A Charter for the Commonwealth

by Richard F. Weyand

  “Ha, ha, ha. That’ll serve ’em right,” Lucas said.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be on the receivin’ end o’ one o’ those containers. It’s gonna shoot that rock outta there like cannonballs,” Dean said.

  “Yeah, that’s what they figure,” Behm said. “So I’m thinkin’ we could come up with some ideas to make their idea even better. What they got so far is we pack about a quarter of the container with fernico. Shit’s heavy as hell, so that gives a good backstop. Then in goes the nuke, one of the little twenty-ton jobs, then we fill the container the rest of the way with rock rubble. That’s the basic idea. Now, make it better. Go.”

  “You want to weaken the end cap of the container, so it gives way first. That’ll direct the rock better. You know, cut slots in the seam around the end, like a two-foot cut, then leave six inches, another two-foot cut, leave six inches. All the way around. Something like that,” Lucas said.

  “All right, I like that,” Behm said, making notes. “What else we got?”

  “We could put a buncha other stuff in there, too. We use lotsa cable, and once it’s been stressed, we can’t trust it, so we pitch it. We could put a lotta odds and ends like that in there. Cable in particular would stretch out. Have a lot more chance o’ hittin’ somethin’. And goin’ that fast, it’s gonna break whatever it hits,” Walker said.

  “All right, I like that one, too,” Behm said.

  “We don’t know whether big rocks or small rocks will work better. I think we oughta build one o’ each and pop ’em off and see what happens before we build a bunch of ’em,” Waters said.

  “OK, that makes a lotta sense,” Behm said. “I think I can get the OK to do that. We’ll set up some remote video cams for analysis afterwards. We’ll have to do it somewhere where we ain’t trippin’ over all that debris forever.”

  “Aim it north-south so all the debris heads outta the ecliptic. Give it a day or two and it’s way outta our way,” Dean said.

  “OK, that works,” Behm said. “What else we got? Anything? Well, think about it. Meantime, let’s get those test shots set up. One with big rocks, one with small rocks.”

  Given a chance to think about it, Dean came up with one more wrinkle: wrap the portion of the container around the nuke with used steel cable. Reinforcing that portion so it held together a fraction of a second longer during the explosion would raise the pressure in the container to a higher peak value, and eject the rock at a higher velocity.

  “Are all our people accounted for?” Behm asked.

  “Yes, sir. First shift is all in, and we held second shift from going out. We have a good count on everybody,” Lucas said.

  “All right. Whenever you’re ready.”

  They were in the main facility on a large rocky asteroid named Misty, but which everybody just called Base. With a thousand-mile diameter, Misty was more of a dwarf planet than an asteroid. The two test containers were both located a couple thousand miles from Misty, on the out-system side. The facility was located on the in-system side of Misty currently, so the whole asteroid protected them from the test.

  “Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

  Lucas pushed the Detonate icon on the console. Several seconds later, on the real-time wide-view display, the two containers both simply exploded and disappeared.

  “Damn!” Waters said. “They just vaporized.”

  “What’s our backside radar show?” Behm asked.

  “We have two large masses heading out-system south – that must be the fernico end of the two containers – two large clouds of debris heading out-system north at high velocity, and expanding clouds of smaller debris roughly spherical around the explosions,” Lucas said.

  “So, basically, it worked,” Behm said. “Outstanding. All right. Let’s get some analysis done on the high-speed, close-in videos and the radar tracks. We need to know which one works better.”

  “OK, so whatta we got?” Behm asked.

  “The test with the large rocks resulted in a shot field of average size o’ two to three feet in diameter movin’ about ten thousand feet per second,” Dean said.

  “Nice,” Waters said.

  “And the small rocks?” Behm asked.

  “The test with the small rocks resulted in a shot field of average size o’ eight to twelve inches in diameter movin’ about fifteen thousand feet per second. Also, the total mass o’ the small rocks ejected was about twenty-five percent larger than that o’ the large rocks,” Dean said.

  “Damn,” Walker said.

  “So how do we get twenty-five percent more mass and half again faster with the small rocks?” Behm asked.

  “It’s the packing factor, I think,” Lucas said. “There’s a lot of void when putting the larger rocks into the container. That soaks up some of the initial pressure and lets pressure vent past the projectiles during acceleration. The small rocks are a better tamper.”

  “That makes sense,” Dean said.

  “And don’t forget twenty-five percent more mass with projectiles that mass about a tenth as much per projectile means more than twelve times as many projectiles down range. Most projectiles will miss in any space battle, but we’ll get twelve times as many hits on ships if we have twelve times as many projectiles,” Lucas said.

  “OK, so are the small rocks big enough?” Behm asked.

  “I wouldn’t wanna be on a ship that got hit with a rock ten inches in diameter goin’ three miles a second, that’s for damn sure,” Walker said.

  “Yeah, I agree. I think that’s a killer hit, right there,” Waters said.

  Lucas and Dean both nodded as well.

  “At fifteen thousand feet per second, it’s still gonna take over five minutes to go a thousand miles. This is a short-distance weapon,” Behm said.

  “Yeah, like a mine. You drop ’em in front of the bad guys, and when they come up on ’em, you set ’em off. I think that’s how it’s got to be,” Waters said.

  “All right,” Behm said. “Let’s get to building some o’ these. Big boss wants a bunch of ’em – he’s talkin’ hundreds of ’em – so let’s get started. Don’t worry about runnin’ outta containers. There’s a bunch more been ordered. Let’s figure we make thirty o’ these a month, and figure out how to do that while we’re doin’ everythin’ else. Oh, and document everything so’s Blue, Green, and White are up to speed when they come on.”

  “What about the beam cutters? We gonna start puttin’ them on freighters?” Walker asked.

  “Not yet,” Behm said. “They got some new ones comin’. Bigger’n anything we got right now. So we’re gonna wait for the big ones.”

  Location, Location, Location

  “I am stuck on something, my dear, for which I could use your help,” Ansen said.

  “Of course, if I can,” Kusunoki said.

  “Clearly things are getting well underway with our friends, and our newsfeed articles have begun a public debate with Mr. Westlake, but we’re just puttering around in our musings about a charter. I think we need to step that up, and I’m not sure how to proceed.”

  “You need to have a constitutional convention.”

  “Yes, of course,” Ansen said. “But these things take time, and they need to be set up well in advance. The clock is running. How do I get sixty or seventy people from thirty-plus planets in one place for up to a year to hammer out a document all will accept?”

  “What sort of people?”

  “University people mostly, I would think. People not unlike ourselves. History and sociology. Political science. Economics. People who have studied how humanity has organized itself in the past, and know what works and what doesn’t. I would like to hand-pick them myself to get the right sort, but I’m not sure I can get away with that. And how do I get them to walk away from whatever they are doing for a year?”

  “Hmm.” Kusunoki sipped her tea and stared out the window, her eyes unfocused, as she considered the problem. “If we were in Japan, I know what I would do.”

 
“What’s that?”

  “Have a conference on Hawaii. The Japanese love Hawaii.”

  “A year-long conference?” Ansen asked.

  “Well, it takes six weeks on average for a crossing between planets, and six weeks back. If you are going to have a conference with attendees from multiple planets, there’s going to be three months just in traveling both ways. Four for some people. So if you’re looking at university people, you’re probably talking about something like a sabbatical year.”

  “That could work. But where would we have it?”

  “What planet has the nicest weather, the best resorts, the best food?” Kusunoki asked.

  “Doma. No question.”

  “That’s it then. Now the only question is how you pay for it. You have the travel expenses plus all the lodging and food in a resort location for a year. Plus they are going to want a sabbatical stipend. It all adds up. Quickly, in this case.”

  “That I’m less worried about,” Ansen said. “Friends in high places and all that. Money is apparently not a problem. Organization is. How do we get people to want to go? What if they just say, Uh, no, thanks.”

  “Make it a prize. University people love that sort of thing on their resumes.”

  “The Westlake Prize. Then you get to go to the Westlake Conference on, what exactly? Something innocuous, clearly.”

  “Something that’s innocuous to the authorities, but will signal your intentions.”

  “The Westlake Conference on Societies and Structures, sponsored by the Orlov Group,” Ansen said.

  “And hosted by Gerald Ansen, Professor Emeritus of History at the University of Jablonka. On Doma, at such-and-such resort. All expenses paid, plus stipend. That should do it.”

  “I still wish I could pick the attendees.”

  “So do it,” Kusunoki said. “When you send this up the chain, send along the list of winners of the Westlake Prize.”

  “That’s pretty brazen.”

  “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

  “Admiral Sigurdsen. Come in. Please, come in.”

  Ansen waved Sigurdsen into the entranceway and closed the door behind him. He showed Sigurdsen into the living room, where Kusunoki was already curled up in her big armchair, and a rocks glass of bourbon and a large cigar awaited Ansen. There was a pitcher of ice water and a glass on the table in front of the armchair Sigurdsen had used during their last discussion.

  “You’ve met my wife, of course,” Ansen said.

  “Professor Kusunoki,” Sigurdsen said as he nodded to her.

  Kusunoki nodded back.

  “And we have water for you, though other refreshments are available as well,” Ansen said.

  “Water is fine. Thank you, Professor.”

  Sigurdsen and Ansen both took their seats, and Ansen jumped in.

  “For our last hypothetical discussion, Admiral, we discussed war, in particular how future wars might be fought. For this discussion, I thought we would put the shoe on the other foot. Instead of the military man asking me about war, I thought I would ask the military man about politics.”

  “Turnabout is fair play, Professor.”

  “Indeed. So.” Ansen took a drag on his cigar and let it out slowly, with a sigh. “If we were to hypothesize a future political structure, one built along largely classical liberal lines – what one might call libertarian, even – that’s all well and good. But one quickly comes to the question of origins. How would such a structure get started in the first place, assuming some other structure was in place prior?”

  “You asked me for a statement of principles to get started last time, Professor, so let me do the same with this question. What are your basic principles for such a structure?”

  “Good, good. That will work. Well, I think the first basic principle is there must be a founding document of some sort. A charter or constitution. Rule of law in such a structure is important, and some basic law to which all others are subservient seems required.”

  “I’m with you so far. Another basic principle?” Sigurdsen asked.

  “For such a structure to be truly libertarian, most decisions should be outside of the control of the central government and left to the planets and the citizens. And such controls should be designed to be more robust than such controls have proved throughout history.”

  “Yes, there are several tragic examples. France. The United States of America. All right, we’re together so far. I believe I gave you three basic principles last time, Professor. Have you a third on this question?”

  “Yes,” Ansen said. “Such a founding document must be drawn up with the participation of all the individual sovereignties – in this case, planets – of which it is to be ultimately composed. For psychological reasons, if none other, it cannot be implemented across those multiple sovereignties without their participation.”

  “Again, I am in agreement. So, Professor, having found agreement on basic principles, I believe we are down to specific cases. How does this founding document get written? From what venue does it emerge?”

  “A constitutional convention has been the traditional mechanism, and I think it could work in our hypothetical case. Delegates from all the individual sovereignties, drawn together in one place to hammer out the structure and its implementation on paper.”

  “One problem then is that a predecessor structure to this hypothetical emergent structure is unlikely to appoint such delegates, or to appoint such delegates as would have a classical liberal structure as an end goal,” Sigurdsen said.

  “Indeed, Admiral. The delegates would likely have to be well-known eminent individuals of certain dedication to the goal, selected primarily from academia. The question then is, given how long it could take to get the job done, How does one get them to attend?”

  “I would think it to be the task of no more than a year.”

  “And I agree,” Ansen said. “Much less than a year, and one simply runs out of time, given that the travel time to collect everyone in a single location is itself four months of round-trip travel. At the same time, a year away from one’s other work, away from one’s home, is likely the maximum. The question remains, How does one get them to attend?”

  “Hold the meeting someplace really nice and pay all their expenses would be two obvious measures, I would think.”

  “Including all the expenses for their spouse and family to accompany them. But don’t forget they are currently employed by their universities, which largely do not pay salaries during sabbaticals.”

  “Ah. So a salary as well, then,” Sigurdsen said.

  “For a sabbatical, the traditional term is a stipend, but, yes, that is the solution. A stipend rather larger than their normal salaries would be an additional inducement. A further inducement would be to make it a prize.”

  “A prize?”

  “Yes,” Ansen said. “University people love that sort of thing. Some sort of prize, with an impressive name behind it. The Westlake Prize, say.”

  “One cannot, however, call it a constitutional convention, Professor. That would certainly raise the suspicions if not the reaction of the predecessor regime.”

  “Clearly some subterfuge is necessary, Admiral. But something that would signal to the recipients themselves what is going on. The actual winners of the Westlake Prize could meet for the Westlake Conference on Societies and Structures, for example.”

  Sigurdsen was nodding his head.

  “Sponsored, perhaps, by the Orlov Group,” Ansen said.

  “And hosted by Gerald Ansen, Professor Emeritus of History at the University of Jablonka,” Kusunoki put in.

  “Very interesting, Professor. At the end of this conference, presumably, one emerges with the founding document in hand and has checked all the boxes, including having had participation from all the individual sovereignties.”

  Ansen nodded. “That is the goal.”

  “I do see one problem, however, Professor,” Sigurdsen said. “How does one keep such a classical l
iberal project from being infected with statist authoritarians of one form or another? Fascism. Communism. State socialism. State capitalism. They all have their adherents in the target academia group. The classical liberals would be a minority, I would think.”

  “The selection process would have to be very carefully done, Admiral. There is no doubt about that at all. I wasn’t at all sure it was possible, so I took the liberty, purely for purposes of our discussions, of attempting to draw up a list of such individuals from the existing environment, just to see if it could be done. It turned out rather better than I had hoped.”

  Ansen picked up a single sheet of paper from his side table and handed it to Sigurdsen.

  “Here is the list I came up with for our purely hypothetical discussions, Admiral.”

  Sigurdsen looked the paper over carefully.

  “Two people each from thirty-three planets?” Sigurdsen asked.

  “Those thirty-three are all the first-round colony planets, and all have larger economies. There is a rather large break between the last of them and the next colony on a complete list, in terms of economy, population, and the like. In particular, those others as yet have no university structures from which to draw the appropriate individuals.”

  “And two from each?”

  “One academic is too easily run roughshod over by his fellows, I think, Admiral. Two, however, can play ‘good cop, bad cop’ in dealing with ideological opposition.”

  “I see.” Sigurdsen folded the paper and put it in his pocket. “For our future discussions, then.”

  “By all means.”

  “One last thing, Professor. You seem to have two events there, the awarding of the prize and the attendance at the conference. How would you see that playing out, in our hypothetical situation?”

  “Oh, I would think the prize award could occur at any time. The conference should be no less than two years later,” Ansen said.

  “Two years? That seems long.”

  “There is preparatory work that would make a conference much easier and its outcome more assured. A circle of correspondence. And it is three weeks per leg to transfer such correspondence among individuals on different planets, even using the fast courier ships. Three years might be even better.”