Pletnev spoke with a Lieutenant Colonel I. S. Pogodin in the first chamber. The German translated most of the rapid exchange for Kirchner.
"—You cannot have forgotten me, Pogodin. I instructed your class in Novosibirsk."
"Yes, indeed, you sound like Pletnev—"
"Lay down your fears, Pogodin! The battle is over. I need to cross your territory to speak with Colonel Mirsky—now Lieutenant General Mirsky. Will you allow—" He glanced at Kirchner.
"Yourself, one of your crew and an escort of four marines," Kirchner said.
"Two of us and four of them to cross?"
There was no reply for a moment. "We have no communication with the second chamber, or any other chamber. Our own Colonel Raksakov is dead. I am not senior officer in this chamber—there is Colonel Vielgorsky."
"Then get together with Vielgorsky and make a decision, Pogodin."
There was a few minutes' wait until Vielgorsky came back with a reply.
"You may cross unarmed. I will want to speak with you in person."
Pletnev cast a querying look at Kirchner. "Unarmed? Is that acceptable?"
Kirchner nodded.
"We will come down, then—"
"By the zero elevator to the science team compound," Kirchner instructed, and the German translated. "We'll need a truck released from the compound to cross the chamber."
Pletnev passed on the requirements. Vielgorsky added that one of his men must accompany them in the truck to the second chamber. After a moment's consideration, Kirchner again agreed. He then spoke with Gerhardt and confirmed the plan.
"Lanier and two of my men will be on the opposite side of the bridge as soon as we reach an agreement with whoever's in charge of the second chamber," Gerhardt said. "Lanier's learned Russian. We think one of the Russian science team should go with him, too, if everyone's agreeable."
Pletnev pursed his lips and mumbled something the German could not understand. Then, in passable English, he asked, "Pliss, is there washroom? I have occupied suit for a week now."
Belozersky crouched beside Mirsky as the cease-fire instructions were relayed over the loudspeaker in the enemy camp.
"This could be very tricky," Belozersky said, shaking his head. "We cannot be sure what sort of misinformation they will bring."
Mirsky did not react. He listened intently, then passed orders through Garabedian for his battalion to heed the instructions. "Pletnev will be here in an hour," he said as he took a cigarette offered by Garabedian. "We can question him to our heart's content. If what he says is indeed, true, then we negotiate."
"There must be no retreat from principles," Belozersky said grimly.
"Who suggested retreat from anything?" Mirsky countered. He disliked the little martinet with his tight-pressed lips and nervous gestures.
"If Pletnev tells the truth," Belozersky pursued, "then we must establish a stronghold of the revolution right here, on the Potato."
"They call it the Stone," Garabedian said.
"The Potato," Belozersky repeated, glaring at him.
"No one disputes you," Mirsky said with perhaps too much patience.
"We must be equal partners in this venture."
"They have all the women," Mirsky observed. Belozersky scrutinized him as if he had made a bad joke.
"Yes? Comrade General, I do not see—"
"We cannot go home—if Pletnev is correct," Mirsky said. "To carry on the ideals of the revolution, there must be. . . women. That seems obvious."
Belozersky had nothing to say to this.
"Perhaps on our science team. . .” Garabedian suggested.
"Most of them are men," Mirsky observed. "Remember the briefings? Very prestigious assignment, the Potato. Senior academicians and their assistants only. Maybe fifteen women. Spread among seven hundred soldiers." He laughed and squashed the quickly smoked cigarette butt against the concrete foundation.
Belozersky sat with his back against the concrete and stared down at his clasped hands where they rested on drawn-up knees. "Not everything in Russia has been destroyed," he murmured. "There are redoubts, fortresses. You have heard of these, Comrade General, surely."
"They reveal nothing to those who do not need to know," Mirsky said. "Rumors don't equal reality."
"But at Podlipki—the secret hangars, the helicopters and airplanes waiting. . . surely the Party Secretary, the Defense Council—"
"Perhaps," Mirsky said, more to shut the man up than to agree.
"They will communicate with us, then." Belozersky looked up, eyes bright. "We must have our own outside channel of communication. If we negotiate, we must demand—"
"I have thought of that already," Mirsky said. "Now please be quiet. I have a lot of thinking to do before Pletnev arrives."
The truck rolled past the lines of foxholes and the barbed wire fences scavenged from the science compound. Russians in incongruous arctic camouflage peered at them, some still wearing their spacesuit helmets. The suits themselves had long since been discarded—they littered the drop zones in the first chamber, along with the para-sails and bodies of unlucky soldiers.
"Never such an action as this," Pletnev said flatly. "Never."
Major Annenkovsky—the representative of the Russians in the first chamber—stared sadly through the truck windows and ran his hands through brick-red hair. "I am grateful to be alive," he said.
Lieutenant Rudolph Jaeger translated for the two marine escorts in a low voice. The truck passed through the checkpoint by its demolished guardhouse and headed north.
At the northern end of the zero bridge, Lanier glanced at his watch: 1400 hours. The marines nodded to each other and they began crossing on foot, as agreed.
"I just hope those damn insurgents got the word," the young sergeant said, looking back at Alexandria.
Through cameras in the first chamber bore-hole opening, Kirchner monitored the progress of the truck on the same console that had conveyed photos of Earth's death just thirty hours before. Behind him, Link jerked up in her seat and quickly tuned in a signal.
"Incoming OTV," advised one of the soldiers on watch in the exterior dimple. "Not a Russian. One of ours."
Link gestured with one hand, the other punching buttons in rapid succession. "Captain Kirchner, we have an OTV from Station Sixteen. It's damaged and couldn't go to lunar settlement. . . . Sir, they say they have Judith Hoffman on board."
Kirchner swiveled in his chair. "I'm not surprised," he said laconically. "Bring 'em in. Miss Pickney, where did I leave my jacket?"
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mirsky crossed the field slowly, not so much out of caution as to display his dignity, and to gain some idea of their losses. Lanier, Lieutenant Jaeger, Major Annenkovsky and Pletnev advanced more rapidly, until only a few yards separated them. Pletnev stepped forward to grasp Mirsky's hand and upper arm, then backed away, standing alone.
Mirsky looked at the bodies spaced haphazardly on the field. Two lay half-in and half-out of an unfinished foxhole, several small burned holes and slashes of cooked flesh showing through melted gaps in their uniforms. He had counted twenty-eight corpses so far. There were at least twice that many on the field. His thoughts strayed away from tactical considerations and lingered on the unsimple fact of dead countrymen.
The forty-one wounded in the second chamber were being tended by only two corpsmen. Sosnitsky had died the day before, never emerging from coma. The wounded died two, three and four daily.
Mirsky turned to Pletnev. "What they have broadcast to us—your words, your information—it is true?"
"Yes," Pletnev said.
"Were there any instructions from Earth?"
"No."
"And how bad?"
"It is very bad," Pletnev said softly, scratching his cheek. "There will be no victors."
"No instructions from anywhere? From the Defense Council in a redoubt, from the party, a platform, from some surviving officers?"
Pletnev shook his head. "Nothing. They cou
ld not be concerned with us."
"Did you witness engagements?" Mirsky asked, his face tightening.
"We saw Russia glowing at night. All of Europe is on fire."
"Which one of you speaks Russian?" Mirsky asked sharply, glancing at Lanier and Jaeger.
"We both do," Lanier said.
"Are your countries victorious, then?"
"No," Lanier said.
"We are all pigs," Mirsky said.
Pletnev shook his head. "We did our duty, Comrade General. You have accomplished a marvelous—"
"How many ships survived?" Mirsky interrupted.
"Four," Pletnev said. "And how many men?"
Lanier, Jaeger and Major Annenkovsky waited for Mirsky to respond.
"Two hundred—no, about one hundred eighty here." Mirsky frowned at Lanier. "I haven't heard how many in the other chambers. Maybe seven hundred in all. General Sosnitsky died yesterday."
"Then you are the senior officer," Pletnev said.
"We should begin talks now," Lanier said. "I don't see any need to resume fighting."
"No," Mirsky said. He surveyed the field, shaking his head slowly. "If we are all that is left. . . No need to fight."
"Earth is not dead, Colonel," Lanier said. "It is very badly hurt, but it is not dead."
"You sound certain," Mirsky said. "How can you be so sure?"
"Yes," Pletnev said in English. "So you have communication with your superiors?"
"No," Lanier said. "I read about it, and watched it happen. It's a long story, General Mirsky, and I think the time has come to make it known to everybody."
While the bodies still lay where they had fallen, the Russians were guaranteed access to the first four chambers, in return for guaranteeing the Western bloc personnel access to the compounds and zero elevator in the first chamber. Promises were made that bilateral security squads would police the travel routes. With that agreed to, the debris and bodies were cleared from the southern cap and the bore hole and the remaining Russian heavy-lifters were given permission to dock.
The negotiations were conducted in the first chamber, in the first science team compound cafeteria. Half of the second compound barracks was temporarily given over to house Russian soldiers; a line drawn in white paint divided the sectors and was guarded on one side by five marines, on the other by five tired-looking Space Shock Troopers.
Eventually, the Russians indicated, they would move most of their soldiers out of the first chamber and claim a large section of the fourth chamber.
Gerhardt spoke through Lanier and Jaeger to Mirsky. Colonel Vielgorsky—a darkly handsome middle-aged man with jet-black hair and green eyes—advised Mirsky on political considerations. Major Belozersky was always lurking nearby. The third political officer, Major Yazykov, assigned to the fourth chamber, part of a Russian survey team.
They worked trough the early evening of the second day of the truce. During a break for coffee and lunch, Kirchner appeared in the cafeteria entrance with a guest and two guards. Lanier looked up at the group and slowly lowered his cup of coffee.
"Looks like you don't need much help," Judith Hoffman said. She was pale and her hair was uncharacteristically mussed; she wore an outsize jumpsuit and one of her hands was wrapped in a bandage. In the other, she carried a personal effects box from the shuttle. Without a word, Lanier pushed back his chair and crossed the room to wrap her in a tight hug. The Russians watched with mild irritation at the interruption; Vielgorsky whispered something to Mirsky, and he nodded, sitting up in his seat.
"Jesus," Lanier said softly. "I was sure you hadn't made it. You don't know how good it is to see you."
"As good as it feels to be here, I hope. The President fired me and the whole board four days before. . . Before. I pulled in some favors and took a VIP tour of Station Sixteen the next day. I was arranging for an OTV flight—not easy. I was persona non grata with the politicos, and that worried the brass, but two shuttle jocks were willing to smuggle me aboard. We were all fueled and ready to go when the. . . war began, and we got away with six civilian evacuees just before they—" She swallowed. "I'm very tired, Garry, but I had to see you and let you know I'm here. Not as your boss. Just here. There are nine others—four women, two men, three crew. Let me sleep and then tell me how I can help."
"We haven't worked out chain of command yet. We don't even know whether we're an outpost or a territory or a nation," Lanier said. "There'll be plenty for you to do." His eyes were watering. He wiped them with the back of his hand and grinned at Hoffman, then pointed to the bargaining table. "We're talking. The fighting's over—for now, perhaps for good."
"I always knew you were a good administrator," Hoffman said. "Garry, I have to sleep. I haven't had a good sleep since we left the station. But. . . I brought something with me."
She put the box on the table and undid the metal clasps. Raising the top, she dumped the packets of seeds across the tabletop. Some slid over to the Russian table. Mirsky and Vielgorsky seemed stunned by the display. Mirsky picked up a packet of marigold seeds.
"Please, keep what you want," Hoffman told them. She looked up at Lanier. "They're for all of us now."
Kirchner took her by the elbow and led her away.
Lanier returned to the table and sat, feeling magnitudes better. Belozersky, standing behind Vielgorsky and Mirsky, looked down on the pile of seeds with unconcealed suspicion.
"My chief political officer wants to know if you have received instructions from any surviving governmental organization," Mirsky said. Jaeger translated for Gerhardt.
"No," Lanier said. "We're still operating on our own."
"We recognize the woman you spoke to," Vielgorsky said smoothly. "She is an agent of your government and the perpetrator of your policies on this asteroid."
"Yes, she is," Lanier said. "and when she's feeling better, she'll join our negotiations. But she was. . .” he searched for the word, "removed from her position before the Death."
He wondered at how easily that word came, designating past, not future.
"When did she arrive?" Mirsky asked.
"I don't know. Not too long ago."
"We insist," Belozersky said, "that any Warsaw Pact survivors be welcomed on this asteroid as well. Military and civilian."
"Of course," Lanier said. Gerhardt agreed with a nod.
"And now," Lanier said, "for perhaps the most important issues. Disarmament and territorial rights. . .”
"We will work out a rough draft of these agreements and ratify a formal document later," Mirsky said.
"We insist on sovereignty of all Warsaw Pact peoples on this asteroid," Belozersky said. Vielgorsky pursed his lips. Mirsky backed his chair away from the table sharply and led Belozersky to a corner. There, they engaged in a quiet but heated exchange, with Belozersky casting furious glances at Lanier and Gerhardt.
Mirsky returned alone. "I am in command of Soviet soldiers and citizens," he said. "I am the principal negotiator."
Lanier's office and bunkroom had been ransacked but not seriously damaged during the occupation. He slept for five hours and then took a rationed breakfast from the food vendor in the cafeteria.
Kirchner met him at the front entrance of the women's barracks. "I'm going back to the bore hole," he said. "There's still an unholy mess up there. We're bringing down bodies now—ours and theirs. Is there a service scheduled?"
"I've suggested a single service sometime in the next twenty-four hours. More than just mourning for the dead here. . .”
Kirchner pursed his lips. "It's not going to be easy standing around those bastards."
"Has to start somewhere. How's Hoffman? Has she slept?"
"From what I've heard. Two of your astronomers took her in and kicked me and the guards out." He narrowed his eyes and nodded in the direction of the cafeteria. "What's my role going to be when you fellows are done?"
"Captain, USN, I presume," Lanier said. "In charge of external security. I'm not going to hand them the Stone on a plate
."
"Have they agreed to disarm?"
Lanier shook his head. "Not yet. They want to set up a secure camp in the fourth chamber, then they'll discuss disarmament. I'm giving Mirsky a private tour later this afternoon. . . the libraries, the cities."
"Jesus, I'd like to go with you."
"You'll get your chance soon. As far as Gerhardt and I are concerned, it's all open. No monopoly."
"Even the seventh chamber?"
"In time. They haven't asked about that yet."
Kirchner raised his eyebrows. "Weren't they told?"
"I have no idea what they tell their military men. Certainly they'll know pretty soon. The Russian science team is not exactly mixing with the soldiers—military doesn't count for much in their eyes, apparently. But word will get around." He paused for a long moment. "Any word from Earth?"
"Not a thing. Some radar activity in the Arctic Ocean—maybe a few surface ships. Can't see much. Smoke is covering most of Europe, Asia, the United States. They can't be concerned with us, Garry."
Kirchner walked across the compound and climbed into a truck going to the zero elevator entrance. Lanier knocked on the barracks door. Janice Polk answered.
"Come on in," she said. "She's awake and I took her some food a few minutes ago."
Hoffman sat on the couch in the small lounge. Beryl Wallace and Lieutenant Doreen Cunningham, former head of compound security, sat on chairs across from her. Cunningham's head was bandaged, evidence of the laser burn she had received before the surrender of the first compound.
They stood as Lanier entered; Cunningham made as if to salute, then smiled sheepishly and lowered her hand.
"Ladies, Mr. Lanier and I have some catching up to do," Hoffman said, placing a half-full glass of orange juice on the tank-baffle table. When they were alone, Lanier sat and pulled the chair closer.
"I think I'm ready for a briefing," Hoffman said. "I haven't heard anything since I left Earth. Was it like what the libraries showed us?"