Europa Strike(92)
Seconds later, a stream of crowbars slammed into the bug, crumpling its cockpit, puncturing its cargo deck, sending high-speed splinters slashing through expellant tanks and reactor.
Seconds after that, the first Chinese missile struck, homing on the IR signature of the largest fragment of the bug and detonating in a savage, subnuclear flash. Point defense lasers began flickering invisibly across the cloud of wreckage, boiling away the larger fragments as they tumbled toward the oncoming spacecraft.
But by that time, Chesty had already lost contact with the bug and could not report on what was happening.
C-3, E-DARES Facility
Ice Station Zebra, Europa
2053 hours Zulu
“I must protest this wanton biological desecration of this world!” Vasaliev snapped. “You had no right!…”
Jeff looked the CWS scientist up and down. Pyotr Vasaliev was a short, stocky man with an angry shock of flyaway hair and a personality to match. His blue CWS Science Bureau jumpsuit was festooned with wearable computers and hardware on chest, sleeves, and thighs, and included a monocular headset that gave him a one-eyed HUD for accessing data no matter where he was in the base. Jeff had already come to the conclusion that he wore those high-tech trappings more as a fashion statement and as a declaration of importance than through any actual work-related need.
“I have the right, Dr. Vasaliev, no, the responsibility to take the measures I deem necessary to fulfill my mission orders, which happen to include protecting you.”
“You are idiot!” Vasaliev snapped. His English, usually precise despite carrying a bit of his Ukrainian accent, tended to degrade when he was excited—which was frequently. “Vandal! Philistine! Europan biosphere is…is unique, is great discovery, is important! Your actions contaminate world!”
“Dr. Vasaliev—”
“At least you should consult with science team! Is insufferable, is—”
“Dr. Vasaliev, shut up!” His parade-ground bark startled everyone in the C-3 compartment to dead silence.
“First!” he rasped into the silence. “We had little choice. I considered loading those cans with chunks of ice, but ice tends to be friable at those temperatures. Under high acceleration, it might fragment, even melt. What we used was already neatly packaged in plastic, which keeps the mass together in a nice, neat chunk.
“Second. Because it’s packaged, I deemed the chance of contamination to be remote. My orders, in case you didn’t realize it, do require me to take note of the unique environmental, biological, and research aspects of this place.”
“But if any of packets should fall again to surface! They could rupture, contaminating entire Europan biosphere!”
“The stuff is sterile,” Jeff replied. “Or it ought to be by now!”
“No. No! We cannot know that! It was in storage on surface, yes. It was frozen solid, yes, and subjected to high levels of particulate radiation. But mandate as scientists demands we properly dispose of all organic wastes. If we contaminate local biosphere, results could be catastrophic!”
“Doctor, think about it, please! The escape velocity for Europa is a little over 2 kilometers per second. Those packages were moving at almost five kps when they were released. The chances that any will be deflected in such a way to land on the surface again—and without being vaporized by the energy released on impact—is so small I can’t even imagine what the odds would be.
“If you want to challenge me on the biological contamination of this moon, you would be better served bringing up the fact that, a few moments ago, two of my men died when their lobber was blasted out of the sky by that Chinese cruiser. Their bodies were not frozen, or fried by radiation, and right now I imagine they’re smeared across a couple of square kilometers of Europan ice.
“Do you want to attack me personally for that? Because if you do I swear will take you apart, Doctor, piece by piece. I’m more concerned about losing two good Marines right now than I am about your Europan biology!
“Or do you want to talk to our Chinese friends out there? Maybe scold them for littering on your pristine moon? I’m sure they’ll be willing to listen to your lecture!”
“I…I…” Vasaliev’s mouth gaped a moment, then he turned away. “I knew there would be problem with military coming here!”
Jeff sighed. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Doctor. At this point, there’s not a lot we can do. You can fire off your report to Earth, and I’ll accept the reprimand. But the damage, if there was any, is done.”
“Major, please,” the scientist said, his manner smoothing like ruffled feathers. “Please. I had not even taken into account problem of men dying up there. This is…is very serious. Fighting must be stopped.”