April 8: It's Always Something

by Mackey Chandler

  "I fear if I did business with you I'd be treated the same way. Exactly correct, by contract, and not a single penny more. The worst thing I can say about that, is it's almost as bad as Earth."

  "I can see how bad that looks," Riley admitted. "May I just say a few things in our defense?"

  "Sure, I'm interested," Jeff allowed.

  "My partners and I were foolish about the risks of currency values. None of us had expertise in that side of the business and didn't do anything to hedge the risk. We got caught with a ton of USNA dollars. What's worse, we even had some EuroMarks we had to dump when they started depreciating. The hired crew did have the option to take a twenty percent advance against twenty five percent of their pay, and all of them took it. So they got the benefit of that when it was still worth much more. We also aided them in obtaining much better professional credentials than even their expanded hours merited.

  "Now, we had the Borghild pretty well paid for even as the Yuki-onna was launched. It wasn't assembled, but the contracts for the pieces were all let and paid for. Fortunately for us, very few of the fabbers and ship shops went under from currency losses. They were smarter than us. But all the remaining funds from the pre-sales for the Yuki and the Borghild were held in Earth currencies. Some of us even put our personal shares for water from the Yuki into the Borghild.

  "If we hadn't already used most of our funds to build the second ship we'd have certainly gone bankrupt. As it is our personal shares from the Borghild are supporting us. Only one fellow sold all his shares out as futures right away. The price of water is up, and our personal allotments of the second ice ball can be pre-sold just like we did the company share, for much better money now. Most of my partners aren't complaining, but they are scrimping and watching their expenses very carefully. The cost of living has gone up sharply. We are all in the position of hoping the second mission for the Yuki-onna is fully profitable to save our butts. We simply don't have the cash to award generous performance bonuses to crew no matter how well they performed."

  "I understand all that. I've been no stranger to finding I didn't have enough funds to proceed with what I wanted," Jeff allowed. "But, you seem to have decided that if you can't pay a debt of honor you can just decide to forget it. I haven't heard any sense of obligation from you to make it right later."

  "All right. I can see that," Riley said. "But I don't know what you expect us to do that we can do for sure. I'm reluctant to make promises I might not be able to keep."

  "Just acknowledge that to your people. Tell them you valued what they did and will see they are rewarded if and when you are able. When you've done that I'll work with you. Oh, and you'll probably have to tell me yourself, because I doubt they'll mention it to me," Jeff added.

  "I'll speak to my partners, and see what they think is possible," Riley promised.

  "Thank you. Not to sound too arrogant, but I think you'll feel better about yourselves if you do that."

  "I'll let you know how they respond," Riley promised, and disconnected.

  * * *

  "Lunar com is back up, sort of," Dakota told Heather.

  "Sort of?"

  "There's a Mr. Harshaw on the line from their com shack who wants to talk to you. He's not offering to open up full access yet. He says he's a member of the temporary committee to organize the Lunar Republic." Dakota said.

  "Well isn't that interesting? It's almost twenty four hours since com went down. Can they really have had a revolution in just three shifts? Do you think I should speak with him?" Heather asked.

  "You don't give up anything by talking. I'm not saying to agree to anything. I'd have pumped him for a little more information, but I figured I'd leave that up to you," Dakota admitted.

  "So you expected I'd talk to him?"

  "Well yeah. But I didn't promise. I'll tell him to go away if you want," Dakota offered. "Or hand him off to somebody else if you think it's a bad idea."

  "No, no...just curious," Heather insisted. "I'll speak with him."

  She should have warned me...Heather thought. Harshaw looked rough. He needed a shave. The closer she looked he needed a shower too. He had grime thoroughly rubbed on the folds of the jacket he was wearing and one side of his face. He was wearing one of the thin quilted caps with ear flaps that some vacuum workers favored in a suit. She wondered if anybody could wear one of those without looking like an idiot. He just looked tired, and he wasn't wasting any energy trying to look cheerful or friendly for her.

  "Sovereign Anderson, did your secretary tell you my name?" he inquired.

  "Yes Mr. Harshaw, and that you are one of a committee which intends to create a Lunar Republic. Might I ask how many are in this committee and how goes your efforts to affect this change?"

  Harshaw blinked slowly like he had replies formulated for an entirely different set of questions. Heather saw suddenly that he was much more tired than she'd realized.

  "We started with eight yesterday," he said. "I know two are dead. There might be six of us still, if we haven't lost any more on the committee, I know we lost others. As far as how it is going...pretty well, everything considered. We've been up all night, killing Earthies, and I'm so tired...I know we have a few holding out in the fueling facility at the port. I really don't want to direct gun fire into that building. If we damage much there I'm not confident we can repair it easily. We have two who took off in a rover and they may make it all the way to the New Marseille, and they're welcome to them as long as they don't try to come back. So I believe out of fifty eight known Earth soldiers we have killed somewhere from forty seven to fifty three."

  He looked at her like he expected a reply. "It's hard to tell you see, when the pieces are too small."

  "You've won then," Heather said, "that seems a remarkable feat, against professional soldiers."

  "They were stupid," Harshaw said, contemptuously. "How do you find people with spacer skills to assault a space target, when hating spacers is a required to be a loyal party member?"

  "That does seem a conflict," Heather agreed. "They were newbies?"

  "They lost two the first week to suit accidents, when we weren't trying to harm them. The plan was to actually protect them from their own foolishness until they were in a routine, with a schedule, so we could get all of them, or at least most, all at once. We wanted to act while they were still not entirely acclimated to lunar gravity, while they were still clumsy."

  "We've observed this...shift in personnel going on for near a month," Heather admitted. "That seems like it would have been stretching that plan."

  "Yeah, the early ones were starting to be coordinated, but they never established a decent routine! We couldn't plan anything when their schedule changed every time they got a few more people. They had an administrator..." Harshaw visibly cut himself off. "Let's just say he was incompetent."

  "So you balanced the odds on everything and acted yesterday," Heather prompted.

  "Yes, we had a list. Mostly it depended on sabotage. They had no drills for emergency pressure loss. They showed a video to new people coming in about how to put on an emergency suit. They didn't even do a video for hole patching kits. I suppose they were expecting their people to read the printed instructions after they noticed the pressure dropping. We delayed sabotaging the suits and leak kits until the last three days. We were afraid they'd have a real emergency and discover the stuff was broken. We could have started much earlier and made it easy on ourselves. It was only a half dozen who had some idea what they were doing and were armed that gave us all the trouble. The rest never know what hit them." His head kept drooping as he spoke.

  "So, are you part of the new government?" Heather inquired.

  He jerked his head back up, surprised. "No. All eight of us agreed to sit out the first election. It hopefully establishes we aren't doing this just for personal power. After there is an election and a mayor and officials serve a term, then if any of us want to run that's fine. I'm an engineer. I have no desire to hold elective off
ice. A couple of the others might give it a go, later on."

  "So, to back up a little...what is the purpose of this call?" Heather asked. "Just to inform us you've had a successful revolution?"

  "We are hoping you'll recognize us," Harshaw said. "If you decide we shouldn't exist, we're pretty much screwed. We're realists about that. All this will have been for nothing. We'll need trade with you, more of it than in the past, just to feed our people and keep everything running.

  "A lot of us have been working towards this as a goal, for further down the road, but then we saw them getting set up for a second invasion attempt on you guys. We wanted no part of that. Not that we figured they stood any chance of actually overrunning you and winning. They were totally in denial about that. But we figured the collateral damage from your response might not leave much of Armstrong standing. Surely we deserve some credit for saving you the trouble," Harshaw reasoned.

  "I'd think so too," Heather agreed. "We were waiting for the invasion. When com was cut we thought that signaled it was beginning. If they had come down the highway towards us we had some nasty surprises waiting."

  "The com break wasn't directed at you," Harshaw explained. "We took all com down hard. Both the local net and connections to Earth and the rest of the moon. The point was to deny them the opportunity to issue orders and adjust to our actions. We were following a simple plan that would work without real time coordination, so it favored us. It wasn't possible to be selective, what with our resources and time constraints. Our people were actually starting repairs to com in just a couple hours, while the fighting was still going on."

  "So, now that you're connected again, have you called Earth and informed them that Armstrong is no longer under USNA control?" Heather asked.

  For the first time Harshaw looked amused. "To hell with them. As satisfying as it will be to inform them, they'll find out when we get around to it. You are the first call out we made. The Earthies are limited in projecting force to the moon, but you have overwhelming force on the moon. We're not idiots who don't realize it. We and the French exist at your pleasure. Even the Chinese recognized it or I don't think they would have withdrawn from the moon. It was far easier to withdraw than quietly live with fact they held it by your unspoken permission."

  "They are more than limited by circumstances to project power to the moon," Heather reminded him. "We are serious about the L1 limit, and if they cross the line on that declaration we shall actively enforce it by any means necessary. Even if that means removing their ability to make lunar capable vessels on the Earth's surface. Even if it means removing them entirely as a political entity."

  "We're counting on that," Harshaw admitted. "We didn't do this to provoke the Earth powers into testing you, but neither did we let it hold us back."

  "Let's dicker," Heather suggested. "Are you willing to entertain some concessions in order to get our recognition, and to pay for our umbrella of lunar protection that you used to your advantage, without bothering to consult with us?"

  Harshaw looked shocked. "I shouldn't have called you before I slept. I'm not sure I'm up to that level of negotiations. I didn't expect you to be so blunt in demanding anything from us right away."

  "You mean you expected me to frame it in all kinds of hypocritical diplomatic language about ideals and solidarity and humanitarian goals?" Heather asked.

  "Yeah, that's customary," Harshaw agreed. He rubbed his face wearily and looked distastefully at the hand that rubbed the dirty side. Apparently he had been unaware of it. "What do you want? Trade concessions? Border controls or extradition treaties? What's your price?"

  "We had several scientists defect to us from Armstrong rather than accept being shipped back to the Slum Ball. They are for the most part willing to continue their research, but hampered by a lack of equipment. I'll be quite up-front with you. We intended to seize those items from Armstrong after we defeated the anticipated invasion. I can't see how the equipment is particularly valuable to you without the researchers. They are the real treasure. So how about cooperating on restoring their needed devices to the scientists?" Heather requested.

  "Why not move the scientists back to the equipment?" Harshaw asked. "It seems much easier. They aren't in any danger of being sent back to Earth, now."

  "I'm not going to send them anywhere," Heather said. "They came here of their own free will and if they want to leave that's fine. We don't really have a big enough community to support a large body of research. We don't even have a university yet. But we're willing to shelter them if that's their wish. We are already anticipating one of them going to the French. You are welcome to invite them to return if you want. But I'd oppose any forced repatriation."

  "No, no, that's not my intent at all. We're not going to be like the USNA who regard talented people as commodities," he vowed. "But you don't know that, yet, and that is our origin, so I can't blame your distrust of our motives. I don't have any problem with reuniting the scientists and their facilities, either way. They can return, if it's their will, or we shall facilitate the removal of their equipment."

  "Do you have the authority to make such an agreement?" Heather asked.

  "Yes, I'm not a sovereign like you, but the entire committee agreed that they would all back whatever necessary agreements had to be made when we established contact with the outside again. It was by no means certain I'd be the one surviving to do so. We foresaw we would not be able to meet and work out every detail as a body. We are practical people, and realized there will be unforeseen changes and challenges. They are one of the prices of our independence and we knew there would be other prices than hardship and blood."

  "Very well, then you have yourselves a deal," She sat up and her entire demeanor and voice changed. "We shall acknowledge your right of self determination, recognize your government when elected, and remind any and all opposed of the L1 decree, should anyone make threats," Heather promised, counting them off on her fingers. "That is Our will and decree."

  Harshaw looked confused briefly at her change in manner, and then slowly got an amused smile. "That was the official and royal 'We' wasn't it?"

  "Yes," Heather agreed, back to her milder private voice.

  "That's the first time I've ever encountered it, except in a period video."

  "Then you should visit when matters are settled. We can have you to Our luncheon, and We can provide amusement and a memorable experience," Heather offered, teasing him. "But for now, We think you should go sleep. I predict that your call to North America will be less pleasant, and you'll need your wits about you speaking with them."

  "I find that excellent advice. Thank you," Harshaw said, and disconnected.

  "See? I couldn't have satisfied the man," Dakota said. "You needed to deal with him."

  "Not at all. I could have named you my Special Envoy for Lunar Affairs, without acknowledging their legitimacy as a nation by naming you an Ambassador to them specifically. I'd simply name you as my Voice within your field of interest, who could bind me to agreements as if I'd done so personally."

  Dakota looked stricken. "Don't you ever do that to me. I don't want that hanging over my head."

  "Some people would jump at the opportunity to wield such power," Heather told her.

  "Some people would juggle hand grenades as a hobby," Dakota said.

  "A poor simile," Heather said. "A grenade has a much smaller lethal radius than a government official in full plumage."

  Chapter 13

  "I'm afraid I advised you badly," Myat said from the com screen, with a serious expression.

  "Well, that's refreshing honesty," Huian said. "I can't think of anything we're committed to that's irreversible. Tell me about it and we'll see if we can't fix it."

  "It doesn't need reversed," Myat acknowledged, "to my relief. Neither your Mr. Singh nor his investors have gotten back to us about the ship, the VSHC12, so we are not committed to it. My metal broker friend contacted me again and said the Vietnamese company has three more mode
rn ships they must remove from service and all of them could be had for less than they were asking for the VSHC12.

  "He said they have a whole list of other assets they wish to liquidate, harbor tenders and harbor properties, warehousing and things like heavy trucks and supplies to maintain and refurbish such vessels. He is totally unwilling to buy even one vessel himself, because the market for metal has dropped so badly, and is still headed down. Indeed, he said if he were offered one free, the cost of fuel and crew wages to tow it to a breaking beach would deter him. He didn't say it outright...But he seemed apologetic for forwarding the previous offer."

  "Nothing lost since the vessel wasn't purchased," Huian said.

  "Except my reputation," Myat said ruefully. "And his with me a little bit. I'm trying to learn more about the industry instead of depending on my acquaintance as an expert, because I see his knowledge doesn't extend beyond the scrap metal part of it much. I'm just glad I didn't push the deal harder, and my funds didn't get sunk into it."

  "Sunk is not a propitious word to associate with a ship," Huian advised her. "I know the volume of trade is down. Is there enough trading in the local stock markets to assess the value of the company offering these vessels?"

  "It's a State Owned Company, not a public one. So it's hard to get reliable information about it."

  "Mr. Singh, Jeff, doesn't know much about Earth shipping either, but I know he asked a boat owner he deals with to find out more for him. A much smaller boat, a charter. But the fellow will know who to ask. I'll remind him of my interest and will share it when we know," Huian promised.