We set up "ears," wideband sensitive receivers, around lab area, since even most directional rig spills a little in neighborhood. And Mike listened on all phones in area, After that we chewed nails and hoped.
Presently we relaxed as news up from Earthside showed nothing, they seemed to accept censored transmissions without suspicion, and private and commercial traffic and Authority's transmissions all seemed routine. Meanwhile we worked, trying in days what should take months.
We received one break in timing; no passenger ship was on Luna and none was due until 7 July. We could have coped--suckered a ship's officers to "dine with Warden" or something, then mounted guard on its senders or dismantled them. Could not have lifted without our help; in those days one drain on ice was providing water for reaction mass. Was not much drain compared with grain shipments; one manned ship a month was heavy traffic then, while grain lifted every day. What it did mean was that an incoming ship was not an insuperable hazard. Nevertheless was lucky break; we were trying so hard to make everything look normal until we could defend ourselves.
Grain shipments went on as before; one was catapulted almost as Finn's men were breaking into Warden's residence. And next went out on time, and all others.
Neither oversight nor faking for interim; Prof knew what he was doing. Grain shipments were a big operation (for a little country like Luna) and couldn't be changed in one semi-lunar; bread-and-beer of too many people was involved. If our committee had ordered embargo and quit buying grain, we would have been chucked out and a new committee with other ideas would have taken over.
Prof said that an educational period was necessary. Meanwhile grain barges catapulted as usual; LuNoHoCo kept books and issued receipts, using civil service personnel. Dispatches went out in Warden's name and Mike talked to Authority Earthside, using Warden's voice. Deputy Administrator proved reasonable, once he understood it upped his life expectancy. Chief Engineer stayed on job, too--McIntyre was a real Loonie, given chance, rather than fink by nature. Other department heads and minor stooges were no problem; life went on as before and we were too busy to unwind Authority system and put useful parts up for sale.
Over a dozen people turned up claiming to be Simon Jester; Simon wrote a rude verse disclairning them and had picture on front page of Lunatic, Pravda, and Gong. Wyoh let herself go blond and made trip to see Greg at new catapult site, then a longer trip, ten days, to old home in Hong Kong Luna, taking Anna who wanted to see it. Wyoh needed a vacation and Prof urged her to take it, pointing on that she was in touch by phone and that closer Party contact was needed in Hong Kong. I took over her stilyagi with Slim and Hazel as my lieutenants--bright, sharp kids I could trust. Slim was awed to discover that I was "Comrade Bork" and saw "Adam Selene" every day; his Party name started with "G." Made a good team for other reason, too. Hazel suddenly started showing cushiony curves and not all from Mimi's superb table; she had reached that point in her orbit. Slim was ready to change her name to "Stone" any time she was willing to opt. In meantime he was anxious to do Party work he could share with our fierce little redhead.
Not everybody was willing. Many comrades turned out to be talk-talk soldiers. Still more thought war was over once we had eliminated Peace Goons and captured Warden. Others were indignant to learn how far down they were in Party structure; they wanted to elect a new structure, themselves at top. Adam received endless calls proposing this or something like it--would listen, agree, assure them that their services must not be wasted by waiting for election--and refer them to Prof or me. Can't recall any of these ambitious people who amounted to anything when I tried to put them to work.
Was endless work and nobody wanted to do it. Well, a few. Some best volunteers were people Party had never located. But in general, Loonies in and out of Party had no interest in "patriotic" work unless well paid. One chum who claimed to be a Party member (was not) spragged me in Raffles where we set up headquarters and wanted me to contract for fifty thousand buttons to be worn by pre-coup "Veterans of Revolution"--a "small" profit for him (I estimate 400 percent markup), easy dollars for me, a fine thing for everybody.
When I brushed him off, he threatened to denounce me to Adam Selene--"A very good friend of mine, I'll have you know!"--for sabotage.
That was "help" we got. What we needed was something else. Needed steel at new catapult and plenty--Prof asked, if really necessary to put steel around rock missiles; I had to point out that an induction field won't grab bare rock. We needed to relocate Mike's ballistic radars at old site and install doppler radar at new site--both jobs because we could expect attacks from space at old site.
We called for volunteers, got only two who could be used--and needed several hundred mechanics who did not mind hard work in p-suits. So we hired, paying what we had to---LuNoHoCo went in hock to Bank of Hong Kong Luna; was no time to steal that much and most funds had been transferred Earthside to Stu. A dinkum comrade, Foo Moses Morris, co-signed much paper to keep us going--and wound up broke and started over with a little tailoring shop in Kongville. That was later.
Authority Scrip dropped from 3-to-1 to 17-to-1 after coup and civil service people screamed, as Mike was still paying in Authority checks. We said they could stay on or resign; then those we needed, we rehired with Hong Kong dollars. But created a large group not on our side from then on; they longed for good old days and were ready to stab new regime.
Grain farmers and brokers were unhappy because payment at catapult head continued to be Authority scrip at same old fixed prices. "We won't take it!" they cried--and LuNoHoCo man would shrug and tell them they didn't have to but this grain still went to Authority Earthside (it did) and Authority scrip was all they would get. So take cheque, or load your grain back into rolligons and get it out of here.
Most took it. All grumbled and some threatened to get out of grain and start growing vegetables or fibers or something that brought Hong Kong dollars--and Prof smiled.
We needed every drillman in Luna, especially ice miners who owned heavy-duty laser drills. As soldiers. We needed them so badly that, despite being shy one wing and rusty, I considered joining up, even though takes muscle to wrestle a big drill, and prosthetic just isn't muscle. Prof told me not to be a fool.
Dodge we had in mind would not work well Earthside; a laser beam carrying heavy power works best in vacuum--but there it works just dandy for whatever range its collimation is good for. These big drills, which had carved through rock seeking pockets of ice, were now being mounted as "artillery" to repel space attacks. Both ships and missiles have electronic nervous systems and does electronic gear no good to blast it with umpteen joules placed in a tight beam. If target is pressured (as manned ships are and most missiles), all it takes is to burn a hole, depressure it. If not pressured, a heavy laser beam can still kill it--burn eyes, louse guidance, spoil anything depending on electronics as most everything does.
An H-bomb with circuitry ruined is not a bomb, is just big tub of lithium deuteride that can't do anything but crash. A ship with eyes gone is a derelict, not a warship.
Sounds easy, is not. Those laser drills were never meant for targets a thousand kilometers away, or even one, and was no quick way to rig their cradles for accuracy. Gunner had to have guts to hold fire until last few seconds--on a target heading at him maybe two kilometers per second. But was best we had, so we organized First and Second Volunteer Defense Gunners of Free Luna--two regiments so that First could snub lowly Second and Second could be Jealous of First. First got older men, Second got young and eager.