Part 60 (1/2)

The frustrating thing was that Faure had to watch the progress of the battle on Global News television, narrated by that turncoat s.l.u.t Edie Elgin. But then her broadcast had been abruptly cut off, and Faure celebrated with a little dance across his office carpeting from his desk to the built-in bar, where he poured himself a stiff Pernod and water.

Now, slumped in his desk chair, he realized that his celebration had been premature. Colonel Giap was on his wall screen, reporting in morose detail the defeat of his attack on Moonbase.

”In the tunnels my troops were blind and cut off from all radio communications. They ceased to be a cohesive military unit and were reduced to helpless individuals.”

Faure stared at the faceless image of the s.p.a.cesuited colonel, his chin sinking to his collar. He could hear his pulse thundering in his ears; burning fury seethed inside him like lava bubbling up from the depths of h.e.l.l.

But he kept his silence. Moustache twitching, face glowering red, eyes narrowed to slits, he stared at the wall screen until Colonel Giap finished his report.

”And what are your options?” Faure asked once he realized the colonel was waiting for him to say something.

For three long seconds the secretary-general stared at the image of the Peacekeeper officer.

At last Giap replied, ”I can send in the second and third waves, but I believe the results would be the same. Once in Moonbase's tunnels, my troops are at the mercy of the rebels.”

”And you did not foresee this?” Faure snapped.

Again the interminable wait. Then, ”I did not foresee that the enemy would be able to blind my troops. I had considered the possibility that they might jam our suit radios, but the blinding was a surprise.”

”So what do you recommend, mon colonel mon colonel?”

The gold-tinted visor of Giap's s.p.a.cesuit might as well have been a blank piece of modernistic sculpture, Faure thought. He would get no brilliance from this man, no military genius.

Giap said, ”I recommend that we cut the electrical lines from their solar cell arrays into the base itself. That will cut off their electrical power and force them to surrender.”

”No.' Faure was surprised to hear his own response.

He realized that he had made his decision before he consciously recognized it. Yamagata wants Moonbase intact, so he can take it over and use it for his own purposes. I want Moonbase destroyed, Faure finally understood. Utterly destroyed. Its inhabitants killed. I want it levelled the way the Romans razed Carthage. And then salt strewn across the ruins to a.s.sure that nothing will grow there again.

Moonbase has defied me, and for that they must be punished.

Why should I allow Yamagata to have it as a gift? He will continue to use nanotechnology and show all the world that I am merely his puppet. But that is not the case, no, not at all. Georges Henri Faure is no one's puppet! I am secretary-general of the United Nations and Moonbase must bow to my will or be destroyed. And Yamagata must understand that I do not serve him; he serves me.

Giap was asking, ”You don't want me to cut off their electrical power?”

”No,” Faure repeated, realizing that it was all playing into his hands. Everything was going to be exactly as he wanted it. ”Use ths volunteers.”

It was all falling perfectly into place, after all, Faure thought. Instead of accepting Moonbsse's surrender I will smite them. The nanotechnology treaty will be enforced; Yamagata will not be allowed to make a mockery of it. Or of me.

”Sir, I want to be certain that I have understood you correctly,” Giap said. ”Are you ordering me to use the volunteers?”

”Yes, mon colonel mon colonel, that is an order.”

The delay from Giap seemed to take longer than three seconds this time. ”They will destroy Moonbase,” he said, his voice hushed. ”There will be many casualties.”

”So be it,” Faure replied. Better to destroy Moonbase than to allow Yamagata or anyone else to make a farce of my power, he told himself.

”Their hour's almost up,” Anson pointed out.

Doug had been pacing around the control center, getting some circulation back in his legs, working out the stiffness of his back and shoulders.

The center had been in a state of suspended animation since Doug's discussion with Colonel Giap. Is it over? Have we won? Or will there be another attack, something new, something we haven't thought of, something we're not prepared to meet?

Why haven't they tried to cut the lines from the solar farms? Doug asked himself. Is it because they thought their nuke would do that job for them? We're still vulnerable, still hanging by a thread.

Unbidden, a line from a literature cla.s.s came to him: 'The ides of March are come,' 'The ides of March are come,' Caesar says to the soothsayer, as he goes into the Senate, deriding the old man's warning. Caesar says to the soothsayer, as he goes into the Senate, deriding the old man's warning. 'Ay, Caesar,' 'Ay, Caesar,' says the soothsayer; says the soothsayer; 'but not gone.' 'but not gone.'

We've stopped them, Doug told himself. But for how long?

They were all watching him: Jinny, Falcone, even Gordette, standing alone off by the wall. Every technician and specialist in the control center had his eyes on Doug. I wonder were Edith is? he asked himself. Did she go to our quarters for a nap? Bet not.

Edith was napping, but not in the quarters she shared with Doug.

She had tottered back to the university's studio, dog tired now that the adrenaline of being on the air had drained out of her, but intent on getting a camera and recording the doings in the control center.

She looked in on the editing booth, still hot and sweaty from her hours in it, feeling slightly nettled that she didn't know for certain how many hours she'd spent broadcasting to Global News and, through Global, to the world.

She started for one of the hand-sized cameras resting in its rack, but Zimmerman's big plush couch looked too inviting to resist. Just a few minutes' snooze, she told herself. Stretching out on it, she was asleep within seconds.

”You heard the secretary-general's orders,” said the volunteer. 'We 'We will bring you victory.” will bring you victory.”

Giap turned to the leader of the self-styled Sacred Seven, sitting beside him on the tractor's bench.

”Not victory,” he snarled. ”Annihilation.”

The young j.a.panese must have smiled behind his helmet visor. ”As the secretary-general said, so be it.”

The colonel had no reply. Yet he was thinking, I could still cut their electrical power lines. How long could they hold out then? A few hours, at most. They would have to surrender to me. That would be better than allowing these insane suicide bombers to kill everyone.

”I suggest,” the volunteer said,'that you re-establish negotiations with the Moonbase commander, while your troopers help us to break into the plasma vent tunnels, as per our plan.”

Giap noticed a slight but definite stress on the word our our.

Precisely one hour after his conversation with the Peacekeeper commander ended, Doug sat at his console again and re-opened the communications link.

”Have you spoken with your superiors, Colonel?” he asked.

”Yes. They are reluctant to admit that we have reached a stalemate here,” came the colonel's voice.

Doug wished he could see the man's face. He sensed a tone he hadn't heard in their first discussion.

”What are you trying to say?” he asked.

”I am responsible directly to the secretary-general of the United Nations,” Giap said. ”My orders come directly from him.”

Doug leaned forward anxiously in his chair. ”And what are those orders?”

”He expects me to accept your surrender.”

Doug heard Anson mutter behind him, ”When he can breathe vacuum, that's when we'll surrender.”