Charley tried desperately to remember everything she knew about lasers. The light beams were most effective at short distances. They were degraded by moisture in the atmosphere. Firing a beam through a cloud was impractical. The earth, at which this device seemed to be aimed, was swaddled in a heavy atmosphere laden with moisture; clouds obscured huge portions of the earth on a regular basis.
Claudine was glancing at her from time to time. Charley studied the control console, looking for any clue. And failed to find any.
The pressure door to the equipment bay was standing open, so she went through it, out under the dome.
The telescope was mounted on a conventional stand. The larger device was mounted on a massive support structure that sat atop a round titanium base at least twelve feet in diameter, which looked as if it could support a tremendous weight. But why? Even if the device were made of pure steel, it couldn't weigh over a few hundred pounds here on the moon.
Obviously the engineer who designed it thought it would thrust downward against the lunar rock, and the base was designed to transfer the load, much like a bridge support.
A gun? To shoot a projectile at targets on earth?
She glanced around, looking for anything that might be ammo for such a gun — and saw Courbet walking toward her. The technicians who had unloaded the reactor were leaving. They disappeared through the air lock, taking the dolly with them.
'Is this base really strong enough?' Charley asked.
Faced with a technical question, Claudine found her confidence. 'Oh, yes. Actually it is twice as strong as it needs to be. And the base is twice as large — the underlying rock may have a hidden fault.'
'Of course,' Charley said carelessly. Then it hit her. For every reaction there is an equal but opposite reaction. This thing was going to push hard against the rock that supported it. If it wasn't a gun, it was something that affected the lunar gravitational field.
She reached for the plastic cover, which was merely draped over the device, and jerked it off. A system of gears sat above the base, apparently to aim the device. Above the gears were metal rings arranged around a cone, the largest at the base and the smallest at the tip. Heavy cables led to them.
It was an antigravity beam generator!
Egg Cantrell had publicized the antigravity technology from the saucer just two months ago, with misgivings. The weapons potential of the technology was obvious. Egg knew that every advance in human knowledge could be misused, yet he believed the possible benefits outweighed the risk. Risk-benefit decisions are part of life; they have been routinely made by man ever since cavemen weighed the benefits of eating cooked meat against the risk of getting burned.
Were French scientists this far ahead of everyone else?
'Where did this technology come from?' Charley barked at the French engineer. 'Where did you people get it?'
A look of surprise froze Claudine's face. 'You… you…' she stammered, 'you didn't know! You're not authorized to be in here.'
'Has the French government gone off its nut?'
Fear registered on Claudine's face.
'So you're going to plug in the reactor, charge the capacitor, roll back the roof and zap the evil bastards for the greater glory of France.'
'Nations are obsolete,' Claudine explained with all the fervor of a true believer. 'Pierre is going to combine the nations of the world into one kingdom. He is going to end war, starvation, epidemics, hatred and fear. He is going to feed the hungry, heal the sick, lead the peoples of the world into a glorious future.'
'By threatening to kill them with that?' Charley gestured toward the beam generator.
'Few revolutions are bloodless. The greater good will require some sacrifices.'
Charley Pine whistled silently, then said, 'If he could manage to raise a few people from the dead, he could get himself elected messiah.'
'I'm going to get Monsieur Artois,' Claudine cried, then whirled and started for the door. She didn't get far. Charley grabbed her arm and jerked. As Claudine spun back around, Charley flattened her with a right to the chin.
And felt ashamed of herself. Violence is so tacky.
Claudine did a slow, languid backflip and slid to a stop in a crumpled heap. Her pulse was steady, and all her head bones seemed intact. Charley decided Claudine was just out cold.
Pierre was going to be peeved when Claudine recovered enough to give him the bad news. Any way you cut it, Charley had worn out her welcome on the moon.
She took a last long look at the beam generator and waiting power cables. 'Been nice knowing you, lady,' Charley said to the comatose Claudine. 'See you around.'
Then she strode out, trying not to bounce off the ceiling in her haste, went through the open air lock to the personnel door and opened it a crack. No one was in the hallway. She made sure the door latched behind her.
She found Joe Bob Hooker sitting by himself in the cafeteria nursing a cup of coffee. Florentin and two technicians were eating breakfast three tables away. Florentin saw Charley and nodded. She smiled at him, then dropped into a seat beside Hooker.
'Couldn't sleep?'
'Huh-uh. You?'
'Nope.'
'How's the Java?'
'Strong enough to stick a fork in. The frogs can't make decent coffee. Here or in Paris.'
'How about showing me how to hit a golf ball?'
'Outside?'
'Yep.'
He was surprised. 'Now?'
'Why not? You got something better to do?'
'In this hole in the ground? You gotta be kiddin'!'
'Well, let's go.' She stood.
He eyed her. 'Okay. I'll swing by my room and get my sticks. Got about a dozen balls left.' He dumped the coffee in the food bin to be recycled, left the cup in the dirty dishes rack and followed her out into the corridor.
In a few minutes he joined her in the locker room. As they suited up, he said, 'You ever play golf?'
'Never had time.'
'Worst game known to man. Gotta do it in Dallas with the bankers and dealership managers, you know. Need to know who's who; which ones are screwing me and which ones want to. I watch 'em play for three hours and I get a pretty good idea what's in their heads.'
'That the way you run your business? Figure out who's honest and who isn't?'
'That's the only way.'
When they were completely suited up, they checked each other's suit, made sure the oxygen systems were charged and functioning properly, then headed for the air lock. Joe Bob carried the clubs. In the air lock both of them dropped their sun visors.
The instant the air lock opened, Charley checked the spaceplane.
Joe Bob showed her how to hit a ball. Although their helmets contained radios, they talked back and forth by touching their helmets, freeing up their hands. Natural movement was impossible in a space suit. Still, with practice, one could approach some degree of dexterity.
Hooker was critiquing Charley's swing ten minutes later when the gantry elevator came down with a container on it. One man rode it down. The other operated the lift from the ground.
Once the elevator was down, the man on the ground crossed the surface to a modified forklift. Together he and the other man drove it toward the air lock.
The instant the door closed, Charley put her helmet against Hooker's and said, 'Come with me. Into the space-plane.'
