Eagle Station

Epilogue

The cramped Orion crew vehicle’s lights were dimmed. Except for the faint hum of air-recirculation fans and water pumps, everything was quiet. Wearing a clean flight suit sent out with the repurposed NASA spacecraft, Brad McLanahan lay back in his reclined crew couch, feeling pleasantly lazy. Nadia lay cozily entwined in his arms. Behind them, Boomer and Vasey were asleep in their own seats. This was a crew rest period, so even the radios were silent.

Through the windows above their heads, they could see the earth growing steadily ahead of them. The moon, now far behind, would be tiny in comparison. Neither felt sorry they could no longer see it.

“We will have to go back soon, you know,” Nadia said softly, from inside the circle of his arms. “Us, or those like us. Those who are warriors at heart.”

Brad looked down at her in surprise. “Back? To the moon?”

She nodded seriously. “We have destroyed one base built by our enemies. But they can build another… unless we stop them.”

He ran a weary hand over his face. “You mean we’ll need an armed outpost in orbit around the moon.”

“Yes,” Nadia agreed. “And more people, armed with combat robots, on the lunar surface — to protect the helium-3 mining operation your president wants to build against attack and sabotage.”

Brad sighed. “That’s going to jack up the costs one hell of a lot. For what was supposed to be a purely civilian enterprise, I mean.”

She smiled sadly. “Yes, it will. But while preparing for war may be expensive, the cost pales in comparison with the price of defeat and dishonor. And that is a price I will never be willing pay.”

He tightened his grip around her, looking down along her slender body to the place where her legs used to be, aware of the price she had already paid. He nodded somberly. “Me neither.” Gently, he stroked her beautiful dark hair. “Which means we only have one road in front of us: Zwycięstwo albo śmierć. Victory or death.”

With that, Brad and Nadia both fell quiet again, watching their home come closer in all its majesty.

Marshal Mikhail Leonov climbed down out of the Harbin Z-20 helicopter that had ferried him here from Shanghai’s main international airport. Unhurriedly, he walked over to the lone figure waiting for him near the edge of a concrete embankment overlooking the brown, silt-laden waters of Hangzhou Bay. The massive containment domes of two of Qinshan’s seven operating nuclear power plants dominated the southern skyline.

General Chen Haifeng greeted him with an impassive nod. “President Li regrets his inability to welcome you in person.”

Inwardly, Leonov shrugged. Their defeat at Korolev Base had come as a terrible shock. In the circumstances, it wasn’t surprising that China’s leader had no interest in losing further face by associating himself directly with Leonov, the Russian architect of a failed strategy. The only small mercy was that knowledge of this catastrophe was still confined to a tight inner circle in their two countries. For the moment at least, no one in Washington, D.C., Moscow, or Beijing was admitting there had even been armed clashes on the lunar surface. Neither side saw any benefit yet in making their undeclared war outside Earth orbit public.

He decided on bluntness. “Does this mean our alliance is at an end?”

“On the contrary,” Chen told him. “The president is determined to intensify our efforts. True, we have lost the opening round, but that was a mere skirmish. The fact remains that we cannot allow the Americans to dominate space.” The Chinese general shrugged. “Our tactics were inadequate, not our strategic vision. Victory in this new kind of warfare goes to those with speed and hitting power, not to those crouched behind fixed fortifications.”

Leonov kept a rein on his expression. Though it pained him to admit it, Chen’s analysis was accurate. Twice now, his chosen means to establish superiority in space — the powerful Mars One orbital station and Korolev lunar base — had been overwhelmed by attacks carried out by small, highly mobile American units. “And you have a way to build spacecraft with the necessary speed and combat power?” he asked dryly.

Chen smiled thinly. “Both our nations have talented scientists and engineers with the skills and knowledge for such a task,” he replied. “So long as we provide them with the means to turn their visions into reality.” He turned and nodded at the Qinshan nuclear power plant containment domes looming over them. “As a first step, we must dramatically increase our stockpiles of helium-3, the vital element in the fusion generators we will need.”

Leonov raised an eyebrow at that. It was technically possible to generate helium-3 in both light-water and heavy-water nuclear power plants, but the process was both incredibly expensive and inefficient. “The costs alone…”

“Are immaterial,” Chen said gravely. “President Li is very clear on this, Marshal. My country is willing to pay any price to defeat the United States… and to establish itself as a preeminent power in outer space.” His gaze hardened. “Now, is Russia willing to do the same?”

Swallowing his misgivings, Leonov nodded. “Da. We will stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you in this battle.”

Inside, though, he could not shake the sudden, unnerving feeling that the tiger he had planned to ride now had plans of its own….