Part 5 (1/2)

”Yet in this case you're going to let them dictate to you, is that it?”

Faure's moustache quivered slightly. ”Not at all! I make the decision and they follow.”

Smiling her prettiest, Edith knew she had him. ”In that case, you certainly understand how important it will be to have an unbiased, trusted news reporter on the scene when they land at Moonbase.”

Faure's face clearly showed that he did not like being mousetrapped. But slowly his expression changed; he smiled again, showing teeth.

”Yes, you are correct,” he said slowly. ”The responsibility is mine. All mine. The weight of the major decisions is upon my shoulders alone.”

Edith recognized the crafty look in his eyes.

”This is not an easy decision to make, Miss Elgin,” Faure went on. ”Special arrangements require certain... ah, accommodations.”

”What do you mean?” Edith asked, knowing perfectly well what he meant.

Leaning forward even more and tapping a pudgy finger on her knee, Faure said, ”We have much to discuss about this. Perhaps we could have dinner this evening?”

The body tax. Edith controlled her inner anger as she told herself, Even after all these years of women's rights it still comes down to the d.a.m.ned body tax. He's got the power and he knows it. If I want him to do me a favor he expects me to do one for him in return. And all he sees is a good-looking blonde.

”Dinner sounds fine,” she said, thinking, It won't be the first time you've opened your legs to get a good a.s.signment. Sometimes you've got to give some head to get ahead.

TOUCHDOWN MINUS 96 HOURS.

The mercenary stared at the message that was waiting for him on his wall screen.

”The prey runs to the hunter,” he muttered to himself.

Slowly he peeled off his grimy fatigues and wadded them into a ball that he tossed onto his bunk as he headed for the shower stall. His quarters were one of the old rooms in Moonbase. Most people complained that they were small and cramped, but the mercenary found the s.p.a.ce just fine for his needs. Two of the walls were smart screens, recently installed. The shower stall was new, too.

Making sure the temperature dial was still set for dead cold, the mercenary stepped into the stall and let the reviving water sluice over his body. The prey runs to the hunter, he thought again. Doug Stavenger wants to see me.

Ever since he had first begun training as a sniper, back during his army days, he had thought of killing as a sort of religious rite. A sacred responsibility. Everybody dies, the only question about it is where and when. And how.

I give them a clean death. Not like some of those freaks.

When he was taken out of the army to serve in the covert intelligence agency, he had the time and the need to take up the study of primitive hunters who believed that the animals they killed came to them for death. The prey runs to the hunter.

If you do everything just right, make all the proper rituals and set things up just the way they should be, then the prey comes to you and asks to be allowed to die. Not in so many words, of course. But they come to me for death.

Just like Doug Stavenger's going to do. h.e.l.l, he's already started along the path.

TOUCHDOWN MINUS 95 HOURS 54 MINUTES.

Zoltan Kadar was a Hungarian who prided himself on being slicker and smarter than ordinary mortals. He also happened to be one of the top astronomers in the world and an extremely clever man.

But now he felt frustrated and, worse, ignored.

He strode along the corridor toward the base director's office, hands balled into fists, arms swinging like a soldier on parade. He was on the small side, quite slim, a fencer's agile figure. His hair was dark and straight, and came to a p.r.o.nounced widow's peak centered above his heavy dark eyebrows. People called him Count Dracula, although once they got to know him they changed his nickname to Slick w.i.l.l.y. Kadar revelled in the characterization.

”Hey, Slick, where you going?”

Kadar barely slowed his determined stride as he recognized Harry Clemens, head of the transportation division. Clemens was one of the older engineers, a true Lunatic who had been working at Moonbase for many years.

”h.e.l.lo, Harry.”

Working hard to stay with Kadar, Clemens-lanky, balding, un-athletic-said, ”Jeez, you look like you're going to lead the charge of the light brigade.”

”They've cancelled my Farside survey flight,” Kadar said through gritted teeth. ”I'm going to get it back on schedule.”

”Oh, yeah, I know about that. Too bad.”

”Too bad for them. They can't just stop my work like that.' He snapped the fingers of his left hand.

”Everything's ground to a halt. We're at war, you know.”

”Pah!”

”Nothing's going out, really. There's a Peacekeeper troops.h.i.+p on its way here.”

”What has that got to do with building the Farside observatory?”

Clemens was a practical engineer, and he recognized a stone wall when he saw one. ”Well, I've got to turn off here. I'm helping the nanotech crew to shut down the bugs building the Clippers.h.i.+p.”

”Goodbye, Harry,” said Kadar.

”Hope you can get what you want, but I wouldn't count on it.”

”Goodbye, Harry.”

Another minute's march brought Kadar to the base director's office. He rapped once on the door and opened it.

Jinny Anson was sitting behind the desk, talking on the phone to some woman. She glanced up at Kadar and waved him to a chair in front of her desk. From the expression on her face, Kadar realized that she knew she was in for trouble.

”Where is Stavenger?” Kadar asked as soon as Anson clicked off her phone screen.

”Doug's taking charge of the war. I'm the base director pro-tern.' Before Kadar could draw a breath she added, ”And all all work outside has been suspended, Zoltan, not just yours.” work outside has been suspended, Zoltan, not just yours.”

”I'm not interested in the rest of them. It's my work that is important.”

”Sure,” Anson said good naturedly. ”But we can't hang a surveillance satellite over Farside until this business with the Peacekeepers is cleared up.”

”I don't see why. It's an uncrewed satellite. I will take care of all the monitoring myself. I have the programs all in place.”

With a patient sigh, Anson explained, ”Look, there's a Moonwar Clippers.h.i.+p full of Peacekeepers on their way here to take over the base. We're going to try to stop them-don't ask me how, that's Doug's problem.”

”But what has this to do with my work?” Kadar couldn't help putting a stress on the word my. my.

”The U.N.'s already taken over the L-l satellite. Maybe they've got Peacekeepers there, maybe not, we don't know.”

”But again, what has this-”