Apollo's Outcasts (32 page)

Mr. Garcia was seated at a table on the stage along with Mr. Porter. The city manager waited until everyone was seated, then he stood up and walked to the podium. "Thank you for coming," he began, his voice carried by the ceiling speakers. "I apologize for the short notice, but a situation has come up that can't wait for an official town meeting. I'm counting on the various department heads to report everything discussed here to their staffs, so that they can work together in making preparations."

Murmurs passed through the auditorium. About seventy people were in there, and from what I overheard it seemed as if everyone already knew something of what was going on. Mr. Porter raised a hand for silence, then went on.

"As you know, President Shapar has made public statements hinting that the United States may resort to using military force against Apollo in order to break the embargo. Over the past several weeks, we've responded by preparing for a possible invasion. We've retrained our Lunar Search and Rescue personnel to act as a defense force, asked the staff at Apollo General to initiate emergency procedures to be used in the event of an attack, and requested other departments to develop ways and means of coping with damage that might come from a military assault. I don't think I'm speaking only for myself when I tell you that I was hoping none of this would be necessary, and that the current crisis would resolve itself without violence."

He took a deep breath. "Unfortunately, it appears that we were right to take precautions. Reliable sources on Earth have informed us that, over the past couple of days, there's been a surge of activity at the US military spaceport on Matagorda Island. Our sources haven't
been able to determine the extent of those preparations, other than to say that it appears that military personnel have been transported to the island and that magcat shuttles have been prepared for liftoff."

Mr. Porter pressed a button on the podium keypad, and the wall behind him became an enormous screen. Displayed upon it was a shot of Earth as seen from the Moon; it was in third-quarter phase, with the sunlight terminator falling across the Gulf of Mexico. To the right was a bright spot of light, a star more brilliant than those around it.

"Early this morning at 0800 Greenwich Meridian Time, 0300 Eastern Standard, two shuttles lifted off from Matagorda, about a half-hour apart. Shortly after that they rendezvoused at Station America, where the freighter
Charles Duke
has been docked since the embargo began." Mr. Porter pointed to the screen. "This picture was taken about two hours ago by our observatory telescope. It shows the
Duke's
nuclear main engine being fired. Consequent footage shows that the engine hasn't been shut down, and that the freighter itself is on course for lunar rendezvous and orbital insertion."

Again, murmurs passed through the room. Everyone there knew the
Charles Duke.
It was one of three heavy-lift lunar freighters built to transport cargo to the Moon and haul He
³
and other lunar materials back to Earth. If its gas-core nuclear engine was under constant thrust, the
Duke
could make it to the Moon in a fraction of the time it took for an LTV to make the same journey.

Before anyone could ask the obvious question, Mr. Porter answered it. "We estimate that the
Duke
will arrive in approximately twenty hours, including time for braking and orbital insertion. Mr. Garcia will now take over the briefing. Luis...?"

The Chief stood up and approached the podium, with Mr. Porter stepping aside to make room for him. "What the
Duke
will do once it gets here is anyone's guess, but I think we can safely assume that it's not coming to bring us chocolates and roses." A few chuckles, but most of the people in the room weren't in the mood for a joke, and
Mr. Garcia wasn't smiling either. "Chances are that it's carrying two or more landing craft which will descend to the lunar surface. So, we can count on a direct attack upon Apollo...and chances are also that they know we're ready for them."

He touched the keypad, and the light in the sky was replaced by topo maps of the Moon's two hemispheres. "Because of that, it's possible that they may try to pull an end-run around our defenses, and attack what they may consider to be our Achilles heel...Cabeus Station, our lunar ice mine at the South Pole."

Mr. Porter pointed to the map of the lunar nearside, and a small yellow circle appeared above a small crater an inch or so from the very bottom of the map. "They may believe that if they seize Cabeus, they can take control of most of our water supply, which would then cut short any prolonged siege of Apollo...and they would be right. Cabeus is our weakness. We can hole up in here almost indefinitely, but if we run out of water, surrender will be inevitable. So Cabeus Station must be protected as well as Apollo."

He looked at the Rangers. "I want to send a team of twelve Rangers to the South Pole while the rest of us stay here to defend Apollo. Gentlemen, ladies...do I have any volunteers?"

I didn't think twice. I held up my hand. Logan didn't hesitate, either; his hand went up at the same time as mine did. Nicole was seated in the row in front of us. She glanced over her shoulder, saw what Logan and I were doing, and then her hand rose as well. Nine more hands were raised--Mikel, Greg, Mahmoud, several others I didn't know quite so well--until the Chief had his dozen volunteers.

"Thank you." Mr. Garcia nodded in satisfaction. "Once this briefing is over, I want this group to report at once to the Airlock 7 ready-room for suit-up. You'll depart for Cabeus Station within two hours."

I was ready to go that minute, but had to wait while Mr. Porter returned to the podium to cover other items on the agenda. Mining operations were to be immediately suspended, with the regolith harvesters
relocated to the nearby mountains and camouflaged with tarps to prevent them from being bombed. Airlocks would be sealed, and only Rangers and a few support personnel would be allowed to leave the crater. Colonists were to be evacuated to the storm shelter if and when Apollo came under attack. The shelter was already stocked with food and water, and the Apollo General staff were asked to set up emergency medical facilities down there. Once he'd covered everything on the list, the city manager asked if there were any questions.

From the back of the room, Donald Hawthorne raised his hand. Mr. Porter seemed reluctant to acknowledge him, but he did so anyway. Mr. Hawthorne was still using a cane to get around, and his face expressed irritation as he used it to push himself to his feet.

"Loren," he said as he stood up, "considering the danger we're in, shouldn't we at least think about the obvious solution...immediate surrender?"

Angry mutters and whispers rose from the audience. Although Mr. Garcia glared at the mining operations director, Mr. Porter remained stoical. "We've thought about that, Donald," he replied. "In fact, the council discussed that at some length. And the answer is no. We will not surrender. President Shapar is engaged in unilateral actions that are in clear violation of international treaty, and..."

"Then you can count me out!" Mr. Hawthorne snapped. "I refuse to be a traitor to my country!"

"No one here is a traitor!" someone yelled. "We're defending ourselves!"

Mr. Hawthorne ignored him. Without another word, he turned to stalk out of the room, leaning heavily upon his cane. Quite a few people hissed and booed, and when I glanced over at Billy Tate, I saw that, even though his expression remained stoical, his face had gone red. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him; his uncle had just made an ass of himself.

Mr. Porter waited until the auditorium door slammed shut behind Mr. Hawthorne before he spoke again. "Are there any other questions
or comments?" he asked. No one raised a hand. "Very well, then. If everyone knows what they need to do, then the meeting is adjourned."

Everyone stood up to leave. I wanted to head over to Billy and talk to him, but he shoved everyone aside and hurried from the room. "Leave him alone," Logan murmured as we watched him go. "Not his fault that he's got a jerk for an uncle."

Not long ago, I'd decided Billy was a jerk himself. I'd since learned that Nicole was right: he could be a pretty good guy when he wanted to be. Maybe his bad side came from his uncle. Still, the fact that he hadn't volunteered for the mission made me wonder where his loyalties lay. Was he staying here to defend his home...or did he agree with his uncle?

I didn't know, but I had more important matters to deal with just then. Mr. Garcia had just come down from the stage, and the other Rangers who'd volunteered for the mission were gathering around him. I didn't think he was planning to lead the mission, but it looked as if he was about to give us some last-minute orders. I started to head over there when I felt a soft hand on my shoulder. Looking around, I saw that Hannah had come up behind me.

"Hey, you," she said. "You planning to run off without saying goodbye?"

Damn. I was about to do that, wasn't I? "Y'know what's a drag?" I asked, trying to change the subject. "Before Logan found us, I was about to ask if you...well, wanted to go out with me. Like, to get a pizza, or see a vid, or..."

"Jamey Barlowe...is that the date you promised me?" A sly smile appeared on her face.

I'd forgotten about that. Obviously she hadn't. "Well...um, yeah, but if you don't want to..."

The smile vanished, "What makes you think I don't?"

I guessed I'd confused her a little. Maybe I was bit confused myself. I was trying to figure out how to answer that when something else occurred to me. "Oh, yeah," I said, "and there's another thing."
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the medallion she'd given me a few days earlier. "Here...you can have this back."

Hannah looked down at the medallion. "I think you should hold onto it a little while longer," she said. "You need it more than I do."

"Maybe, but..." I hesitated, not knowing how to say what was on my mind. "It belongs to you, and...well, y'know, it'll be safer with you, I think."

My mind was on the mission, not her. I was going to a dangerous place where there was a very real possibility than I might lose my life. If that happened, I didn't want my body brought back to Apollo with her St. Christopher's medallion still around my neck. I wanted to spare her that...but I didn't realize that she might not see things the same way I did.

Hannah stared at me for several seconds. Behind us, I heard Logan calling for me. I paid no attention to him. Hannah's mouth trembled, and behind the tears that crept into the corners of her eyes I saw a hint of anger.

"You really don't get it, do you?" she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I didn't give that to you because I think it's a good luck charm. I gave that to you because...because..."

I glanced past her. The briefing was already underway; Mr. Garcia's back was turned to me, but several other Rangers were looking my way. I was supposed to be with them, receiving final instructions from the Chief, not fooling around with my girlfriend.

"Because what?" I said, more impatiently than I should have.

Hannah's mouth fell open; now the anger was obvious. "If you haven't figured it out by now, then you probably never will," she snapped, her voice no longer subdued. "God, I'm so tired of chasing you..."

"Hannah..." From the corner of my eye, I could see several people staring at us. "C'mon. I didn't...I mean, I don't..."

"I think I figured out what you don't want." Before I could stop her, she snatched the medallion from my hand. "Good luck," she finished, and then she turned and dashed out of the auditorium.

In the early years of the 21st century, NASA sent its Lunar Crater Observation and Sensing Satellite to the Moon to confirm the presence of subsurface ice deposits at the South Pole. Upon reaching the Moon, LCROSS released its spent second-stage booster and sent it crashing down into Cabeus Crater. The probe's cameras and spectroscopes caught the plume of debris raised by the rocket's impact; when scientists back on Earth analyzed the images, they discovered that as much as 8.5 percent of the regolith was comprised of ice, possibly the remnants of an ancient comet collision. Since the crater floor lay in perpetual darkness, this ice had never melted.