Moonbase - Moonwar Part 43

With the ghost of a smile, the President said, "That's the thanks I get for nominating you to the International Court of Justice?"

"Come off it, Luce."

"You backed me on the nanotech treaty when you were in the Senate."

"Because I didn't want nanotechnology turned into a new arms race," Jill said. "I never thought the treaty'd be used against Moonbase. They can't exist without nanomachines and you know it."

The President sighed. "So I suppose you'll vote in favor of their independence if the question comes up before the World Court?"

"It's on our docket for November. I've tried to get an emergency session to hear the matter, but I was voted down."

"It doesn't matter, Jill. By November the question will have been settled conclusively. In fact, it should be settled in about a week or so."

"You're going to do it, then? Attack Moonbase?"

"The United Nations is doing it, not me."

"But you're not raising a protest? If you hollered, Faure would have to have to listen." listen."

"I am not going to interfere with a U.N. operation," said the President.

Jill fumed in silence for a moment, then grumbled, "Well, I hope you don't expect to get re-elected."

This time the President's smile showed teeth. "The New Morality will re-elect me because because I backed the enforcement of the nanotech treaty." I backed the enforcement of the nanotech treaty."

"You think so?"

"All the polls show it conclusively."

"So you're not going to let Killifer be extradited?"

"Under no circ.u.mstances."

"d.a.m.n! If I were Doug Stavenger I'd come down there and hang the man myself."

"Vigilante justice? From a judge of the World Court?"

"Justice," Jill snapped. "When your own government won't give you justice, you've got the right to make your own move. Jefferson wrote that into the Declaration of Independence, remember?"

"But Jill dear, Stavenger and the rest of his Lunatics don't regard us as their government anymore. Do they?"

Jill had no answer. Luce always was the better debater; she could score points off the devil himself whenever she chose to.

MOONBASE.

Jinny Anson's office was crowded. Doug sat at the foot of the table that b.u.t.ted against her desk, flanked by Zimmerman and Cardenas, the heads of Moonbase's major departments, and the physicist Wicksen. There was no room at the little table for Edith, so she sat slightly behind Doug and to his right.

Bam Gordette sat alone on the couch by the door, separated from all the others by a meter of empty floor s.p.a.ce and an uneasy distrust that was almost palpable. The others are treating Bam as if he's a leper, Doug thought.

"You're certain the Peacekeepers are gonna make their move so soon?" Jinny Anson was asking.

"We've got maybe a week, if we're lucky," Doug replied grimly. "What can we accomplish in that time?"

A gloomy silence filled the office. Even the normally perky Anson looked downcast.

"Wix?" Doug asked. "We need the beam gun up and working in a week."

The physicist shook his head slowly, his big soulful eyes staring straight at Doug. "I told you it would take two lunar days... two months."

"You've got seven Earth days," Doug said. "Maybe less."

Wicksen started to shake his head.

"Put every man you've got onto it," urged Doug. "And every woman."

"We're already working flat out."

"How close are you?"

The physicist shrugged uncomfortably, more like a writhing.

"The beam collimator is finished. The aiming circuitry is ready to be tested. Then we've got to bring the kloodges out to the ma.s.s driver and mate them. Then we need to test the complete system."

"Kloodges?" Edith asked. "What are they?"

"Ramshackle collections of hardware," Harry Clemens answered in his laconic tw.a.n.g before Wicksen could respond. "Clinking, clanking, caliginous collections of junk."

"Oh."

"Makeshift hardware," Wicksen said, grimacing slightly at Clemens. "Slapped together quickly, without worrying about how it looks."

"Kloodges," Edith repeated.

Doug demanded, "Can you put it all together by the end of this week?"

"We have to test-"

"We don't have time for testing!" Doug said sharply. "Get the hardware together, make it functional. You can test it after it's completely a.s.sembled, if the Peacekeepers give us enough time."

Wicksen's big eyes widened even further. "You'd hang the survival of this base on untested equipment?"

"If it doesn't work, we're dead anyway," Doug pointed out. "Right?"

The physicist thought it over for a moment, his big tarsier's eyes staring at Doug. At last he admitted, "Right."

"Wait a minute," Anson said, from behind her desk. "Wix, will you have enough time to rig the control system so you can operate the beam gun from inside, here?"

"No. We'll have to run it manually, out there at the ma.s.s driver."

"In suits," said Vince Falcone.

Wicksen nodded solemnly.

"With a nuclear warhead coming at you," Falcone added.

Another grave nod.

Anson said, "So if the beam gun doesn't work you and your people get fried by the nuke."

"That's right," Wicksen said slowly. "We'll be operating an untested apparatus, in the open, in surface suits, and if it doesn't work the first time we'll all be toast."

All eyes turned to Doug.

"The alternative is to let the Peacekeepers nuke our solar farms," he said. But he was thinking, I can't force Wix and his people to go out there under the gun. I can't order him to do it.

Wicksen smiled a strange, enigmatic smile. "Well... I can see that we'll have to make the apparatus work the first time.' He pushed his chair back from the table. "I'd better get back to the workshop. We have a lot to do and not much time to do it."

The others watched him walk out of the office and slide the door shut softly behind him.

Anson shook her head. "The j.a.ps aren't the only ones who've got kamikazes."

Falcone, his swarthy face set in a scowl, said to Doug, "You're gonna let him go out on a suicide job?"

"Do you see any alternatives?" Doug returned, forcing himself to sound much firmer than he felt.

Before Falcone could answer, Doug added, "Except surrender?"

"Okay, Wix has made his decision," Anson said. "Let's move on."

Gratefully, Doug turned to Zimmerman. "Professor, what have you cooked up for us?"

"Nothing," said Zimmerman flatly.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing that can be ready in a week."

Doug turned to Cardenas. "Kris?"

"We're ready to inject therapeutic nanomachines into anyone who'll accept them. After your recent experience," she glanced inadvertently at Gordette, "lots of people have come to realize that nanomachines can be extremely extremely helpful to them, healthwise." helpful to them, healthwise."

"Good," said Doug.

"But there's a downside, too," Cardenas added, raising a warning finger. "Most of the people here intend to return Earthside, sooner or later. They're scared of trouble down there if they're carrying nanomachines in them."

Doug slumped back in his squeaking little plastic chair. "So what's the bottom line, Kris?"

"Most of our people refuse to be injected. But we're ready for emergency nanotherapy for people who're hurt or wounded."

The stupid fools, Doug thought. Then he realized his own fears of returning Earthside, where nanoluddite a.s.sa.s.sins waited. Like Killifer. Like the fanatics who murdered anyone who publicly espoused nanotechnology.

"Okay," he said wearily. "I a.s.sume you're working with the medical staff."

Cardenas grinned. "All three of 'em."

Neither Debbie Paine nor Harry Clemens had anything useful for Moonbase's defense. By the time Doug reached Vince Falcone, though, the burly, swarthy engineer had a knowing glint in his eyes.

"I been thinking," Falcone said.

"I thought I smelled wood burning," quipped Clemens.

"They'll be comin' over Wodjo Pa.s.s, right?" Falcone asked rhetorically.

Doug looked over at Gordette, who nodded warily.

"Maybe we can block the pa.s.s," said Falcone.

"Block it?"

"Sure. You know the foamgel we use for insulation and whatnot? Smart hydrogel is what it is. Expands or shrinks, depending on how you set it up."

Doug remembered that foamgel had been used on his sabotaged s.p.a.cesuit. He glanced over at Gordette again; Bam was staring at him with unwavering eyes.

Falcone was grinning now with self-satisfaction. "Suppose we spray a ton or so of the glop along Wodjo Pa.s.s, see? The Peacekeepers are coming across the pa.s.s in tractors, right? When they're in the middle of the pa.s.s we radiate the gel with microwaves from the antennas on Mount Yeager."

"And the gel swells up to a couple hundred times its original size!" Anson said eagerly.

"You got it," said Falcone. "Their tractors are caught in the glop like flies in a spiderweb. Like trucks stuck in deep mud."

"You can stop their tractors?" Doug asked. It was the first piece of good news he'd heard.

Still grinning, Falcone said, "I think so."

"But couldn't the troopers get out and walk across the foam?" Debbie Paine asked. "It hardens like concrete, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, that's right," Falcone admitted.

Doug turned to Gordette. "Bam, what do you think?"

The room fell utterly, uncomfortably silent.

Gordette spoke up, "Even if they can get out and walk to the crater floor, they'd have to leave most of their heavy equipment behind, in the tractors."

"Heavy equipment?" Clemens asked.

"Missile launchers," said Gordette. "Artillery. Ammunition cases. They could only bring what the troopers could carry. That's a big advantage to us."

"Can you produce that much foamgel in a few days?" Doug asked.