Poul Anderson - Operation Luna

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OPERATION LUNA

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POULANDERSON

=============

TOR

A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK

NEW YORK

Witchlights glowed blue along the fence, outlining cardinal point

against night. Earth lay darker than heaven. There stars gleamed and the

Milky Way glimmered. A moon one day past full, climbing out of the east,

veiled many of them behind its own brightness. It cast pallor and long

shadows across the malpais. Northward,MountTaylor bulked ghost gray.

When Ginny and I looked ahead and down, the glare near the middle of the

great pentacle, searchbeams focused on the spacecraft, drove most of

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this from our eyes. My heart jumped to see that splendor.

Somewhere inside me I felt something different stir. The shiver

strengthened as we drew closer. It wasn't happening for the first time.

Earlier, though, it had been rare, faint and fleeting, no more than the

uneasiness everybody gets once in a while for no good reason. You don't

rub an amulet or make a religious sign or ask whatever witch or warlock

may be nearby if it means anything. No, you shrug it off as a passing

nerve-twitch. You're modern, scientific, free of superstitions. Aren't

you?

What touched me now was stronger, too vague to be a foreboding but not

just a collywobble. I'd had enough experience to know that. A hunch? I

turned my head to and fro. All I saw besides sky was the headlights of a

few other broomsticks, belated like ours. I took a long, slow breath.

Even in human shape, my nose is pretty keen. The air that flowed in was

pure and chill; temperature inNew Mexico generally drops fast after

sunset. I did catch a slight ozonelike tang of goetic forces at work,

but that was to be expected hereabouts, especially tonight.

Wait, wait--a bare hint of strangeness, outsideness such as I couldn't

put a name to? Wolf, I might have been more nearly sure.

My look went back to Ginny. Since it would be only us two, we'd taken

her Jaguar instead of the family Ford. We'd left the windfield off

except in front, and breeze got by to flutter the skirt she'd chosen to

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wear for this occasion. It was pressed around the downcurve of the shaft

and across a pair of long, trim legs. The sweater above hugged a figure

as good at age forty-two as it'd been when we met.

My attention stayed above the neck. Moonlight made her aristocratic

features into an ivory carving. It whitened and rippled the

shoulder-length hair. On her left breast, the silver owl emblem of her

order seemed icily afire. I saw not only her usual alertness upon her,

but a sudden wariness.

My voice sounded loud through the air whispering past us. "You feel a

spooky whiff too?"

She nodded. Her contralto had gone metallic. "Uncanny might be a better

word. Or--" I couldn't make out the rest. As a licensed witch, she has a

wide vocabulary from exotic languages. I guessed this was Zuni. "Powers

are abroad. Coyote is certainly on the prowl."

"And nearby, watching for a chance?"

"Of course. He always is."

"Oh, well, then." I didn't intend bravado. The Trickster is a bad enemy,

and not exactly a reliable friend. He'd wrought havoc in the early days

here, like when one test vehicle, a flying wing, molted in midair, or

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when moths got at a still more expensive experimental model, a

super-carpet, and ate it full of holes.

However, I recalled, before there was any actual fatality, the National

Astral Spellcraft Administration had grown smart for the nonce and

consulted the local Indians. They informed it that Coyote had declared

feud on it. He didn't like this invasion of his stamping grounds, not to

speak of stunts more spectacular than any of his. The medicine men

weren't very happy about it either.

So NASA's chief had a talk with President Lambert inWashington . Project

Selene had been Lambert's way of pulling his political chestnuts out of

the fire after the Brazilian crisis, when he'd fearlessly told the

people ofRio de Janeiro he was one of them--"¡Yo soy un carioca!"-- in

Spanish. Also, it would mean considerable pork for his Southwestern

power base. Therefore he twisted arms, and possibly other body parts, in

Congress, and the Indians got a more decent deal from the government

than they'd had before, and the priests invoked their gods and kachinas

to protect Cardinal Pointâ€¦

I hauled my mind back. Had the outlaw influences caused it to wander?

Those things had happened seven or eight years ago. My family and I had

been here for only two. Ginny was correcting me: "Not him alone, though

I do feel he's moreâ€¦ eagerâ€¦ than anytime I've known since I first

learned a little about such things. Something else also."

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"Like the BlueFlint Boys?" I ventured. I'd picked up odds and ends of

lore, nothing like the education she'd set herself to acquire.

Mischievous but not malignant spirits shouldn't be cause for worry.

She dashed my hopes. "Something much more powerful, something I--" She

seldom hesitated. "--I can half guess at, though not really--"

If I'd been wolf, I'd have bristled. As it was, chill tiptoed along my

spine and out to my nerve ends. "Can you discover what?"

"Maybe. But not without cantrips, and we aren't allowed any tonight.

This is just sensitivity,' like mine, but way sharper.

She shook herself, always an interesting sight, straightened in her

seat, and, slowly, smiled. "Well, it's probably nothing to fear. The

'chantments stand strong. I'd know if they didn't. Quite likely a troop

of Beings have simply come to watch, same as us."

She gestured downward. Our broom was descending. We could see hundreds

of others below, across the landscape, and their dismounted riders,

saintelmos shining on the ground or bobbing in hands, people talking or

snacking or smoking or tilting a bottle or staring, staring at the

vision. They'd come from Grants,Gallup , the pueblos, farms, ranches, as

far asAlbuquerque andSanta Fe , maybe farther. Sure, they could've

stayed home and watched on the farseer, but this was history happening,

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the first real flight of the beast that should eventually land humans on

yonder moon.

"If the Beings aren't friendly to what we're doing, why, neither are a

lot of our fellow Americans," Ginny went on. "In either case, they can't

help being fascinated." Her laughter chimed. "After all, what a show!"

That whipped my dim dreads off me. The crowd below was heartening, too.

They weren't ideologues yammering about Tower-of-Babel technoarrogance,

or demagogues whining about money that ought to be spent on their own

admirers, or intellectuals oh, so superior to everything less than the

critical deconstruction of James Joyce's Odysseus. They were ordinary,

working men and women, along with kids, students, dreamers-- and quite a

few tribesfolk, I saw--here because they'd decided for themselves that

going to the stars was a great idea.

In a way, too many had. Ruefulness quirked my lips. At the nth hour,

Ginny and I found that no babysitters would be available, not for any

price, not even her housecleaner, Audrey Becker, or Audrey's elderly

mother. Once we might have entrusted the job to her familiar, but

Svartalf was old and dozy, Edgar's sense of responsibility still

unproven.

So Valeria got stuck with riding herd on Ben and Chryssa. She'd looked

forward to witnessing the launch in person, with a fourteen-year-old's

intensity, and didn't take kindly to the change in plans. What we

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offered in return hardly appeased her. We tried to be fair, but didn't

believe in begging or bribing children to do their duty. Not that Val

exploded, much. It wasn't her style. She'd brood, I knew. What would

come of that, I didn't know.

Our broom stopped in midair. After a moment the air said, "Pass" and we

continued. The checkspell had verified that we were entitled to go

within the perimeter. Its effectiveness was reassuring. In fact, I lost

my sense of outside presences, and soon more or less forgot about them.

My wife told me later that she did likewise, though I suspect she never

really became quite unaware of anything that ever come to her attention.

As late as our frantic search had made us, we were lucky to find a place

at the edge of the employees' parking lot. It was jammed. Besides their

vehicles, we spied those of journalists, VIPs, and Lord knows who else

had wangled admission. We barely eased in between a chrome-plated

Cadillac and an old Honda with a sweep of withered but real straw. As we

settled it into the rack and got off, our Jaguar waggled its shaft. The

sprite in it never had liked close quarters. Ginny bent over to stroke

the spotty-furry rear end and make soothing noises. It calmed down. We

hiked off fast across the paving, through the cold. Our footfalls

clattered beneath the Swan, the Dragon, and the ascending moon.

As we neared the gate, illumination took most night away from us. The

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chain-link fence stretched right and left for a mile or more, its

witch-lights dwindling off into darkness. Here theedisons glared.

Though the physical barrier was just fifteen feet high, I winded a

little of the forces that charged it and warded the compound on every

quarter, zenith and nadir included.

Since we already wore badges spelled to our identities, we had no

rigmarole to go through. They were special, of course. I didn't draw my

pay from NASA but from Nornwell Scryotronics back in theMidwest , which

had a contract to develop space communication systems. It had gotten me

seconded to Cardinal Point as an engineer. My boss, Barney Sturlason,

knew well that my lifelong dream had been to work on celestonautics. He

also knew that a happy man is a productive man. As for Ginny, who ran

her Artemis Consultancy out of our home, we'd more than once had

occasion to sic her onto some or other weird problem.

One of the guards knew us. "Why, hello, Mr. and Mrs.--uh, Dr. Matuchek,"

he greeted. "I was getting afraid you wouldn't make it. You're barely in

time, unless they put a hold on the countdown."

"I know," I said.

"Wasn't your daughter coming along? And what about Dr. Graylock, ma'am?"

"We had babysitter woes," Ginny explained, "and my brother isn't feeling

well."

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"Too bad. Sure wish I could watch from where you're going to. A medicine

man from Acoma Pueblo who's here, I heard him mention sensing how even

spirits have come to see, heap big spirits."

"Leave that to the professionals," I snapped, "and let us by, for God's

sake."

Immediatedly I regretted my impatience. He'd intended friendliness.

Hurt, he retorted, "Well, Mr. Matuchek, you remember the rules. The moon

is up, but nobody's supposed to change shape."

Ginny laid a cautionary hand on mine and a smile on the janus. "Of

course," she murmured. "No offense. Excuse us if we're in a hurry, Mr.

Gitling. Actually, once the beast rises, what you see ought to be better

than the mere liftoff." He dissolved into amiability and waved us

through.

The paths beyond lay dim, almost deserted. Everybody not in Mission

Control wanted to be at a viewing station. Buildings enclosed us, murky

against the sky-sheen from the launch paddock ahead. Off on the left,

rising above roofs, the great onion dome of the VAB caught some of that

light. The moon barely cleared the walls opposite; its cold,

blue-blazoned shield still looked huge.

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I did not plan on skinturning. In fact, I seldom transformed at all

anymore, aside from an occasional romp out in the desert or, once in a

while, to amuse little Chryssa. Her siblings had long since taken

Daddy's trick for granted. Nevertheless, as the moonbeams caught me, I

felt a strong urge. Excitement, no doubt, weakening inhibitions,

stirring ancient instincts.

I quelled the lust by asking, quite sincerely, "What is the trouble with

Will, anyway? In the hullabaloo, I didn't get a chance to find out."

"I'm not sure either," Ginny replied. "Nor is he, I suppose. He phoned

to say he felt terrible and would stay home and try to sleep off

whatever it is."

"A dirty shame. He's probably as responsible for getting a space program

started as any man alive."

"Yes, and has it as dear to his heart." Hearing the trouble in Ginny's

tone, I glanced at her and saw how she bit her lip. "Steve, I've been

worried about him."

"Um-m, yeah, he has seemed a bit odd lately, now and then. Sort ofâ€¦

absent. But I figured he was preoccupied."

"No, it's not his research, his instruments. He's hardly said a word

about them, which in itself is peculiar. I have an impression he's

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OPERATIONLUNA============== POULANDERSON============= TOR ATOMDOHERTYASSOCIATESBOOK NEWYORK 1- Witchlightsglowedbluealongthefence,outliningcardinalpointagainstnight.Earthlaydarkerthanheaven.TherestarsgleamedandtheMilkyWayglimmered.Amoononedaypastfull,climbingoutoftheeast,veiledmanyofthembehinditso...

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Poul Anderson - Operation Luna

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