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“Is everything prepared?”
“Yes, Empress.”
“And the presence of Cassidy is confirmed?”
“Yes, Empress. My informant assures me she will make the trip to Luna to lend her authority to the speech.”
Newling scoffed. “Authority. Ha. She has no more authority on Luna than you have on Earth, Phalkon.”
“As you say, Empress.”
“Very well. Execute your plan. What were you calling it?”
“Operation Clean Sweep.”
“Stupid name. Whatever. Execute it.”
“I serve, Empress.” Phalkon backed out of the audience chamber and went to seek Atkinson. He’d probably be in his office.
The phrase, “the dark side of the moon,” is inaccurate. While only one side can be seen from Earth, due to Luna being tidally locked to the Earth, the moon still orbits the Earth. As it passes through its orbit the terminator, the dividing line between day and night, crosses the Lunar surface. This is what produces the phases of the moon as seen from Earth, and it was what Phalkon’s plan relied upon.
She’d heard first from her informant in Tycho Under. They’d reported Newling’s intent to announce the union with the Federation and provided the date. They’d also hinted at Cassidy’s involvement, though details were unknown, so Phalkon had turned to her best source within the Federation. In two days she’d known both the exact time and date as well as being assured Cassidy would be present.
It was at this point she’d brought her plan to the Empress. She’d discussed portions with Atkinson, getting his opinion on the resources required and their availability, but given the dramatic nature of her proposal she’d needed Newling’s approval.
Her suggestion was simple: drive a nuclear warhead, the most powerful one they could manage, to Tycho Under, park it where the bubble’s roof was thinnest, and detonate during the middle of the speech. While it would kill virtually the entire population of the warren, Phalkon didn’t worry about the Empress objecting on those grounds. She’d already demonstrated her willingness to sacrifice everyone associated with the rebellion; a single warren, she wouldn’t hesitate.
It was the driving which was key. The Federation owned space; what few ships still trafficked with Luna were carefully tracked and frequently intercepted for inspection. Their ‘warp minefield’ project had nearly been derailed when the cargo ship, bound for Mars, had been interrogated by one of the Federation’s damnable Direwolf pilots. Only quick thinking by the captain had dissuaded them from ordering it diverted to their habitat.
Still, only civilian ships had any chance of leaving Luna’s surface. Military ships, no matter what the size or armament, were challenged immediately. The last Navy ship to depart Luna, for that matter, had been the al-Battani, and he’d only managed it by engaging his warp drive abruptly and far too close to the surface.
Delivery by ship, then, was out of the question.
And missiles had been proven utterly useless, except possibly en masse. As long as there were Direwolves in Lunar space, missiles had no chance to reach their targets.
A ground vehicle, though, might be able to sneak across the regolith, and that’s where the Lunar night came into play. Surface vehicles came in two broad varieties: open, designed for short duration trips in surface suits, and closed, designed for longer trips with or without surface suits. Over a journey of this length a closed transport was indicated, which provided the opportunity.
Closed vehicles were well-insulated against heat and atmosphere loss. Coat the surface with a dull, non-reflective paint and it would be virtually invisible to observation by human eyes. If the cabin temperature were reduced sufficiently while the transport was moving, overhead scans would have a difficult time detecting it through infrared or chemical emissions. Add sufficient shielding over the device and there wouldn’t be a radioactive signature to speak of. And as a final touch, there were crawlers liberally scattered across the surface at any given time; picking one out for special attention would be challenging at best.
Now she’d secured the Empress’s agreement.
Time to dispatch her housewarming gift to the other Newling.
“Michael, we’re a go,” she said without preamble. “How soon can it depart?”
“Modifications on the device are finished. It simply needs to be placed in the crawler.”
“How big is it?”
“Four megatons. The largest we have in stock.”
“Will it be sufficient to breach the dome?”
Atkinson shrugged. “We have nothing more likely. If nothing else, it’ll shake the hell out of them.”
“Maybe they’ll be crushed under a falling chunk of ceiling. Which would end this rebellion just as certainly, and cripple the Federation.”
Atkinson nodded.
“Good. Let me know when they leave.”
“Of course, Tal.”