Eagle Station

True, speed was life. But so was trained intuition, he decided. Abruptly, he turned and strode away to the left, acting as though he were simply continuing his routine patrol around to the other side of Korolev Base. But this time, once he was far enough back on the plateau to be out of sight of anyone advancing along that narrow ridgeline, he darted behind the Chinese cargo lander. From there, staying low, he headed east to the very edge of the rim wall… and then out onto the steep slope beyond it.

Carefully, Bezrukov descended a couple hundred meters and then swung back to the north — moving across the slope instead of down it. Pebbles dislodged by his KLVM’s feet rolled away downhill. For a moment, he considered reporting his suspicions to Lavrentyev and Yanin. Then he discarded the idea as too risky. The Americans were close enough now for him to pick up their data-link signals, so they would certainly be able to detect his own radio transmissions.

Instead, he raised his 30mm autocannon and kept going. If the Americans had already sneaked up onto the crater rim, they were about to learn a hard lesson in tactics: dead ground worked both ways.

Brad edged along the steep slope, one step at a time — cautiously testing his footing before allowing the robot’s full weight to come down. Taking a spill here was not an option, not unless he wanted to tumble head-over-heels several thousand feet down to the base of the crater rim. A hundred yards farther on, the ridge he was traversing bulged outward in a fold that hid him from the higher ground ahead. Nadia was behind him, out of sight beyond another undulation in the slope. Once he took up a covering position, she would come forward to join him.

Warning. Hostile to the front, his CLAD’s computer snapped.

A Russian war machine reared up from behind the same bulge that he’d planned to use as cover. Its 30mm cannon flashed once, eerily silent in the absence of any atmosphere. The round slammed into his robot’s torso armor with bone-crushing force, knocking him sideways. Bits of shattered thermal tiles spun off into space.

Jesus, he thought in shock. Desperately, he dug his feet into the ground and powered up his electromagnetic rail gun.

Another 30mm shell hammered his right shoulder. Right arm hydraulics damaged. Torso armor holding, but significantly degraded. Fuel Cells Three and Four down. Battery circuit one-bravo damaged. Torso and right arm thermal and chameleon camouflage partially compromised, his computer warned. Lifesupport capability down to less than eight hours. Accompanying detailed damage reports flooded through his neural link, appearing as a display where whole sections of system schematics were lit with red and yellow caution and warning flags. Resolutely, Brad ignored them. A third round tore across one side of his robot’s hexagonal-shaped head — ripping away sensor panels and shielded antennas. Darkness fell across part of his vision.

Rail gun ready.

He squeezed the trigger. In a burst of bright, white plasma, a tungsten-steel alloy slug smashed into the Russian war machine at more than thirty-eight hundred miles per hour and ripped it apart. Molten fragments sprayed outward from the point of impact. Its antenna-studded head spiraled off across the slope.

Deflected from its course as it slashed through the enemy robot, the glowing rail gun round arrowed across the black sky like a meteor in reverse. Christ, Brad wondered numbly, is the damned thing headed into orbit?

Negative, his computer assured him. Its velocity has been reduced below orbital speeds. It should impact on the other side of the moon, somewhere near the Sea of Tranquility.

Which would make it the longest ricochet in human history, he realized — not sure whether to laugh or cry at his narrow escape. His robot was damaged, but, miraculously, its hull was still intact, despite being bushwhacked at point-blank range. He shook his head, trying to regain focus.

“Brad!” Nadia called.

He turned. Her robot came bounding along the slope toward him, moving with reckless speed. She skidded to a stop beside him. Rocks and dirt scattered through a wide arc. “You must fall back!” she said urgently. “Leave the rest to me!”