Lunar Descent

by Allen Steele

  “What?” Lester’s eyes darted to the ceiling again. Schneider? The communications officer? What the holy hell was going on here?

  … And that, boys and girls, means this strike is unofficially ended. Now back to more music from LDSM.

  Lester brushed past Rainman, who was no longer holding him at the business end of his rifle, and began pushing his way through the yelling, deliriously happy crowd. He was halfway to the radio station when he was suddenly tackled by Butch Peterson. She silently held him in a hug, her face pressed against his chest. Lester gasped, thought again about finding Moondog McCloud or Jeremy Schneider to get some straight answers, then surrendered himself and hugged her in return.

  It beat the hell of catching a bullet, even if he had absolutely no comprehension of what had just happened. “What the fuck,” he murmured into the nape of Butch’s neck. “We’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

  “Later,” Butch whispered back to him.

  Big Deal (Video.4)

  From “The CBS Evening News With Don Houston”; Wednesday, August 21, 2024:

  (THEME UP and FADE. Don Houston at studio desk.)

  HOUSTON: Good evening, I’m Don Houston. The three-day strike by workers at Descartes Station on the Moon ended early this morning when a five-person assault team from the United States Marine Corps raided the industrial lunar base. Then, just when the elite cadre stormed the base and had taken the strikers captive, there was an unexpected twist. The corporation owning the base agreed to sell Descartes Station to a new company … one apparently controlled by the miners themselves. Garrett Logan reports from Huntsville, Alabama, on this strange, fast-moving story.…

  (FILE FOOTAGE of the U.S.S. Valley Forge in its orbital hangar, followed by COMPUTER ANIMATION of the spacecraft’s flight to the Moon, FILE FOOTAGE of Descartes Station, and a DIAGRAM of the deployment of the RDF squad at Descartes Station.)

  LOGAN (V.O.): Following a one-day sprint to the Moon … the fastest manned lunar flight yet on record, thanks to an experimental nuclear engine … the U.S.S. Valley Forge arrived at the Moon early this morning, bringing with it a five-member rapid-deployment force from the elite 1st Space Infantry of the United States Marines. The mission, which Pentagon sources say was code-named Operation Shady Grove, was to break the illegal strike begun on Monday by employees of Skycorp at the Descartes Station lunar mining facility and to take control of the base. The Valley Forge’s military lander, the U.S.S. Delaware, landed just outside the base. The Marines then rushed the base’s airlocks and, according to spokesmen from the Department of Defense, made it into the base without encountering much resistance.…

  (FILM CUP of a uniformed Marine officer, identified as COL LUCAS BAYLOR, at a Pentagon news conference.)

  BAYLOR: We are pleased to report that the … uh, operation went off without too much … uh, undue difficulty and that the lunar facility was captured … ah, that is secured … um, without casualties being reported by either our RDF team or the … uh, opposing forces … that is, um, the strikers. The mission went by the numbers.

  (FILE FOOTAGE of the floor of the New York Stock Exchange: traders crowding the floor, numbers flashing on the Big Board, etc. This is followed by COMPUTER ANIMATION of a large asteroid tumbling through deep space, heading toward the distant Earth, and FILE FOOTAGE of Skycorp’s Byrd Crater permaice facility at the lunar north pole.)

  LOGAN (V.O.): Yet even while this was happening, another story was being played out on Wall Street and on other stock exchanges across the world. Investors had been alerted by computer network of a new stock offering by a heretofore unknown company, called Lunar Associates Ltd., in connection with the planned launch of an industrial mission to a newly discovered asteroid, 2024 Garbo. The importance of this mission was obvious to quick-minded investors, since Skycorp had just announced that permaice resources at Byrd Crater were rapidly diminishing, which would make the operation of Descartes Station much more expensive in the future. Lunar Associates Ltd. has proposed a rendezvous with 2024 Garbo when it nears the Moon later this year to extract water trapped within the asteroid at considerably less cost than having it shipped up from Earth. Word of this spread quickly through the international finance community, and over the past two days investors have been snatching up stock in Lunar Associates. So much so, that even as the Marines were launching their raid on the moonbase, Lunar Associates was striking a deal with Skycorp.…

  (FILM CUP of a Skycorp spokesperson—identified as Holly D’Amato—at a news conference in Huntsville.)

  D’AMATO: The company has received today a worthwhile offer from a new company, Lunar Associates Ltd., for the purchase of the capital assets and financial liabilities of our mining facility at Descartes Station. Given the … um, recent difficulties that we have encountered with the … ah, continued operation of Descartes Station, we have decided to accept their offer.

  REPORTER (offscreen): What about reports that the majority of the investors in Lunar Associates are, themselves, striking workers at the lunar base?

  D’AMATO: We’ve … um, received the same reports and have been unable to confirm them, but even if it’s true … ah, it doesn’t affect the deal we’ve made with Lunar Associates. We will sign with the company under the present terms of our tentative agreement.

  (FILM CLIP of a space industry market analyst, identified as Clifford Brandenstein.)

  BRANDENSTEIN: If it’s the strikers who are behind Lunar Associates, well then … (shrugs) Who cares, really? Uchu-Hiko was negotiating for the purchase of the base, but I’ve been told that it’s been losing interest in the deal since the strike started. I’m sure that the Japanese were seriously reconsidering their bid even before the Marines were sent in. If the miners can come in through the back door and make an equitable deal with Skycorp, the company would be all too happy to get rid of the base. The whole thing has been a disaster for them … for Skycorp … from the word go, if only in terms of public image, if not labor relations and all the rest. They’re probably happy to sell Descartes Station to the miners, and good riddance. The name of the game here is money, not settling scores.…

  (CUT TO LIVE FOOTAGE of Garrett Logan, standing in front of Skycorp’s corporate headquarters in Huntsville.)

  LOGAN: At this time, the Pentagon has announced that Operation Shady Grove is over and that the Marines will be withdrawn from the Moon, in light of the peaceful—if wildly unexpected—resolution of the crisis. Back to you, Don …

  (CUT TO studio shot of Don Houston. Garrett Logan shrinks into a WINDOW in the upper-right corner of the screen.)

  HOUSTON: Garrett, there’s still a nagging question. If Lunar Associates Ltd. is largely backed by the miners themselves … or actually, I understand, by investment firms that handle funds for the lunar workers …

  LOGAN: That is correct. Those investments count for just over fifty-five percent of the total stock, which gives the miners a controlling interest.…

  HOUSTON: If that is the case, then why didn’t Lunar Associates simply make their bid for the purchase of the base without going on strike first? Wouldn’t it have been easier for them to hammer out this agreement with Skycorp without first taking the drastic measure of going on strike?

  LOGAN (coming back into full-frame): You’re right, Logan. This is still an open question, and one which the Federal Trade Commission will undoubtedly investigate before it makes final approval of the deal between Lunar Associates and Skycorp. At this point, there is a general theory that there were two factions among the workers on the Moon … one which openly went on strike, in opposition to Skycorp’s plans to sell the base to Uchu-Hiko, and one which was quietly working behind the scenes to use financial leverage in negotiating with the company. Again, the government will be investigating, yet FTC officials with whom I’ve spoken privately say that there’s no hard evidence so far to suggest unfair trade. Since neither Skycorp nor Uchu-Hiko have objected to the agreement, the deal will probably go through. Everyone’s interested in keepi
ng that base in operation.

  HOUSTON (V.O.): And the miners themselves? What have they had to say about all this?

  LOGAN: As usual, Don, the workers at Descartes Station aren’t saying anything. They’re a quarter of a million miles away, after all, so it’s a little difficult for them to hold press conferences. This is Garrett Logan, live from Skycorp headquarters in Huntsville, Alabama.

  HOUSTON (full-screen): Thank you, Garrett. Next up … new concerns over genetic engineering among New York City preschool children. Is it ever too early to learn quantum physics? And Mindy Oliver at the Great Neck Chicken Ranch, where the hens are being taught a new song to cluck.…

  (THEME UP. FILM CUP of a farmer with a baton leading chickens through “The Star-Spangled Banner.” FADE OUT.)

  24. The Last General Manager

  Descartes Traffic, this is the Collins, Alli James’ voice reported. We’re standing by for tank pressurization and final countdown. If you can … ah, remind our last passenger that we’ve got a schedule to meet here, we’ll load ’em up and be on our way.

  Casey Engel looked over his shoulder at Lester. The former general manager was standing at the window of the traffic control cupola; he was wearing a headset, but he was apparently lost in thought, staring out at the lunar landscape. The Collins’ lander was squatting on Pad Two, with the launch crew standing nearby, ready to connect the fuel lines and disconnect the umbilicals. Another group of pad rats were gathered around the Beautiful Dreamer, unloading the last of the Spam-cans which the tug had ferried down from the orbiting LTV late yesterday. But Lester wasn’t watching the activity on the pads; Casey could tell that his gaze was fixed on the distant slopes of Stone Mountain, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

  Engel was about to clear his throat when Riddell touched his headset lobe, as if he had been paying attention the whole time. “We copy that, Alli. I just need to go grab my bags from the office and we’re out of here.”

  Take your time, Alli replied. Just don’t take too much of it, know what I mean? I got two other people out here who want to go home. Over.

  “Affirmatory on that, ace. I’ll be out on the pad before you finish your checks. I’ll give you back to Casey now. Over and out.” Lester pulled the headset off, disconnected it from his belt unit, and dropped it on the counter. He gazed down at it for a moment. “Guess I won’t be needing that anymore, huh?”

  “Not where you’re going, you won’t.” Casey switched off his comlink for a moment and swiveled around in his chair. This time, he did clear his throat before speaking. “Listen, boss, before you skedaddle out of here, I just want to tell you …”

  Riddell smiled, shaking his head and holding up his hand. “Aw, save it, willya please? I’ve been going through this long goodbye stuff all day.” He looked away from Casey and grinned. “I mean, thanks for whatever you were going to say, but enough is enough already.…”

  Engel pretended to be affronted. “I was just going to tell you that you’re a heartless son of a bitch and we’re really glad to be getting rid of you so we can start having fun again. That’s all.”

  Lester shot a baffled look at the traffic control manager. Casey managed to keep a sour expression on his face for another second before he cracked a grin. “Or words to that effect,” he added.

  Lester grimaced and shook his head again. “And fuck you, too,” he said. Engel laughed and put out his hand; Riddell grabbed it in a thumbs-up shake. “Take it easy, sport. Don’t let any of these assholes crash, okay?”

  “Not on my shift, at least.” Engel released Lester’s hand and watched as he turned and walked to the exit hatch. Just as Lester bent to climb down the ladder into the access tunnel, Engel said, “Hey, one more thing …”

  Lester stopped, his feet on the top rung, and looked up. “Are you going to miss this place?” Casey asked.

  “Are you kidding?” Lester continued climbing down the ladder. “I can’t wait to get out of here. See you …”

  “See ya.” Casey waited until Lester had disappeared before quietly adding, “You lying bastard.”

  This time he meant it. And if Lester had heard him at all, there was no comeback.

  Lester made the trip through the tunnels to Subcomp A as quickly as he could without jogging. He had heard Casey’s last remark, and he had been right; like it or not, he was going to miss this place. And for that very reason, he wanted to make it out to the Collins as fast as he could. He was leaving the Moon for the last and final time; no sense in farming it out any longer than he needed.

  There was hardly anyone in the tunnels or the corridors for him to encounter. An off-shift moondog here and there slapped his arms, wished him farewell, good luck, godspeed, and all the usual platitudes, but the second shift was out in the regolith field or in the Dirt Factory or at the mass-driver plant; first-shift was catching zee’s in the dorms and a large group of volunteers from the third shift were on EVA on the roof of Subcomp A, repairing the damage to the MainOps tower.

  It would still be weeks before the windows were completely replaced and the equipment repaired or replaced. Only then could the operations center be brought back to life. Still, he found it hard to believe that persons from each off-shift were working—on their own time—to restore MainOps from the beating it had taken from the Delaware’s strafing run. Only three weeks ago he would have had to offer the same people triple-time pay, and not without a lot of cussing and griping even then. Descartes Station was changing.…

  Right, he thought as he climbed the spiral stairs up through Subcomp A’s atrium to Level One and walked down the corridor to his former office. And that was one more good reason to be getting out. Arnie Moss had told him that Descartes needed a mean son of a bitch to ramrod the place for Skycorp. But Skycorp was no longer in charge, and a ramrod was no longer necessary. If Lunar Associates Ltd. was successful in operating the base at a profit … if they didn’t fail to show a profit for the earthbound investors, if they managed to meet their supply-and-demand agreement with Skycorp, and a thousand other ifs after that … then pretty soon they’d be needing someone who could manage day-care services for the kids of the permanent settlers.

  And you know they’re coming, he thought. It’s inevitable. Lester imagined himself trying to diaper a squalling baby and winced as he reached the office door. Screw that. I’d rather be a mean sumbitch any day.

  He was about to push open the door when he once again glimpsed the white duct-tape pasted across the screw holes which had once held a plastic plaque reading GENERAL MANAGER. Written out firmly with a black marker was the new sign: PRESIDENT, LUNAR ASSOCIATES LTD. The tabs had been there for a few days now, but Riddell still couldn’t get used to it: I don’t care who’s sitting in here now; he thought as he rapped on the door and pushed it open, it’s still my office.…

  Jeremy Schneider was working at his terminal when Lester stepped in. “Hang on,” he murmured without looking away from his screen. “Be with you in a just a …”

  Then he glanced up and saw Riddell in the doorway, “Les,” he said, his look of intense concentration relaxing into a smile. He hurriedly tapped the HOLD key on the computer and stood up behind his desk, tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts. Schneider looked uncomfortable; maybe he, too, felt that he was sitting in someone else’s office. His eyes flitted to the airtight duffel bag and attaché case resting against the wall near the door. “You’re … uh, here to pick up your stuff.…”

  “My stuff, yeah. Sorry to bother you.” Lester sauntered into the office, gazing around at the walls. Nothing had been changed since he had informally turned over his workplace to the new president of Lunar Associates. Same pictures of the first outpost; same framed newspaper clipping of the original Moondog. There had been almost nothing for him to clean out of his desk. At least there wasn’t a spittoon behind the desk; Schneider refrained from chewing tobacco, thank God.

  “You ought to get a real sign for that door,” he murmured, his eyes absently fixed on
the photo of the original base. “Lend some dignity to the place.”

  “Yeah, yeah …” Schneider grinned wryly and scratched at his blond beard. His eyes followed Riddell’s gaze to the framed photo. “You want to take it with you?” he asked. “I mean, that or anything else on the walls, it’s all yours. Take it.”

  Lester slowly shook his head. He wasn’t even tempted. “Uh-uh. They belong right here. Permanent keepsakes of this office. I’ve got plenty at home.”

  “Sure. Sure.” Schneider nodded and shuffled his feet, looking down at the top of his desk, which was already stacked with mounds of printout, operations manuals, and logbooks. Good luck, chump, Lester thought. You’re going to need it if you’re going to run this operation. Another thought occurred to him; something that had been in the back of his mind since the end of the strike, yet which up to now he had not been able to articulate. He looked straight at Schneider. “Let me ask you something, Jeremy …” he began.

  Schneider’s eyes darted back to him. Lester held his gaze for a couple of moments, long enough to begin to make Schneider sweat; then he cocked his head to his side. “How did you do it?” he asked quietly. “Really.”

  “Well …” Schneider reached up and scratched at an imaginary itch under his chin as his eyes traveled to the wall again, running across the pictures to the ceiling and then to the window. “It’s kind of a long story, y’know, and …”

  “And I’ve got to catch the Collins. Right.” Lester sighed, grabbed the strap of his duffel bag, hoisted it over his shoulder, then bent to pick up the handle of his attaché case. “Listen, let me give you a single word of advice.…”

  “And that is …?”

  “Honesty,” Lester finished. Schneider visibly flinched at the word. Almost everything Riddell suspected about Jeremy Schneider was confirmed right then.

  “That’s my single word of advice,” he continued. “I don’t know how you managed this score, and I don’t know if I even give a shit. But from here on out, you’re going to have to play by a different set of rules if you want to keep this place. You may have been able to screw Wall Street and Skycorp, but if you ever try to screw the people who work here …” He tugged at the strap of the duffel bag. “You’re going out of here in a bag, not carrying one. Y’got me on that?”