1013 hours
Initially a volcanic bubble created by the geological activity that had marked Luna’s ancient volcanism phase, Heinlein base’s main aquifer had been blasted and sealed until it could hold a hundred million gallons of melted lunar ice.
It had taken decades to build up enough lunar water for the subject of recreational swimming to be seriously broached, but at last it had. And with the specter of tourism and the income that such tourism promised, the possibility of using the aquifers for water sports on the moon was delicious.
In one-sixth gravity, scuba and snorkle and swimming took on a completely different feeling than it did on Earth.
There were three entrances to the aquifer within the main dome: one in the main rec room, one in the water recycling facility and one in central maintenance. Because the sealed cavern was irregularly shaped, some of its pseudopods extended outside the main dome, and one reached under the dome now designated as “Gaming A.” In fact, the underground lagoon had been co-opted as a part of the game.
Thomas Frost considered these things as he made his way down through the dome’s service corridors, careful to deactivate or scramble any security cameras along the way. It was quiet and cool here, down where the main bubble’s support struts were sunk in bedrock.
Quiet, too, now that he had closed the vacuum safety doors behind him, sealing them and moving on. It was much like descending into a tomb. There were other paths, wider and better lit paths, descending into this darkness, but this one seemed not merely adequate, but appropriate.
Nothing that Thomas had planned or had done in training on Earth had quite prepared him for this. This was not theory or plot or dream. This was deliberate, and real. Their primary believed that anyone whose visa included off-Earth low- or zero-gravity experience or travel would be flagged and given special attention as a security risk.
Had that happened to Victor Sinjin? The man assigned to trade places with Chris Foxworthy had failed to check in. They couldn’t reach him. They’d had to use a backup plan.
Or… perhaps trained spacemen would pose a different kind of security risk. Certainly, if Kikaya III was in any danger from Earth, said danger would come in the form of operators experienced in the ways of vacuum.
Thomas and Doug had gone another route. Every man they’d hired was used to deep-water operations, with all that that implied about pressure and oxygen and the dangers of a single unguarded moment.
What had happened to Sinjin, in an unguarded moment? Were they blown? Was it too late to call this off? Yes, infinitely too late. They could only go forward.
It felt as if his heart were pumping ice water. He didn’t want to consider what would happen when Shotz learned of this mistake. This all had to be timed properly. He’d heard that was the secret to any military operation. Surprise, courage, force and timing. When they worked in your favor, you won.
At this moment, all of them were working in the favor of their plans. If that continued, Shotz would be in a good mood, and if he was in a good mood when he learned about Sinjin…
Then the men of Neutral Moresnot might just fulfill their contract, after all.
The stairwell descended through a steel framework anchored deep in lunar rock, three stories down before terminating at another pressure door. Their hack had deactivated the surveillance cameras, giving instructions to play back a previous hour’s video and thermal scans, leaving security with nothing to concern themselves. Soon enough Piering would panic, but by then they’d be able to crash the entire grid with no fear. For now? It was little cat feet. Pure stealth, until Shotz gave the word.
Thomas unsealed the pressure door with the scan card provided by their primary. He admitted to a moment of unease while he waited for the little green and red lights to stop dancing.
No problems: The lights went green. A hiss and a sigh, and the door opened.
The chamber within was more unfinished than others he had seen in the dome: mostly a pocket of natural lava bubble, partially spray-foam sealed at the edges. On the far side of the bubble a second door opened into the room. The middle of the floor was an open pool, blue-green, with lights wavering up from the depths.
He was early, but not by more than sixty seconds. Everything was on a tight leash now, and unless he was very mistaken, or Shotz and his crew were not the product as advertised…
No. He saw the first of them now, a human form rising up through the murky depths, into the lights. A golem of a man emerged, climbing up along the safety rails built into the side of the pool, up the steps carved in lunar rock. One, two, three… finally six men in recreational lunar wetsuits with standard rebreather gear. That was the ticket: Use as much local equipment as possible. It was not just a matter of saving luggage weight: Everything traveling from Earth to Luna carried a huge risk of inspection.
The first man out of the pool was the tallest. Wide across the shoulders and thick through the chest, with a round head and short strong legs, Shotz peeled off his face mask and ran his fingers through his shoulder-length blond hair, squeezing out water.
“Towel,” he growled, and held out a hand to Frost. Thomas opened the small bag he brought with him and extracted a fluffy yellow cloth. Shotz took it with a grunt of thanks, and ruffled his hair.
He threw the towel back just as the last of his men emerged from the pool. “Cold,” he said.
“Yes, it is.”
“Why are you dressed as a giant bug? And where is Victor?”
“He didn’t report this morning,” Thomas said. “I had to take his place. I had to dress as an NPC and didn’t have time to change.”
Something ugly glittered behind Shotz’ eyes, and then was gone. “Status.”
“The gamers are eating right now. This is a programmed rest break, and they’ll be starting the game again in…” He checked his watch. “Ten minutes.”
“Have you been monitoring the security channels? Any word about Sinjin?”
“None.” He had, and there had been no obvious fluttering of panic among their targets, or the local administration. “I don’t know what happened, but that was why I was inserted into the game, as backup. We’re still on the planned timetable.”
“Good. It is your responsibility to keep it that way for the next hour.”
“And then?”
Shotz hadn’t heard him. He had already turned to the others: solid, strong men… and one frightening woman, Celeste. Celeste was all breasts and hips and full lips and a cascade of blond hair. It wasn’t until you looked closely in her green eyes that you realized that the promise of sexual warmth was as toxic as the sweet kernel at the heart of a flesh-eating plant. Pure lure. Instinct said she was as dangerous as Shotz. Celeste was in this business because from time to time she got to hurt people. She smiled at Frost, allowing him a flash of those heavenly breasts, and his stomach recoiled. A powerful sexual response combined with a deep sense of rot, a stench without a scent.
“Celeste.” He nodded carefully. With this one, it was best to stay neutral. The others were from, he believed, Greece, the United States, somewhere in the Middle East, and perhaps Britain. By agreement if not dictate, members of Neutral Moresnot spent little time discussing their backgrounds. The extreme nature of this commission had called for the team to spend more time than usual in training and preparation. A bit of information leak was normal. All names were assumed, but he believed that clues based on vocal inflections and casual conversation could reveal national origin. At the very least, it was a good game. Yes. He and Doug were playing a much better game than the stupid Earthers.
With far higher stakes.
Eight Europeans, two black, three Asians. Twelve men and one woman. The thirteen stripped off their dive gear and checked the equipment inside the sealed plastic bags. Quick verification that the seals had held, and then slipping on dry black pants and long-sleeve shirts, and black composition-soled shoes. They broke into pairs: Celeste and Shotz checking each other’s equipment, then handing them back.
“Are vi prata?” Shotz asked.
“Jes.”
Only English or that damned esperanto on the job, Frost thought. Shotz was crazy, but it was his show.
Thomas Frost led the way, climbing out of the dome’s depths into the shadowed main level. Lights were low, but only a thin wall separated them from some kind of staging area. Low voices, a few creaks as equipment was moved into place or last-minute adjustment was made. He understood little about this gaming thing, other than a few vids Shotz had acquired for them, and some speculations on how the gaming environment had been laid over the basic dome interior.
That information had been exhaustive, as well as the power systems, entrances and exits. Once they gained control in (he checked his watch) fifty-six minutes, there would be little anyone on the outside could do to stop them.
For now, it was a matter of avoiding the Non-Player Characters as they prepared to add a little excitement to their lives. He had to shake his head: Moon-people playing science fiction for a jolt. Well, get ready: There was a pretty big jolt about to land on them like a mountain, and it would be no game at all.