Moonbase - Moonwar Part 23

Doug stared at his mother. Despite the smile, she meant it.

"Mom," he said, thinking of Edith sleeping in his bed, "I'm no Romeo.' He couldn't help smiling.

But Joanna was already saying, "Faure's been ducking me, as usual. His office has set up a meeting with two of his underlings, so I'm sending Lev to meet with them."

"We want to send some of the people here back Earthside," Doug said. "The dance troupe... and there's at least a dozen others who want to get home as soon as they can."

Joanna nodded once she heard his words. "I'll tell Lev to see what he can work out. An evacuation flight might be good publicity for us. Faure won't be able to turn down such a request. If he does-"

"Speaking of publicity," Doug interjected, "are Edith Elgin's reports doing us any good?"

Her face lit up once she heard the question. "Are they! She's going to get a Pulitzer, you mark my words."

"Great," said Doug. "But are they having any effect?"

"Everybody knows you've declared Moonbase's independence," Joanna said excitedly. "All the talk shows and newsheets are full of debates about it. I've gotten three U.S. senators to ask the White House to request a hearing in the World Court. Faure's turning blue over it!"

"Good," Doug said. "Great. How soon will the World Court take up our case?"

Joanna's reply came three seconds later. "We're pushing for an emergency session of the court. Otherwise it'll have to wait until November, when they convene again. At least they'll put it at the head of their agenda, even if it's November."

"November? That's more than six months away."

"I'm trying to get to them sooner."

Doug felt his brows knitting. "Faure could do a lot of damage in six months."

Once she heard him, Joanna nodded. "But at least the public knows what's going on now. Here in the States, especially, it's the hottest thing in the media. You tell that reporter that she's done more for Moonbase than a thousand troops could do."

Doug looked up and saw Edith standing by the part.i.tion that screened off the bedroom, quite naked.

"Okay," he said with a grin that he couldn't suppress. I'll tell her right away."

The digital clock on Jack Killifer's desk said 11.00 p.m. The offices of the Urban Corps' headquarters in Atlanta were nearly deserted.

The offices took up the entire top floor of the tallest tower in the Peachtree Center. Looking out through the sweeping windows, Killifer saw a city darkened, blacked out, as if fearful of an air raid. Only far down at street level were there bright anti-crime lamps blazing through the night. Otherwise all the buildings seemed totally dark and abandoned.

The sonofab.i.t.c.h enjoys making me stew around, waiting for him, Killifer groused to himself. Going on eight friggin' years I've been working for these people and he still treats me like some office boy.

The Urban Corps was one of the many disparate organizations loosely held together under the banner of the New Morality. They had elected presidents, won control of the House of Representatives, and had enough senators on their side to block legislation that they didn't like. The anti-nanotechnology treaty had originated in the New Morality. Nanoluddite fanatics had gunned down pro-nanotech advocates, even women suspected of having nanotherapy instead of plastic surgery, and then proclaimed at their trials with the fervor of true belief that they were doing G.o.d's work.

For years, though, Killifer had urged his superiors in the Urban Corps that Moonbase was a danger to them. As long as Moonbase exists it must use nanotechnology. As long as Moonbase exists it will continue to make its profits by building Clipperships out of pure diamond, using nanomachines, and selling those rocket craft to transport lines on Earth. As long as Moonbase exists, the nanotechnology treaty is a farce and everything that the Urban Corps and the New Morality has worked to achieve was in danger of crumbling away into dust.

And now it was all coming true. Moonbase was laughing at them, Stavenger and his b.i.t.c.h of a mother were thumbing their noses at them. The news media were all full of bull c.r.a.p about Moonbase's declaration of independence. Even some politicians were starting to say that maybe the nanotech treaty shouldn't be interpreted so strictly.

It could all fall apart, Killifer had been warning them for years. Only now, only with the humiliating rout of the Peacekeepers from Moonbase, were they beginning to take his warnings seriously.

His desk phone beeped once. Killifer didn't have to pick it up. He knew that he had been summoned at last into the presence of General O'Conner.

Killifer hurried past rows of empty, silent desks and down a corridor formed by flimsy shoulder-high plastic part.i.tions. Through an open door he stepped, into a reception area that was tastefully carpeted and furnished with small consultation desks. The door at the far end was shut. He knocked once and opened it.

General O'Conner was sunk in his wheelchair, half-dozing, a shrivelled sh.e.l.l of the dynamic powerful savior Killifer had met when he had joined the Urban Corps nearly eight years earlier.

They had kept the news of the general's strokes a secret, of course, known only to the innermost circle of the Corps. Not even the highest leaders of the other New Morality groups knew about it. To the outside world, General O'Conner was still the vigorous, forceful, charismatic leader of the organization that was transforming American cities from crime-ridden slums into rigidly controlled urban centers.

With the staff's careful handling of the crisis, General O'Conner had become an inaccessible figure, too lofty to waste his time with meetings and rallies. And the more inaccessible he became, the greater the tales of his power and saintliness. The less he was seen, the more he was admired and sought after. Rumors abounded of his appearances in disguise among the poor. He was'seen' all across the country, sometimes in more than one place simultaneously. Thanks to clever electronic simulations that kept his image before the public, the general was becoming a figure of mythic power.

"Well, what're you waiting for?" General O'Conner said, in his cranky slurred croak of a voice.

"I thought you had fallen asleep," said Killifer, going to the armchair beside him.

The general worked the toggle on his wheelchair's control box and trundled off toward the windows. "Is the whole city blacked out, except for us?"

Killifer had to get up and follow him. "Most of the city," he replied. "When curfew strikes, the power goes down. Electricity stays on for residences, of course."

"Apartments, too? Condos?"

"Yeah. It wouldn't be smart to shut off their power."

"Then why's everything pitch black out there?" the general demanded. "Are we the only ones showing any light?"

Killifer had explained this to the failing old man a dozen times since the blackout decision had been announced.

"That's right, we're the only one," he said. "The apartment blocks and condo buildings curtain their windows as a sign of respect."

The wizened old man glared at him. "And whose idea was that?"

"Yours, of course," he said.

"I never made such a decision. I'd remember it if I did."

"Well," said Killifer, "it was mine, really. Acting in your name, of course."

Actually, it had been the bright idea of one of the young psychologists on the staff. But Killifer had implemented it and he'd be d.a.m.ned if he'd let the young snot take the credit.

"Why?" O'Conner asked testily.

Killifer replied, "It gives the ordinary people the feeling that they're making a sacrifice. It makes them feel that they're contributing to the general welfare."

"You've learned well," rasped O'Conner. "Make them want want to obey. That's the secret!" to obey. That's the secret!"

"You've taught me well," Killifer said, feeling something almost like affection for the old man.

Wheeling his chair around to face Killifer, General O'Conner said, "Now what's happening with the Moonbase problem?"

Killifer shook his head. "It's getting worse instead of better."

"I see they're broadcasting news reports from Moonbase. I thought the media had agreed to a blackout."

"They had. But it's been busted wide open."

The general's bloodshot eyes narrowed. "How? Who did it?"

Killifer explained the series of events, tracing the break of the news blackout to Tamara Bonai in Kiribati.

"Kiribati?" General O'Conner's ravaged face glared at him. "Where's that?"

"In the Pacific. Micronesia."

The general seemed to sink in on himself, thinking. Then he started cackling.

"What's funny?" Killifer asked.

"I did missionary work out there when I was a kid."

That surprised Killifer. "You did?"

"Tonga. Fiji. I wore the black suit and tie and went out among the heathen.' He wiped at his eyes with a frail hand.

"I never knew."

"They were good people. They listened to me and smiled and agreed with everything I said. Helped me build a church for them. They even attended services."

"Terrific," Killifer muttered.

"But it didn't do one bit of good. They went about living the way they always had. Dressed up for me, of course. But other times they went back to being as naked as sin. To them, s.e.x was about as casual as taking a swim in the lagoon."

He almost sounded wistful, Killifer thought. "Well, now they have office buildings and shopping malls and major tourist centers."

"And this woman, what's her name?"

"Tamara Bonai."

"She broke the news blackout?"

"She sure as h.e.l.l did."

"Then she ought to be punished," General O'Conner said. "Swiftly and obviously. People ought to know that those who oppose G.o.d's will are struck down."

Killifer's insides shuddered. "You mean kill her?"

"Yes," said the general. "See to it."

"Me?"

"You. And n.o.body else."

He started to say, "But why me? I'm no..."

O'Conner's burning red eyes silenced him. The General had made up his mind and he had chosen Killifer for the job. That was unalterable.

One thing that Killifer had learned in his eight years with the Corps: you obey, but you ask for something in return.

"If we're going to punish people, what about Joanna Stavenger... I mean, Brudnoy."

"She's back here, back from the Moon?"

"Yeah."

O'Conner mulled it over for ten seconds. "You're right. Strike her down, too."

Killifer nodded, satisfied. The woman who had ruined his life was going to get what she deserved, at last.

"Too bad we can't get her son."

"Douglas Stavenger?"

"Yeah. He's up at Moonbase, though. Out of reach.' General O'Conner pointed a wavering finger at Killifer.

"Don't be so sure of that, my boy. No one's out of reach of the angel of death."

DAY SIXTEEN.

"Hey, what're you doing there?"

The mercenary looked up. A woman in the slate gray coveralls of the transportation division was striding down the line of s.p.a.cesuits toward him. She looked to be in her thirties, a little heavyset, mousey brown hair chopped short, and an angry frown on her face.

"Doug Stavenger asked me to check out his suit," the mercenary said.

"I maintain the suits," she said, jabbing a thumb toward her ample chest. Her nametag said LIEBOWITZ. "Since when does Stavenger send strangers to do my my job?" job?"

She was almost the mercenary's own height, and now that she was almost nose-to-nose with him he saw that her size was probably muscle, not fat.

He put on a smile. "Doug's worried about sabotage," he said. The best lies are always based on the truth, he knew.

"Sabotage? Are you kidding?"

The mercenary shook his head slowly. "No, I'm not kidding, Liebowitz. We're at war, aren't we? Under siege?"

"But who the frick's gonna sabotage anything here? Everybody here's for for Moonbase. We're all on Stavenger's side." Moonbase. We're all on Stavenger's side."

"Yeah? Were you at the meeting in The Cave last week?"

"Sure."

"How many people there wanted to go back Earthside right away?"

Liebowitz's expression turned thoughtful. "Well, a few, I guess."