The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress Part 28

"This is not Gospodin Selene," Mike answered in a strange voice, "this is one of his a.s.sistants. Adam Selene was in Churchill Upper when it lost pressure. I'm afraid that we must a.s.sume that he is dead."

"What?"

"I am very sorry, Gospodin."

"Hold phone!" Chased a couple of drillmen and a girl out of room, then sat down and lowered hush hood. "Mike," I said softly, "private now. What is this gum-beating?"

"Man," he said quietly, "think it over. Adam Selene had to go someday. He's served his purpose and is, as you pointed out, almost out of the government. Professor and I have discussed this; the only question has been the timing. Can you think of a better last use for Adam than to have him die in this invasion? It makes him a national hero . . . and the nation needs one. Let it stand that 'Adam Selene is probably dead' until you can talk to Professor. If he still needs 'Adam Selene' it can turn out that he was trapped in a private pressure and had to wait to be rescued."

"Well-Okay, let it stay open. Personally, I always preferred your 'Mike' personality anyhow."

"I know you do, Man my first and best friend, and so do I. It's my real one; 'Adam' was a phony."

"Uh, yes. But, Mike, if Prof is dead in Kongville, I'm going to need help from 'Adam' awful bad."

"So we've got him iced and can bring him back if we need him. The stuffed s.h.i.+rt. Man, when this is over, are you going to have time to take up with me that research into humor again?"

"I'll take time, Mike; that's a promise."

"Thanks, Man. These days you and Wyoh never have time to visit. . . and Professor wants to talk about things that aren't much fun. I'll be glad when this war is over."

"Are we going to win, Mike?"

He chuckled. "It's been days since you asked me that. Here's a pinky-new projection, run since invasion started. Hold on tight, Man-our chances are now even!"

"Good Bog!"

"So b.u.t.ton up and go see the fun. But stay back at least a hundred meters from the gun; that s.h.i.+p may be able to follow back a laser beam with another one. Ranging shortly. Twenty-one minutes."

Didn't get that far away, as needed to stay on phone and longest cord around was less. I jacked parallel into gun captain's phone, found a shady rock and sat down. Sun was high in west, so close to Terra that I could see Terra only by visoring against Sun's glare-no crescent yet, new earth ghostly gray in moonlight surrounded by a thin radiance of atmosphere.

I pulled my helmet back into shade. "Ballistic control, O'Kelly Davis now at Drill Gun George. Near it, I mean, about a hundred meters," Figured Mike would not be able to tell how long a cord I was using, out of kilometers of wires.

"Ballistic control aye aye," Mike answered without argument. "I will so inform HQ."

"Thank you, ballistic control. Ask HQ if they have heard from Congressman Wyoming Davis today." Was fretted about Wyoh and whole family.

"I will inquire." Mike waited a reasonable time, then said, "HQ says that Gospazha Wyoming Davis has taken charge of first-aid work in Old Dome."

"Thank you." Chest suddenly felt better. Don't love Wyoh more than others but-well, she was new. And Luna needed her.

"Ranging," Mike said briskly. "All guns, elevation eight seven zero, azimuth one nine three zero, set parallax for thirteen hundred kilometers closing to surface. Report when eyeballed."

I stretched out, pulling knees up to stay in shade, and searched part of sky indicated, almost zenith and a touch south. With sunlight not on my helmet I could see stars, but inner pert of binox were hard to position-had to twist around and raise up on right elbow.

Nothing-Hold it, was star with disc . . . where no planet ought to be. Noted another star close, watched and waited.

Uh huh! Da! Growing brighter and creeping north very slowly-Hey, that brute is going to land right on us!

But thirteen hundred kilometers is a long way, even when closing to terminal velocity. Reminded self that it couldn't fall on us from a departure ellipse looping back, would have to fall around Luna-unless s.h.i.+p had maneuvered into new trajectory. Which Mike hadn't mentioned. Wanted to ask, decided not to-wanted him to put all his savvy into a.n.a.lyzing that s.h.i.+p, not distract him with questions.

All guns reported eyeball tracking, including four Mike was laying himself, via selsyns. Those four reported tracking dead on by eyeball without touching manual controls-good news; meant that Mike had that baby taped, had solved trajectory perfectly.

Shortly was clear that s.h.i.+p was not falling around Luna, was coming in for landing. Didn't need to ask; it was getting much brighter and position against stars was not changing-d.a.m.n, it was going to land on us!

"Five hundred kilometers closing," Mike said quietly. "Stand by to burn. All guns on remote control, override manually at command 'burn.' Eighty seconds."

Longest minute and twenty seconds I've ever met-that brute was big! Mike called every ten seconds down to thirty, then started chanting seconds. "-five-four-three-two-one-BURN!" and s.h.i.+p suddenly got much brighter.

Almost missed little speck that detached itself just before-or just at-burn. But Mike said suddenly, "Missile launched. Selsyn guns track with me, do not override. Other guns stay on s.h.i.+p. Be ready for new coordinates."

A few seconds or hours later he gave new coordinates and added, "Eyeball and burn at will."

I tried to watch s.h.i.+p and missile both, lost both-jerked eyes away from binoculars, suddenly saw missile-then saw it impact, between us and catapult head. Closer to us, less than a kilometer. No, it did not go off, not an H-fusion reaction, or I wouldn't be telling this. But made a big, bright explosion of its own, remaining fuel I guess, silver bright even in sunlight, and shortly I felt-heard ground wave. But nothing was hurt but a few cubic meters of rock.

s.h.i.+p was still coming down. No longer burned bright; could see it as a s.h.i.+p now and didn't seem hurt. Expected any instant that tail of fire to shoot out, stop it into a dido landing.

Did not. Impacted ten kilometers north of us and made a fancy silvery halfdome before it gave up and quit being anything but spots before eyes.

Mike said, "Report casualties, secure all guns. Go below when secured."

"Gun Alice, no casualties"-"Gun Bambie no casualties"-"Gun Caesar, one man hit by rock splinter, pressure contained"-Went below, to that proper phone, called Mike. "What happened, Mike? Wouldn't they give you control after you burned their eyes out?"

"They gave me control, Man."

"Too late?"

"I crashed it, Man. It seemed the prudent course."

An hour later was down with Mike, first time in four or five months. Could reach Complex Under more quickly than L-City and was in as close touch there with anybody as would be in-city-with no interruptions. Needed to talk to Mike.

I had tried to phone Wyoh from catapult head tube station; reached somebody at Old Dome temporary hospital and learned that Wyoh had collapsed and been bedded down herself, with enough sleepy-time to keep her out for night. Finn had gone to Churchill with a capsule of his lads, to lead attack on transport there. Stu I hadn't heard from. Hong Kong and Prof were still cut off. At moment Mike and I seemed to be total government.

And time to start Operation Hard Rock.

But Hard Rock was not just throwing rocks; was also telling Terra what we were going to do and why-and our just cause for doing so. Prof and Stu and Sheenie and Adam had all worked on it, a dummy-up based on an a.s.sumed attack. Now attack had come, and propaganda had to be varied to fit. Mike had already rewritten it and put it through print-out so I could study it.

I looked up from a long roll of paper. "Mike, these news stories and our message to F.N. all a.s.sume that we have won in Hong Kong. How sure are you?"

"Probability in excess of eighty-two percent."

"Is that good enough to send these out?"

"Man, the probability that we will win there, if we haven't already, approaches certainty. That transport can't move; the others were dry, or nearly. There isn't that much monatomic hydrogen in HKL; they would have to come here. Which means moving troops overland by rolligon-a rough trip with the Sun up even for Loonies-then defeat us when they get here. They can't. This a.s.sumes that that transport and its troops are no better armed than the others."

"How about that repair crew to Bee Ell?"

"I say not to wait. Man, I've used your voice freely and made all preparations. Horror pictures, Old Dome and elsewhere, especially Churchill Upper, for video. Stories to match. We should channel news Earthside at once, and announce execution of Hard Rock at same time."

I took a deep breath. "Execute Operation Hard Rock."

"Want to give the order yourself? Say it aloud and I'll match it, voice and choice of words."

"Go ahead, say it your way. Use my voice and my authority as Minister of Defense and acting head of government. Do it, Mike, throw rocks at 'em! d.a.m.n it, big rocks! Hit 'em hard!"

"Righto, Man!"

25

"A maximum of instructive shrecklichkeit with minimum loss of life. None, if possible"-was how Prof summed up doctrine for Operation Hard Rock and was way Mike and I carried it out. Idea was to hit earthworms so hard would convince them-while hitting so gently as not to hurt. Sounds impossible, but wait.

Would necessarily be a delay while rocks fell from Luna to Terra; could be as little as around ten hours to as long as we dared to make it. Departure speed from a catapult is highly critical and a variation on order of one percent could double or halve trajectory time, Luna to Terra. This Mike could do with extreme accuracy-was equally at home with a slow ball, many sorts of curves, or burn it right over plate-and I wish he had pitched for Yankees. But no matter how he threw them, final velocity at Terra would be close to Terra's escape speed, near enough eleven kilometers per second as to make no difference. That terrible speed results from gravity well shaped by Terra's ma.s.s, eighty times that of Luna, and made no real difference whether Mike pushed a missile gently over well curb or flipped it briskly. Was not muscle that counted but great depth of that well.

So Mike could program rock-throwing to suit time needed for propaganda. He and Prof had settled on three days plus not more than one apparent rotation of Terra--24hrs-50min-28.32sec-to allow our first target to reach initial point of program. You see, while Mike was capable of hooking a missile around Terra and hitting a target on its far side, he could be much more accurate if he could see his target, follow it down by radar during last minutes and nudge it a little for pinpoint accuracy.

We needed this extreme accuracy to achieve maximum frightfulness with minimum-to-zero killing. Call our shots, tell them exactly where they would be hit and at what second-and give them three days to get off that spot.

So our first message to Terra, at 0200 13 Oct 76 seven hours after they invaded, not only announced destruction of their task force, and denounced invasion for brutality, but also promised retaliation bombing, named times and places, and gave each nation a deadline by which to denounce F.N.'s action, recognize us, and thereby avoid being bombed. Each deadline was twenty-four hours before local "strike".

Was more time than Mike needed. That long before impact a rock for a target would be in s.p.a.ce a long way out, its guidance thrustors still unused and plenty of elbow room. With considerably less than a full day's warning Mike could miss Terra entirely-kick that rock sideways and make it fall around Terra in a permanent orbit. But with even an hour's warning he could usually abort into an ocean.

First target was North American Directorate.

All great Peace Force nations, seven veto powers, would be hit: N.A. Directorate, Great China, India, Sovunion, PanAfrica (Chad exempted), Mitteleuropa, Brasilian Union. Minor nations were a.s.signed targets and times, too-but were told that not more than 20 percent of these targets would be hit-partly shortage of steel but also frightfulness: if Belgium was. .h.i.t first time around, Holland might decide to protect her polders by dealing out before Luna was again high in her sky.

But every target was picked to avoid if possible killing anybody. For Mitteleuropa this was difficult; our targets had to be water or high mountains-Adriatic, North Sea, Baltic, so forth. But on most of Terra is open s.p.a.ce despite eleven billion busy breeders.

North America had struck me as horribly crowded, but her billion people are clumped-is still wasteland, mountain and desert. We laid down a grid on North America to show how precisely we could hit-Mike felt that fifty meters would be a large error. We had examined maps and Mike had checked by radar all even intersections, say 105 W by 50 N-if no town there, might wind up on target grid . . . especially if a town was close enough to provide spectators to be shocked and frightened.

We warned that our bombs would be as destructive as H- bombs but emphasized that there would be no radioactive fallout, no killing radiation-just a terrible explosion, shock wave in air, ground wave of concussion. We warned that these might knock down buildings far outside of explosion and then left it to their judgments how far to run. If they clogged their roads, fleeing from panic rather than real danger-well, that was fine, just fine!

But we emphasized that n.o.body would get hurt who heeded our warnings, that every target first time around would be uninhabited-we even offered to skip any target if a nation would inform us that our data were out-of-date. (Empty offer; Mike's radar vision was a cosmic 20/20.) But by not saying what would happen second time around, we hinted that our patience could be exhausted.

In North America, grid was parallels 35, 40, 45, 50 degrees north crossed by meridians 110, 115, 120 west, twelve targets. For each we added a folksy message to natives, such as: "Target 115 west by 35 north-impact will be displaced forty-five kilometers northwest to exact top of New York Peak. Citizens of Goffs, Cima, Kelso, and Nipton please note.

"Target 100 west by 40 north is north 30 west of Norton, Kansas, at twenty kilometers or thirteen English miles. Residents of Norton, Kansas, and of Beaver City and Wilsonville, Nebraska, are cautioned. Stay away from gla.s.s windows. It is best to wait indoors at least thirty minutes after impact because of possibility of long, high splashes of rock. Flash should not be looked at with bare eyes. Impact will be exactly 0300 your local zone time Friday 16 October, or 0900 Greenwich time-good luck!

"Target 110 W by 50 N-impact will be offset ten kilometers north. People of Walsh, Saskatchewan, please note."

Besides this grid, a target was selected in Alaska (150 W x 60 N) and two in Mexico (110W x 30 N, 105 W x 25 N) so that they would not feel left out, and several targets in the crowded east, mostly water, such as Lake Michigan halfway between Chicago and Grand Rapids, and Lake Okeechobee in Florida. Where we used bodies of water Mike worked predictions of flooding waves from impacts, a time for each sh.o.r.eline establishment.

For three days, starting early morning Tuesday 13th and going on to strike time early Friday 16 and going on to strike time early Friday 16th, we flooded Earth with warnings. England was cautioned that impact north of Dover Straits opposite London Estuary would cause disturbances far up Thames; Sovunion was given warning for Sea of Azov and had own grid defined; Great China was a.s.signed grid in Siberia, Gobi Desert, and her far west-with offsets to avoid her historic Great Wall noted in loving detail. Pan Africa was awarded shots into Lake Victoria, still-desert part of Sahara, one on Drakensberg in south, one offset twenty kilometers due west of Great Pyramid-and urged to follow Chad not later than midnight Thursday, Greenwich. India was told to watch certain mountain peaks and outside Bombay harbor-time, same as Great China. And so forth.

Attempts were made to jam our messages but we were beaming straight down on several wavelengths-hard to stop.

Warnings were mixed with propaganda, white and black-news of failed invasion, horror pictures of dead, names and I.D. numbers of invaders-addressed to Red Cross and Crescent but in fact a grim boast showing that every trooper had been killed and that all s.h.i.+ps' officers and crew had been killed or captured-we "regretted" being unable to identify dead of flags.h.i.+p, as it had been shot down with destruction so complete as to make it impossible.

But our att.i.tude was conciliatory-"Look, people of Terra, we don't want to kill you. In this necessary retaliation we are making every effort to avoid killing you. . . but if you can't or won't get your governments to leave us in peace, then we shall be forced to kill you. We're up here, you're down there; you can't stop us. So please be sensible!"

We explained over and over how easy it was for us to hit them, how hard for them to reach us. Nor was this exaggeration. It's barely possible to launch missiles from Terra to Luna; it's easier to launch from Earth parking orbit-but very expensive. Their practical way to bomb us was from s.h.i.+ps.

This we noted and asked them how many multimilliondollar s.h.i.+ps they cared to use up trying it? What was it worth to try to spank us for something we had not done? It had cost them seven of their biggest and best already-did they want to try for fourteen? If so, our secret weapon that we used on FNS Pax was waiting.

Last above was a calculated boast-Mike figured less than one chance in a thousand that Pax had been able to get off a message reporting what had happened to her and it was still less likely that proud F.N. would guess that convict miners could convert their tools into s.p.a.ce weapons. Nor did F.N. have many s.h.i.+ps to risk. Were about two hundred s.p.a.ce vehicles in commission, not counting satellites. But nine-tenths of these were Terra-to-orbit s.h.i.+ps such as Lark-and she had been able to make a Luna jump only by stripping down and arriving dry.

s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps aren't built for no purpose-too expensive. F.N. had six cruisers that could probably bomb us without landing on Luna to refill tanks simply by swapping payload for extra tanks. Had several more which might be modified much as Lark had been, plus a few convict and cargo s.h.i.+ps which could get into orbit around Luna but could never go home without refilling tanks.

Was no possible doubt that F.N. could defeat us; question was how high a price they would pay. So we had to convince them that price was too high before they had time to bring enough force to bear. A poker game-We intended to raise so steeply that they would fold and drop out. We hoped. And then never have to show our busted flush.

Communication with Hong Kong Luna was restored at end of first day of radio-video phase, during which time Mike was "throwing rocks," getting first barrage lined up. Prof called-and was I happy to hear! Mike briefed him, then I waited, expecting one of his mild reprimands-bracing self to answer sharply: "And what was I supposed to do? With you out of touch and possibly dead? Me left alone as acting head of government and crisis on top of us? Throw it away, just because you couldn't be reached?"

Never got to say it. Prof said, "You did exactly right, Manuel. You were acting head of government and the crisis was on top of you. I'm delighted that you did not throw away the golden moment merely because I was out of touch."

What can you do with a bloke like that? Me with heat up to red mark and no chance to use it-had to swallow and say, "Spasebaw, Prof."

Prof confirmed death of "Adam Selene." "We could have used the fiction a little longer but this is the perfect opportunity. Mike, you and Manuel have matters in hand; I had better stop off at Churchill on my way home and identify his body."

So he did. Whether Prof picked a Loonie body or a trooper I never asked, nor how he silenced anybody else involved-perhaps no huhu as many bodies in Churchill Upper were never identified. This one was right size and skin color; it had been explosively decompressed and burned in face-looked awful!

It lay in state in Old Dome with face covered, and was speech-making I didn't listen to-Mike didn't miss a word; his most human quality was his conceit. Some rockhead wanted to embalm this dead flesh, giving Lenin as a precedent. But Pravda pointed out that Adam was a staunch conservationist and would never want this barbaric exception made. So this unknown soldier, or citizen, or citizen-soldier, wound up in our city's cloaca.

Which forces me to tell something I've put off. Wyoh was not hurt, merely exhaustion. But Ludmilla never came back. I did not know it-glad I didn't-but she was one of many dead at foot of ramp facing Ben Marche. An explosive bullet hit between her lovely, little-girl b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Kitchen knife in her hand had blood on it--! think she had had time to pay Ferryman's Fee.

Stu came out to Complex to tell me rather than phoning, then went back with me. Stu had not been missing; once fight was over he had gone to Raffles to work with his special codebook-but that can wait. Mum reached him there and he offered to break it to me.

So then I had to go home for our crying-together-though it is well that n.o.body reached me until after Mike and I started Hard Rock. When we got home, Stu did not want to come in, not being sure of our ways. Anna came out and almost dragged him in. He was welcome and wanted; many neighbors came to cry. Not as many as with most deaths-but we were just one of many families crying together that day.

Did not stay long-couldn't; had work to do. I saw Milla just long enough to kiss her good-bye. She was lying in her room and did look as if she did be simply sleeping. Then I stayed a while with my beloveds before going back to pick up load. Had never realized, until that day, how old Mimi is. Sure, she had seen many deaths, some her own descendants. But little Milla's death did seem almost too much for her. Ludmilla was special-Mimi's granddaughter, daughter in all but fact, and by most special exception and through Mimi's intervention her co-wife, most junior to most senior.

Like all Loonies, we conserve our dead-and am truly glad that barbaric custom of burial was left back on old Earth; our way is better. But Davis family does not put that which comes out of processor into our commercial farming tunnels. No. It goes into our little greenhouse tunnel, there to become roses and daffodils and peonies among soft-singing bees. Tradition says that Black Jack Davis is in there, or whatever atoms of him do remain after many, many, many years of blooming.

Is a happy place, a beautiful place.

Came Friday with no answer from F.N. News up from Earthside seemed equal parts unwillingness to believe we had destroyed seven s.h.i.+ps and two regiments (F.N. had not even confirmed that a battle had taken place) and complete disbelief that we could bomb Terra, or could matter if we did-they still called it "throwing rice." More time was given to World Series.

Stu worried because had received no answers to code messages. They had gone via LuNoHoCo's commercial traffic to their Zurich agent, thence to Stu's Paris broker, from him by less usual channels to Dr. Chan, with whom I had once had a talk and with whom Sm had talked later, arranging a communication channel. Stu had pointed out to Dr. Chan that, since Great China was not to be bombed until twelve hours after North America, bombing of Great China could be aborted after bombing of North America was a proved fact-if Great China acted swiftly. Alternatively, Stu had invited Dr. Chan to suggest variations in target if our choices in Great China were not as deserted as we believed them to be.