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Alarms screamed and the energy in the CCIC rocketed up from the sleepiness of a routine morning. Analysts turned to their terminals and implants to try to determine the problem. All, that is, except Admiral Whitmore.
“Oak and ash, turn that noise off! I can’t think!”
Nobody human heard her, but Diana did, and the cacophony died away. The emergency lighting stayed, though, to no objection.
“Damage report?”
“No damage to station,” said Colona.
“We’ve lost two Direwolves,” Spurgeon said. “No telemetry at all.”
“Coordinate with Flashdance. Endeavour?” asked Whitmore.
“Reporting in. No damage.”
“Then what was it?”
“Getting reports from the CAP now,” Flashdance said. She’d acquired an office just outside CCIC as the CAG and was often in the area. “Nymeria’s on duty, they’re reporting an explosion on the surface near Tycho Under.”
“Oh, crap,” muttered McKnight. She’d just returned from her brief off period and started pulling data together.
Flashdance was on the comms.
Danni, wake up.
I’m awake. Station alerts do that.
Sorry. I need your squadron in the black. We’ve got something happening on Luna.
Ten minutes.
Hopalong, Wrangler.
The two Wolf squadron commanders responded with versions of, ‘Huh?’
Scramble half your birds; hold the other half for now. I want them shaping course for Luna in fifteen minutes.
Two acknowledgements and she returned her attention to the CCIC.
“Small craft being scrambled,” she told McKnight, receiving a curt nod in reply.
“Pipher?”
“Still compiling data. There is a great deal of interference in the EM spectrum. We have lost all communications with Tycho Under and the Admiral.”
“All? Q-Net too?”
“Q-Net too.”
“I thought it was invulnerable to interference?”
“Nothing is invulnerable,” said Diana. “The Q-Net operates on a part of the EM spectrum which is usually not impacted by normal events. This disruption is a valuable data point. Analysis is continuing.”
*
EXPLOSIONS WORK VERY differently in vacuum.
The lack of air eliminates the atmospheric effects; it also strips away any of the ameliorative effects.
The bomb exploded exactly on schedule, the fissile material ‘igniting’ the fusion materials and releasing the equivalent of four million tons of trinitrotoluene, or TNT. Much of the force went into the immediate release of X-rays and ionizing radiation; these were what knocked out Nymeria Twenty-Two and Twenty-Five, Battle and Steamboat.
They never felt it.
Since it was on the surface, though, some of the ‘traditional’ effects of an explosion were present. Notably, shock waves penetrated the surface and propagated throughout the Moon’s crust at speeds up to 8 KPS. In addition the plasma bubble kicked melted rubble and regolith up and accelerated it like pellets from a shotgun blast.
Four million cubic meters worth.
Radioactive pellets.
At far beyond escape velocity.
*
KENDRA HAD EXPERIENCED an earthquake before, so though she was surprised she wasn’t shocked into immobility when the ear-shattering blast rang through Tycho Under’s main bubble. She had the presence of mind to drop to the surface of the stage and roll towards the edge, a few meters behind her.
Then she looked up as the lights of the city disappeared.
Emergency lighting kicked on immediately but didn’t help. They’d never been designed to provide a single point source but rather a dim tapestry of light. The shadows the crowd cast from the dozens, perhaps hundreds, of LEDs threw the scene into silent, surrealistic horror.
As the ground continued to shake Kendra crawled across the stage to Newling, who was laying prone, eyes squeezed shut. She tapped Newling’s shoulder and the eyes flew open.
Her mouth moved, but Kendra was deafened either from the initial slam of sound or the ongoing grinding. She didn’t know.
Kendra shook her head and tried her ‘plant.
Autumn?
No answer, no sign Newling had received it.
Autumn? She tried again. Still nothing.
Grabbing Newling’s arm, Kendra pulled herself close enough to put her mouth next to her ear.
“We’ve got to move!” she shouted as loudly as she could.
Something got through for when Kendra backed up she saw Newling nod agreement. Gingerly the two women made their way off the platform and to the relative safety of an archway.
Only then did Kendra turn and scan again. A figure was stumbling towards them, and in the terrible light she could see it was Crozier. She’d had the presence of mind to activate the skinsuit’s integral helmet, and Kendra mentally cursed. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
Because you grew up in a place you didn’t have to worry about breathing vacuum, she answered herself.
She sent a command to the suit and her helmet appeared.
At least something’s working.
“Kendra?”
Nicole’s voice was faint through the suit’s emergency radio. Kendra went to boost the volume to discover it was already at maximum.
“I can hear you,” she replied, hoping, then turned to Newling and tapped her helmet. Newling shrugged, a look of hopeless confusion on her face.
No training on these!
Realizing the problem, Kendra grabbed Newling’s wrist and tapped the emergency control, hidden under Newling’s sleeve. A bubble appeared around her head and Kendra could almost feel the relief pour from the revolutionary.
“Kendra! Nour needs help!” Nicole pointed back to the stage, still swaying in the subsiding shocks.
She nodded, a more reliable means of communication than trying to speak, and pointed from Crozier to Newling and then firmly at the ground. She waited for Crozier to cross the meter to stand next to Newling before starting back to the stage.
Nour was flat against the stage, and as Kendra approached she saw why. A piece of, well, something, had fallen, probably from the first shock, and had neatly taken off Nour’s head before punching through the floor. She didn’t approach once she’d seen, but did take the opportunity to survey the space again.
Most of the people had vanished. Moonquake or no, they were well-drilled enough in survival to know they needed to go! and figure out the details later. There were bodies, but Kendra thought she could distinguish the figures of the OutLook agents moving around and trying to tend to them.
She tried her ‘plant again.
Anyone on this channel, reply!
Nothing.
Shoving the question of the Q-Net failure to one side she picked her way back to Newling and Crozier. The shaking seemed to be subsiding, though she knew from experience there would likely be aftershocks.
“What happened?” Newling asked. It was still faint, but maybe a little better. Maybe.
“No clue,” she answered. “Come on, we’ve got to get you to safety. Nicole, you take point.” She reached behind her and handed Crozier her pistol.
“Just pull the trigger if anyone tries to stop us.”
Crozier nodded grimly. “Where to?”
“Off this rock for now. Spaceport.”
“You sure it’s still there?”
“No, but Davie will be sending SAR and that’s the logical place.”
*
THERE WAS STILL NO communication with anyone on Luna, though the rest of the Q-Net had responded to queries, and except for the two Direwolves no other Federation personnel had been affected. Whitmore had gathered McKnight, Montana, and Kyran to discuss Diana’s conclusion.
“A nuke? Who sets off a nuke on Luna?” said McKnight.
“Who has a nuke on Luna?” replied Kyran.
“Artemis, of course,” answered Whitmore. “I didn’t think they’d be stupid enough to use one though. They must have really slipped.”
“What’s this going to do to us?”
The expanding cloud of fragments had been detected by Diana’s sensors, and the Endeavour was engaged in a ‘sweep’ of objects which would potentially impact the habitat.
“In the short term, assuming Endeavour captures them all, nothing much. They’re moving fast, but not too fast, and most of them are baseball-sized or smaller.” McKnight’s answer didn’t reassure Kyran.
“And the long term?”
“Until they’re fully dispersed, they’ll be a navigation hazard. The good news is their radioactivity.”
Kyran crossed their arms. “How is that good news?”
“Easier to detect.”
“The larger issue is someone in Artemis knew Kendra was going to be in Tycho Under today to give a speech and planned to take out half of the Federation leadership,” Whitmore said.
Montana remained silent. She wanted to believe Dent, needed to believe him. And yet...
Colona’s voice interrupted the discussion.
“Admiral, the barge from Blue Sky is on approach.”
“In the middle of this?”
“I waved them off, but they didn’t answer, just continued on their course. They’re about ten minutes out.”
“Deny them entry,” Whitmore said. “Close the bay doors.”
“Aye, Ma’am.”
Whitmore was ready to return to the subject at hand but Kyran held up a hand.
“What barge?” they asked.
“Blue Sky, with machine parts,” replied McKnight.
“We don’t get anything from Blue Sky, much less machine parts. Why should we, with one fabber online and all the replicators?”
Whitmore shot a look at McKnight.
“Check the clearance on that barge!”
*
TYCHO UNDER WAS A MESS.
Anything which could come loose, had. Any structure which wasn’t up to code, collapsed. Kendra didn’t want to think about all the people who were dead behind the facades of rubble.
Still and all, the city was in better shape than she feared it would be, and she asked Newling. Her hearing had continued to improve; she suspected she had the nanobots to thank.
“Designed to survive an apocalypse,” she said. “Mid-21st century paranoia. Whatever happened wasn’t big enough to knock us out.”
Crozier had marched them steadily through the corridors, backtracking and making her way around obstacles, and the spaceport was finally in sight.
“End of the line,” Newling said, looking at the closed airlock hatch. “Double reds. There’s nothing but vacuum on the other side, and if we open it this whole neighborhood will depressurize.”
“Damn,” cursed Kendra. “Any way around it?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Frak me.”
Kendra? Do you hear me?
Stone’s ‘voice’ came through the implant and Kendra nearly whooped for joy. Seeing the confusion on her companions’ faces, she explained, “Q-Net’s back up, at least locally. I’ve got Stone on my ‘plant.”
I can! Zeus’s brass balls, it’s good to hear you!
Bit of a sticky moment or two, but we’ve got it sorted. Found Nour.
Kendra sobered. We lose anyone else?
Jordan’s got a broken arm, a couple of the OutLook chappies are missing, and Lieutenant Gries broke a leg. Lots of civvies down too.
Gries?
Shane. Marine, one of the up-and-comers.
What about Novak?
No sign. We’re working our way back to the main office. Where are you?
At a sealed airlock leading to the spaceport.
I’ll send a squad to escort you back. Out.
“Stone’s going to send a squad to escort us back to your offices, Autumn. I’d still like to get back to Njord, find out what’s going on.”
“Unless you can find your way around the hatch, I’m afraid you aren’t going anywhere,” said Newling with a tone of regret. “Sorry.”
“Mac!” exclaimed Kendra.
“Mac?”
“Mac. If anyone can find a way around, she can, assuming any of the IT systems still work!”
*
“DID IT WORK?”
“Unknown, Empress,” Phalkon said. “As expected, all communication with Tycho Under has been disrupted, but whether from the blast destroying the warren or simple interference is impossible to determine.”
“I hate waiting,” Newling growled.
As if in response, a rumbling noise penetrated the chamber.
“What’s that?” Newling demanded. A vibration shook the floor, stopped, then another, stronger, started.
“I don’t know, Empress!” Phalkon called over the noise. “But I think we should seek shelter!”
“Where?” said Atkinson, holding onto the table with white-knuckled hands. “Don’t you know what this is? Didn’t you read any of the information I sent, the predictions my team made? It’s a goddamn seismic event, a moonquake, and you’ve killed us all, you ignorant, power-mad lunatic!”
His voice had risen to a shriek with the last word and the Empress had gone puce in fury. Before she could respond Phalkon drew a sidearm and shot him three times. He collapsed slowly to the floor.
“I apologize, Empress. I never realized how fragile and unreliable he was until now.” Phalkon ignored the armsmen pointing weapons at her and replaced the sidearm in its concealed holster. Newling gestured for them to stand back, but they remained ready.
“I –”
A third shock, the most violent yet, rattled the chamber, This one went on and on interminably, bodies falling under the unaccustomed motion. The ceiling suddenly gave way, dropping hundreds of kilograms of permacrete and steel on the assembled Council.
*
KENDRA’S HEARING WAS nearly restored by the time Stone’s squad arrived.
“Admiral. Ms. Newling, Ms. Crozier.” The leader, who’d identified herself as Sergeant Monaco, nodded to each in turn. “We’re here to escort you.”
“I’m not going,” Kendra announced. “Leave me one Marine, but get these two back.”
“Kendra!” Autumn objected.
“No. With Nour dead and Caitlin missing, your people need to see you and Nicole working. It will restore their faith in you and your movement far more than anything I could have said. And once I get to my ship I can see what we’re doing upstairs.”
“She’s making sense,” Nicole added. “Believe me, I’ve been there. Looking back, the best action I took after I inherited the Minister’s position was working alongside the people I was now in charge of. It made me one of them, still, despite my new title. More than anything else I did, I think.”
“Your people need you, Autumn,” Kendra said earnestly. “Don’t worry; I’m not running out on you.”
“I suppose,” Autumn said.
“Good. Sergeant, who are you leaving with me?”
“Private Thornton, Ma’am.” The blonde pointed to a tall, heavily-built Marine cradling his plasma rifle. He stiffened to attention.
“Relax,” Kendra said. “I don’t bite. Got a spare pistol? I don’t think I’ll need it, but I hate going unarmed.”
Nicole started.
“Oh! Kendra, here, take yours back.”
Kendra waved her off.
“I’ll collect when I come back. You don’t get to go unarmed either. Thanks,” she added to Thornton, who was holding out a standard-issue needler. “Extra magazines?”
He passed over a small pouch.
“Good. As soon as Mac finishes her research, we’ll be moving. Sergeant, take care of these two.”
“Aye-aye, Ma’am!” She snapped off a salute, which Kendra almost returned in time. Then Monaco organized her squad around her VIPs and moved them out.
“What’s your name, Private?”
“Thornton, Ma’am.”
“No, first name.”
“Oliver.”
“Good. Get comfortable, Oliver. We might have a bit of a wait.”
*
“THEY’RE NOT RESPONDING to our messages!” said Colona.
“Do we have a fix on them?” asked Whitmore. She was very much of the, ‘Shoot first, ask questions later,’ mindset when it came to the habitat.
“They’re too close,” Pipher said. “The missiles won’t be able to get far enough away to get a lock, and the lasers can’t target them.”
“Titania’s tits!” Whitmore swore. “Fine. Tell me the bay doors are closed.”
“They are, but they’re not on course for the bay; they’re going to impact within a few levels of CCIC.”
“Impact?”
“Unless they do a whole lot of deceleration, yes,” confirmed Colona. “Forty seconds.”
“Damn and blast. Diana, sound collision alert and seal the bulkheads!”
“Bulkheads sealing,” said the AI, as calm as if she were announcing the soup of the day. “There are thirty-seven personnel trapped in the compartments projected to be impacted. All are in skinsuits.”
“That’s something,” muttered Whitmore.
“Barge decelerating. Five, four, three, two, one, impact,” Diana said, and the station echoed with the sound of grinding and tearing metal. The deck vibrated but this was the only other sign of the collision, at least deep in the heart of the massive habitat where the CCIC was located.
“Quadrant eighteen, decks seven, eight, nine, and ten breached.” Colona’s voice was calm. “Structural damage from decompression and impact only. Sensors do not, repeat do not, indicate any explosive devices large enough to damage the station.”
McKnight picked up on what she didn’t say.
“There are small explosives?”
“Yes, Colonel, large quantities.”
McKnight turned back to Whitmore. “Admiral? I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
“Nor I.” CCIC was on deck eight of quadrant eighteen. “Who do we have aboard for Marines?”
“Just the trainers,” McKnight answered. “And they’re topside.”
The Marines were intended to deploy shipboard; it had been logical to put Marine Country in the decks closest to, and surrounding, the vast construction bay at the top of Njord. Marine Country was the best part of three kilometers away, both vertically and laterally displaced from CCIC, even if they had been fully present. As it was, most of them were on Luna, supporting the Revolution.
“Break out the small arms,” Whitmore ordered. “And I never thought I’d say this. Diana, give me station-wide.”
“Channel open.”
“All hands. Prepare to repel boarders.”