by Jeff Taylor
A brilliant pale summer sky indeed projected on the cold stone above them. Ahkman gawked in amazement certain he could feel the warmth of the imaginary sun on his face.
“What do you say we head down to the street level?” Vim said. He clapped his hands twice. “SANDI, take us down please,” he ordered.
A soft light blinked around the circle of transparent glass directly beneath their feet. The entire enclosed platform then descended the track along the curve of the dome toward the city’s ground level.
“Our ‘Synthetic Android Navigation and Directional Initiator runs our transit system here,” Vim explained. “We call her SANDI for short, which coincidentally, is the same name as my wife, but don’t mention that part to her. She doesn’t appreciate sharing her name with a train system,” he said with a hush.
Julia and Jilliana giggled at his joke, which only seemed to fuel his confidence.
Once the lift was on the ground, Vim exited and took his place on the revolving sidewalk. “This is the easiest way through town,” he said. “It’s much better than having everybody bounding around like jackrabbits.”
The moving walkway went in a straight line through central Old Town. The main street bustled with activity. Ahkman marveled at the ancient-looking buildings; perfect replicas of those he’d seen in Italy months before. But there was something rather plain about them. Something was missing. “Vim, why are there no stores here?” he asked.
The sparkle in Vim’s eyes made it very plain he was pleased Ahkman had asked. “We are scientists here, Mr. Ahkman, not economists or politicians. There are a few little tourist shops scattered about the central square but nothing substantive. We all share what we need. Each person is required to contribute a day a week to either work in the rations depository or the organic gardens to earn their keep.” He leaned closer to a much soberer Julia and mumbled, “I personally prefer to pass my time working with the livestock in the corrals, but that’s just me.”
Jilliana was taken aback by this. “You have livestock?”
“Yes, indeed we do, Mrs. Kratin! Sheep, chickens, goats, and especially cattle, big, beautiful dairy and black Angus cattle.”
“And they survive well here?”
“Absolutely!”
“How did you get them here? I mean how did they handle the flight?” Jilliana asked.
“Very well! We didn’t have one groan of complaint or protest,” Vim replied.
For probably the first time since they left Earth, Augustina Kratin spoke. Ahkman flinched slightly when her sharp voice sounded behind him. He had completely forgotten she was even there.
“They came in test tubes, mother. They’re embryonic clones. They’ve never even seen the Earth.”
Vim’s countenance dimmed slightly with her harsh description, but he recovered quickly and continued with his presentation. “Exactly right! But they still taste just as well as if they had!” He exclaimed then winked at Jilliana Kratin.
They rode the advancing walkway further ahead. Vim continued his discourse on the engineering marvels invented to create a working, yet hospitable environment “I have often said that the true brilliance of the moon wasn’t so much on the surface as underneath it,” he commented at one point.
Ahkman couldn’t help but be impressed. So far, nothing on the trip had been as he’d anticipated. In fact, he had begun to make an accounting of the tourist, resort, and retail possibilities that would open for them, if they planned carefully. Brahlim had been right when he’d told Ahkman a few weeks ago that what Vim had built would make the company several fortunes. That promise had been the only thing to keep Ahkman from pursuing an injunction against the Kratins and Brill. He had no real loyalty to Medes and Tackkert. What mattered most to him was money and if this station brought the promise of more it, then he was all in.
Their journey took them across town. Soon they approached a large set of white, translucent doors backlit from behind by a soft light.
“Now,” Vim said in a melodramatic tone, “this where we get serious.” He paused, consciously making eye contact with each one of them.
Ahkman rolled his eyes. Spare me, he thought. He was already getting tired of Vim’s melodrama.
“Behind these doors is the heart of our operation. A great deal of work is done on Selene I, but by far the majority of it is done here. Behind these doors you will see experiments that test the limits of human endurance and evolution. Research into improving our suits so the sensation of gravity is flawless; cloning of livestock to test whether an entire food chain and ecosystem can be transported in a freezer to distant worlds; a working greenhouse producing enough food and oxygen to sustain a small colony, which we are also testing on Mars as we speak. But perhaps our greatest achievement is the antimatter particle collider. For the first time in human history, one of these machines has been constructed and brought online in outer space, efficiently creating the antimatter we use to power all our tools, including the shuttles and Selene I itself.”
The small, energetic man took on a more solemn, even proud demeanor as he spoke the last sentence. In fact, he seemed taller to Ahkman at that moment.
The stoic Brill, hunched over his cane groaned. “How long will all of that take? I’m tired,” he complained. The man had aged considerably in the last few months. His once vibrant ferocity had been replaced with bitterness and suspicion and he was constantly complaining about one ailment or another. Ahkman despised him before, but now he just pitied the pathetic shell of the once great giant.
Vim took the question in stride and let out a hearty laugh. “Not long at all, my friend. We have a tram that will circle the complex and then bring us back here for lunch. All right? Let’s begin.”
Facing the doors, Vim pressed his hand firmly against them and then spoke softly, but loud enough to be heard. “Abra.”
Immediately, the doors noiselessly retreated into the recessed rock wall parting like a great curtain to reveal a row of five slightly oblong spheres, larger than a full-sized passenger bus and completely encompassed by glass windows. The side of each sphere was open with a porter standing by to assist the passengers inside. The five cars were connected which, along with their shape and white luminescent surroundings, made them look like a strand of pearls laid on a track. Much like on the orbital station, Selene I, the white walls were brightly backlit and rounded so that there was no jointed corner or surface. Vim would later say that this had something to do with easier cleaning, or some other nonsense.
But it was not the decor that roused Ahkman’s interest as he settled into the sleek, red leather seat. If Vim and his teams had indeed been able to accomplish all that he said they had, then even the sky wasn’t the limit. There would be none. Carsus Corp could corner the market on space exploration and colonization for decades if not centuries to come. Governments would pay handsomely to send teams to not only study their techniques, but use their products to start their own colonies. Within ten years, if not sooner, Carsus could dominate the industry, putting Medes and all other competitors out of business. Josephina must have been thinking the same thing. She clutched his bicep with her long, bony fingers and pressed her full lips to his ear.
“This will not only destroy Tackkert, but it will make us the top energy producer in the world. A gram of antimatter could fuel cities for months.”
He squeezed her hand and nodded his agreement.
The tram ride lasted slightly longer than two hours, which would have been shorter were it not for the constant stops Vim insisted on so he could explain what it was they were seeing. Ahkman enjoyed all of it immensely. An entire world, condensed inside twenty square miles deep below the lunar surface, was simply amazing.
The spectacles ignited a lively conversation as everyone in the group exited the tram and took a seat in the large six-wheeled cart waiting for them at the doors leading to Old Town.
“I can’t believe you have a ranch under the ground! Do the animals even know where they are?” Julia asked.
“The gardens!” gasped Jilliana, “I’ve never seen anything like them. It was like walking in some kind of enchanted fairy tale.”
Brahlim plunged a pudgy elbow into Ahkman’s side. “It’s magical to me,” he mumbled jovially.
Ahkman chuckled and nodded. The smile on Josephina’s face hadn’t left since they’d disembarked from the station shuttle. Her cheeks will be sore for weeks after this, he laughed to himself. She was almost giddy, which wasn’t an attribute he’d ever associated with her.
Not everyone had enjoyed the tour though. Nathaniel Kratin did not share in the group’s excitement. Uncharacteristically, his demeanor was very sober, reserved. He seemed more like his daughter Augustina than anyone else in the group. Perceiving the change, Ahkman left his seat and eased his way back to the rear of the cart to take a seat next to the senior Kratin.
“Why so somber, Mr. CEO? This is a cause for celebration!” Ahkman shouted, slapping the other man on the shoulder.
Kratin merely smiled, looking up only slightly at the intrusion.
Ahkman’s large brow furrowed. “What is it?” he asked more quietly.
The CEO did not respond immediately. Instead, he took his time, determining if what he had to say was important enough to share. In his hand he held something, which he continued to rub between his right thumb and index finger. It looked to Ahkman to be a small shred of paper.
“What is that?” he asked, gesturing to Kratin’s hand.
“As perceptive as ever,” Kratin replied weakly. He took a deep breath and then turned to face his counterpart, careful to keep his voice from being heard by anyone else. “Do you remember when we got off the tram at the observation deck overlooking the particle collider? A young man accidentally bumped into me as we left the deck.”
“Yes. So?”
“I don’t think it was an accident.” Kratin held out his hand and dropped its contents into Ahkman’s larger palm. It indeed was a piece of paper with numbers printed on one side. Ahkman supposed it had been torn from the page of a book. On the other side, hurriedly written in black ink was the word, Independence!
Ahkman was puzzled. “What does that mean?”
Kratin silently shook his head. “I have no idea. I have been trying to figure it out since I found it in the pocket of my tunic. I think that young man put it there.”
Various possibilities ran through Ahkman’s mind. Was the young man a slave and seeking help, or was he trying to make a political statement about his home country? Several nationalities were represented on the station. Whatever it was, the boy’s intention was not clear and seemed hardly worth the effort to decipher.
“Put it out of your mind,” he counseled Kratin. “If it was important this boy would have written more or said something to go along with the note. In fact, here, I’ll rip this up and toss it away for you right now.” He gripped the paper between both hands and made ready to shred it. Kratin hurriedly plucked it from his hands.
“I don’t think that is necessary,” he said, calmly. “I’ll hold onto it for now. Thank you.”
“Suit yourself.”
The cart continued its path down the paved streets without interruption. The streets were crowded but relatively obstruction free. Most people got out of the way in time to avoid a collision. Strange, I haven’t seen another vehicle of any kind on the road besides ours, Ahkman observed. Everyone walked or rode the automatic sidewalk. Once he did see a few bicycles but nothing able to transport more than one person.
Their journey took them through a series of turns until it reached an immense oval street, which was paved with rounded cobblestones; a large rectangular building rising from its center. The outer walls were layered in perfectly polished obsidian. Seven intricately carved columns decorated with quartz-like crystals supported a slab of lunar granite over the entrance. A domed tower with a round parapet rose from the center of the roof like a beacon.
“The Tower,” breathed Ahkman.
“Yes,” confirmed Brahlim.
“Magnificent, isn’t she?” Vim asked, proudly. “This is the crowning achievement of Old Town; our lunar administration building, or LAB for short, and central hub of all information data storage. The exterior is for show, of course, obsidian is much too brittle to use for constructing an entire building. But I think the effect works rather well, don’t you?”
Without waiting for anyone to agree, Vim sprang from the cart and beckoned them to follow. “Come, come. Mr. Kyne has prepared something extraordinary for us, I’m sure.”
Each of them in turn exited the vehicle. Kratin led the way alongside Brahlim and Vim. Ahkman took Josephina’s hand and helped her step down. “What’s going on with Kratin?” she asked once they’d started up the path to the Tower.
“He thinks someone handed him a sinister note. Don’t worry about it. He’ll get over it once we get inside. I’ve seen film on the interior. It’s incredible.”
Once inside, they made their way to the dining hall of the tower’s upper level. The interior adornments reminded Ahkman of the elaborate Russian palaces he’d seen in St. Petersburg the previous fall. Gold trim and yellow light from the simple yet beautiful crystal chandeliers illuminated the glassy black walls. Everything was stunningly attractive, but the accountant in Ahkman couldn’t help but wonder how it had been paid for and whether the administration building of a science station needed such decadence.
The heart of the Tower was an oval concourse, similar in shape to the street outside. Ahkman didn’t think it would be too much of a stretch to surmise that the interior oval was oriented to be the center of the larger one outside. All paths of egress and regress connected at the center oval below the tower.
Immediately upon exiting the elevator, Ahkman made for the picture window opposite the large foyer. Spread out below him emerged an empire. From this height, he could see all of Old Town and on the horizon the entrance to New Town, the area containing the laboratories and work space. The lush greenery, the warm light, and most of all, the brilliant minds of fifty thousand-plus individuals all laid out before him on a glorious parade.
“It’s breathtaking!” he whispered. Absorbed in his thoughts, Ahkman failed to notice everyone in the party move toward the adjacent dining room and taking their places around the large table being attended to by the kitchen staff. The clinking of silverware on porcelain disrupted his concentration and pulled him back into reality.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “Lunch.”
Vim ushered them all to the table and offered each of the Kratin women a seat. Con, who to that point Ahkman had yet heard to say anything, did the same for his wife Pryna Zyn, pulling out the dark, synthetic wood chair with the red cushion. Ahkman didn’t even consider repeating the action for Josephina. She would never have allowed it.
Once they were all seated, a quartet of waiters entered the room carrying a variety of chrome-plated serving trays. Ahkman distinctly smelled quail and potatoes as well as other trimmings. His mouth watered in anticipation as the waiter removed the covering from his plate. Taking the silver fork in his hand Ahkman prodded the steaming bird. The meat slid off almost instantly. Slowly, he tasted it. Exceptional! He savored the succulent flavor of the game bird as he chewed, but then stopped suddenly when he looked across the table. He hadn’t noticed when he first sat down but he was seated directly opposite Volkor Con. For perhaps the first time in his life, Ahkman saw the man without his helmet.
To some degree Ahkman was disappointed. He had heard rumors of the extent Con went to restore his good looks, but he had never believed them. He always just assumed that the surgeries had gone horribly wrong and Con was too embarrassed to expose himself to the inevitable question, “What happened?” Why, he had assumed, would he still wear the mask if he were not still some grotesque contortion of humanity underneath? It made no sense to continue to conceal his body if all the damage had been erased under the surgeon’s knife. So when Ahkman looked upon the strikingly handsome, dark-haired man, h
e couldn’t help but be surprised. How long had it been? Six years? Yes, that’s right, he thought. I was in Belize when I heard about the bombing. Terrible tragedy. He took another quick glance at Con, which from the look on the unmasked man was not appreciated, then continued to enjoy his quail.
The meal was uneventful until dessert arrived. Ahkman had just plunged his fork into a slice of chocolate marble cheesecake when he noticed Vim quietly conversing with Nathaniel, who wore the most serious expression Ahkman had seen on the man yet. Curious, Ahkman put down his fork and called out, “What was that, Mr. Vim?”
All eyes went to the loud accountant then back toward their host. Vim seemed unsure of what to say, even appearing uncomfortable at having been caught in his private conversation.
“I can’t quite hear what you two are saying,” Ahkman prodded.
Vim was flustered at the intrusion. “I …” For the first time that evening, he seemed a loss for words.
Nathaniel showed no hesitation in responding to Ahkman’s question. He held up the torn page he’d shown Ahkman earlier.
“Mr. Vim was giving me his opinion about what he thinks is the meaning of this slip of paper I found in my pocket. He was just saying that after our lunch he has a special presentation he believes may shed some light on the subject,” Kratin answered. “Jonu, why don’t you show it to all of us,” he said, turning back to the station director.
Vim was clearly perplexed. The hesitancy on his face convinced Ahkman that the presentation had been intended solely for the senior Kratin, which piqued his curiosity even more.
“Yes, let’s all see it,” he echoed.
After some contemplation, Vim determined he had no choice. “Very well,” he said, cheerily, trying to recover some poise. He clapped his hands and a porter came quickly to the table. The young man leaned over while Vim whispered some instructions in his ear. The porter then left while Vim rose from his chair and stood at the head of the table.
