldn’t even – couldn’t even say
something nice—’
Do we have to? Amber thought. Do you have to say nice things to someone who’s clearly a bitch, just on the off-chance that she’ll kick the bucket in the near future?
‘I don’t think she really saw it like that,’ she said.
‘Really?’
‘Really. Momoka had her own ideas about what’s nice or not.’
Chambers buried her face in Amber’s shoulder. The most powerful woman in American media, the voice who made presidents, cried for a few more minutes until she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. Na Mou and Zhou Jinping had fallen quiet, respecting her sorrow. Rogachev was lying on one of the narrow beds, his legs crossed, and scribbling away on a piece of paper they had found for him.
‘What are you doing there?’ Amber asked, tired.
The Russian twiddled the pen in his fingers without looking at her.
‘I’m doing my sums.’
* * *
Jia Keqiang was wrestling with himself. It was a tough fight.
Plentiful experience told him what a long and stony path lay ahead if he took the matter through official channels, just as he knew that the Chinese space agency was largely staffed by paranoiacs. On the other hand, all he needed to do was make one telephone call, and he’d be free of all responsibility. He’d be out of danger of making any mistake, whereas if he spoke up for Orley on his own initiative he would be doomed to mistakes. All he had to do was pass the buck to one of the Party paper-shufflers, and if Orley’s hotel actually was destroyed, it would be no fault of his. Then Beijing would have to face accusations of failing to live up to their treaty obligations and provide adequate help, while he could make loud noises about how he had wanted to help and hadn’t been allowed. He could sleep easy in his bed, and not worry about his career.
If he could sleep easy.
On the other hand – what if Orley was right, and Beijing really was pulling the strings?
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