The Luna Deception (24 page)

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Rensselaer said.

“Um, yeah. Welcome aboard.”

A little girl with a bruised face floated onto the bridge. Her huge eyes took in everything. Rensselaer pulled her protectively against his side.

“All the rest of the staff are in sickbay,” Jun said. “Their lifeboat was a cargo container full of bicycles.”

“Air-conditioners,” Rensselaer said.

Fr. Lynch smiled at the man. “That’ll be a story to tell your grandchildren. Do you mean it?” His deep-set eyes burnt with a strange hunger. “Can you tell us about the ships they were building in that bunker, about their prototype launches?”

“Yes,” Rensselaer said. “It was an interesting but risky concept. The ships were to enter service as Earth-Belt shuttles. However, to improve fuel efficiency and achieve faster transit times, they were going to utilize gravitational assists from Mars. As I said: a risky strategy. I can’t imagine who they thought would fly in them.”

xix.

The
Monster
coasted back towards Midway. Long before they got there, Kiyoshi received the ping he was expecting. He had combed his hair and put on a clean shirt in readiness.

A woman floated on the comms screen. Her black tunic looked like a uniform, but lacked any identifying features. “We will have to request that you submit to a full systems scan before approaching Midway,” she said. “Don’t think that you can put this off. No facility in the solar system will allow you to dock until we’ve confirmed that your ship is not infected by the Heidegger program, or any variant of it.”

Kiyoshi nodded understandingly. He wasn’t troubled by the demand. He’d have been more worried if the ISA were
not
lying in wait to intercept anything coming from Mercury.

“I can’t allow you to scan my ship’s systems.” He forestalled the ISA agent’s ire with a winning smile. “I’d appreciate it if you would get in touch with Colonel Oleg Threadley? He knows the guy I work for.”

The boss-man’s clout had got him out of trouble with the ISA once before. He was counting on it to do the trick again.

“There is no Colonel Oleg Threadley working for us,” the ISA agent said.

“I’m sure that’s not his real name.”

“I’ll have to speak to my manager. Do
not
approach any closer to Midway.” The woman’s image froze on the screen.

“What am I supposed to do,
stop?
Spaceships don’t work like that,” Kiyoshi grumbled. He glanced at his RDF (Radio Direction Finder) plot. A complement to radar and LiDAR, RDF allowed you to get a rough idea of who was talking to who. Midway winked on the screen, its firehose of Earth-directed radio traffic swinging around as it orbited the LaGrange point. Other, fast-moving dots were Star Force ships screaming sunwards, on their way to relieve the survivors on Mercury … or to sit on the colonists’ brave rebellion … take your pick from the various arguments fermenting on the internet.

“If this doesn’t work, we could just about make it to Tiangong Erhao,” Kiyoshi mused aloud.

Tiangong Erhao was the Chinese space station located at the L5 Earth-Moon Lagrange point, trailing Luna in its orbit. The Chinese were not known for welcoming wayfarers, but they wouldn’t turn away a ship carrying refugees from Mercury. They’d be hungry for reliable information about what had happened out there. On the other hand; well. They were
Chinese.

Jun, in the astrogator’s couch, groaned. “I don’t want to be grilled about 20
th
-century Japanese war crimes. They always
bring that stuff up.”

Kiyoshi nodded. Remembering the Heidegger program, version 2.0’s scenario for rekindling World War III, he understood Jun’s reluctance.

He chain-vaped his cigarette, waiting for the ISA agent to get back to him. He ignored the pointed way Jun’s projection waved at the vapor floating across the bridge. He was tired. And even if they were allowed to dock at Midway, the tricky bit was still to come.

The ISA agent on the screen came alive again. “All right,” she said brusquely. “You’re cleared to dock. Be good, or we’ll rescind your clearance.” The screen went blank.

Kiyoshi thumbed the tannoy. “You can come back now!” He had asked all the passengers to leave the bridge while he spoke with the ISA. Couldn’t have disabled the bridge cameras; that would have looked suspicious. He wanted the ISA to think for as long as possible that he’d returned alone from Mercury.

He especially hadn’t wanted them to see Elfrida Goto.

She returned to the bridge, together with John Mendoza, Father Tom, and all the refugees from Danggood Universal.

“We’re cleared to dock,” Kiyoshi told them.

They cheered.

Kiyoshi joked, “Now, all we’ve got to worry about is getting arrested for grand theft spacecraft.”

Let them think that was the worst that could possibly lie ahead. He caught Elfrida Goto’s eye. She knew better.

★

“So, you’re back,” said Paul Ralley, the Chief Philosophical Officer of the Rocking Horse.

In person, Ralley was an imposing presence. Mounted on a mobility throne that put his eyes on a level with Kiyoshi’s, he was almost as wide around—a quality he seemed to be proud of, given that he had sheathed his globular physique in a map of planet Earth. From a distance he’d resembled a little blue planet gliding through the docking bay, drawing admirers into his orbit.

Kiyoshi had ordered his passengers to stay inside the
Wakizashi,
and gone down the steps to confront Ralley on the skirt of their parking space.

“I thought I told you to bugger off,” Ralley said. “That docking bay’s
still
closed for repairs.”

“I apologize for that, sir, and I’m willing to pay damages.”

“We take station security very seriously, Mr. Yonezawa. But—“

“I appreciate that, and I hope we can settle this amicably. As I said, I’m happy to compensate—”

“—I didn’t haul my mass down here for a few K in damages.” Shrewd eyes glittered in Ralley’s moon-like face. “I’m curious.”

“I’d be happy to answer any questions you have, sir.” Kiyoshi patted the place where his moustache had been. Behind his hand, he subvocalized to Mendoza:
~Go.

“I have
many
questions. Why was a tramp hauler out of the Belt the only ship to go to Mercury’s aid, while everyone else did the deep-space equivalent of shuffling their feet and clearing their throats? Why did Star Force, aware that one of its own Heavycruisers had been hijacked by an obscene entity dedicated to humanity’s extermination, improvise various delaying tactics until the coast was clear? Why was the ISA, the
ISA,
not permitted to send ships to Mercury? Why were the defenceless colonists on the planet allowed to take the brunt of this tragedy?”

As Ralley spoke, his audience nodded along, and applauded his line about Star Force.

“And what
was
that abominable piece of software? Some are saying it was the Heidegger program.”

“It was a new version of the Heidegger program,” Kiyoshi said. “Version 2.0. But that’s a bit of a mouthful, so we’re just calling it Gonzo. Anyway, we slagged it.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“I can show you the scorch marks on my EVA suit.”

“Why?” asked Ralley. “Why would such an abomination have been brought into the world? Was it an accident—or a deliberate act of evil?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that question.”

“My questions tend to be unanswerable, Mr. Yonezawa. That’s why they call me the Chief Philosophical Officer.” Ralley clapped his fleshy hands. “In recognition of your courage, I’d like to offer you free parking for a month and a 50% off coupon for consumables.”

Kiyoshi let his Japanese childhood training take over: he bowed from the shoulders and uttered flowery phrases of gratitude. The onlookers clapped, and then
oooohh!
ed. Slewing his gaze around, Kiyoshi saw little Miranda peeping out of the Superlifter’s airlock. The eight-year-old’s face was still bruised from her trip into space atop a shipment of Danggood Universal air-conditioners. She had, however, bounced back from the traumatic experience, and had brightened up their trip with her innocent high spirits. Now she saw all the people staring at her; she saw the 2-square-kilometer open space of the docking bay. “Is this Earth?” she asked.

Amid indulgent laughter, Miranda’s mother came out of the Superlifter, followed by the rest of the Danggood Universal survivors. Amateur vidders and news feed stringers surrounded them. Kip Rensselaer took questions.

No one noticed two more people emerging from the Superlifter: Elfrida Goto and John Mendoza.

Elfrida carried a rucksack.

They walked briskly away into the docking bay.

Kiyoshi exhaled. But it wasn’t time to relax yet. In her rucksack, Elfrida had the head of Gloria dos Santos. They needed to get it to safety. And they needed to move fast, before the
Monster’s
arrival at Midway was noticed by anyone else who might take an interest.

xx.

Mendoza had downloaded a map of the Rocking Horse to his contacts. He’d planned the route they would take, and wasn’t veering one millimeter off it. This space station was well known to be as seedy as hell. The hustlers working the docking bay gave the place the vibe of a street market. Fortunes were changing hands under cover of half-off deals on fresh flowers and Meal Wizard kits.

He guided Elfrida to a moving walkway that curved up the wall of the docking bay. They cut through the travellers’ camp known as N-Space, where various marketers accosted them. Mendoza ignored them, pulling Elfrida onto the up escalator. They rose into a region of dusty streets between buildings anchored in the sky.

Streets, buildings, sky;
corridors, units, ceiling
, would have been more apt, but the scale of the Rocking Horse evoked the outdoors. People sat around the produce stalls and tea carts on the corners. Mendoza could barely understand their pidgin-English. Children bounded past like rabbits. The gravity was noticeably less here, closer to the Rocking Horse’s center of mass.

“We’re never going to find it.” Elfrida said. She clutched her rucksack strap in a white-knuckled grip.

“We’re going the right way,” Mendoza assured her. “See the map? It’s right over here.”

“That looks like it’s
kilometers
away.”

“Yeah, well. It’s a big space station.”

★

Kiyoshi sat on the
Wakizashi’s
steps, watching the crowds. He was waiting for Mendoza and Elfrida to come back. He was waiting for Brainrape to show up and accuse him of ship theft. He was waiting for God to tell him that it was OK, no one could hold out forever, he deserved something to take the edge off his nerves.

When this is all over,
said a small voice. He did not think it was God’s.

A wedge of security phavatars trudged towards the ship. Their 2.5-meter bodies were painted high-gloss UN blue. Their headparts looked like the heads of beetles. As they moved through the parking bay, hustlers, panhandlers, and trekkies melted out of their way. Trays of dubious mineral supplements and knock-off software disappeared from sight.

Kiyoshi took a long draw on his cigarette.

As he expected, the phavatars stopped at the foot of the Superlifter’s steps. “Are you the owner of this vessel?” said their leader in a buzzy synthetic voice.

“Depends who you ask.”

The phavatars regarded him blankly. Kiyoshi figured they were being operated in real time by minimum-wage local hires.

“We need to inspect this vessel for contraband,” said Phavatar #1.

“I’ve been cleared by the ISA,” Kiyoshi said. “If that’s not good enough for you, take it up with them.”

More blank stares. Just because there were humans operating these things, didn’t mean they were intelligent.

“Not that kind of contraband. Like, coffee. Spirits. Cheese. Meat.”

“My last stop was
Mercury.”

“Are you refusing to cooperate?”

Suddenly, the phavatars were pointing PEPguns at him. Well, not exactly at him. But definitely in his direction.

PEPguns were not lethal, but delivered plasma pulses so intense that victims famously wished
they were dead. There
had
to be humans operating the phavatars. The Midway authorities wouldn’t let a bunch of unsupervised MIs loose with PEPguns. Would they?

“OK,” Kiyoshi said, raising his hands a few centimeters. “Do what you have to do.”

He remotely unlocked the cargo hold. Three of the phavatars went around to inspect it. He stood inside the airlock to let the other two phavatars into the cockpit.

“Did you clean out the fridge?”
said Jun, from the
Monster’s
parking orbit. He could see what was happening via the Superlifter’s internal and external cameras.

~Yup. There’s nothing for them to find. At worst, they’ll confiscate my stash of coffee beans.

The two phavatars poked around the cockpit. Presently one of them opened the mini-fridge.

Kiyoshi felt a spike of anxiety. But over the phavatar’s shoulder, he could see that the fridge was empty. Sparkling clean. The only thing anyone might remark on was that the screen in its door had been disabled.

The phavatar closed it without comment.

★

At the same time, seated in his garden in Shackleton City, Derek Lorna watched a 3D representation of the
Wakizashi’s
cockpit take shape. The false-colored image on his screen was not what the phavatars saw. In addition to the visible spectrum, ultraviolet and infrared added a wealth of information.

Mostly, they added the information that the Superlifter’s owner never threw anything away and was allergic to doing laundry.

Dog, what a slob.

Lorna pinched the bridge of his nose. Breathed in the subtle scents of grass and sun(lamp)-warmed leaves. He looked up at the canopy of bamboo above his head, but he did not see it. He saw the collapse of everything he’d worked for, paid for, gambled his career to achieve. He saw humanity itself sinking in a welter of radioactive flames.

One last chance to stave off defeat.

One last gamble.

A phavatar opened the mini-fridge beside the pilot’s couch. Its interior rapidly filled in on the screen.