Chapter 1

Sit down?Have a drink? Don’t mind if I do, boys. No, can’t say as I mind that a bit. Man needs a good stiff one in times like these. Know some of you. Name’s Lionel Allen Richards for those of you I don’t.

What’s that?

Yes, I suppose I am the captain of the Alice now. Never should have been—just a petty bureaucrat and all that. Never wanted more than a comfortable job to keep a man busy but now wishing to bloody hell he could report for any other duty.

Why?

Well chaps, when you’re suddenly captain of the last surviving L2 habitat can, hope and joy don’t exactly abound, if you catch my meaning. You watch all five of the other O’Neill colony stations at the Lagrange 2 orbit behind the Moon get buggered and go up in little puffs of smoke, must say it changes you some. Can’t help but do that.

Eh?

No, suppose there wasn’t any smoke in space if you want to be particular about it. But I did most of my growing in the green hills of the land we used to love. Strange seeing fire without smoke. Actually more of an explosion—all the O2 gone in a blink; definitely not a slow burn. Just as dead either way, I’m afraid.

Awful thing to see, when an Aquitna missile strikes a colony habitat. The great cylinder unravels like a beer can shot by a bullet. Ever see those slow-motion holos, rifle bullet and beer can? It’s like that, only worse. The Aquitna didn’t throw any explosives, of course. Waste of time and money they must have thought. They fired thousand-kilogram iron rods moving at a hundred-thousand klicks, not even as fast as our old extra-solar satellites.

On the point of the initial impact, Plas hull plating that’s withstood a thousand solar flares and the occasional piss-poor piloting job, peels open like a flower blooming back in the direction that the hit came from.

You chaps knew that?

Well, it surprised me no end. Thought it would have punched inward myself. Air, machinery, internal structure, and a quarter of a million people in each can go streaming out into space. In the two-tenths of a second that the rod takes to punch out the far side of the can five kilometers away, it dumped a quarter of its energy into the habitat and just blew a hole a couple hundred meters across.

My first officer calculated it out, something like a two-gigaton explosion, except without the explosion. All done with a bar of iron a meter long and a half meter on either side. I asked if he’d accidentally stuck on a few extra zeroes but he says not.

Yes, a quarter of that is five-hundred megatons delivered right into the can’s structure; I’m just glad it wasn’t our can they hit.

What’s that? Ten times the bomb the Earth Russians dropped on the Scandinavians, you say?

Blasted fools should have checked the wind patterns first Father always said—radioactive cloud swept all the way to the Pacific. My first officer said it was thirty-thousand times what the Yanks plonked on the Japanese back when there were still Yanks and Japanese. Nasty business either way.

Doesn’t really change what happened. The can goes scooting off in the direction of the projectile, partly driven out of orbit by the impact and partly by so much air, debris, and dead humanity being ejected out the point of entry.

The Aquitna missiles punched five cans out of the sky and left one. It was smart tactically, even if it rotted for me.

What’s that? Better than dead?

Couldn’t prove it by me.

Why did they spare us?

I’ve given that a spot of thinking, I admit. Just speculating like the next man. The stable, no-energy orbit at Lagrange 2 is here behind Luna. Our Alice lies exactly in the center of the L2 point, in permanent Earth eclipse. That’s why they spared us to my way of thinking. I couldn’t even call for help after they took out every satellite that could see around the curve of the Moon, as if there was anyone there who would take my call.

Surely Earth must know some bloody bad nonsense has happened out this way. Bill the Lizard, White Rabbit, Gryphon and Mock Turtle, Cheshire, and Dormouse…you know the cans were named by some chap named Lewis Carroll?

Dodgson?

I must have been misinformed, I suppose. Either way, it was news to me. So, Earth has had a whole cast of characters’ worth of trashed cans spinning out of Moonshadow across their screens as a warning that something bad is happening out here.

And the Aquitna bolts, after punching through our cans, hit near enough the Farside Dome down on the moon’s surface to cause a bit of trouble for the Scots.

Yes, I suppose it is a good thing that the big observatories were moved into deep space before the Colony Wars, if only to get away from our L2 cans’ noise and lights. But there was still a good-sized city there on Farside. Was. The bolt didn’t quite hit the dome, but the quakes shook up the old Moon pretty good. One of the cans, Dormouse or Gryphon and Mock Turtle, little hard to tell by that time, landed square across whatever was left of the Scottish dome. Pity, we lost some good chaps there.

Other side of old Luna?

Can’t say as there’s news. Oh thanks, don’t mind a refill one bit.

But I can tell you this, have you ever popped down to the Russian dome at Tycho? No? Well, that dome arcs up over a hundred meters high, a single clear span of a full kilometer. Pretty as a picture to look at, but rather dodgy if you were to ask me. City council fighting for years against the engineers who wanted to subdivide it for safety, but the tourist money kept it a single open space. With the force of the quakes, I’d bet the council isn’t arguing much anymore there, about anything. If you were pals with any of the Ruskies…

Earth?

I suppose the Aquitna could have taken on Earth. But I’m thinking not. They still don’t have the kind of bloody weapons like the Indians built in their labs. And nothing will get through the Aussie Shield—nobody’s heard a peep out of those blighters since they activated it half a century back. Wouldn’t know they were still alive in there, if they hadn’t acceded to New Zealand’s begging to join. No warning, just expanded the bubble and, poof, the Kiwis were as good as gone too.

I’d say that the Earth-based IndiaBeam is why the Aquitna are crouched here in the blind spot behind old Luna. Sure the Indians built the beamer so that when we all left the planet, we wouldn’t dare come back. But I’m thinking they probably spook the Aquitna ship too, which means she’s not indestructible no matter what alien hoard built it. Ages since the last time we saw a projectile weapon.

No, I don’t really count that though I suppose you could.

When the old AmerCan Alliance took out Southwest Asia with those asteroids it was a kind of projectile weapon. Can’t say as I blamed the Yanks overly much. Iranistan, Afhan, Israel, and whoever all those chaps were, never were able to just sit down and talk it out. Cost the Yanks a half dozen cities in retaliation when the truth came out about them steering the asteroids in. What a cock up.

But projectile weapons? Just doesn’t happen anymore. Aquitnas went old school, that’s what caught us off the mark. Still they must know if they peek their bums around the horizon, the IndiaBeam will fry them.

Mars is in opposition, so the Brazilians can’t relay for us even if they would. Still a trifle ticked over that last World Cup win, I’d say. Damn fine goalkeeping from that new chap. Too bad he went down with White Rabbit; he’ll be dashed hard to replace.

Reminds me of how the Chinese over in Lagrange 4 bought the service contracts for the Americans in L5, then switched off all their L5 cans’ systems after the Yanks had forgotten how to run them. Of course, the Americans got them back with that computer virus before they went down, so no help from either of them. Pity that Canada boarded with the Yanks rather than with us, not that it would matter now. Everyone cheating on everyone despite the accords, and two more countries gone forever.

So, this be it. Right here, Alice at L2, we’re the front line. Once again it’s up to the last survivors of Merrie Olde England to stand guard.

And still you’re asking me why I’m not so sure about the joys of being the highest ranked survivor?

I’m just the Minister of Education and that was more about keeping this can going than doing any educating. Never was an egghead myself. Never wanted to be the in charge.

Now my grand battalion is a habitat of you lot: academics and students. Someday I would still like to know how you Cambrians and Oxfordians found sufficient peace to cohabit. Yes, indeed. Maybe we could have learned a thing or two from all you blokes.

King? Bloody hell! Last thing I want. Though my Maggie might have enjoyed that; poor lass. Lucky that she didn’t live to see this day.

Don’t much care that we need the symbol; wouldn’t want to be the PM either.

Why?

Take a look out that portal. See there, the point of light that seems a little too bright? That’s the Aquitna ship and we’re square in its sights.

Guess who now has to go and meet with the Aquitna, rank or no.

Yes, thanks. I’ll definitely take another whisky.