"Yeah, yeah. That's what I was on my way for —batteries."
"Well, get 'em!" Colt's voice was urgent.
Kinsman asked, "Ernie, couid you actually blow this up, after you worked so hard to build it?"
A dull, muffled boom made the floor shake. "There's your answer," the engineer replied. "One of the other teams has found some batteries. It's only machinery. Colonel. It can be rebuilt. Machines do what they're designed to do. Not like people. People can turn on you,"
"And people can behave like machines," Kinsman snapped back, "following programming that's obsolete."
"Patriotism isn't obsolete."
"It is when it leads to the destruction of the nation you're being loyal to."
"Cut the crap," Colt said, "and go find some goddamned batteries."
Waterman hurried down the walkway, his canes clicking on the stone floor. Kinsman wondered, What did they blow? How much damage did they do? He felt as if his chest were being rubbed raw, from the inside.
Another explosion. Closer. They all winced. Kelly put his hands to his ears.
"They're all finding batteries." Colt smiled grimly.
They walked to a row of electric arcs, a line of stainless steel jackets that looked like cannon shells the size of a man, standing on heavily insulated supports. Conveyor belts car- ried pulverized rock slurry into one end of each jacket; a maze of piping at the base carried away water and minerals. Standing there neatly in a row the arcs reminded Kinsman of missiles waiting for the final push of the red button.
The conveyor belts were still now. The arcs silent and powerless. Somewhere in the darkness Kinsman could hear the drip, drip of slurry leaking through a seam in the belting. Like the drip of blood from a wound. Then his eyes caught an ugly cluster of red packages wedged under one of the arcs: explosives, electrical detonator, coils of wire.
Colt bolstered his gun and leaned against one of the stainless steel jackets. Kinsman stood before him.
"You're killing everybody here," he said simply.
"No," Colt replied. "You are/'
"And everybody on Earth." Where's Perry and the cavalry? If they blow the arcs we're finished. We'd never be able to rebuild them without help from Earthside.
Wearily, Colt said, "Chet, you can afford to be a high flier. You take your own chances, it's only your own white ass if you get caught. But what happens to every black man in uniform if I turn traitor? What'll their lives be worth if Washington thinks I'm helping you?"
What's he trying to tell me? Kinsman asked slowly, stalling, "What are their lives worth now, Frank? What happens to them when the missiles are launched? Most of the blacks in the States are living in urban areas, aren't they? Right in the prime targets."
"But you're the one who's gonna let the Russians launch their missiles!"
"No, Frank."
"Yes! Dammit, man, open your eyes! If you let the Russians grab the ABM satellites they can nuke the hell out of America and stop any counterstrike we launch."
"Nobody's going to use those satellites except us," Kinsman said, his voice rising. "The people of Selene. And we'll use them against any and all missiles—Russian or American. Or Chinese or French or South African!"
"Bullshit!" Colt snapped. "You've been conned, man! Once the Russians get their hands on our satellites, you know they ain't gonna cooperate with you. They been sweet-talkin' you and you fell for it."
"We can trust Leonov."
