The Hundred Gram Mission

by Navin Weeraratne

  Some cheers and loud clapping.

  "Now you may be wondering why I brought nanotechnologists with me, and not physicists to help with the production problem. Well that’s because we’re going to solve all the production problems. Not just for us, or for the mission colonists. I mean for the entire world. That’s right, today we officially and publicly, begin our Von Neumann technology program."

  The room exploded into loud cheering and raised arms. Some hugged each other and back slapped. The USA! USA! chant began.

  Spektorov smiled. "Funny that you mention that. Now as you all know, Von Neumann research is highly illegal. Everyone is so afraid that some crazy terrorist somewhere will develop them into weapons of mass destruction. Every country in the world has outlawed it. Well," he pointed out the three meter thick, leaded window, "that’s the Earth over there. And we’re over here. And today," he looked right at the main camera, "I am announcing Paul Dirac City’s independence. We are the first nation state, in space."

  Silence.

  "You’ll all be getting work visas. Anyone who wants it, will get citizenship, too. That comes with a luxury house and property on one of my orbitals. That goes for you boys, too," he pointed at the orange jump suits.

  "Yes, I’m sure you’re all worried, the world won’t be too happy with this. And if anyone - at any time - decides they don’t want to do this, they can go home. You’ll be paid for your work and have no black marks against you. This is being broadcast live by the way, so questions, demands, and threats are about to start filling up in your email boxes. But please understand, out here, we are essentially untouchable. That’s important for Earth too - if anything goes wrong there’s no chance of contamination. I have people - great people - who are engaging at a high level with the US government. We’re going to maintain - or at least, repair - our relationship with the United States. They are still our biggest client, and will continue to be, as we produce this amazing new technology."

  A couple of weak claps.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the frontier. It’s where new innovations and ideas are breathed into old nations. It’s what made our forefathers great, and why we value exploration and Science. Today, we are the frontiersmen. We are the ones who will breathe life into a tired and struggling world, so beaten down that its governments outlaw solutions.

  "We will go to other worlds. But no one can say anymore, that we didn’t stop on the way, to save our own. God bless you and the work you do. God bless America, and God bless Paul Dirac City!"

  Some polite clapping. Then the armed contractors clapped loudly, and everyone else rooted around and found some enthusiasm. Spektorov held up two little flags - one of the United States, and one that looked like a variant of the Pathfinder logo.

  "Oh - My - God!" yelled someone from the back of the room. Heads turned, Spektorov tried to hide a frown.

  "Dude," continued Evan Stockwell, live on camera, "You are fucking shitting me!"

  "Nice of you to join me for lunch."

  Henrikson sat down with his tray across from Stockwell. The others in the mess hall were quiet, all eyes were on the screen with news from Earth. That is, unless they were eating steak. Their patron had brought quite a lot along with him.

  "Aren't you worried about being spied on?"

  "Not anymore, no," said the scientist. "It is quite clear that no one sees you as a threat."

  "You really know how to make a guy feel swell."

  "They didn't even take away your gun."

  "Speaking of, where did all the Boy Scouts go?"

  "Outside mostly. They are using his ship as their barracks. They are not actually allowed in here."

  "Why not?"

  "People will feel like they are under duress."

  "Well, you are."

  "I'm not so sure about that."

  For a moment, the two men ate quietly. Someone changed the news to a Spanish language stream. On every channel it was the same: pictures of asteroid 2043 QR 3, and clips of Spektorov’s little speech. The Talking Heads were academics, people in the street, and grumpy-looking generals.

  "I came to tell you that we are about to have visitors."

  "Already?"

  "A Shenlong 3[lxviii] space plane, arriving in two hours. The AI claims it has only one passenger, and that she is in need of medical attention."

  "That’s as likely as Batman taking a shit and Superman living in it."[lxix]

  "Spektorov thinks so too, but what are the chances that they would have a Strike Team ready to go at near this orbit, so soon? It was already on transfer orbit to us."

  "Where from?"

  "E2. Which apparently has gone radio silent."

  A Department of Corrections robot walked in, scanned the room, and left. A group of nanotechnologists peering over laptops, suddenly cheered and started high-fiving each other.

  "Are they going to let them land?"

  "They can't stop a landing, at least not now. But they will try to confront and restrain whoever is aboard."

  "So why are you telling me? You don't seem particularly upset about your patron’s shenanigans."

  "I am telling you because the Shenlong can contact Earth. Right now, neither of us can do that."

  "They won’t let the head scientist call home?"

  "They won't let any of us call home. And right now I don't think I count as head scientist anymore. I imagine you would like to brief your government on what's going on here, and they may have instructions for you. So, how do feel about helping our Chinese patient?"

  "I’m in, but I can't take on all the Boy Scouts."

  "You won't need to. There are alternate landing pads, I can send the spaceplane directions to one of the more distant ones. No one else is sending it landing coordinates so I don't think there will be any confusion. I can sign out an asteroid hopper for you," he slipped him a flash drive. "Please transmit that to the address listed. It's my husband, I want him to know that I am safe. If you leave now, you will have about an hour's lead time on the contractors."

  Stockwell took the drive.

  "Aren't you worried what might happen to you if they find out?"

  "I may not be the lead scientist anymore, but nothing is going to Alpha Centauri without me. Last I checked, it does not seem that we are getting any new Antimatter Beamed Core engineers, any time soon."

  "You need to tell your boss that the Chinese are coming for him."

  It was late at night and the DC diner was largely empty. There were some aides (to aides) eating chicken wings, sauce on their fingers, poring over a position paper due in the morning. A kid in a hoodie waved his hand around and swore over the phone. Congressman Herrera leaned forward, his coffee cooling, untouched.

  "We already know about the Chinese," said Snyder. "We have people ready to apprehend them as soon as the Shenlong lands."

  Herrera raised an eyebrow. "I don't know anything about that, but the Chinese Embassy have quietly mentioned to State that special forces are being launched from Jiuquan in the next few hours. There's still time to sort this out."

  "I agree, there is," Snyder pulled out the tea bag and set it aside. "So get the Chinese to back off."

  Herrera facepalmed and then ground his teeth.

  "You do realize that everyone up there is in big trouble? And because you obviously knew about it you can also be charged with Conspiracy? We're not having this conversation in an interrogation room as a gesture to your insane boss."

  "No," Snyder shook his head. "It's because no one is sure yet what to do."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Oh come on. The DoD must be delighted. Von Neumann machines are the biggest thing since we split the atom.[lxx] In addition to antimatter engines, They are going to have the most powerful manufacturing technology that human beings can even conceive of. And it's going to be one hundred percent US government property."

  "Well the DoD aren't calling the shots - "

  "No but they are calling enough of them. I bet State and Justice
want us all to hang."

  Herrera nodded this way and that. "It's been suggested by some."

  "Here's how I see this. If the United States recognizes Paul Dirac City, it is condoning and sanctioning Spektorov. It implies that the United States is cheating to get around its own, and international laws. However, then it would have no responsibility, and the Chinese can raid it.

  "However, if the United States does not recognize Paul Dirac City, then it is obliged to protect its own citizens."

  "You forget that we are also then obliged to control our citizens."

  "No, I’m not. That's why the Chinese Embassy is talking to the State Department. They very much want you to take care of this, because how is it going to look when China moves against misbehaving US citizens? How am I doing so far?"

  The congressman said nothing.

  "However, if the United States intervenes to stop the raid, then by protecting Paul Dirac City it is condoning and sanctioning Spektorov. The entire US position on the proliferation of WMD, becomes a sham worldwide. We throw away a century of diplomacy.

  "But, if the United States doesn’t recognize or intervene, then China will capture the facility. China will have antimatter technology: including the prototype, Single-Stage-To-Orbit, fighter engine we're making for the USAF. Goodbye Air and Space Superiority. They will also confiscate the preliminary notes by some of the world's best, on Von Neumann machines. So," he sipped his tea, "I think my not being arrested has nothing to do with any kind gestures on the part of the US government."

  "This is going to go very badly, and for everyone. You have to make him see sense."

  "He sees sense just fine. From the UNHCR upwards, we've tried to be reasonable. No vested interests are in any way concerned with what we need. That wouldn't matter - what do you expect? Except that they also don't seem too concerned with what they need. We've had to declare ourselves an independent country to be taken seriously. We're not about to give up that chip."

  "So this comes down to what you want. Let's talk turkey, I'm a congressman, this is what we do all day."

  "No," Snyder got up, "I need to warn my employer that the Chinese are coming. One by land, two by space."

  "And what," Herrera smirked, "Exactly do you think he’s going to do about that?"

  "They’re sending soldiers? I hope he fucking kills them all."

  "Alright. Got to rescue someone doing an emergency landing, before German mercenaries catch me, on some crazy billionaire’s asteroid base. How hard could that be?"

  Stockwell looked at his reflection in the hopper’s polished canopy. He made a serious face.

  "Mr. Bond are you ready?" he said in Grumpy English Butler voice. "Course I am! I’m James fucking Bond!"

  He sighed and leaned back. Worry lines claimed his forehead. The hopper’s radar showed the incoming Chinese shuttle. Another screen showed a map of 2043 QR 3’s surface, structures marked in friendly green. He selected the landing pad Henrikson told him about, and made it the autopilot’s problem. The hopper undocked and powerful magnets switched off. The hopper kicked away on compressed air.

  He looked up through the glass canopy - the Chinese shuttle passed overhead and disappeared over the horizon.

  "Jame’s fucking Bond," he said to himself quietly. He pulled out his magazine and counted his bullets.

  "Okay, okay, so far so good."

  Flood lights pinned the shuttle neatly in the middle of the pad. The docking clamps were useless, but the magnets held the craft in place. Two rows of green lights marked the path to the freight airlock. All around was a loose geology of rocks, rises, and regolith. Like most worlds, it was too small to have ever had a molten core. Without heating, super dense treasures were mixed in with simple grit and ice.

  "You can do this Evan. You got this. You totally got this."

  The hopper’s arc became almost vertical. Gas torrented from its thrusters as it slowed for the landing. The lightest tap and it could bounce away again, aloft for hours. A hard tap, and it could escape altogether.

  "Aborting landing."

  "Wait, what?"

  "Landing pad occupied or obstructed," said the computer. "Aborting landing."

  "No, no, no, no! Just land next to it! On the regolith! Use your little fucking torpedo hook things!"

  "I’m sorry. I don’t know what ‘fucking,’ is. Did you mean ‘ducking’?"

  The hopper started to drift away from the pad, and tilted to use it’s main engine.

  "The - the spikes! With the ropes? The spike ropes you fire into the regolith!"

  "Did you mean, the ‘landing anchors’?"

  "Yes I mean the damn landing anchors!"

  "Attempting regolith landing."

  The hopper swung back vertical, and descended again. It shook as its anchors fired, kicking up glittering ice and sand like a diver hitting water. Rotors buzzed and the craft reeled itself down slowly. It slowed the last few inches, and then finally a cloud of dust marked the landing.

  "Thanks a ducking lot."

  Stockwell depressurized the cabin, popped the canopy, and stepped out.

  "So this is what one of you look like, up close."

  As tiny, usually stealth, military shuttles went, the Shenlong 3 was huge. It’s single bay could be outfitted for eight, pressure-suited, operators with their equipment. For satellite recovery (or stealing), they threw out the passenger module for a robotic arm and a glorified fisherman’s net. For strike missions, it carried rocket drones. It would pop them out as far as High Earth Orbit, then quietly run home to Inner Mongolia.

  "Don’t shoot any lasers at me," he aimed the magnetic grappler carefully, and fired. It flew perfectly straight in the microgravity, slamming into the hull like a toilet plunger. It held steady, but broke loose as soon as Stockwell tugged it.

  "Fucking why is everything made of carbon these days?" he reeled the grappler back, and tried again. It took him two more tries to find enough steel for it to hold.

  He secured the other end of the line to the hopper. Then, fast as he could, he hand-holded his way to the shuttle.

  "You could have just gone home, or to a Chinese space station," he said to it. "Why did you come out here?"

  He reached the shuttle. He pulled a secondary line from the grappler’s head, and clipped it to his suit. Then flailed about till he reached the hatch.

  "Hello?" his helmet was under his arm. His orange suit yelled in the neat, white, cabin. "Hello in Chinese? Somebody need some help? I got your Knight in Pressurized Armor over here."

  Suyin Lee got out of her seat, and turned to face the visitor.

  "Oh for fucks sake!"

  "Agent - Agent Stockwell!"

  "What the hell are you doing over here?"

  The one-handed woman found the energy to scowl. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "You had to follow me from Earth to try ruining my life again?"

  "I need blood analogue. Probably a liter."

  "Well why don’t you call a super secret submarine to come bring you some? I’ll just wait outside and get arrested for risking my neck for you! Again!"

  "I’m sorry about what happened in Sri Lanka."

  "No, don’t go there. If you were sorry you would have called. You’re just sorry cause I’m standing right here. You’re sorry cause I got two hands, and you don’t!" He waved his in big circles. He raised an eyebrow. "What happened to your hand?"

  "I had to remove it. Or I’d be dead right now."

  "What, you didn’t like how it looked? Were they giving you trouble for it, back at Bitch School?"

  "Stop feeling sorry for yourself," she opened a locker and started pulling out a space suit. "If I had the power to save you, I would have. If you don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do to change your mind. But, frankly, I don’t care. I have bigger problems. And so do you."

  "Like what, Hands Free? Has there been a run on the excuses market?"

  She looked at him.

  "Do people not know ye
t?"

  "About what?"

  "E2."

  "What about E2?"

  She shook her head.

  "Jemaat Ansar killed everyone aboard. I’m the only survivor."

  "What?"

  "They used a Von Neumann weapon. It looks the same as one they used in Yemen but, much more virulent. It was airborne. Fast acting."

  "Are you sure?"

  Her eyes became slits, and she shoved her stump at him. "Sure enough, asshole. Now help me suit up. What are you doing here?"

  "I quit the Bureau and became a space doorman."

  "What?"

  "Things have turned bad here. Daryl Spektorov declared this place an independent country. So he can research Von Neumann machines."

  "He’s - that’s crazy. He’s crazy."

  "Crazy-prepared. He’s brought all the supplies and experts he needs to make this place self sufficient. He brought muscle too - private military contractors."

  "He’s actually trying to build Weapons of Mass Destruction?"

  "He doesn’t see it that way."

  "Fuck how he sees it. How has the world reacted?"

  "How do you think? I was er, I was hoping I could use your radio. To call home and get new orders."

  "You can call," she started pulling the suit on. "But what’s to check?"

  "Everything?"

  "Nothing. Spektorov is now a foreign citizen, right? He’s not an American anymore?"

  "I think that’s the drift, yeah. Why?"

  "Good. That bin there," she stump-pointed, "could you hand me the explosives and the rifle?"

  "What the hell? Hands Free, think about this."

  "I’ve done enough thinking on this shuttle, for all my lifetimes. He’s not an American anymore, so just stay out of my way."

  Sun Tzu, I

  "I am very pleased they have found a loophole. It is far away from Earth and they have a strong driving force behind this. They will succeed, the World will have Von Neumann technology."