Then as now, most Loonies knew nothing about astronomy–we’re cave dwellers, we go up to surface only when necessary. But we were lucky; was amateur astronomer in Greg’s crew, cobber who had worked at Richardson. I explained, put him in charge, let him worry about teaching eyeball crew how to tell stars apart. I got these things started before we went back to talk-talk. “Well, Stu? Why shouldn’t we hit Great China?”
“I’m still expecting word from Dr. Chan. I received one message from him, phoned here shortly before we were cut off from cities–”
“My word, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried to, but you had yourself locked in and I know better than to bother you when you are busy with ballistics. Here’s the translation. Usual LuNoHo Company address with a reference which means it’s for me and that it has come through my Paris agent. ‘Our Darwin sales representative’–that’s Chan–‘informs us that your shipments of’–well, never mind the coding; he means the attack days while appearing to refer to last June–‘were improperly packaged resulting in unacceptable damage. Unless this can be corrected, negotiations for long-term contract will be serously jeopardized.”
Stu looked up. “All doubletalk. I take it to mean that Dr. Chan feels that he has his government ready to talk terms . . . but that we should let up on bombing Great China or we may upset his apple cart.”
“Hmm–” Got up and walked around. Ask Wyoh’s opinion? Nobody knew Wyoh’s virtues better than I. . . but she oscillated between fierceness and too-human compassion–and I had learned already that a “head of state,” even an acting one, must have neither. Ask Greg? Greg was a good farmer, a better mechanic, a rousing preacher; I loved him dearly–but did not want his opinion. Stu? I had had his opinion.
Or did I? “Stu, what’s your opinion? Not Chan’s opinion–but your own.”
Stu looked thoughtful. “That’s difficult, Mannie. I am not Chinese, I have not spent much time in Great China, and can’t claim to be expert in their politics nor their psychology. So I’m forced to depend on his opinion.”
“Uh– Damn it, he’s not a Loonie! His purposes are not our purposes. What does he expect to get out of it?”
“I think he is maneuvering for a monopoly over Lunar trade. Perhaps bases here, too. Possibly an extraterritorial enclave. Not that we would grant that.”
“Might if we were hurtin’.”
“He didn’t say any of this. He doesn’t say much, you know. He listens.”
“Too well I know.” Worried at it, more bothered each minute.
News from Earthside had been droning in background; I had asked Wyoh to monitor while I was busy with Greg. “Wyoh, hon, anything new from Earthside?”
“No. The same claims. We’ve been utterly defeated and our surrender is expected momentarily. Oh, there’s a warning that some missiles are still in space, falling out of control, but with it a reassurance that the paths are being analyzed and people will be warned in time to avoid impact areas.”
“Anything to suggest that Prof–or anybody in Luna City, or anywhere in Luna–is in touch with Earthside?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Damn. Anything from Great China?”
“No. Comments from almost everywhere else. But not from Great China.”
“Uh–” Stepped to door. “Greg! Hey, cobber, see if you can find Greg Davis. I need him.”
Closed door. “Stu, we’re not going to let Great China off.”
“So?”
“No. Would be nice if Great China busted alliance against us; might save us some damage. But we’ve got this far only by appearing able to hit them at will and to destroy any ship they send against us. At least I hope that last one was burned and we’ve certainly clobbered eight out of nine. We won’t get anywhere by looking weak, not while F.N. is claiming that we are not just weak but finished. Instead we must hand them surprises. Starting with Great China and if it makes Dr. Chan unhappy, we’ll give him a kerchief to weep into. If we can go on looking strong–when F.N. says we’re licked–then eventually some veto power is going to crack. If not Great China, then some other one.”