Reason for F.N.'s long delay and apparent indecision arose from method of sneak attack. Decision had been made shortly after we embargoed grain (so we learned from captured transport officers); time was used in mounting attack--much of it in a long elliptical orbit which went far outside Luna's orbit, crossing ahead of Luna, then looping back and making rendezvous above Farside. Of course Mike never saw them; he's blind back there. He had been skywatching with his ballistic radars--but no radar can look over horizon; longest look Mike got at any ship in orbit was eight minutes. They came skimming peaks in tight, circular orbits, each straight for target with a fast dido landing at end, sitting them down with high gee, precisely at new earth, 12 Oct 76 Gr. 18h-40m-36.9s--if not at that exact tenth of a second, then as close to it as Mike could tell from blip tracks--elegant work, one must admit, on part of F.N. Peace Navy.

Big brute that poured a thousand troops into L-City Mike did not see until it chopped off for grounding--a glimpse. He would have been able to see it a few seconds sooner had he been looking eastward with new radar at Mare Undarum site, but happened he was drilling "his idiot son" at time and they were looking through it westward at Terra. Not that those seconds would have mattered. Surprise was so beautifully planned, so complete, that each landing force was crashing in at Greenwich 1900 all over Luna, before anybody suspected. No accident that it was just new earth with all warrens in bright semi-lunar; Authority did not really know Lunar conditions--but did know that no Loonie goes up onto surface unnecessarily during bright semi-lunar, and if he must, then does whatever he must do quickly as possible and gets back down inside--and checks his radiation counter.

So they caught us with our p-suits down. And our weapons. But with troopers dead we still had six transports on our surface and a command ship in our sky.

Once Bon Marche engagement was over, I got hold of self and found a phone. No word from Kongville, no word from Prof. J-Clty fight had been won, same for Novylen--transport there had toppled on landing; invading force had been understrength from landing losses and Finn's boys now held disabled transport. Still fighting in Churchill and Tycho Under. Nothing going on in other warrens. Mike had shut down tubes and was reserving interwarren phone links for official calls. An explosive pressure drop in Churchill Upper, uncontrolled. Yes, Finn had checked in and could be reached.

So I talked to Finn, told him where L-City transport was, arranged to meet at easement lock thirteen.

Finn had much same experience as I--caught cold save he did have p-suit. Had not been able to establish control over laser gunners until fight was over and himself had fought solo in massacre in Old Dome. Now was beginning to round up his lads and had one officer taking reports from Finn's office in Bon Marche. Had reached Novylen subcommander but was worried about HKL--"Mannie, should I move men there by tube?"

Told him to wait--they couldn't get at us by tube, not while we controlled power, and doubted if that transport could lift. "Let's look at this one."

So we went out through lock thirteen, clear to end of private pressure, on through farm tunnels of a neighbor (who could not believe we had been invaded) and used his surface lock to eyeball transport from a point nearly a kilometer west of it. We were cautious in lifting hatch lid.

Then pushed it up and climbed out; outcropping of rock shielded us. We Red-Indianed around edge and looked, using helmet binox.

Then withdrew behind rock and talked. Finn said, "Think my lads can handle this."

"How?"

"If I tell you, you'll think of reasons why it won't work. So how about letting me run my own show, cobber?"

Have heard of armies where boss is not told to shut up --word is "discipline." But we were amateurs. Finn allowed me to tag along--unarmed.

Took him an hour to put it together, two minutes to execute. He scattered a dozen men around ship, using farmers' surface radio silence throughout--anyhow, some did not have p-suit radios, city boys. Finn took position farthest west; when he was sure others had had time, he sent up a signal rocket.

When flare burst over ship, everybody burned at once, each working on a predesignated antenna. Finn used up his power pack, replaced it and started burning into hull--not door lock, hull. At once his cherry-red spot was joined by another, then three more, all working on same bit of steel--and suddenly molten steel splattered out and you could see air bosh! out of ship, a shimmery plume of refraction. They kept working on it, making a nice big hole, until they ran out of power. I could imagine hooraw inside ship, alarms clanging, emergency doors closing, crew trying to seal three impossibly big holes at once, for rest of Finn's squad, scattered around ship, were giving treatment to two other spots in hull. They didn't try to burn anything else. Was a non-atmosphere ship, built in orbit, with pressure hull separate from power plant and tanks; they gave treatment where would do most good.

Finn pressed helmet to mine. "Can't lift now. And can't talk. Doubt they can make hull tight enough to live without p-suits. What say we let her sit a few days and see if they come out? If they don't, then can move a heavy drill up here and give 'em real dose of fun."

Decided Finn knew how to run his show without my sloppy help, so went back inside, called Mike, and asked for capsule go out to ballistic radars. He wanted to know why I didn't stay inside where it was safe.

I said, "Listen, you upstart collection of semi-conductors, you are merely a minister-without-portfolio while I am Minister of Defense. I ought to see what's going on and I have exactly two eyeballs while you've got eyes spread over half of Crisium. You trying to hog fun?"

He told me not to jump salty and offered to put his displays on a video screen, say in room L of Raffles--did not want me to get hurt... and had I heard joke about drillman who hurt his mother's feelings?

I said, "Mike, please let me have a capsule. Can p-suit and meet it outside Station West--which is in bad shape as I'm sure you know."

"Okay," he said, "it's your neck. Thirteen minutes. I'll let you go as far as Gun Station George."

Mighty kind of him. Got there and got on phone again. Finn had called other warrens, located his subordinate commanders or somebody willing to take charge, and had explained how to make trouble for grounded transports--all but Hong Kong; for all we knew Authority's goons held Hong Kong. "Adam," I said, others being in earshot, "do you think we might send a crew out by rolligon and try to repair link Bee Ell?"

"This is not Gospodin Selene," Mike answered in a strange voice, "this is one of his assistants. Adam Selene was in Churchill Upper when it lost pressure. I'm afraid that we must assume that he is dead."

"What?"

"I am very sorry, Gospodin."

"Hold phone!" Chased a couple of drillmen and a girl out of room, then sat down and lowered hush hood. "Mike," I said softly, "private now. What is this gum-beating?"

"Man," he said quietly, "think it over. Adam Selene had to go someday. He's served his purpose and is, as you pointed out, almost out of the government. Professor and I have discussed this; the only question has been the timing. Can you think of a better last use for Adam than to have him die in this invasion? It makes him a national hero... and the nation needs one. Let it stand that 'Adam Selene is probably dead' until you can talk to Professor. If he still needs 'Adam Selene' it can turn out that he was trapped in a private pressure and had to wait to be rescued."

"Well-- Okay, let it stay open. Personally, I always preferred your 'Mike' personality anyhow."