A Charter for the Commonwealth

by Richard F. Weyand

  “The Earth has police forces – regime protection forces, to be accurate – on all the colony planets. The Earth Space Navy has approximately three hundred armed frigates available for deployment. There are also a very few larger combat vessels which have never, in fact, been tried in combat.”

  “No one to fight.”

  “Correct,” Sigurdsen said.

  “Of those three hundred armed frigates, Admiral, I suspect more than a few will be on the colonies’ side of the ledger at the beginning of actual hostilities.”

  Sigurdsen raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “For some period before the actual start of hostilities, whenever such a ship shows up at a colony planet, the colony simply refuses to restock and resupply it. Without reaction mass, they aren’t leaving the system, and without food, they have a limited time before they have to surrender. That’s now a colony forces frigate.”

  “What about pirating supplies from other ships?”

  “Pirating containerized food and reaction mass? Without a cargo shuttle for the ship-to-ship transfer?” Ansen asked.

  “Good point. They could bring along supplies on a freighter.”

  “And at some point, they no doubt will. But is that policy now?”

  “No,” Sigurdsen said.

  “So that’s one thing. The other is that those police forces are primarily recruited locally, and cannot be supplemented from Earth.”

  Sigurdsen was nodding his head. “Because of the ship resupply problem.”

  “Exactly. When they show up here with troops, the colonies don’t let them come down. They could, I suppose, come down in some sort of assault mode. Do Earth frigates or troopships have armored assault shuttles they could use for that purpose?”

  “No. It’s never been a requirement before. They’re not a Marine force so much as a police force.”

  “And a regular shuttle is notoriously vulnerable to small-arms fire, such as hand-held rocket launchers, or even a large-caliber hunting rifle,” Ansen said. “So what we are left with is the police forces already on the planet. It seems to me one critical thing is the loyalties of the Earth Special Police. It may be worthwhile to consider a name change. Something like Jablonka Protective Service, perhaps.”

  “What difference would that make, Professor?”

  Kusunoki had been quiet during the discussion, but she stirred in her chair and spoke up now.

  “More than you might think, Admiral. Humans are social creatures. Tribal. Rename the tribe and you can redirect the loyalties. Earth Special Police is one thing, but Jablonka Protective Service is quite another. If Earth attacks Jablonka, to whom would the Earth Special Police be loyal? Now consider, in the same circumstance, to whom would the Jablonka Protective Service be loyal?”

  “All right. I can see that. So Earth’s advantages are not as they seem,” Sigurdsen said.

  “Not completely, anyway,” Ansen said. “And what are the colonies’ advantages? They have more motivation, because their people are fighting for their homes, while the Earth spacers are fighting on orders alone. That’s a big one.”

  “And the colonies have advantages because most of the fighting would probably be in the colonies, so they have other resources available, like mining equipment.”

  “Mining equipment, Admiral?”

  “Yes,” Sigurdsen said. “Take a big ore freighter. Lots of big containers. Put in some iron-nickel-cobalt high-density ore, then a small nuclear demolition, which are used for mining, then a whole bunch of lighter rocks. Do that for several hundred containers. Drop them all like mines in the Earth fleets’ path, and as they come up on them, set them all off. The fernico ore isn’t going to want to move much, which means there’s going to be a whole lot of high-velocity rocks going the other direction.”

  “Have to be careful of the angles, because the fernico is still going to move. You could shoot your own ships using something like that.”

  “Yes, but you can figure that into the angles. Another thing the mining people have is really big beam cutters. You can focus them out to a light-second or so. Put some of those on ships. They have a lot longer effective range than the projectile launchers on the Earth frigates. The projectiles themselves continue along at the speed they were launched, but they are easy to avoid at any kind of distance. Even at two miles per second, they take minutes to travel a few hundred miles, and it’s hard to hit anything over about a hundred miles. They were basically made for enforcement of commerce regulations against unarmed merchant ships in orbit.”

  “Beam weapons?” Ansen asked.

  “Well, we call them beam cutters, because we use them to cut up bigger asteroids so we can get at veins of metal. That’s continuous duty. But you can overpower them by about a factor of ten for a pulse. Those carry for a ways. You have to be careful when using one in pulse mode for that reason. You have to be aware of what’s behind what you’re firing at.”

  “You said the Earth ships fire projectiles. What about missiles? Do the Earth ships launch missiles?”

  “No,” Sigurdsen said. “A missile takes a huge amount of volume compared to a projectile round. A thousand or two thousand to one. There’s just not a lot of magazine space on an Earth frigate. Also, missiles are easier to counter. A missile shines like a beacon all the way in, while a projectile is cold once it leaves the launcher. They can be a bugger to detect. It’s the difference between seeing a lighted cigarette on your patio on a moonless night, and an unlighted one. And if you do detect it, what are you going to do to a small, solid slug? It’s pretty easy in comparison to disrupt a missile’s large guidance system and warhead. With a big beam cutter, for example.”

  “I want to go back to something you said, Admiral. You said most of the fighting would be in the colonies. Wouldn’t all the fighting be in the colonies?”

  “I don’t think so, Professor. The colonies would need to hit Earth infrastructure. Maybe once a month, pop into the Earth system and knock out some installation or other, either in space or on the planet. Something really expensive. Remember the way Earth loses is economically, by being unwilling to take more financial losses. Basically to decide the colonies aren’t worth it. The colonies hit something they need, something they’ll have to replace at huge expense, that’s going to get them thinking it’s not worth it.”

  “OK. That makes sense.” Ansen looked at the stub of his cigar, thought about lighting another. He picked up his bourbon instead. “Let’s talk about timeframes. If the colonies decided a war like that was coming, how long would it take them to be ready, working from scratch?”

  “You mean if they started today? Maybe five years. Perhaps sooner.”

  “That’s not too bad. It would take some serious money, though.”

  “I think sufficient funds are available, Professor,” Sigurdsen said. “Mining operations are hugely profitable. Most of the colonies with mining operations have a lot higher percentage of fernico asteroids than Earth does. For Earth asteroids, under six percent are fernico asteroids. For Jablonka, it’s more like twenty-five percent.”

  “Where would the beam cutters and nuclear demolitions come from?”

  “Mining supplies? The colonies buy them from Earth, with the profits from the sales of fernico ore.”

  “Really. Interesting,” Ansen said. He drained the last of his bourbon. “Well, Admiral, exploring this hypothetical has been a most entertaining diversion. I think we would be open to similar discussions in the future if you were of a mind.”

  “I’ve enjoyed it a great deal myself, Professor Ansen, Professor Kusunoki. I think whenever one of us comes up with a topic of similar interest, we should contact the others so we can do it again.”

  They all stood and Sigurdsen shook hands with Kusunoki first, then Ansen. Ansen did not release his grip.

  “You have a deal, Admiral. Very entertaining. Very entertaining indeed.”

  Ansen and Sigurdsen looked into each other’s eyes for a long second, then nodded to each othe
r once, and finished their handshake.

  “We’ll all be in touch then, from time to time,” Sigurdsen said.

  Ansen showed him to the door.

  Bones Of A Charter

  Several weeks later, Ansen and Kusunoki were sitting in the big armchairs in the living room. Both were working on several pieces to be published over time in the Jablonka newsfeeds. They had also sent feelers out via electronic mail to university people they knew on other colonies.

  “We need to begin work on a founding document,” Kusunoki said.

  “Yes, I know. I’ve been thinking about it,” Ansen said.

  “Have you even decided what to call this political entity?”

  “I’ve been toying with the Commonwealth of Planets.”

  “Why commonwealth?” Kusunoki asked.

  “It implies a loose grouping. Words like republic, or union, or even confederation are much tighter bondings, and emphasize the central government. I want the central government to be very limited.”

  “It’s still missing something.”

  Kusunoki sipped her tea, sat back in her chair, and closed her eyes. After a few moments, she reopened them and looked at Ansen.

  “How about the Commonwealth of Free Planets?”

  “Oh, I like that. A lot,” Ansen said. “It emphasizes the planets’ independence. Done. And we’ll call it a charter. Again, constitution seems too much. Too powerful.”

  “The Charter of the Commonwealth of Free Planets. That sounds good. What’s the structure?”

  “I was thinking about a unicameral legislature, more of a council, really. Three representatives from each planet. Period. Having hundreds of politicians in multiple houses and all that complexity would just emphasize the central government.”

  “That takes no account of population, though. A minority could rule,” Kusunoki said.

  “What I was going to do is handle that in the vote counting. For something to pass, you need both a majority of council votes in the affirmative, and a majority of per-capita-weighted council votes in the affirmative.”

  “So each council vote gets multiplied by what, a third of the planetary population for that council member’s planet? And then the per-capita votes tallied? That handles the population issue. How do the council members get selected?”

  “By each planet, however they want,” Ansen said. “They could have elections, or name them outright, or draw straws. That is not the central government’s responsibility. It would amount to selecting its own members.”

  “Do you include an enunciation of powers?”

  “Yes, but I think it’s more important to include an enunciation of powers not granted. Governments in the past have been very creative in reinterpreting their powers in ever-expansive ways. So a list of what the central government cannot do is also necessary, I think, based on the historical precedents.”

  “For instance?” Kusunoki asked.

  “No authority over food, liquor, tobacco, healthcare, medicine, drugs, weapons, vehicles, fuels, electricity, communications, navigation of commonwealth shipping, imports, exports, or any domestic policy of member planets. No individual crimes at the commonwealth level, and no courts system. Like you said. Free planets.”

  “Wow. Then what powers does the Commonwealth have?”

  “War and common defense. Treaties. Regulation of foreign-flag vessels. Organization, operation, and financing of the navy. Common currency. That’s the short list,” Ansen said.

  “What’s the cabinet look like?”

  “Prime Minister, Defense Minister, Foreign Minister, Justice Minister, Finance Minister. That’s it. Additions to the cabinet are barred by the Charter.”

  “If there are no Commonwealth crimes, and no Commonwealth courts, why do you have a Justice Minister?” Kusunoki asked.

  “Mostly to tell the Council and the Prime Minister, ‘You can’t do that.’ But I said no individual crimes. Planets can be brought up on charges of denying civil rights to Commonwealth citizens.”

  “With no courts?”

  “The Council sits en banc as the court in such a case,” Ansen said. “I’m still working on how many votes it takes to initiate sanctions, and what those sanctions are.”

  “Well, that’s a pretty stripped down central government. I like that part of it. What are the civil rights? Are they spelled out?”

  “The classics, plus a couple. Freedom of the press, freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of movement, freedom of assembly, freedom from warrantless surveillance, freedom from warrantless search, right to trial by jury and due process, right to own and carry weapons, right to be secure in one’s property, papers, and communications. I’m still working on them. Oh, and these rights have to be written into whatever founding document each planet operates under, word for word, with no changes. Their own courts can handle the adjudication of them in most cases. For the exceptional case, a planetary government off the rails, the Commonwealth Council sits en banc as the court.”

  “What about amendments?” Kusunoki asked.

  “Four-fifths vote in the affirmative, per council member, per capita, and of the planets.”

  “Four-fifths vote? Of the seats or the quorum?”

  “Seats.”

  “You’ll never get any amendment passed.”

  “That’s the general idea,” Ansen said. “Even a three-quarters vote requirement has resulted in some pretty stupid moves in the past. I want it tighter.”

  “And financing? What kind of taxes?”

  “A head tax on member planets. Period. Nothing else. How the planets collect their levy is up to them.”

  “Hmm. Well, I like the shape it’s taking,” Kusunoki said. “Of course, it’s going to have to be pounded out in some sort of convention of the planets. You may not like that process.”

  “I know. I hope to do a good enough job on it to get most of it through as it is. Some of it will depend on who shows up for the convention. We may be able to affect that, sort of help people along in picking delegates with enough knowledge of history to see the problems I am trying to head off.”

  “Perhaps. There is one thing I think you’re missing so far, though.”

  “What’s that?” Ansen asked.

  “Make the Commonwealth truly aspirational. Include the right to Commonwealth citizenship to every human being, everywhere.”

  “Carte blanche?”

  “No,” Kusunoki said. “There should be some sort of test, I think. A citizenship test. Knowledge of the Commonwealth’s structure. Knowledge of the rights and responsibilities of citizens. That sort of thing.”

  “How about intelligence, education, the ability to contribute to the Commonwealth?”

  “Perhaps. But then if you do that, I think you should also finance the new citizen to some extent. Give them some subsidy. If you’re looking for people who can make a contribution, you can’t simply dump them penniless into the street and expect anything from them.”

  “I’ll think about it. I like the sound of it, but I’ll have to think through how it would work. And, of course, the council could also allow additional immigration outside the scope of an absolute right under the charter,” Ansen said.

  “I think a right to Commonwealth citizenship would make a big difference. The Commonwealth would be the dream of many. ‘Not only are we free, but we are open to you as well.’ We would draw the best and brightest from across humanity. It would also make us the de facto good guys in diplomacy.”

  “Not a small point, that last. Let me work on it.”

  Later that evening, they were reading the newsfeeds in the living room.

  “Whoa, did you see this?” Ansen asked. “Planetary Governor James Westlake has re-chartered the Earth Special Police as the Jablonka Protective Service. ‘We are simply acknowledging the special role our police have in protecting all the citizens of Jablonka, and recognizing their service to the community,’ Westlake said.”

  “Yes, I saw that. And there is an articl
e in the financial news about the Orlov Group placing a huge order for additional mining supplies – including ore freighters, ore containers, heavy beam cutters, and nuclear demolitions – from its Earth suppliers. It is massively expanding its operations in a dozen systems, including Jablonka, Kodu, Calumet, and Bahay. The equipment is to be delivered over the next two years.”

  Kusunoki looked up from her display to catch Ansen’s stunned expression.

  “It has begun.”

  High-Velocity Rocks

  It was the weekly crew chief meeting. All the Red Team crew chiefs were there, meeting with the crew boss. With a two-weeks-space, six-weeks-planet schedule, there was also a Blue Team, Green Team, and White Team. When in space, they worked twelve hours on, twelve hours off, so the crew chief meeting took place at crew change time so all the crew chiefs on Red Team could be there.

  “You want us to put nukes in the containers?” Bob Dean asked.

  “Hey, boss, you realize that nuke goes off you got no container, right?” Theresa Lucas asked.

  “And you’ll have a ton o’ shit flyin’ around,” Mark Walker said.

  “Yeah, and mounting beam cutters on freighters? What’s with that shit?” Eben Waters asked.

  “Look,” Crew Boss Lloyd Behm said. “I’ll tell you what the big boss told me, but ya gotta keep it kinda quiet. There’s been some shit goin’ down in some other systems. Guys come in, shoot up the place, grab a freighter full of fernico, then run off with it. Ain’t been in the newsfeeds, because they’re tryin’ to keep it quiet while they track ’em down.”

  “No shit,” Waters said.

  “Yeah, and the Earth cops and the Earth navy are messin’ around and gettin’ nowhere,” Behm said. “So the big boss figures maybe we should set up some surprises for ’em. The idea is, they come in here all hot to trot to steal our shit, and we pop off some of these magic containers at ’em, and then the freighters open up on whatever’s left of ’em with the beam cutters in pulse mode.”