Stark's Crusade (27 page)

"I understand, Commander. I'll have the MPs there right away."

"Good. Make sure one of them's the watch commander." Having a senior noncommissioned officer along might not prevent an attempt at a bribe of the military police, but it would make it harder.

Jones was shaking his head, looking both stern and serious now. "Sergeant Stark, this is really unnecessary. We can work out a deal without employing threats. But if my employers hear of this, they may well withdraw their offer completely. You must—"

"Don't tell me what I have to do." The tone of Stark's voice hit Jones like a punch, so that the smooth civilian sat silent for the couple of minutes it took for the MPs to arrive. "Here's your prisoner. I know he got swept for weapons before he came in here, but he's got antibug gear on him. Maybe he's got something else we didn't detect. Watch him. Don't listen to him."

One of the soldiers looked Jones up and down with a scornful expression on her face. "Do we need to cuff him, sir?"

"Nah. If he tries to run, catch him and bounce him off the nearest wall a few times. Try not to break anything important if you do that, though."

"Yessir. Anything important on him or on the wall?"

"The wall."

"Yessir." The MPs left, Frank Jones between them with an expression of bafflement finally replacing the false geniality.

Stark sat a moment longer, then keyed his comm unit again. "Sergeant Yurivan? I need to talk to you, Stacey."

Yurivan seemed oddly subdued as she answered. "Good. I need to talk to you, too."

"I can meet you at the staff meeting that Vic's going to call—"

"No. We need to talk privately. Sir. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Fine." Stark broke the connection, studying his desk as if its surface held the answer to Yurivan's mysterious words.
Is there another mutiny in the works? Has Stacey found another spy? Or worse, does she know there's one but not who it is?

He'd just finished briefing Campbell on "Frank Jones" when Sergeant Yurivan arrived. "Hi, Stace. Have a seat." Ending the call, Stark leaned back, letting his curiosity show.

Yurivan sat slumped in her chair, gazing sourly at Stark until he finally gestured toward her. "Okay, Stace, what's the deal? Why the private conference and the nasty expression?"

"I want it private and I feel rotten because I'm about to do something I'll probably hate myself for."

"Stace, you try to kiss me and I'll slug you."

The reply brought a grin to Yurivan's face. "Stark, there's some things even I'd never do, and that's one them."

"Thanks. So spill it. I haven't got all day."

She looked angry again. "I need to tell you something. I've been talking to a guy named Maguire."

"Maguire? Don't know him. What unit is he in?"

"He's not in any unit, Stark! Maguire's head of the CIA. You know, boss of Spook Central."

"I know what the CIA is. So, what'd this super spook Maguire want?"

"What do you think he wanted? He's been trying to convince me to turn on you guys. Help the authorities back home take you down. All for a nice payoff and a new identity down the line."

"Huh." Stark rubbed his chin, staring thoughtfully at Yurivan.
I wonder how many other people in this Colony are being pitched recruitment offers by various covert types?
"I didn't know the head of the CIA did recruitment stuff personally."

"Neither did I. I guess I'm really special."

"You're special, all right. The fact that you're telling me this must mean you didn't bite on the deal."

"Nah, I didn't bite. Listen, Stark, I do things my own way, and I don't mind working deals, but I never shot anybody in the back. And I won't. Not that I wasn't flattered by the offer."

"So, if you turned it down, why are telling me?"

The anger was back, though Stark couldn't tell if it was aimed at him or somewhere else. "Because I talked to him. Okay? Sooner or later, you may hear about it. Sergeant Yurivan's been talking to the other side. Maybe negotiating. And then you'll want my head on a platter."

Stark nodded. "By telling me now, you're protecting yourself. Okay. I understand that. But what the hell are you so mad about? Sorry you turned down the offer?"

"Hah! I warned you before, Stark, don't try to psych me. I'm mad because I'm just waiting for you to fire me."

"Fire you. Because . . . ?"

"Because you can't trust me now! Why do I have to spell it out?"

"Because I'm stupid, Stacey. Spell it out. You told me about it. Why don't I trust you?"

She-stared back, as if disbelieving, then laughed. "You are something else, Stark. Fine. How about if I lied? How about if I did take Maguire's offer?"

"Why would you tell me about it if you had?"

"To protect my butt if you found out later I'd been talking to the enemy. 'Oh, yeah, Yurivan told me about that. It's okay.' See?"

"I see. Did you have to learn to think this way or did it come naturally?"

"It's a gift. So let's get it over with, Stark. Fire me. Lock me up. Whatever. I'll get by."

"I'm sure you will. You'd probably be running the entire stockade from inside your cell within a week." Stark leaned back, smiling. "So I've got to fire you because the CIA sent someone to knock on your door. What if that was the whole idea, Stace? Or part of it, anyway?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Spread distrust. If you bought the deal, then great. They got an agent just where the need one. But if you don't, then I can't trust you just because I don't know what really happened, and I gotta fire you anyway, so I lose somebody who's good, damn good, at protecting me and every other ape up here. Either way, Maguire's knuckle-draggers win, and we lose. Right?"

It was Yurivan's turn to nod, grudging admiration on her face. "Yeah. I hadn't thought of that. Good one. You still surprise me, Stark."

I wish people would stop telling me that.
"Thanks. I think. Besides, you're not the only one getting offers, Stacey. I just had a guy try to buy me out. That's why I called you."

"A buyout?" Yurivan sat up, intrigued out of her mood. "Who was offering the deal?"

"He never said, directly, but I'm sure his 'employers' are some or all of the corporations trying to get their assets up here back. He talked like a corporate type, anyway. Tried to flatter me by comparing me to some high-level corporate manager."

"Now, that wasn't very smart. How much did he offer you?"

Stark shrugged. "A hundred mil."

"A hundred million dollars? And you turned him down?"

"Wouldn't you have?"

"Uh . . . let's not go there. Where's this guy now?"

Stark checked the time. "Probably getting acquainted with a jail cell in the Colony detention facility."

"I'll bet that isn't as comfortable as a business-class resort."

"Probably not. Hey, maybe that guy worked for Maguire, too. I mean, he never mentioned his employers. He just implied they were corporate."

• This time Yurivan shrugged. "It's possible, but not every questionable character in the world works for Maguire, you know. A lot of them, I'm sure, but not all of them."

"Including you." She smiled at his statement. "I'll say it bluntly, Stace. I trust you. God knows why."

"You said it yourself. You're stupid."

"That's right, I did. But even if I was smarter than everyone else on the Moon you could still scheme rings around me. Right? That's why I offered you the job of security officer in the first place. And I ain't got any complaints about the way you're doing that job. Well, maybe you could be a little less insubordinate every once in a while, just for the hell of it, but otherwise I'm happy."

She nodded, her face calculating. "What is it you want, then. Stark? We just forget about this?"

"No. We file reports, on my guy and on whatever contacts yon had with Maguire."

"Good idea. Then we should tell everybody about them."

"Everybody? Why?"

"Because, if we announce we've been contacted and have turned it down, then anybody else who gets contacted will know we're watching for any more of that. They'll be a bit more scared of accepting a buyout, or whatever deal they're offered."

"That's a good idea." Stark eyed her appraisingly. "You certainly know a lot about this kind of stuff. Spying and security and everything. Just what kind of junk were you involved in before all this started, Stace?"

"Me? I'm still a virgin, Stark. Pure as the driven snow."

"Sure you are. And I bet you'd be willing to sell me that snow at a substantial discount."

"If you're buying, you can have a one-time special good-deal just for you. And the snow's guaranteed to stay frozen until it melts."

"Get out of here, Stace. I'll see you at the staff meeting."

"Yes, sir, Commander." Yurivan stood, saluted with mocking precision, then left marching to a cadence only she could hear.

Stark lay near the defensive perimeter around the American Colony, studying the view ahead through his face shield. Scan highlighted brief detections of enemy forces moving behind their own lines, and the occasional movements of friendly forces to either side of and behind him. Not far to Stark's right, a concealed bunker holding a squad of soldiers formed the linchpin for this small area of the perimeter. Inside that bunker, he knew, the soldiers would be monitoring every tiny movement, every tiny emission, every tiny anomaly for signs of enemy action. If those signs added up to an enemy probe, weapons concealed in the lunar terrain around Stark would open fire, hurling grenades and high-velocity explosive projectiles toward anyone foolish enough to test their defenses. On the other side of the area between the opposing forces, similar enemy bunkers and weapons lay in wait for any moves by Stark's forces. The stretch of lunar terrain between the defensive lines had been dubbed the dead zone long ago, an all-too-appropriate name for any soldier trying to move across it.

It had been quiet for some time now, just minor probes by each side to keep the other side worried. Stark didn't want to lose soldiers testing enemy defenses that had claimed too many lives already, especially when the long-term American goal of taking control of all the Moon's real-estate had been abandoned when Stark took over. The enemy, for their part, had been hurt badly by their own attacks on the Colony perimeter over the years and had recently learned some very nasty lessons at the hands of Stark's newly flexible and unpredictable forces. Lunar war, never cheap, had sucked the combatants dry. It had been a quiet born not of victory or defeat for either side, but simple exhaustion of soldiers, national treasure, and ideas.

But the quiet wouldn't last much longer, not once the work Stark was observing had been completed.

Much of the activity was screened. Armored bulldozers had scraped up rock and dust from positions occupied for countless years and piled them into a berm closing off the open end of the Mixing Bowl. The berm's height didn't match the valley walls to either side, but it was good enough to block direct observation of the valley's surface. Tremors within the berm had been analyzed by Stark's technicians, who had concluded that prefabricated defenses were being hurriedly buried within the berm, along with strings of sensors to allow unimpeded surveillance of Stark's forces. There was at least one tunnel beneath the berm, the technicians advised, possibly more, with only a thin opening remaining in place to screen its location until whatever needed that tunnel was ready to come forth.

Shuttles came down, bright spots of light curving through the blackness overhead, raising thin, slowly falling dust clouds from the new landing strip carved from the surface of the Mixing Bowl's valley. Their flight trajectories came within extreme range of the Colony's own weapons, but Stark hadn't attempted to engage them. He didn't know what, or who, made up the cargo for each shuttle, and had no desire to score a hit on a shuttle packed with American troops.

Stacey says her sources claim the Pentagon's dropping a reinforced brigade from Second Division to provide security for the Mixing Bowl base. How many people does a Brigade Combat Team add up to? I know Second Division was under strength. If they packed people into one brigade, that probably means there's only about one full-strength brigade-equivalent left back on Earth. Maybe less. How can they take that kind of risk? Even with all our super hi-tech gear, one brigade can't defend the entire country. What if some of our long-term enemies back home decide this would be a perfect time to march a division of soldiers over the border and into one of our cities? What'll we do, nuke the city to get 'em out?

Stark knew full well he could have received the same pictures, analyzed the same sensor readouts and gazed at the same view of the Mixing Bowl activity from back at the command center. But he lay among the scattered rocks of the perimeter and watched the activity in person, thinking and absorbing information.
I need to know how this terrain feels. How the situation feels here. Before all hell breaks loose in the form of Jabberwocks.

"Ethan?"

"Yeah, Vic."

"I take it you're not seeing anything we haven't seen before."

"Nope." He smiled, then moved just enough to see slightly back and to his left, where Vic Reynolds also lay in battle armor.

"The Jabberwocks are going to come out of that tunnel. There's probably more than one tunnel, too."

"That's what I figured. When they blow the tunnel entrances, we'll know they're on the way."

"Right. Of course, the dust and gravel thrown up by the entrances being blown will help screen the Jabberwocks' advance." Vic fell silent for a moment. "What if the nano rounds don't work, Ethan? What if we have to handle these things the hard way?"

"Then we'll kill 'em the hard way."

"No slogans, Ethan. I'm thinking we need to be sure every weapon shooter is ready to switch to standard rounds the instant we say so."

"Good idea. We'll make sure everyone knows that." Stark watched the work a little longer, trying to sort out the emotions he was feeling, then uttered a brief laugh as he identified at least some of them. "Hey, Vic. You wanna hear something funny?"