Bova, Ben - Asteroid Wars 03 - The Silent War

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THE SILENT WAR

BOOK THREE OF

THE ASTEROID WARS

When corporations go to war, standard business practice

goes out the window. Astro Corporation is led by indomitable

Texan Pancho Lane, Humphries Space Systems by the rich

and ruthless Martin Humphries, and their fight is over

nothing less than resources of the Asteroid Belt itself. As

fighting escalates, the lines between commerce and politics,

boardroom and bedroom, blur—and the keys to victory will

include physics, nanotechnology, and cold, hard cash.

As they fight it out, the lives of thousands of innocents

hang in the balance, including the rock rats, who make their

living off the asteroids, and the inhabitants of Selene City on

Earth's moon. As if matters weren't complicated enough, the

shadowy Yamagata corporation sets its sights on taking

advantage of other people's quarrels, and space pirate Lars

Fuchs decides it's time to make good on his own personal

vendetta....

It's a breakneck finale that can end only in earth's

salvation—or the annihilation of all that humankind has ever

accomplished in space.

THE

SILENT WAR

Book III of The Asteroid

Wars

BEN BOVA

TOR

TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK

NEW YORK

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events

portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used

fictitiously.

THE SILENT WAR: BOOK III OF THE ASTEROID WARS

book, or portions thereof, in any form.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Edited by Patrick Nielsen Hayden

A Tor Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

175 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10010

www.tor.com

Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates,

LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Bova, Ben, 1932-

The silent war / Ben Bova.—1st ed.

p. cm.—(The asteroid wars ; bk. 3) "A Tom Doherty

Associates book." ISBN 0-312-84878-1 (alk. paper) EAN 978-

0312-84878-1

1. Mines and mineral resources—Fiction. 2. Space

colonies—Fiction. 3. Space warfare—Fiction. 4. Asteroids—

Fiction. I. Title.

PS3552.O84S55 2004 813'.54—dc22

2003071145

First Edition: May 2004

Printed in the United States of America

0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To the memory of Stephen Jay Gould,

scientist, writer, baseball fan,

and an inspiration to all thinking people

Everything is very simple in war, but

the simplest thing is difficult... . War is

the province of uncertainty; three-fourths

of the things on which action in war is

based lie hidden in the fog of a greater or

lesser certainty.

—Carl von Clausewitz,

On War

THE

SILENT WAR

ASTEROID 67-046

"I was a soldier," he said. "Now I am a priest. You may call me

Dorn."

Elverda Apacheta could not help staring at him. She had seen

cyborgs before, but this... person seemed more machine than man.

She felt a chill ripple of contempt along her veins. How could a

human being allow his body to be disfigured so?

He was not tall; Elverda herself stood several centimeters taller

than he. His shoulders were quite broad, though; his torso thick and

solid. The left side of his face was engraved metal, as was the entire

top of his head: like a skullcap made of finest etched steel.

Dorn's left hand was prosthetic. He made no attempt to disguise

it. Beneath the rough fabric of his shabby tunic and threadbare

trousers, how much more of him was metal and electrical

machinery? Tattered though his clothing was, his calf-length boots

were polished to a high gloss.

"A priest?" asked Martin Humphries. "Of what church? What

order?" The half of Dorn's lips that could move made a slight curl.

A smile or a sneer, Elverda could not tell.

"I will show you to your quarters," said Dorn. His voice was a

low rumble, as if it came from the belly of a beast. It echoed faintly

off the walls of rough-hewn rock.

Humphries looked briefly surprised. He was not accustomed to

having his questions ignored. Elverda watched his face. Humphries

was as handsome as regeneration therapies and cosmetic

nanomachines could make a person appear: chiseled features,

straight of spine, lean of limb, athletically flat midsection. Yet his

cold gray eyes were hard, merciless. And there was a faint smell of

corruption about him, Elverda thought. As if he were dead inside

and already beginning to rot.

The tension between the two men seemed to drain the energy

from Elverda's aged body. "It has been a long journey," she said. "I

am very tired. I would welcome a hot shower and a long nap."

"Before you see it?" Humphries snapped.

"It has taken us more than a week to get here. We can wait a few

hours more." Inwardly she marveled at her own words. Once she

would have been all fiery excitement. Have the years taught you

patience? No, she realized. Only weariness.

"Not me!" Humphries said. Turning to Dorn, "Take me to it

now. I've waited long enough. I want to see it now."

Dorn's eyes, one as brown as Elverda's own, the other a red

electronic glow, regarded Humphries for a lengthening moment.

"Well?" Humphries demanded.

"I am afraid, sir, that the chamber is sealed for the next twelve

hours. It will be imposs—"

"Sealed? By whom? On whose authority?"

"The chamber is self-controlled. Whoever made the artifact

installed the controls, as well."

"No one told me about that," said Humphries.

Dorn replied, "Your quarters are down this corridor."

He turned almost like a solid block of metal, shoulders and hips

together, head unmoving on those wide shoulders, and started down

the central corridor. Elverda fell in step alongside his metal half, still

angered at his self-desecration. Yet despite herself, she thought of

what a challenge it would be to sculpt him. If I were younger, she

told herself. If I were not so close to death. Human and inhuman, all

in one strangely fierce figure.

Humphries came up on Dorn's other side, his face red with barely

suppressed anger.

They walked down the corridor in silence, Humphries's weighted

shoes clicking against the uneven rock floor. Dorn's boots made

hardly any noise at all. Half-machine he may be, Elverda thought,

but once in motion he moves like a panther.

The asteroid's inherent gravity was so slight that Humphries

needed the weighted footgear to keep himself from stumbling

ridiculously. Elverda, who had spent most of her long life in low-

gravity environments, felt completely at home. The corridor they

were walking through was actually a tunnel, shadowy and

mysterious, or perhaps a natural chimney vented through the

metallic body by escaping gases eons ago when the asteroid was still

molten. Now it was cold, chill enough to make Elverda shudder. The

rough ceiling was so low she wanted to stoop, even though the

rational side of her mind knew it was not necessary.

Soon, though, the walls smoothed out and the ceiling grew

higher. Humans had extended the tunnel, squaring it with laser

precision. Doors lined both walls now and the ceiling glowed with

glareless, shadowless light. Still she hugged herself against the chill

that the two men did not seem to notice.

They stopped at a wide double door. Dorn tapped out the

entrance code on the panel set into the wall, and the doors slid open.

"Your quarters, sir," he said to Humphries. "You may, of course,

change the privacy code to suit yourself."

Humphries gave a curt nod and strode through the open

doorway. Elverda got a glimpse of a spacious suite, carpeting on the

floor and hologram windows on the walls.

Humphries turned in the doorway to face them. "I expect you to

call for me in twelve hours," he said to Dorn, his voice hard.

"Eleven hours and fifty-seven minutes," Dorn replied.

Humphries's nostrils flared and he slid the double doors shut.

"This way." Dorn gestured with his human hand. "I'm afraid

your quarters are not as sumptuous as Mr. Humphries's."

Elverda said, "I am his guest. He is paying all the bills."

"You are a great artist. I have heard of you."

"Thank you."

"For the truth? That is not necessary."

I was a great artist, Elverda said to herself. Once. Long ago. Now

I am an old woman waiting for death.

Aloud, she asked, "Have you seen my work?"

Dorn's voice grew heavier. "Only holograms. Once I set out to

see The Rememberer for myself, but—other matters intervened."

'You were a soldier then?"

"Yes. I have only been a priest since coming to this place."

Elverda wanted to ask him more, but Dorn stopped before a blank

door and opened it for her. For an instant she thought he was going

to reach for her with his prosthetic hand. She shrank away from him.

"I will call for you in eleven hours and fifty-six minutes," he

said, as if he had not noticed her revulsion.

"Thank you."

He turned away, like a machine pivoting.

"Wait," Elverda called. "Please—how many others are here?

Everything seems so quiet."

"There are no others. Only the three of us."

"But—"

"I am in charge of the security brigade. I ordered the others of my

command to go back to our spacecraft and wait there."

"And the scientists? The prospector family that found this

asteroid?"

"They are in Mr. Humphries's spacecraft, the one you arrived

in," said Dorn. "Under the protection of my brigade."

Elverda looked into his eyes. Whatever burned in them, she could

not fathom.

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摘要：

THESILENTWARBOOKTHREEOFTHEASTEROIDWARSWhencorporationsgotowar,standardbusinesspracticegoesoutthewindow.AstroCorporationisledbyindomitableTexanPanchoLane,HumphriesSpaceSystemsbytherichandruthlessMartinHumphries,andtheirfightisovernothinglessthanresourcesoftheAsteroidBeltitself.Asfightingescalates,the...

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