Moonbase - Moonwar Part 13

Munasinghe blinked and stared, not quite believing his eyes. The ma.s.sive metal outer hatch had been swung open. And the inner hatch, as well. He could see the area inside, it was brightly lit. It looked entirely empty.

Of course, he thought. They took all their equipment out of the garage area to place it on the landing pads, hoping to prevent us from landing.

But why would they leave the airlock hatch open? That means the entire garage area must be in vacuum. Is this some sort of trap?

With the press of a thumb he activated the binoculars' rangefinder. Its readout appeared in the lower left of his view in red alphanumerics: one point six-six kilometers.

Munasinghe put the binoculars down and studied the ground between him and the open airlock hatch. Not much cover in the area, only a few small rocks, not enough to shelter a man from enemy fire. But there was no other way to reach the main airlock.

The open hatch bothered Munasinghe.

He pressed the stud on his forearm that opened the comm channel back to the s.h.i.+p and asked for Killifer.

"Killifer here."

"Can you see the main airlock?" Munasinghe asked.

"Yeah. I'm in the c.o.c.kpit; I can see it on the panel display screen."

"The hatch is open!"

"Yeah. It is."

"What does this mean?" Munasinghe demanded.

"d.a.m.ned if I know."

"Is it a trap?"

Killifer's voice sounded exasperated. "How the h.e.l.l should I know? It sure ain't normal operating procedure, I can tell you that much."

Munasinghe thought over the situation for a few moments, wis.h.i.+ng he had more information, more options, more time to make a decision. At last he turned to the Norwegian, obviously the taller of his two lieutenants, even in the impersonal s.p.a.cesuits.

"Move your squad up to the airlock hatch," Munasinghe commanded. "Second squad will cover you."

The lieutenant hesitated only the slightest fraction of a second, then replied, "Yessir."

It looked to Edith as if the airlock hatch was open. She hadn't thought to bring binoculars with her, and she knew Munasinghe wouldn't loan his even if she asked. It was a little hard to see in the glare of the lunar daylight, but she could make out the brightly-lit interior of the base against the dark rock face of the mountainside.

Some of the troops were moving up, hip-hopping in the low gravity when they tried to run, despite their weighted boots.

"Is the airlock open?" she asked Munasinghe.

No answer. He was probably on a different frequency, talking to his troops.

Edith thought it over for half a second, then moved away from Munasinghe, around the corner of the bulldozer, and headed across the crater floor, following the advancing troops to the airlock hatch.

It was was open. She could see it clearly now. The first of the troopers had reached the open hatch and stopped, dodging around to its sides where they had some protection if anyone inside the big empty chamber tried to shoot at them. open. She could see it clearly now. The first of the troopers had reached the open hatch and stopped, dodging around to its sides where they had some protection if anyone inside the big empty chamber tried to shoot at them.

"Where are you going?" she heard Munasinghe's voice yelling in her earphones. "Stop! I command you to stop!"

Edith grinned and kept on going toward the open airlock hatch.

TOUCHDOWN PLUS 38 MINUTES.

The control center felt hot and stuffy to Doug. Everyone was watching the chief controller's main screen, which showed the s.p.a.cesuited Peacekeeper troops lumbering warily from the tractors scattered across the crater floor to the edge of the open main airlock.

"They won't go in until their commanding officer comes up and looks around for himself," said Gordette.

Doug licked his lips. "Are you ready?" he asked Kris Cardenas.

Sitting at one of the control center's consoles, she nodded slowly.

"Okay then," Doug told her. "Start the bugs."

"This had better work," Jinny Anson muttered.

"It'll work," Cardenas said as her fingers moved carefully across the console keyboard. But to Doug she sounded a trifle defensive, as if she weren't entirely certain.

Brudnoy quipped, "If it doesn't work we can always surrender."

Joanna gave her husband a disapproving frown.

It was a big empty chamber carved into the mountain, Edith saw. Glareless strip lights ran across the rough rock ceiling. The floor was stained here and there; probably some sort of garage, she figured. But now it's empty and all their vehicles are parked outside.

Not a soul in sight.

And painted on the floor in bright blood-red letters she saw: WELCOME TO MOONBASE.

PLEASE DO NOT ENTER.

ROUTINE CLEAN-UP PROCEDURE IN PROGRESS DANGER! NANOMACHINES IN OPERATION.

She stared at the words, neatly stencilled on the smooth rock floor.

Munasinghe's angry voice grated in her earphones. "You were to stay behind me! You had no right to run up here on your own!"

Turning, she saw the captain galumphing awkwardly toward her. Edith grinned inside her helmet: the leader of the troop has to run hard to stay abreast of his troopers.

Ignoring his pique, Edith pointed to the lettering on the garage floor. "Look," she said.

She could not see the captain's face behind his gold-tinted visor, but she imagined his red-rimmed eyes bugging out.

"What does this mean?" Munasinghe was panting from the exertion of running.

"They don't want us to go in."

"Of course! But-nanomachines? What nanomachines? Where is the danger?"

His voice sounded frightened to Edith. Nanomachines had such a bad reputation virtually everywhere on Earth that the mere mention of them was enough to worry almost anyone.

The tall Norwegian, recognizable by the lieutenant's insignia on his nametag, pointed a gloved finger.

"Look!" he said, his voice shaking slightly.

A big grease stain on the garage floor was noticeably shrinking.

And then the stencilled letters of the warning sign started to get ragged around the edges, as if something was chewing on them.

"My G.o.d," Munasinghe breathed.

"They're not going into the garage," Brudnoy said. "Not yet," Gordette replied. "Do you think they will?" Doug asked him.

Gordette nodded. "They'll fuss around a bit, but they're not going to be stopped by some paint and a few grease stains."

"You don't think so?"

"They'll come in. And once they're past the garage, we've got nothing to stop them."

Munasinghe had to make a decision. Instead of a trap, this was starting to look like a ruse to him. Yes, nanomachines had killed people, he knew, but what danger could nanomachines pose to armed troops encased in s.p.a.cesuits? This is nothing but a ruse, a desperate attempt to keep us from entering Moonbase.

Still, he switched from the suit-to-suit frequency to call Killifer, back at the s.h.i.+p.

"Nan.o.bugs, huh," Killifer said.

"Can they truly be dangerous to us?" Munasinghe demanded.

No answer for several heartbeats. Then, "Well, yeah, if they're programmed to gobble organic molecules."

"What do you mean?"

"If they've spread nan.o.bugs across the garage floor to eat up oil stains and paint and stuff like that, the same bugs might be able to eat up the rubber and plastic materials in your s.p.a.cesuits."

"Nothing but the soles of our boots will touch the garage floor," Munasinghe said.

"Uh-huh. And what're the soles of your boots made of? Plastics, aren't they? Organic molecules."

"But there is a layer of metal mesh inside the plastic sole."

"Sure. That mesh'll look like a gang of wide-open doorways to the nan.o.bugs. They're the size of viruses, y'know."

"They can rupture our suits, then?"

"Right. And then start chewing on the organic molecules of your bodies."

Munasinghe shuddered involuntarily.

TOUCHDOWN PLUS 51 MINUTES.

"They're not coming in!" said Jinny Anson, almost exultant.

"They'll come in," Gordette a.s.sured her. "Soon's they work up the nerve."

Doug agreed with him. Sooner or later they would try to get past the garage. He pulled up a wheeled chair and sat beside the chief tech.

"Have you figured out their suit frequency?"

"Yep. Wanna listen to 'em?"

"No. I want to talk to them. Patch me in."

Munasinghe was in an agony of indecision. To come all this way, nearly half a million kilometers, and be stopped by what may be a clever trick-it was intolerable. Worse still, his superiors back at headquarters would never stand for it. Munasinghe saw himself broken, perhaps even cas.h.i.+ered from the Peacekeepers altogether and sent home to rot in shame the rest of his life.

On the other hand, nanomachines could kill. Wasn't that why the U.N. banned them? Wasn't that why they had been sent here to Moonbase in the first place, to stop these renegades from developing deadly nanomachines? How could he order his troopers into such danger?

Munasinghe had been in firefights. He had been sh.e.l.led by rocket artillery and bombed by smart missiles. He was not a coward. But nanomachines! The thought made him shudder. Invisible, insidious. If they got inside his suit and started eating his flesh...

"What are your orders, sir?" the Norwegian lieutenant asked, his voice low and earnest. "We can't stand out here forever," he added, needlessly.

Suppressing a reflex to snap at his arrogant criticism, Munasinghe made up his mind. After all, he had sent men into battle before. Soldiers took risks, deadly risks. It was part of the profession.

"Take your squad through the open area to those airlock hatches on the far wall. Get those hatches open as quickly as you can. Don't waste time; use the grenades."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you.' A strange voice sounded in Munasinghe's earphones. From the way the lieutenant's s.p.a.cesuited form twitched, he must have heard it too.

"Who said that?" Munasinghe demanded.

"This is Douglas Stavenger, of Moonbase. The floor of our garage is covered with nanomachines that will devour the materials of your s.p.a.cesuits. The airlock hatches are coated with them, too."

"You are bluffing," Munasinghe snapped.

"No, I'm not. We use the nan.o.bugs routinely to clean up grease and oil stains that acc.u.mulate on the garage floor. You happened to pick a time when our semiannual cleanup is just starting."

"I don't believe you!" Munasinghe snapped.

"Don't send your troops to their deaths. The nanomachines will destroy them before you can get our airlock hatches open."

Hot boiling anger replaced Munasinghe's indecision. Hatred welled up inside him. This smug upstart is trying to bluff me into ruining my career!

"Surrender your base!" he raged. "Now! You have fifteen seconds to surrender!"

More than ten seconds pa.s.sed before the voice in his earphones said, "You're sending your troops to their deaths needlessly. We have no quarrel with you. Return to Earth and leave us in peace."

Practically quivering with fury, Munasinghe jabbed the Norwegian lieutenant's shoulder with a gloved finger. "Get your squad moving! If you go fast enough the nanomachines won't have a chance to harm you."

"That's not true," Doug said.

"Go!" Munasinghe screamed. "That's an order!"