As she watched it hurtle toward Orbitech 1, she imagined the sequence of events occurring deep within the Kibalchich: robot arms removing a thermonuclear warhead from storage at the bottom of one of the pools of water. The nuclear devices had been undetectable, their characteristic neutron and gamma emissions hidden by the water that covered them, and masked by the tons of shielding rock that filled the outer, nonrotating hub. The preprogrammed robot arms automatically prepped the warhead—a two-hour sequence necessary to activate its detonation mechanism, set the yield to seventy-five kilo-tons, and perform other detailed checks. And after the warhead had made the journey down the central core to below the massive solar shield, it would detonate, channeling its awesome energy up the Kibalchich’s core to power an x-ray laser. The Kibalchich’s mirror would provide the final link. Even as the mirror itself melted under the huge energy flux, it would direct the coherent radiation toward its target. Down at the opposite end of the core, the solar shield would provide partial protection from the nuclear explosion; the tons of lunar scrap rock in the outer hub would provide the remainder. The system was designed to be used only once—it was worth the two-hour wait.
The approaching yo-yo vessel from the Moon would be stopped by the x-ray laser, vaporized by gigajoules of radiant energy. Orbitech 1 would probably survive the burst. This action was to stop them from their grandiose plans—a warning shot—not to destroy them.
“History,” Anna whispered to herself. “I must make a record for future generations. For what they do not remember, they are doomed to repeat.”
The warning siren reverberated throughout the station. Speakers set into the bulkheads rang out words that at first made no sense. Karen recognized Anna Tripolk’s voice.
“There is nothing you can do—I control the command center. Do not attempt to communicate with Orbitech 1.”
Ramis bolted upright from his nap. “Karen!”
Karen met him outside his cabin. “I don’t know what she’s doing.”
Though he had shorter legs, Ramis passed her by springing up steps three at a time to burst onto the first level. The command center hung above them, up the connecting shaft. Ramis waited for her as she joined him on the lift platform. But when he pushed the controls, the lift refused to function.
“She’s deactivated it,” Karen said. “And probably the doors up top, too.” She felt concern and fear growing in her. Anna Tripolk had never adjusted to her new situation, but kept herself isolated, begrudging any contact. She seemed a bitter woman. But now Anna was apparently doing something that would endanger all of Orbitech 1.
Ramis decided to forego the lift platform, and raced up the hand rungs instead. Karen watched him ascend, then hauled herself, rung by rung, feeling her weight drop away as she climbed toward the zero-G center. Ramis floated outside the sealed command center door, banging against the black plasteel while holding a hand grip to keep himself steady.
Karen arrived, panting. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Ramis pressed his ear against the metal doors. After a minute, he pulled it off again. He, too, was out of breath from the climb. “I can hear the vibrations through the metal, most of the words. She is deploying some sort of weapon that will detonate in a hundred and twenty minutes. She’s going to destroy the yo-yo.”
“How can they have a weapon? This is a research station! They’re not supposed to—” Karen began to pound on the door, feeling hysterical herself.
Ramis gasped under his breath. “If she is going to fire a weapon at Orbitech 1, Dr. Sandovaal and Dobo and the sail-creatures could be hit! They are on their way!”
He spun himself around in a way that made Karen dizzy, then scrambled back down the rungs. He shouted up at her. “I will suit up and go outside. Perhaps I can do something there. Stay here and try to talk to Anna! You must stop her if you can.”
Karen interrupted, listening to her voice grow shrill. “She is locked inside, Ramis! She controls all Kibalchich communications from there! And this weapon—my God, Ramis. If she can destroy Orbitech 1, then it’s probably powered by a nuke.”
“Then I must get outside and contact Orbitech 1 and Dr. Sandovaal directly. I’ll use my suit radio.”
Karen put her fingers against her forehead. She wasn’t good at making snap decisions. She had never seen herself in a leadership role. “Ramis, if she hears you radio a warning, then she’ll target Orbitech 1 instead of just the yo-yo. What are we going to do?” Panic grew like a living entity in her. She bit her lips, using the sharp pain to focus her thoughts.
“Get back inside as soon as you can. If the weapon detonates in two hours, you’ll be unprotected from the blast—you’ll fry if you’re caught out there.”
Ramis crooked one elbow over a rung and called back up at her; Karen had to strain to hear his voice. “Dr. Sandovaal was very … important to me, and to everyone on the Aguinaldo. What good is living if my family dies?”
Karen pushed back, speechless. The command center door pressed unyielding against her back, sending her drifting in the shaft. “Ramis …”
But he turned down the corridor out of sight, back into the torus. Karen wasn’t sure if he was ignoring her or if he hadn’t heard her.
But he had left her alone to try and reason with Anna Tripolk.
Chapter 55
ORBITECH 1—Day 72
Brahms stood with his arms crossed, staring down at the sleepfreeze chamber. Someone had cleaned the lab room, making everything ready for his inspection. Overhead, an air-recirculating vent whirred to life. The black technician saw that Brahms was smiling, and smiled back. The tech placed his hands palms-down on the surface of the chamber.
“So, you think it’s all ready?” Brahms asked. He squinted his eyes and poked a hand inside the chamber, feeling the rough material of the resting area. It didn’t seem a very comfortable place to spend a great deal of time.
“Well, we repaired the electronics that were sabotaged. That part was easy. Everything else seems hooked up properly, as far as we can tell. That Soviet doctor lady was as much help as a disease. Wouldn’t tell us anything. But with Dr. Langelier’s help translating some Russian records, we figured it all out. The technology is straightforward.” The technician spread his hands, still smiling.
Brahms was annoyed that the tech did not wear an ID tag, and even more annoyed at himself for not being able to remember his name.
Nancy Winkowski scowled at the tech. “So, it’s ready then? That’s what the director asked.”
Brahms glared. She did well in her duties as Watcher, but sometimes she got carried away. Cowed, Winkowski fell silent. Brahms looked at the technician, waiting.
The man raised his eyebrows. “It’s ready as far as I can tell. We were able to bring back a few vials of the serum they used to put themselves under. I’m not a biochemist, but the lab tells me it’s something to slow down the metabolism. We brought along the low-freezing blood substitute and hooked everything up. Of course, people aren’t standing in line to volunteer for testing it.” He let out a nervous laugh.
Brahms nodded. “We may not need it after all. If everything else works out right.” He extended his hand to the tech, who shook it uncertainly. Brahms glanced up at the chronometer on the wall. “Good work, but I have to go now. The Phoenix is due to arrive soon. And who knows when the Filipino solar sails will get here.” He realized he was talking to himself.