Rock Killer (23 page)

Knecht shrugged her shoulders. “About an hour.”

Griffin smiled. “At this distance, how long for a message to reach Earth?”

Trudeau spoke. “About 22 minutes.”

“Knecht,” Griffin said, “let me know 20 minutes before we can launch missiles. We can send the message then and it’ll get to Earth just after the attack begins.”

“Okay,” she said. Then she smiled at him.

Griffin climbed down the ladder to the level below the bridge. He went into the captain’s quarters and sat at the desk. His stomach was knotted with anticipation and he stared at the blank wall. Griffin didn’t believe in the Judeo-Christian God of his grandparents, but he did presume some superior force existed in the universe that would approve of Griffin’s actions on behalf of Its environment. To that idea, he prayed for success.

Suddenly, he felt himself get heavier. The
Rock Killer
was accelerating at one full gee for the first time since leaving the Belt. His watch said only 15 minutes of the hour until launch had passed when he heard someone descend the ladder. Knecht came into the room.

“Is it time, already?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “No, about 25 minutes until you want to send the message. I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Have a seat,” Griffin said.

She shook her head. “No, this won’t take long. I just wanted to say I appreciate...” her voice trailed off.

“What?” Griffin asked.

“I appreciate,” she tried again, “how you...”

“Yes?” he prompted.

“How you don’t–or rather, how you accept me for what I can do, not how I look.”

Griffin shrugged. If she wanted to believe he didn’t consider her looks that was fine with him. “I know you’re good at your job,” he said.

“It’s the first time anyone, any man, has accepted me as a person and not a...”

“A what?”

“A thing,” she spat with disgust.

“What do you mean?”

“Remember,” she said,” when I told you about my step-father and all that?”

“Yes,” Griffin breathed. The implicit horror of her story had haunted him since.

“Well,” she continued, “I just want to tell you that you’re the first person I’ve trusted for a long time. It’s so nice to be able to confide in a person.”

“You do keep up quite a barrier,” Griffin observed.

“I know,” she agreed. “Force of habit. Last person I confided in, Trent, didn’t care about me. She only wanted me to advance the revolution and for her own gratification.”

“What about now?” Griffin asked.

“I guess,” she whispered, “I trust you.”

Griffin stood and moved toward her. She didn’t move away. As he touched her, she stiffened momentarily. She put her arms tentatively around him and slowly met his mouth with hers. Then all reluctance disappeared. Hands reached expectantly for zippers and Velcro as the bodies moved to the bunk.

He wondered briefly why she was suddenly lissome—perhaps the tension of the impending attack. But he soon stopped wondering and continued acting on instinct. She lay beneath him and he supported his weight on his knees and one hand while the other investigated her strong yet silky body. She strained to kiss him while they finished undressing one another.

He moved his hands across her skin and finally touched her between the thighs. She gave a startled yelp, then relaxed and her face showed her contentment.

“No one ever did that before,” she said softly before pulling him down until they fused.

***

Charlie held a KS-900 nine-millimeter submachine gun, like the one that had killed Frank, in her hand. It was shaped like a pound of butter with a short barrel and long magazine and a pistol grip. She smiled. This weapon could get Beatty and Whaltham extradited to Japan or Europe to pay for Frank’s death.

She continued to search the basement. There were more weapons, some explosives, and enough ammunition for the revolution that Beatty and Whaltham kept hoping for. She didn’t find any space suits, though. In one corner on a desk she found a very modern, very expensive IBM superconducting portable mini-mainframe. She turned it on and discovered the operating system was the current standard. But the files were encrypted. But the encryption system was in the memory. She almost laughed when she found it.

Upon opening the first file, Charlie’s eyes grew wide. The computer documented GA finances for the past twelve years: where the money came from and where it went. The money came mostly from small donations from individuals, the occasional large donation from some persons with more money than brains, and some charitable foundations. There was one such foundation listed that SRI had contributed funds to in the past.

The money went to the mortgage on the house, various vehicles, and incidental expenses. What Charlie was really interested in was the weapons, ammunition, and supplies bought on the black market, including the purchase of Russian pressure suits from Yemen. The purchase of the South African KS-900 was well documented. Someone in the GA organization was a fastidious record keeper. T
hey’ll regret that
, Charlie thought.

She found a data chip in a drawer and began copying the files.

***

It was early evening in Tokyo when the message from Ceres arrived. Mitchel had just sent Meyoung home and ordered up some dinner from the restaurant on the top floor of the building when his computer beeped and an email message popped up in a box. Mitchel expanded the box to fill the screen and read it:

27 APR 0802Z

TO: SEC HEAD MITCHEL, SRI HQ, TOKYO

FROM: CHIEF OF SEC MC KENNA, SEC DEPT, SRI ASTEROID FACILITY, CERES ASTEROID

SUBJECT: “ROCK SKIPPER” PROVISIONS INDEPENDENT SHIP, THE “GINNEY-MAE” RETURNED CERES YESTERDAY. OWNER, JEAN-CLAUDE MOURET, COMPLAINED OF ASSAULT BY GAIA ALLIANCE MEMBERS. SAID HE RENDEZVOUSED WITH “ROCK SKIPPER” AT COORDINATES: 297,406,500 KM RHO, 087 DEGREES THETA, 95 DEGREES PHI, FOUR DAYS AGO. HE HAD NO IDEA WHAT THEIR PLANS WERE. NOTE: MOURET SAID THE GA MEMBERS REFERRED TO “ROCK SKIPPER” AS “ROCK KILLER.”

“Damn,” Mitchel whispered. He worked on his computer a few minutes. Soon it displayed all SRI assets within four days travel at 1.5 gees from 297 million kilometers from the sun, 87 degrees from Earth’s position on January first and 5 degrees above the plane of the elliptic. It was a sphere with the radius of almost three astronomical units, or just over Ceres’ mean distance from the sun. That meant they could be almost anywhere in half the solar system. R
ock Killer
, he thought. D
amn
. While Ceres was sometimes called an asteroid, it wasn’t referred to as “rock” like an asteroid moving to the inner solar system. Even the media referred to SRI’s mobile asteroids as “rocks.”

Currently, there were three such asteroids in space. SRI-1859 was pretty much in pieces at Lagrange point five and attacking it would be redundant. SRI-1960, at L-4, was vulnerable but could be evacuated easily. Also, why would they go all the way to the asteroid belt, just to return to attack a target in Earth orbit? Rendezvous with the miner? No, the Syrians could have supplied them close to Earth. SRI-1961, just leaving the belt, had to be their target.

“Computer, record outgoing message.”

The display showed “recording.”

“Message as follows: To: Director Chun, SRI-1961; from: Security Head Mitchel, SRI HQ, Tokyo. Subject: Possible attack on SRI-1961 by
Rock Skipper
. Text:
Rock Skipper
, armed with space-to-space missiles, may attack SRI-1961. SRI-1961 seems the most likely target of SRI-1960, SRI-1961, and Ceres. Time of possible attack is unknown. Alex, I don’t know what you can do but be prepared. End Message. Send, top priority.”

A cute little icon of a piece of paper with wings fluttered off the screen in a display that always struck Mitchel as silly and at this moment downright ludicrous.

He requested data on SRI-1961’s distance from Earth. It was over 360 million kilometers. At 300,000 kilometers a second, the light speed delay was about 20 minutes.

“Damn,” Mitchel said. “Computer, send a copy of that message to Ceres appended to the attention of the Director of Ceres, Kuffer.”

Another winged icon took flight.

“Computer, call Nakata.”

The Deputy Director of Space Operations for Asteroid Operations probably would want to order the evacuation of SRI-1960 as a precaution.

Nakata was in his office, despite the late hour. Mitchel didn’t know anyone on the executive floors who didn’t regularly work 60 to 70 hours a week.

“Yes, Mitchel?” Nakata said on the screen.

Mitchel was always at a loss about what to call the DDSOAO. Technically, they were peers. But Mitchel was younger and had been a section chief fewer years than Nakata. Also, the other man had an ambiance around him that made it impossible for Mitchel to call him anything other than, “Mr. Nakata. I have reason to believe the Gaia Alliance will attack either SRI-1961 or 1960. I have already sent a warning to Director Chun. I wondered if you would want to evacuate 1960?”

Nakata thought for a moment, then said, “Do you think an attack is imminent?”

“Yes, I do. However, I believe 1961 is the most likely target. I still thought you might want to evacuate as a precaution.”

“Yes,” Nakata said. “That would be prudent. I will have all personnel evacuated to the support ship and the ship return to the Low Earth Orbit Facility. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nakata.” The screen went black and Mitchel sat back in his chair. He looked over the metropolis below. He’d done all he humanly could do. He was afraid it wasn’t enough.

***

Trent picked up the phone/computer and punched in a remembered address. “Whaltham,” she said, “Do you know who this is?”

“Yes. It’s the middle of the God damn night. This better be good.”

“It is. I sent a woman to Beatty two months ago. Shari Johnson.”

“Yes, I know. I met her.”

“She works for Space Resources Incorporated.”

“Shit!” he yelled into the computer’s handset.

“I just found out,” Trent defended herself.

“God damn it. Okay, I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay,” Trent said, not knowing what else to say.

“It’ll be taken care of,” he repeated before disconnecting.

“What is it?” his wife asked.

“Nothing, go to sleep. I have to make a call. I’ll do it from the terminal in my den.”

“A patient?”

“Yes.”

***

Griffin and Knecht emerged from the lower depths onto the bridge. Trudeau and Cole watched them climb up. Cole’s face registered her disgust.

Knecht walked to her computer. “We can launch in 15 minutes.” She turned to Griffin. “Sorry, Alan.”

“No problem, Barb. Trudeau, send the message.”

The plan was that, since they were about 20 light-minutes from Earth, the announcement of the attack should be timed to be received just as the attack was happening. That meant the message had to be sent before the actual strike.

Trudeau tuned the radio to a frequency that was monitored by the press and most governments. He sent the prerecorded message on that frequency. He turned on the bridge speakers so his companions could hear it, too.

“This is the
Rock Killer
of the Gaia Alliance to all the people of Earth and space.”

***

SRI-1961 bristled with antennas like a pincushion. A computer scanned all frequencies used by man in space using technology and software developed for the SETI project late in the last century. The computer was programmed to key in on certain words and phrases and then notify the operator using algorithms developed by intelligence agencies in the nineteen hundreds.

One of those phrases was “Gaia Alliance” or “GA,” recently programmed in.

The operator on shift was using the computer’s spare memory to read a book since the screen was displaying nothing. He was in the middle of a sentence when the screen cleared the novel and the computer started beeping almost frantically.

The screen displayed: Gaia Alliance. Out of a speaker came the voice message the computer had locked the receiver on. At the same time the computer started recording the incoming message.

“...to all the people of Earth and space,” the male voice, obviously reading a text, said. “Space Resources Incorporated will not learn the price of greed. SRI was served a blow in the Mojave Desert after their desecration of that fragile environment with their cancer causing microwave antenna field. But still they did not learn. A month ago, they were dealt a blow on the Moon after their continued desecrations there. And still they did not learn. SRI is continuing to treat the asteroid belt, specifically, and space in general, as if it were their private property and they can do as they wish with it. Even now they are stealing yet another asteroid and taking it back to Earth for their own greedy purposes.

“So, the Gaia Alliance,” the message continued, “has destroyed that asteroid to prevent SRI from using it. We regret the loss of life, but we are fighting a war for the survival of the human race.”

“Oh, shit,” the operator almost yelled. He hit an intercom button connecting him with communications chief Manna’s office/quarters.

“Boss, you’ve got to hear this.”

***

“What the hell are you doing?” a voice growled loudly.

Charlie looked up from the computer to the base of the stairs. Beatty was standing there, dressed in shorts and a tee shirt.

“I said what are you doing down here?” he repeated, moving menacingly toward her.