Moonrise (53 page)

He stood there as the tractor pulled up and stopped in a billow of dream-slow swirling dust.

“Where’ve you been?” Rhee asked, stepping down from the tractor. It was a two-seat machine with a flat bed for cargo: the lunar equivalent of a pickup truck.

“I needed some time by myself,” he said.

“Oh! I’m interrupting—”

“No, it’s okay. I was just about to start back anyway.”

“Everybody’s looking for you. Your mother’s just about to roast the infirmary staff under a rocket nozzle for letting you walk off like that.”

Doug looked at Rhee’s stubby, spacesuited figure and felt glad that their helmet visors hid their faces. He did not want anyone to see his expression right at this moment. Nothing but an impersonal, faceless figure encased in protective plastic, metal and fabric.

“How’d you find me?” he asked.

“I like to be by myself sometimes, too.”

“And you come out here?”

“No …” Her voice faltered. “I, uh, I find some cubbyhole where I’m alone and I … dance.”

“Dance? By yourself?”

“Ballet,” Rhee said, her voice so low Doug could hardly hear her. “You know, with an orchestra disk.”

“Ballet,” said Doug. “Sure! Here on the Moon it must be terrific.”

“I’m not very good, even in low gravity.”

“How do you know, if you don’t let anybody see you?”

“Every time I fall down, I know!”

Doug didn’t laugh. He could tell from the tone of her voice that this was very precious to Rhee.

Softly, he said, “I hope you’ll let me see you dance sometime, Bianca.”

He waited for her reply, but she said nothing. So he said, “You’re the only one in the whole base smart enough to find me.”

“I checked with the airlock monitors,” she said, sounding relieved. “They keep a record of everybody who goes out.”

“And comes in,” Doug added. The crew monitoring the main airlock didn’t know that Doug was supposed to be in the infirmary. They had allowed him outside after only a cursory check of the computerized files.

“You must be feeling awfully good to come out here,” Rhee said cheerfully, clambering back up to the driver’s seat.

And Doug realized, She must feel awfully strong about me to come out looking for me. It can’t be impersonal, after all. It never is.

“Bianca,” he asked as he climbed up into the tractor beside her, “how long are you going to be here at Moonbase?”

“My tour’s over at the end of the month. That’s when the new semester starts.”

“Well,” Doug said carefully, “we’ve got a couple of weeks to get acquainted, then.”

Over the suit radio he could hear her breath catch. Then she said, “That’d be fine.”

I can’t tell her anything, Doug knew, but at least I can have a friend to unwind with. Somebody to help keep me sane.

“Uh …” How to say it without hurting her feelings? “You know, it’s good to have a friend here. I really don’t know anyone else in Moonbase.”

“There’s Killifer,” she said lightly.

“He’s leaving tomorrow.”

“Really?” She sounded completely surprised.

“Really.”

“Well, your brother’s here now, isn’t he?”

“Half-brother.” Doug felt his insides clench. “And I hardly know him. He’s always … we’ve never been close.”

He heard her chuckling. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about some of the other women here. They’ll be green with envy.”

“Bianca, it isn’t going to be like that.”

“They’ll say I’m robbing the cradle,” she went on, happily
ignoring him. “After all, I’m almost five years older than you.”

Doug shook his head inside the helmet. “I’ve aged a lot since coming to Moonbase,” he said. And he hoped that he could keep her as a friend without crushing her dreams.

“You never told me about Greg.”

Doug could see the sudden alarm in his mother’s eyes. They were having dinner together in the suite Anson had turned over to Joanna: a sparse microwaved meal of bland Earth-packaged veal that Joanna had commandeered from the stores at the Cave.

“What about Greg?” she asked, from across the round table that Anson had used for conferences in her office.

Despite the roaring emotions blazing in him, Doug still had an appetite. He chewed carefully on a thin slice of veal while his mother watched him, waiting.

Doug put his fork down and said, “Greg murdered my father.”

She did not look surprised. Only tired. Suddenly his mother looked utterly weary.

“He did, didn’t he?” Doug asked, keeping his voice low, not screaming out the accusation the way he wanted to.

“He was terribly sick,” Joanna said. “He didn’t really understand—”

“Don’t lie for him,” Doug snapped. “He killed my father. Killifer helped him. I know the whole story.”

“The whole story? Do you? Do you know what kind of childhood Greg had? How abusive his father was to both of us? Do you know how hard he’s struggled over these past eighteen years to atone for what he did?”

“Atone?”

“Greg’s gone through hell and purgatory to overcome the feelings that led him to … to—”

“Murder,” Doug said, uncompromising.

Tears were glimmering in Joanna’s eyes, but she fought them back. “That’s right, murder. He killed your father. My husband. The man I loved.”

“The father I never knew.”

“
I
knew him. I loved your father.”

Doug saw what she wanted to say. “But you loved Greg, too. You couldn’t let your son be arrested for murder.”

“He was so sick,” Joanna said, suddenly pleading. “Don’t you understand, he would never have done anything like that if he’d been well. He was in torment every day of his life.”

“So you helped him.”

“I protected him. I got him the best medical help on Earth. He worked, Douglas. He went through hell—”

“And purgatory.”

She shook her head. “You just don’t know. How could you? For years and years and years Greg struggled and worked to overcome his feelings. He’s accomplished so much! He’s come so far.”

“He’s come to the Moon.”

“He’s your brother,” Joanna said.

“Half-brother.”

“You’re both my sons. I love you both. I don’t want you to hate him. That’s why I never told you.”

“Didn’t you think I’d find out one day?”

Joanna waved one hand in the air, still clutching her fork.

“One day, yes. Someday. But I didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

“Is that why you kept us apart all these years? Because you were afraid I’d find out?”

“I don’t know,” Joanna said. “No, I don’t think so. At first, when you were an infant, I worried that Greg might be jealous of you. He was in heavy therapy then, and I felt it was best to keep him away from you. Later …” Her voice died away; she seemed lost in the past.

“I’ve told Killifer to resign and take early retirement,” said Doug flatly.

“All right. Fine.”

“What are you going to do about Greg?”

She looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

“I’m stuck here at Moonbase indefinitely. Greg’s the new base director.”

“I can’t send Greg back to Earth. It would look as if I had fired him as director before he even started.”

Doug spread his hands. “So we’re going to be here together, then.”

From the expression on her face it seemed to Doug that
his mother hadn’t thought about it before. She was silent for long moments.

“You’re right,” she said at last. “I’ll have to stay here, too.”

“You?”

Nodding, as if she had made up her mind irrevocably, Joanna said, “I’ll resign as chair of the board of directors and live here. For the coming year, at least.”

Doug stared at her and saw the determination in her eyes. “To keep between Greg and me.”

“To bring the two of you together,” Joanna said, almost desperately. “I love you both and I don’t want you to hate each other.”

“You’re asking a lot.”

“Don’t you see, Doug? It was my fault, too. I’m his mother. Whatever Greg’s done, I bear a responsibility for it.”

“You didn’t murder anybody.”

“But I didn’t stop him from doing it! I didn’t raise him well enough to keep him from murder.”

“That’s like blaming Hitler’s mother for the Holocaust,” Doug snapped.

“I didn’t pay enough attention to him. And when I met your father—how betrayed Greg must have felt.”

“The criminal as victim,” Doug muttered.

Joanna pointed at him with the fork. “Douglas, if you hate your brother for what he did, you’ll also be hating me. He’s my son, as much as you are, and what he did is my fault, too.”

Doug felt drained, exhausted, almost the way he had felt up on the mountaintop with Brennart. My father, Brennart, even Zimmerman’s leaving me. I can’t lose her too; I can’t drive my mother away from me. She wants to live up here, to be with me. And Greg, too, but still …

With a slow shake of his head, Doug replied, “I don’t hate Greg.” He hoped it was true.

“Do you mean it?” his mother asked.

“It’s just—all this is new to me. I never thought—”

Joanna got her feet and came around the table to sit in the empty chair beside him.

“I love you, Douglas. I don’t want to lose you. You and Greg are the only people in the world I care about.”

“I know,” he said. And he let her put her arms around him and hold him close. It felt awkward for a moment, but then he melted into his mother’s embrace and it felt warm and safe and soothing.

Joanna could feel the tension between her two sons, crackling like an electrical spark between two electrodes of opposite polarity.

The three of them were standing in Anson’s former office. Now it was Greg’s office. Joanna had moved into her own quarters.

It had been a long day. They had seen Anson off and Greg had formally taken the directorship of Moonbase. Now, the little cluster of people who had crowded the office to congratulate their new boss had left. Greg stood behind his desk, Joanna at his side, Doug in front of the desk.

Even in the sky blue coveralls that designated management, Greg looked darkly somber. Doug, wearing the pumpkin orange of the research and exploration group, seemed as bright and youthful as a freshly scrubbed cadet. Joanna wore a flowered dress, insisting that she would not limit her wardrobe to the utilitarian jumpsuits that everyone else wore.

Doug smiled at his half-brother and put his hand out over the desk.

“I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you, Greg,” he said. “Best of luck as director.”

Greg took his hand and smiled back. “Thanks.”

“And I want you to know,” Doug said as their hands separated, “that I understand what happened … about my father.”

Greg turned his startled gaze to Joanna.

“She didn’t tell me. Killifer did.”

“Killifer?”

“He left Moonbase a couple days ago. It’s all over with. Finished.”

“Is it?” Greg asked. “Just like that, you find out about your father’s death and you don’t
care?
”

Doug looked toward Joanna, too, then turned back to his brother. “I care, Greg. But it’s all … kind of abstract. I never knew my father. He died before I was born. Maybe I
ought to be angry, furious—but I can’t seem to work up the emotion.”

Greg just stared at him.

“It’s all in the past,” Doug said. “I don’t like it, but then I guess you don’t either.”

With a quick glance at his mother, Greg said, “No, I’m not happy about the past.”

“Then let’s make the future something we can both be happy about. All of us,” he quickly amended.

“Okay,” Greg said guardedly. “Sounds good.”

Doug caught the slight but definite stress on the word
sounds.

“What do you have in mind?” Joanna asked.

Doug shrugged indifferently. “I’ve got a lot of learning to do. I’m signed up with the research and exploration group. We’ll be going back to Mt. Wasser and building the power tower.”

Greg cleared his throat and said, “Yes, I’ve got the mission plan on my list of action items. Top priority.”

“I hope you approve it,” said Doug.

“Don’t worry about it,” Greg replied.

Joanna watched her two sons, thinking, Maybe they can work together. Maybe they’ll learn to trust one another and become as close as true brothers. But I’ll have to watch them. Closely. For a long time to come.

“Once we get the water flowing back here,” Doug was saying, “we can start thinking about expanding the base, turning it into a really livable town.”

Greg said nothing. He was thinking, Doug knows! He knows what I did. He says he doesn’t care, he says it’s all in the past, but he hates me. He’ll do whatever he can to destroy me. He’s already challenging me. He’ll want to keep Moonbase open. He’ll want to be director, sooner or later. Sooner, most likely. I’ll have to keep a couple of jumps ahead of him. I’ll have to make certain that Mom doesn’t give him unfair advantages.

I’ll have to make certain that Moonbase is shut down for good. When I leave here, Moonbase will be history.

It was more like a comfortable little lounge than a conference room, thought Carlos Quintana. Richly appointed and furnished with quiet, understated elegance. These diplomats do all right for themselves, he reminded himself.

The secretary-general gestured him to sit beside her on the bottle green leather sofa. Quintana had known the woman since before she had been Ecuador’s ambassador to the U.N., back when she had been a shy and frightened newcomer to the world of international politics.

She introduced him to the acting president of the Security Council and the chairwoman of the General Assembly, a comely African whose skin glowed like burnished ebony. The Security Council president was from Bangladesh, one of the poorest nations on Earth, yet he was quite overweight and his thick fingers were heavy with jewelled rings.

Nothing is done swiftly among diplomats, Quintana already knew. The four of them had a drink, chatted amiably, and only gradually got down to the reason for which the meeting had been arranged.

“Yes,” Quintana said quietly, once he had been asked, “I am a beneficiary of nanotherapy. I had lung cancer. Now it is gone.”