"What of it?"
"Has anyone attacked it?"
"The air force made a great show of it. Dozens of aircraft, flying in formations and firing every kind of missile and laser. We heard the explosions for days. Boom boom boom. Nothing gets through to the lander, though. It is protected. After a while the air force gave up. They haven't come back."
"What about Chinese infantry? Have you seen any tanks or military presence near here?"
"I have seen nothing," said Danwen. "Not a single Chinese soldier."
"You should have left me here and moved north with the others," said Mazer.
"Bingwen wouldn't hear of it. I suggested having the water buffalo pull you again, but you were too weak. Too sick. You probably wouldn't have made it. Bingwen refused. He can be very stubborn."
"And very smart."
"Yes. That too."
"I'm sorry I kept you. You can move on now. There's no reason for you to stay."
Danwen laughed quietly. "Bingwen says we are safer with you than we would be out in the open. He says you'll protect us. That's why he brought you back. For protection. Again, a very smart boy."
"I'm not going north," said Mazer. "When I'm well enough I'm going south, toward the lander."
"Why?"
"To destroy it."
"You are one man. Wounded and without any weapons. How can you destroy such a thing?"
"Find a hole in their shield and exploit it."
"And what if there is no hole?"
"Then I'll make a hole."
Danwen shook his head and laughed sadly. "You are as stubborn as the boy, Mazer Rackham. As stubborn as the boy."
CHAPTER 21
Homecoming
Lem's ship, the Makarhu, landed at the Jukes North Dock on Luna just as Father had instructed, arriving precisely at the appointed hour. Lem could have arrived twelve hours earlier, and he had been tempted to do just that to throw Father off his game. But in the end he had decided against it. To ignore Father's specific instructions would be to fire the first shot of whatever war would play out between them, and for now Lem thought it best to play the part of the conciliatory son. Better to see first what Father was playing at and then react accordingly.
Lem stood at Makarhu's airlock in his best uniform. He had not yet turned on his greaves, and he could feel the light gravity of the moon pulling at his feet. It was a welcomed feeling. The first sign of home.
Outside, the anchors clicked and locked. The umbilical extended and pressurized. The airlock beeped and opened. Then Lem took a deep breath, switched on his greaves, felt the stronger pull of gravity at his feet, and walked down the umbilical toward the terminal gate and whatever Father had up his sleeve.
It was not what Lem had expected. As he stepped through the final door and into the terminal, the cheers and applause of several hundred people and the flashing cameras of several dozen reporters assaulted him from all sides. It was a media frenzy. To his left, a group of perhaps a hundred females, some as young as ten years old and others old enough to be their mothers, screamed like rabid fans at a red-carpet event, waving signs and banners expressing their undying love for him or asking for his hand in marriage. To his right, applauding with much more restraint and yet still showing a great deal of enthusiasm, was a crowd of Juke employees, some of whom Lem had known on a casual basis before setting out, but most of whom were complete strangers to him. The press was bunched together behind a roped-off section of the terminal, their faces hidden behind their rapidly clicking cameras. And there, in the center of the whole circus, fifteen meters away, directly in front of Lem, smiling ear to ear with his arms extended in that universal invitation of an embrace, was Father.
Lem knew instantly the role he was supposed to play here. He made eye contact with Father, smiled, walked briskly toward him, and threw himself into Father's embrace. The cameras went crazy. The crowd gave a collective Ahh, as if nothing plucked at the heartstrings more than the reunion of a father and son.
Father's embrace was tight, pressing them hard into each other, as if Father feared something might suck Lem back out into space. They stayed that way for at least thirty seconds--not too long so as to be awkward for those watching, but long enough to erase any doubt of their absolute love and devotion for each other.
Then Father broke the embrace and stepped back, holding Lem at arm's length, smiling and regarding his son. Lem was surprised to see tears in Father's eyes, and for a moment Lem even thought them genuine. Then he reminded himself that Father had orchestrated all of this, including this moment, and that Father never left anything to chance. If tears were visible, then tears were meant to be seen.
Lem briefly considered conjuring up watery eyes of his own--he could do so easily and rather convincingly--but he figured Father would want him to play the role of the strong, masculine one, the son who leaves for war as a boy but who gallantly returns as a man. That was probably the plan anyway.
The cameras went into high gear again. Tears in Ukko Jukes's eyes? Unprecedented! Click-click-click-click-click.