Moonbase - Moonwar Part 56

"Jack Killifer," she repeated. "He's hated me all these years... hated me enough to kill me."

"You think his motivation was personal, then?" Ingersoll asked.

She glanced at Ras.h.i.+d before answering. The man looked puzzled. Of course, Joanna realized; Omar doesn't know anything about Killifer or his history.

"Yes," she said to Ingersoll. "Personal."

"Can you tell me something about it?" the captain asked.

"Tomorrow," Joanna said. "Call me tomorrow, around noon."

"Because we still got a problem here," Ingersoll went on, slow, measured, not easily deterred.

"A problem?"

"The other security guard, Rodriguez."

"The one who shot Killifer."

"Yes'm. He's nowhere to be found. Apparently took off for parts unknown. We found the stutter gun he used, he left it on the kitchen table, nice and neat. But his car's gone and him with it."

Ras.h.i.+d's brows knit. "Why would he run away?"

"That's what I'd like to know," said Ingersoll.

"Tomorrow," Joanna said firmly.

Ingersoll seemed to think it over for a heartbeat or two, then nodded and walked back into the dining room.

"Omar, thanks for coming over," Joanna said to Ras.h.i.+d. "I'm sorry if it looked as if I suspected you. It's been... it's been a terrible few hours."

Ras.h.i.+d knew he was being dismissed and he felt grateful for it. Getting to his feet, he asked, "Will you be all right? Do you need anything?"

"My doctor's here," she said, remaining seated on the sofa. "He's already dosed me with tranquilizers and G.o.d knows what else. He'll stay here in the house and there are the servants, of course."

"Of course," Ras.h.i.+d murmured, eager to get away, glad that the burning fury of her suspicion had pa.s.sed over him.

Joanna summoned the butler, who accompanied Ras.h.i.+d to his car, then returned to the living room.

"What else can I do for you?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said. "That's all for now. Go get yourself some sleep."

"And you...?"

"I'll sleep here," Joanna said.

"I've had the guest suite prepared for you," the butler suggested.

She shook her head. "No, I don't want to go upstairs. Not just yet. I'll sleep here on the sofa. I'll be fine."

The butler left, silent as a shadow, then returned a moment later with a downy white blanket and a flowered pillow. Joanna watched him place them on the end of the sofa, then leave the room again.

I should cry, she told herself. I should let it come out. Lev didn't deserve this. It was me he was after. Lev died trying to save my life.

Instead of crying, she reached over to the phone console and told its voice-recognition system, "Get Seigo Yamagata for me. No intermediaries. This is an emergency call for him and no one else."

It's time to end this war, Joanna told herself.

EDITING BOOTH

"Moonbase has survived the Peacekeepers' missile attack," Edith was saying into her microphone. "But not unscathed. The first missile destroyed Moonbase's backup power generator. That was a conventional explosive warhead and it hit the buried generator precisely."

The display screens running across the top of the control board showed the quiet frenzy of Moonbase's control center, the crowd milling around in The Cave, a view of the crater floor where Wicksen and his crew were riding back to the main airlock in a jouncing tractor, and the scene from Mount Yeager showing the Peacekeeper a.s.sault force's vehicles trundling up toward Wodjohowitcz Pa.s.s.

Selecting the view of Wicksen's tractor, Edith continued without missing a beat, "The U.N.'s second missile was a nuclear weapon, aimed to wipe out Moonbase's main electrical power solar panels, which are spread across the floor of the crater. The people here call them solar farms. Thanks to the brilliant work of a handful of scientists and technicians ..."

She praised Wicksen and his people, explained how the beam gun had deactivated the nuclear warhead and turned it into a dud.

But her eyes were pinned on the screen showing the Peacekeepers' vehicles creeping up the outer slope of the ringwall mountains.

Vince Falcone was watching the same view, sitting at a console in the control center. He was sweating, perspiration beading his upper lip and forehead, trickling down his swarthy cheeks.

This has gotta work, he kept telling himself. It's gotta work. Otherwise they'll be able to bring their missile launchers right up to our front door and blast it open.

For the twentieth time in the past half-hour he checked the circuitry to the microwave antennas atop Mount Yeager. One of the bright young short-timers had done a computer simulation that showed the microwaves would be reflected by the rock walls of Wodjo Pa.s.s and effectively reach all the foamgel goo they had spread there. The rock absorbed some of the microwave energy, of course, but reflected enough to get the job done.

Falcone hoped.

He looked across the row of consoles to where Doug Stavenger was sitting, deep in conversation with somebody on his screens. The kid's got all this responsibility on his shoulders, Falcone told himself. Least I can do is get this mother-lovin' foamgel to work.

He returned his attention to the screen showing the approaching Peacekeeper force. And felt a shock race through him.

They're splitting up! Falcone saw. The vehicles were dividing into two columns, one of them coming up toward Wodjo Pa.s.s, but the other snaking around the base of the ringwall mountains toward the steeper notch some two dozen kilometers farther away.

And it looked like a small party was starting out on foot to climb Mount Yeager, where the microwave antennas were.

Stupid s.h.i.+tfaced b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, Falcone raged, offering the a.s.sessment both to the Peacekeepers and his own shortsightedness. They're only sending part of their forces across Wodjo. The rest of 'em will get through without being stopped by the goo. And if they knock out the antennas up on Yeager the goo won't do us any f.u.c.king good at all.

The earphone of the headpiece clamped over his thickly curling hair suddenly crackled. "Vince, this is Doug Stavenger. They've divided their force."

"Yeah, I can see it."

"It looks like that second group's heading for the northwest notch."

"And they're sending a team up Yeager."

"They're going to get through with no trouble, aren't they?"

Falcone nodded bitterly. "Even if we could spray some goo over that pa.s.s the microwaves from Yeager couldn't reach it. a.s.suming they don't disable the antennas before we want to us 'em."

"Well, what can we do?" Doug asked.

Falcone wished he had an answer.

We should have known they'd split their forces, Doug raged at himself. I should've figured that the Peacekeepers wouldn't send their whole force through Wodjo. That was wishful thinking, nothing but wishful thinking.

"It's not so bad," Gordette said, pulling up a chair to sit beside him.

"Bad enough," said Doug.

"Their main force is coming across Wodjo Pa.s.s," Gordette said, pointing to the screen. "The second force is a lot smaller, looks like."

"But if they disable the antennas "It'll take them an hour to get to the top of Yeager, at least."

"But still Gordette said, "Count the missile launchers. That's their heavy artillery. Looks to me like almost all of 'em are coming through Wodjo."

Doug studied the screens for a few moments. "Maybe the secondary force is going to head for the ma.s.s driver?"

Gordette shrugged, then said, " Whoever's in charge of the Peacekeepers probably wants to keep the secondary force as a reserve."

Doug wished he could believe Gordette's a.s.sessment. He's just trying to cheer me up, Doug thought. Trying to lighten the load. It doesn't matter what the secondary force's mission is, once their main group gets in trouble in Wodjo Pa.s.s, they'll still have these other troops to attack us. With all their weapons.

Maybe Falcone was right and we ought to fry them as they come through Wodjo Pa.s.s. Get them before they knock out the antennas. Kill as many of them as we can while we've got the chance. They're here to kill us. They killed Lev, they tried to kill Mom. Why shouldn't we kill them?

The blinking message light on the console told him that people were waiting to talk with him. He pulled up the list on the comm screen. Wicksen, Edith, Kris Cardenas down in the infirmary, four others.

Edith. Doug recalled her urging against killing any of the Peacekeepers. She's right, he knew. Kill some of their troops and the whole world will turn against us. They'll keep sending armies here until they beat us. Faure won't stop until he wins, not if he has the world's public opinion behind him. And once we start sending coffins Earthside world public opinion will swing totally against us, no matter how much people may be rooting for us now.

Beat them without killing them. Even though they're trying to kill us.

He had put through a call to Savannah earlier, but it had not been answered so far. Is Mom all right? What happened down there? Who killed Lev? Is Mom safe?

They should've stayed here, Doug told himself. Then he realized the absurdity of it. Yes, stay here where all we have to worry about is being attacked by a small army of Peacekeeper troops.

Looking at his top left screen he saw that the first of the Peacekeeper vehicles was already entering Wodjohowitcz Pa.s.s. Doug glanced over at Falcone, staring grimly at the same view on his console.

Gordette was right; those troopers climbing Yeager won't get to the antennas for another hour, at least.

He got up from his chair, spine creaking after being seated for so long, and walked stiffly to Falcone's post.

"Wait until you've got as many in the trap as possible. Then spring it."

Falcone nodded without taking his eyes from his screens. They had been over this a hundred times, at least.

"It's your show, now, Vince," he said, gripping Falcone's burly shoulder.

"Right, boss," said Falcone, his eyes still fixed on his screens.

Colonel Giap had learned long ago not to be the first in line of march through enemy territory. His tractor was the third in line as they threaded up the flank of the mountains and into the narrow defile of the pa.s.s.

"Force B, report," he said into his helmet microphone.

All his communications were relayed through the L-l station, hovering nearly forty thousand kilometers above. There was a noticeable, annoying little lag as the electronic signals bounced back and forth.

"Force B reporting," crackled in his earphones. "No opposition. Proceeding on schedule."

"Good. Report any problems immediately," said Giap.

"Yes, sir."

The colonel nodded inside his helmet. Keeping to schedule was important. He had planned the conquest of Moonbase down to the minutest details, and included every contingency he could imagine in his plans. The nuclear bomb did not go off, Moonbase still enjoyed its full capacity of electrical power. Giap had included that possibility in his planning. It made no difference. His primary force would batter down their main airlock and enter the garage area precisely on schedule, while Force B deployed on the crater floor as a strategic reserve, after sending a small contingent to take the ma.s.s driver-which Giap expected to be undefended.

His special team of mountain climbers would disable all of Moonbase's communications antennas, cutting off the rebels' reports to the news media back on Earth. Faure had insisted on that, and for once Giap agreed with the secretary-general. Cut out their tongues.

The first wave of a.s.sault troops would include the decontamination squads with their powerful ultraviolet lights, to deactivate any nanomachines that the Moonbase rebels might try to use. Giap smiled thinly at the memory of how the rebels had used nanomachines to panic the first Peacekeeper force sent against Moonbase. That trick won't work a second time, he a.s.sured himself.

His earphones buzzed. Switching to the tractor's intercom, Giap asked testily, "What is it?"

"Sensors are picking up an unusual level of microwave radiation, sir," his surveillance officer reported.

In the cramped confines of his windowless command center, Giap barely had room to turn and face the woman. Even so, sealed inside her s.p.a.cesuit, he could not see her face, merely the reflection of his own helmet in her closed visor.

"A dangerous level?" Did the rebels have exotic weapons, after all?

"No, sir, nothing dangerous. It's more like a radar scan, but it's coming at us from all directions, as if the microwaves are reflecting off the mountains walls around us."

Giap felt his brow wrinkle. Microwaves? What are they trying to accomplish?

"Lead tractor calling, sir," said his communications sergeant. "Emergency."

Giap switched to the proper frequency. "Sir! Our tractor is stuck. We can't move!"

"Can't move?"

The voice in his earphones sounded more puzzled than worried. "It's as if we hit some deep mud..."

"There is no mud on the Moon!" Giap snapped.

"Yessir, I know. But we're mired in something. something. We can't move forward or back. My engineer is afraid of burning out the drive motors." We can't move forward or back. My engineer is afraid of burning out the drive motors."

Giap's own tractor lurched and slowed noticeably.

"What's going on?" he yelled to his comm sergeant.

"I don't know!"

Within minutes the first twenty-two tractors in the a.s.sault force reported being stuck fast. Several burned out their drive motors trying to force themselves through whatever it was that had mired them down.

"Get out and see what it is!" Giap screamed at his own driver as he motioned his sergeant to open the overhead hatch.