A Grey Moon Over China (52 page)

“Ah-hah, tit for tat.” I turned back to the cage. “The attack against the Chinese weapons base on planet number three caused weapons production there to stop permanently. Query: cause of the attack against this base.”

“Origin of explosions on planet six satellite three removed before remainder removed. Communications not open.”

Penderson understood before I did.

“Jesus, Torres, I don’t believe this. Come here a minute. No, hit the switch first. Okay, come here.” He pulled me back in among the shelves and leaned down to speak quietly. “Can Allerton hear what this thing’s saying?”

“Hell, no, not a chance. When the shielding’s live we’ve got the only antenna. I’ll bet he’s shitting bricks, though, wondering what’s going on. Did you understand that last answer the same way I did?”

“Yeah. Allerton’s got interplanetary delivery systems and he’s testing them by dropping warheads on H-vi’s third moon. Where he thinks no one will notice. Except that the aliens did,
and
they saw where the missiles were coming from. Torres, there’s no way Allerton’s going to let you back off this planet with that alien.”

“He’s still got Polaski to answer to. He isn’t strong enough yet to rock the boat that much.”

“Accidents happen.”

“Let me deal with Allerton. How did you like the tail end of that last answer: ‘before remainder removed’? As though removing this base was just a chore on the way to scraping humans out of the system.”

“I thought they didn’t care one way or the other about humans.”

“Okay, on the way to scraping out of the system whatever it is they think they see here.” I rubbed at my eyes and leaned out to look down the row of shelves at the grey beast frozen in its cage. “It’s being damned honest about things, isn’t it?”

“It may not understand deceit,” he said. “It’s a pretty refined art, hard to
calculate. So is the mutual leaking of military information, which is what we’re doing. We’ve got a finely tuned sense for it, developed over thousands of years. It may not.”

“Well, I do. Come on.” We sat back down, and I spoke again to the alien.

“The Chinese weapons production that is stopped permanently on planet three is now continuing on planet five, satellite one, underground beneath the equatorial base on the near-planet side—”

“
Jesus
, Torres,” hissed Penderson, “that’s the Indian—” I held up a hand to stop him.

“Query:” I said, “origin of fractures to environment domes on black planet—planet number four—prior to your attack there.”

“Vessels of mass three element one moving from planet five satellite two to planet two. Communications not open.”

My stomach turned. It wasn’t an answer I’d expected.

I pressed the switch to allow the alien to pass along the information about the Indian mines on H-v’s moon, then shook my head to clear it and stared around the storeroom.
Polaski
. The shutter in the wall rattled in the wind and a rumble of thunder came in from outside. I walked away to lean on a shelf, and Penderson followed me.

“What’s going on?” he said. “You asked how they blew out our domes?”

“No . . . no, that’s not it.” Had I? “No,” I said, “I asked it who did it.”

“You asked—what’s the matter, Torres, you don’t look so good.”

The world had tilted on its side, and it had filled with images of McKenna and the black domes cracking at night.

“You sick, or what?” said Penderson.

“I’m all right.”

“No, you’re not,” said Penderson. “So what was that all about with the alien? What’s a vessel of mass three element one? Is that what this is all about? Come on, what’s going on, Torres?”

“Element one is hydrogen,” I said. “The isotope of hydrogen with a mass of three is tritium. It’s produced at a plant on H-v’s second moon.”

“Okay, but it said tritium vessels.”

“We’ve been shipping tritium from H-v’s moon to Lowhead on light freighters. Those are the vessels it’s talking about. The tritium was supposed to be resold here as a medical tracer.”

“Supposed to be?”

“Tritium’s also used to make hydrogen warheads.”

“Oh. I see.”

“No, you don’t. The point is, we’re the ones who’ve been shipping it. Us—the black planet. We pick it up from the mines and bring it to Lowhead on ships we lease from Pikes Mountain. It’s a project of Polaski’s.”

“You telling me Polaski knew the tritium was for weapons instead of for medical tracers?”

I looked away.

“Wait a minute, Torres. The alien said it was the ships carrying tritium that caused our dome failures. Is that what this is all about? I mean, forget
how
they could do it,
why
would they do it? It doesn’t make sense.”

My hands were cold. I wanted to get moving, get somewhere else.

“Torres,” said Penderson after a minute, “I’ve got a feeling you’d better make real sure everyone thinks that having you talk to this alien is the best thing that’s ever happened to them.”

“Yes.”

“You know that? So what’s this business about the Indian mine? You just sentenced a couple hundred miners to death.”

“No, I didn’t. Let’s go, Harry. I’ve got more questions, then I want to get out of here.”

I sat down in front of the alien again as the first of the rain spattered against the shutters. I felt sluggish, no longer interested in the process. Or in Serenitas, or in the attacks, or in my brief ascendancy over Allerton. The alien in its cage had become dull and colorless, unimportant.

“On the black planet,” I said to the alien, “on the side farthest from the environment domes that you attacked, are deep fissures in the surface. New weapons capable of destroying your forces are being hidden in those fissures. Query: place you were
created
.”

“Deck ninety-one. Communications not open.”

I pressed the switch and tried a last time.

“On the anti-spinward shore of the sea of this planet, large orbital habitats are being prepared for launch. Query: place your
species
was created.”

“Deck ninety-one. Communications not open.”

S
o maybe that’s where it was built, and it doesn’t know any different.” Becker put his hands in his pockets and turned to watch the rain. He and Allerton stood with us at the opening to the hangar, a step back from the streams of water that flowed across the apron. The wind had stopped and the rain poured straight down from the afternoon sky. Crews in slick coveralls worked to tow the iron ship toward the hangar through the rain, while the tractor’s wheels put up a mist and the hot motors hissed from the moisture. Water poured in sheets down the sides of the brooding vessel and splashed against the apron with a monotonous sound. Behind us in the hangar, a motorized pallet-jack navigated across the
building’s floor, with the alien in its cage balanced carefully on the metal runners.

Allerton was restless. He folded his arms and looked down at me again with his best aristocratic look. “So, fine,” he said. “We know where it comes from. What else did it say? You two were in there for a long time.”

“It said they’re going to attack the Indian mines on Five’s first moon.”

“What? It said
that?”

“Yes.”

He brushed his hair back with both palms, then jammed his hands in his pockets. He watched the rain and rocked up and down on his toes.

“I suppose,” I said, “that I should warn them.”

“No,” said Allerton quickly. “No. You let me take care of that.” He pushed his hands farther into his pockets. “So why is it telling us this, Torres?”

“I don’t know, Bart. Maybe it’s on our side. Maybe the attack on the base here was just a negotiating ploy like you said, and now it’s trying to show good faith.”

“You think so? I should talk to it. Becker, let’s go talk to this fellow we caught.”

Allerton stalked back through the hangar with Becker shuffling along behind. They stopped the handlers who were moving the alien, then after a discussion the technicians were called over to unpack the antenna and speaker device.

Penderson watched me from tired eyes. “You’re skating pretty close to the edge here, Torres. So are you going to warn the Indians or not?”

“No, Allerton’s going to do it. He’ll want the system to believe he’s in thick with the aliens. Or at least that he’s got a source among them.”

“What about the Russians? You told the alien about the habitats they’re putting up.”

“I already called them, a few minutes ago when I went out to check the ship. They pissed and moaned, but they agreed to evacuate the launch site. I don’t think the aliens are going to do anything there, though.”

“Well, whatever game you’re playing, it’s better you than me. Don’t underestimate Allerton.”

No, I thought. I hadn’t underestimated Allerton at all.

We stood a while longer watching the crews turn the ship around in the bleak weather, preparing to back it up to the hangar. Becker and Allerton finally approached from behind us.

“It won’t talk to me,” said Allerton.

“That’s too bad, Bart. Maybe being mechanical the way it is, it’s more comfortable with technical people. I don’t know.”

“Hm. So what else did it say?”

“It said it wants to see Polaski.”

“Really?” He looked at me closely in the poor light, turning his head a couple of times to glance back at the approaching cage. Finally he stuck out his hand. “All right. Ed, listen. Thanks for coming to help out. And I want to say that if you’ve still got any little concerns about the treaties, why don’t you work them through your boss. I’m sure no one wants to overreact at a time like this. Okay? Good. He’ll know what to do. Have a good trip back.” He shook Penderson’s hand, then touched Colonel Becker’s shoulder on the way by. “It’s all right, Becker,” he said. He disappeared into the hangar. Becker ignored him.

The tractor pulling the ship switched on its yellow beacon as the afternoon darkened, and the reflection slid across the rain to mix with the sound of wheels hissing through the puddles. After we’d watched it for a minute Penderson took me aside. He started to say something, then turned back toward the rain and held his silence. We stood that way for several minutes.

“Listen, Torres,” he said at last. “I didn’t want to say anything back there. I wasn’t even sure—”

“What is it, Harry?”

He hesitated. “Well, I know there’s a lot going on right now, and you’re not feeling well and maybe it’s not a good time, but I don’t think I’ll be coming back with you. I’m staying with Carolyn.”

I turned away to look at the ship, and studied it for a while. It was well-built, I thought, a good use of scarce resources. Something we needed more of . . . I would talk to Chan about it. Where was Chan, at that moment? What would she be doing? And Charlie, what would he be doing? I lifted my face to get it wet from the rain, then wiped it with a sleeve.

“Torres?”

“What, Harry?” A cold sweat broke out on my hands at the thought of flying the ship alone.

“Nothing.”

“So where is Carolyn?” I said. I had evidently missed whatever there was between them.

“She left when we were talking to Allerton. One of the techs is going to drive me out to meet her.”

“Why, Harry?” I turned to look at him. He tried not to look away.

“Look,” he said, “I don’t think there’s a whole lot of time left for any of us, and I don’t want to spend it in space anymore. I’m grateful you took me on, but I’m tired, Torres. And Carolyn needs someone right now. She’s not going back to West Lowhead, you know.”

I hadn’t known. “Where’s she going?”

He shook his head, then turned to watch the cage being raised up to the ship’s rear hatch. The prod slid forward to force the creature through. “You going to be all right flying that thing, Torres?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, okay. I wasn’t sure.” He put out his hand and looked at me, his dark face wet from the spray. “I’m sorry, Ed.” He shook my hand and walked away through the hangar.

The hatch on the ship slammed and the empty cage was lowered to the ground. The pallet-jack trundled off into the hangar, with the handlers riding on the runners behind the empty cage. Colonel Becker wandered up to stand next to me and put his hands in his pockets, and the two of us watched the engineers climb down from the ship and give me a thumbs-up before walking away. The afternoon light had faded almost to night. The rain turned colder.

Inside the hangar on the far side, the two solitary guards stood at attention by the green canvas curtain. No one else was in sight. Becker and I were the only ones. We stood and watched the iron ship, a cold, indifferent husk in the rain, with the alien on board, waiting for me.

“Hah!” said Becker suddenly. It was a sharp, cynical bark, then a moment later he turned and walked away. I listened to him go, then wiped my hands on my trousers and watched the rain. I was alone with the iron ship and the alien.

T
he trip home was hard. The vertigo of space and the long, manual flight were made all the worse by being alone. Even in the earliest hours, the monotony and the quiet dragged at me. During moments of disorientation I considered turning back, thinking to get a good night’s sleep before setting out again. But I continued on, telling myself there was nothing to fear, that the time would pass. Yet for two days I held myself awake, not wanting to sleep.