The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress

27

Prof was there when I met Finn in Warden's office shortly before twenty-one hundred Friday. Had had nine hours' sleep, bath, breakfast Wyoh had fetched from somewhere, and a talk with Mike--everything going to revised plan, ships had not changed ballistic, Great China strike about to happen.

Got to office in time to see strike by video--all okay and effectively over by twenty-one-oh-one and Prof got down to business. Nothing said about Wright, or about resigning. Never saw Wright again.

I mean I never saw him again. Nor ask about him. Prof didn't mention row, so I didn't.

We went over news and tactical situation. Wright had been correct in saying that "thousands of lives" had been lost; news up from Earthside was full of it. How many we'll never know; if a person stands at ground zero and tonnes of rock land on him, isn't much left. Those they could count were ones farther away, killed by blast. Call if fifty thousand in North America.

Never will understand people! We spent three days warning them--and you couldn't say they hadn't heard warnings; that was why they were there. To see show. To laugh at our nonsense. To get "souvenirs." Whole families went to targets, some with picnic baskets. Picnic baskets! Bojemoi!

And now those alive were yelling for our blood for this "senseless slaughter." Da. Hadn't been any indignation over their invasion and (nuclear!) bombing of us four days earlier-- but oh were they sore over our "premeditated murder." Great New York Times demanded that entire Lunar "rebel" government be fetched Earthside and publicly executed-- "This is clearly a case in which the humane rule against capital punishment must be waived in the greater interests of all mankind."

Tried not to think about it, just as had been forced not to think too much about Ludmilla. Little Milla hadn't carried a picnic lunch. She hadn't been a sightseer looking for thrills.

Tycho Under was pressing problem. If those ships bombed warrens--and news from Earthside was demanding exactly that--Tycho Under could not take it; roof was thin. H-bomb would decompress all levels; airlocks aren't built for H-bomb blasts.

(Still don't understand people. Terra was supposed to have an absolute ban against using H-bombs on people; that was what F.N. was all about. Yet were loud yells for F.N. to H-bomb us. They quit claiming that our bombs were nuclear, but all North America seemed frothingly anxious to have us nukebombed)

Don't understand Loonies for that matter. Finn had sent word through his militia that Tycho Under must be evacuated; Prof had repeated it over video. Nor was it problem; Tycho Under was small enough that Novylen and L-City could doss and dine them. We could divert enough capsules to move them all in twenty hours--dump them into Novylen and encourage half of them to go on to L-City. Big job but no problems. Oh, minor problems--start compressing city's air while evacuating people, so as to save it; decompress fully at end to minimize damage; move as much food as was time for; cofferdam accesses to lower farm tunnels; so forth--all things we knew how to do and with stilyagi and militia and municipal maintenance people had organization to do.

Had they started evacuating? Hear that hollow echo!

Were capsules lined up nose to tail at Tycho Under and no room to send more till some left. And weren't moving. "Mannie," said Finn, "don't think they are going to evacuate."

"Damn it," I said, "they've got to. When we spot a missile headed for Tycho Under will be too late. You'll have people trampling people and trying to crowd into capsules that won't hold them. Finn, your boys have got to make them."

Prof shook his head. "No, Manuel."

I said angrily, "Prof, you carry this 'no coercion' idea too far! You know they'll riot."

"Then they will riot. But we will continue with persuasion, not force. Let us now review plans.'

Plans weren't much but were best we could do. Warn everybody about expected bombings and/or invasion. Rotate guards from Finn's militia above each warren starting when and if cruisers passed around Luna into blind space, Farside--not get caught flat-footed again. Maximum pressure and p-suit precautions, all warrens. All military and semi-military to go on blue alert sixteen hundred Saturday, red alert if missiles launched or ships maneuvered. Brody's gunners encouraged to go into town and get drunk or whatever, returning by fifteen hundred Saturday--Prof's idea. Finn wanted to keep half of them on duty. Prof said No, they would be in better shape for a long vigil if they relaxed and enjoyed selves first--I agreed with Prof.

As for bombing Terra we made no changes in first rotation. Were getting anguished responses from India, no news from Great China. Yet India had little to moan about. Had not used a grid on her, too heavily populated. Aside from picked spots in Thar Desert and some peaks, targets were coastal waters off seaports.

But should have picked higher mountains or given less warning; seemed from news that some holy man followed by endless pilgrims chose to climb each target peak and hold off our retaliation by sheer spiritual strength.

So we were murderers again. Besides that, our water shots killed millions of fish and many fishermen, as fishermen and other seafarers had not heeded warnings. Indian government seemed as furious over fish as over fishermen--but principle of sacredness of all life did not apply to us; they wanted our heads.

Africa and Europe responded more sensibly but differently. Life has never been sacred in Africa and those who went sightseeing on targets got little bleeding-heart treatment. Europe had a day to learn that we could hit where we promised and that our bombs were deadly. People killed, yes, especially bullheaded sea captains. But not killed in empty-headed swarms as in India and North America. Casualties were even lighter in Brasil and other parts of South America.

Then was North America's turn again--0950.28 Saturday 17 Oct '76.

Mike timed it for exactly 1000 our time which, allowing for one day's progress of Luna in orbit and for rotation of Terra, caused North America to face toward us at 0500 their East Coast time and 0200 their West Coast time.

But argument as to what to do with this targeting had started early Saturday morning. Prof had not called meeting of War Cabinet but they showed up anyhow, except "Clayton" Watenabe who had gone back to Kongville to take charge of defenses. Prof, self, Finn, Wyoh, Judge Brody, Wolfgang, Stu, Terence Sheehan--which made eight different opinions. Prof is right; more than three people can't decide anything.

Six opinions, should say, for Wyoh kept pretty mouth shut, and so did Prof; he moderated. But others were noisy enough for eighteen. Stu didn't care what we hit--provided New York Stock Exchange opened on Monday morning. "We sold short in nineteen different directions on Thursday. If this nation is not to be bankrupt before it's out of its cradle, my buy orders covering those shorts had better be executed. Tell them, Wolf; make them understand."

Brody wanted to use catapult to smack any more ships leaving parking orbit. Judge knew nothing about ballistics--simply understood that his drillmen were in exposed positions. I didn't argue as most remaining loads were already in stow orbits and rest would be soon--and didn't think we would have old catapult much longer.

Sheenie thought it would be smart to repeat that grid while placing one load exactly on main building of North American Directorate. "I know Americans, I was one before they shipped me. They're sorry as hell they ever turned things over to F.N. Knock off those bureaucrats and they'll come over to our side."

Wolfgang Korsakov, to Stu's disgust, thought that theft speculations might do better if all stock exchanges were closed till it was over.

Finn wanted to go for broke--warn them to get those ships out of our sky, then hit them for real if they didn't. "Sheenie is wrong about Americans; I know them, too. N.A. is toughest part of F.N.; they're the ones to lick. They're already calling us murderers, so now we've got to hit them, hard! Hit American cities and we can call off the rest."

I slid out, talked with Mike, made notes. Went back in; they were still arguing. Prof looked up as I sat down. "Field Marshal, you have not expressed your opinion."

I said, "Prof, can't we lay off that 'field marshal' nonsense? Children are in bed, can afford to be honest."

"As you wish, Manuel."

"Been waiting to see if any agreement would be reached."

Was none. "Don't see why I should have opinion," I went on. "Am just errand boy, here because I know how to program ballistic computer." Said this looking straight at Wolfgang--a number-one comrade but a dirty-word intellectual. I'm just a mechanic whose grammar isn't much while Wolf graduated from a fancy school, Oxford, before they convicted him. He deferred to Prof but rarely to anybody else. Stu, da--but Stu had fancy credentials, too.

Wolf stirred uneasily and said, "Oh, come, Mannie, of course we want your opinions."

"Don't have any. Bombing plan was worked out carefully; everybody had chance to criticize. Haven't seen anything justify changing it."

Prof said, "Manuel, will you review the second bombardment of North America for the benefit of all of us?"

"Okay. Purpose of second smearing is to force them to use up interceptor rockets. Every shot is aimed at big cities--at null targets, I mean, close to big cities. Which we tell them, shortly before we hit them--how soon, Sheenie?"

"We're telling them now. But we can change it. And should."

"As may be. Propaganda isn't my pidgin. In most cases, to aim close enough to force them to intercept we have to use water targets--rough enough; besides killing fish and anybody who won't stay off water, it causes tremjous local storms and shore damage."

Glanced at watch, saw I would have to stall. "Seattle gets one in Puget Sound right in her lap. San Francisco is going to lose two bridges she's fond of. Los Angeles gets one between Long Beach and Catalina and another a few kilometers up coast. Mexico City is inland so we put one on Popocatepetl where they can see it. Salt Lake City gets one in her lake. Denver we ignore; they can see what's happening in Colorado Springs--for we smack Cheyenne Mountain again and keep it up, just as soon as we have it in line-of-sight. Saint Louis and Kansas City get shots in their rivers and so does New Orleans--probably flood New Orleans. All Great Lake cities get it, a long list--shall I read it?"

"Later perhaps," said Prof. "Go ahead."

"Boston gets one in her harbor, New York gets one in Long Island Sound and another midway between her two biggest bridges--think it will ruin those bridges but we promise to miss them and will. Going down their east coast, we give treatment to two Delaware Bay cities, then two on Chesapeake Bay, one being of max historical and sentimental importance. Farther south we catch three more big cities with sea shots, Going inland we smack Cincinnati, Birmingham, Chattanooga, Oklahoma City, all with river shots or nearby mountains. Oh, yes, Dallas--we destroy Dallas spaceport and should catch some ships, were six there last time I checked. Won't kill any people unless they insist on standing on target; Dallas is perfect place to bomb, that spaceport is big and flat and empty, yet maybe ten million people will see us hit it."

"If you hit it," said Sheenie.

"When, not 'if.' Each shot is backed up by one an hour later. If neither one gets through, we have shots farther back which can be diverted--for example easy to shift targets among Delaware-Bay-Chesapeake-Bay group. Same for Great Lakes group. But Dallas has its own string of backups and a long one--we expect it to be heavily defended. Backups run about six hours, as long as we can see North America--and last backups can be placed anywhere on continent... since farther out a load is when we divert it, farther we can shift it."

"I don't follow that," said Brody.

"A matter of vectors, Judge. A guidance rocket can give a load so many meters per second of side vector. Longer that vector has to work, farther from original point of aim load will land. If we signal a guidance rocket three hours before impact, we displace impact three times as much as if we waited till one hour before impact. Not quite that simple but our computer can figure it--if you give it time enough."

"How long is 'time enough'?" asked Wolfgang.

I carefully misunderstood. "Computer can solve that sort of problem almost instantaneously once you program it. But such decisions are pre-programmed. Something like this: If, out of target group A, B, C, and D, you find that you have failed to hit three targets on first and second salvoes, you reposition all group-one second backups so that you will be able to choose those three targets while distributing other second backups of that group for possible use on group two while repositioning third backups of supergroup Alpha such that--"

"Slow up!" said Wolfgang. "I'm not a computer. I just want to know how long before we have to make up our minds."

"Oh." I studied watch showily. "You now have... three minutes fifty-eight seconds in which to abort leading load for Kansas City. Abort program is set up and I have my best assistant--fellow named Mike--standing by. Shall I phone him?"

Sheenie said, "For heaven's sake, Man--abort!"

"Like hell!" said Finn. "What's matter, Terence? No guts?"

Prof said, "Comrades! Please!"

I said, "Look, I take orders from head of state--Prof over there. If he wants opinions, he'll ask. No use yelling at each other." I looked at watch. "Call it two and a half minutes. More margin, of course, for other targets; Kansas City is farthest from deep water. But some Great Lake cities are already past ocean abort; Lake Superior is best we can do. Salt Lake City maybe an extra minute. Then they pile up." I waited.

"Roll call," said Prof. "To carry-out the program. General Nielsen?"

"Da!"

"Gospazha Davis?"

Wyoh caught breath. "Da."

"Judge Brody?"

"Yes, of course. Necessary."

"Wolfgang?"

"Yes."

"Comte LaJoie?"

"Da."

"Gospodin Sheehan?"

"You're missing a bet. But I'll go along. Unanimous."

"One moment. Manuel?"

"Is up to you, Prof; always has been. Voting is silly."

"I am aware that it is up to me, Gospodin Minister. Carry out bombardment to plan."

Most targets we managed to hit by second salvo though all were defended except Mexico City. Seemed likely (98.3 percent by Mike's later calculation) that interceptors were exploding by radar fusing with set distances that incorrectly estimated vulnerability of solid cylinders of rock. Only three rocks were destroyed; others were pushed off course and thereby did more harm than if not fired at.

New York was tough; Dallas turned out to be very tough. Perhaps difference lay in local control of interception, for it seemed unlikely that command post in Cheyenne Mountain was still effective. Perhaps we had not cracked their hole in the ground (don't know how deep down it was) but I'll bet that neither men nor computers were still tracking.

Dallas blew up or pushed aside first five rocks, so I told Mike to take everything he could from Cheyenne Mountain and award it to Dallas... which he was able to do two salvoes later; those two targets are less than a thousand kilometers apart.

Dallas's defenses cracked on next salvo; Mike gave their spaceport three more (already committed) then shifted back to Cheyenne Mountain--later ones had never been nudged and were still earmarked "Cheyenne Mountain." He was still giving that battered mountain cosmic love pats when America rolled down and under Terra's eastern edge.

I stayed with Mike all during bombardment, knowing it would be our toughest. As he shut down till time to dust Great China, Mike said thoughtfully, "Man, I don't think we had better hit that mountain again."

"Why not, Mike?"

"It's not there any longer."

"You might divert its backups. When do you have to decide?"

"I would put them on Albuquerque and Omaha but had best start now; tomorrow will be busy. Man my best friend, you should leave."

"Bored with me, pal?"

"In the next few hours that first ship may launch missiles. When that happens I want to shift all ballistic control to Little David's Sling--and when I do, you should be at Mare Undarum site."

"What's fretting you, Mike?"

"That boy is accurate, Man. But he's stupid. I want him supervised. Decisions may have to be made in a hurry and there isn't anyone there who can program him properly. You should be there."

"Okay if you say so, Mike. But if needs a fast program, will still have to phone you." Greatest shortcoming of computers isn't computer shortcoming at all but fact that a human takes a long time, maybe hours, to set up a program that a computer solves in milliseconds. One best quality of Mike was that he could program himself. Fast. Just explain problem, let him program. Samewise and equally, he could program "idiot son" enormously faster than human could.

"But, Man, I want you there because you may not be able to phone me; the lines may be cut. So I've prepared a group of possible programs for Junior; they may be helpful."

"Okay, print 'em out. And let me talk to Prof."

Mike got Prof; I made sure he was private, then explained what Mike thought I should do. Thought Prof would object--was hoping he would insist I stay through coming bombardment/invasion/whatever--those ships. Instead he said, "Manuel, it's essential that you go. I've hesitated to tell you. Did you discuss odds with Mike?"

"Nyet."

"I have continued to do so. To put it bluntly, if Luna City is destroyed and I am dead and the rest of the government is dead--even if all Mike's radar eyes here are blinded and he himself is cut off from the new catapult--all of which may happen under severe bombardment... even if all this happens at once, Mike still gives Luna even chances if Little David's Sling can operate--and you are there to operate it."

I said, "Da, Boss. Yassuh, Massuh. You and Mike are stinkers and want to hog fun. Will do."

"Very good, Manuel."

Stayed with Mike another hour while he printed out meter after meter of programs tailored to other computer--work that would have taken me six months even if able to think of all possibilities. Mike had it indexed and cross-referenced--with horribles in it I hardly dare mention. Mean to say, given circumstances and seemed necessary to destroy (say) Paris, this told how--what missiles in what orbits, how to tell Junior to find them and bring to target. Or anything.

Was reading this endless document--not programs but descriptions of purpose-of-program that headed each--when Wyoh phoned. "Mannie dear, has Prof told you about going to Mare Undarum?"

"Yes. Was going to call you."

"All right. I'll pack for us and meet you at Station East. When can you be there?"

"Pack for 'us'? You're going?"

"Didn't Prof say?"

"No." Suddenly felt cheerful.

"I felt guilty about it, dear. I wanted to go with you... but had no excuse. After all, I'm no use around a computer and I do have responsibilities here. Or did. But now I've been fired from all my jobs and so have you."

"Huh?"

"You are no longer Defense Minister; Finn is. Instead you are Deputy Prime Minister--"

"Well!"

"--and Deputy Minister of Defense, too. I'm already Deputy Speaker and Stu has been appointed Deputy Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. So he goes with us, too."

"I'm confused."

"It's not as sudden as it sounds; Prof and Mike worked it out months ago. Decentralization, dear, the same thing that McIntyre has been working on for the warrens. If there is a disaster at L-City, Luna Free State still has a government. As Prof put it to me, 'Wyoh dear lady, as long as you three and a few Congressmen are left alive, all is not lost. You can still negotiate on equal terms and never admit your wounds.'"

So I wound up as a computer mechanic. Stu and Wyoh met me, with luggage (including rest of my arms), and we threaded through endless unpressured tunnels in p-suits, on a small flatbed rolligon used to haul steel to site. Greg had big rolligon meet us for surface stretch, then met us himself when we went underground again.

So I missed attack on ballistic radars Saturday night.