Luna

by Garon Whited

  She half-laughed, half-sobbed, “You can have anything you want, Max.”

  I held out my arms and she swarmed up against me like an affectionate boa constrictor. It hurt my injured side like a sharp jab with a hot poker, but I didn’t even flinch.

  “I want you to stay.”

  Sobbing can count as a reply.

  * * *

  The messhall didn’t seem at all ghostly with everybody in it. Not at all crowded, either, but at least it felt alive. To use a very personal comparison, it was like a transfusion of blood into dying man. I felt good about it. Most of them were in little clusters at the tables, talking and gesturing, speculating on everything and complaining to each other. The table with the pre-briefed people was noticeably quieter than the rest; they weren’t talking to anybody. Instead, they were watching everybody.

  I kept myself near the north corridor access door and refused to answer questions. Galena and Kathy were at the other two doors, while the rest of—well, the “citizens” I suppose you’d call us—were seated on the stage, waiting for Captain Carl. Kiska saw me and waved; I blew her a kiss. Svetlana smiled at me and blew me a kiss; I waved back. I thought Kiska looked nervous, but I wasn’t sure why. With all the new people around, she would never have to be alone. Maybe it was just being around a lot of strangers. Probably that.

  The hubbub rose perceptibly when Captain Carl came through Kathy’s door. He was in dress whites, complete with hat; I have no idea how he managed that. He took off the hat when he came into the room. He looked the part of Captain. Square jaw, grey at the temples, set expression, and eyes both keen and clear. Heck, he could have run for President. I’d have voted for him.

  Not that he needed to. He had more authority and responsibility as it was.

  As the Captain came into the room I shouted, “Attention on deck!” I shouldn’t have; my side complained about it. Maybe a dozen people, citizens included, sprang to their feet. Sara and Svetlana weren’t as fast, but they got up when they saw others rise. Captain Carl pretended not to notice, but I was mentally noting the people at attention as either former military or exceptionally savvy. I was pleased to note Peng and Chang stood up about the same time Sara and Svetlana did.

  Captain Carl handed his hat to Anne and stood behind the podium.

  “Be seated.” Everyone standing did so, except for Kathy, Galena, and I; we stayed at our posts.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I am Captain Carl Hughes of the naval branch of the military of the North American Federation of States, commanding officer of this installation. Welcome aboard. Allow me to introduce my staff. Over there is Commander Katherine Edwards—” he had warned us that we would be adopting equivalent Navy ranks, just to simplify things; an Air Force short colonel and a Navy commander are both O-5’s, the same rank. “—my Executive Officer and pilot of the Luna shuttle. Over there is Lieutenant Commander Maxwell Hardy, my chief of operations and engineer; most of you may know him as the gentleman who was shot during your rescue. How are you feeling, Maxwell?”

  “Considerably more profane, sir!”

  He blinked at me. “Profane?” he repeated.

  “Not nearly so close to being an angel, and not at all holey, sir!” This got a small chuckle from the room and Captain Carl smiled at me. I can’t help it; I’m a comedian at heart. I make no claims about the quality of my humor, though.

  “I’m certain everyone is glad to hear it.” He went on to introduce the rest of us in decreasing order of rank, then surprised me by including Galena. “And by that door is our latest citizen of Luna, Ensign Galena Mishenkova, formerly of the United Soviet States.”

  He went on to surprise me further by introducing the rest of the Tchekalinsky Station people. (I have got to stop sleeping through briefings! Well, I’d been sick.) Sara, Svetlana, and Kiska were introduced as petty officers, first class—or an enlisted ranking of E-6. Considering the conditions and their personal specialties, I guess it made a sort of sense to put them into the Table of Organization. I don’t know that I’d have made them petty officers, but I’m sure the Captain had his reasons—maybe he was going to put people under them. Each of them stood up as their names were called, then sat down again when he was done. Kiska looked frightened—she was white-faced and trembling—but she did it with Sara’s hand clenched tight in her own.

  Captain Carl went on. “I’m pleased to say that our more recent additions to our complement were once rescued from a dying space station; they elected to remain here.

  “Introductions completed, now let me apologize for the inconveniences you may have suffered up to this point; we have done what we could to make you as comfortable as possible—”

  Someone interrupted with a shout. “So when can we go home?”

  Captain Carl paused for a moment and pinned the speaker with a look that should have frozen the man solid. I just tried to keep my own expression neutral; I wanted to jerk the guy out of his shoes and explain that you don’t interrupt the Captain.

  “If I may request the courtesy of quiet attention, I will come to that and to other points that have been raised,” he said, voice mild. “Now, to continue.

  “The habitat station is, at present, not fit for residence. It is believed that we can restore it to proper function in a matter of months. Until then, you may consider yourselves guests of Luna Base.”

  “We’re going to be stuck in this rathole for months?” the same guy demanded. It wasn’t Andrews. I didn’t know the guy’s name, but I resolved to find out.

  Captain Carl glanced at me. “Master-at-arms!”

  “Sir!” I replied, and saluted. I hadn’t been aware I was master-at-arms; that’s normally the job of a chief or a senior petty officer. I guess he meant it in a Robert’s Rules of Order sense. I wasn’t feeling up to it, but Kathy gave me a look. I’d be the intimidating one; she’d do the work.

  “If there is another such outburst, remove the offender and confine him or her to the brig, using whatever level of force you deem necessary. This is the warning; there will not be another.”

  “Sir, Yes, Sir!” I looked at the loudmouth and cracked my knuckles. I tried to look like I was spoiling for a fight; it wasn’t that hard. The room noise swelled with a murmur, but it was all whispering and low voices. The Captain gave them a few seconds, then continued.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the situation is not as you seem to believe. The rescue effort that evacuated your habitat originated here. It was carried out solely by the personnel of Luna Base, on my orders. Earth sent no rescue ship, no instructions, and no help.”

  The room noise resumed as people whispered to each other excitedly.

  “The reasons for this will become clear in a moment. Since there is no point in asking questions until you know more, let me explain the situation as directly as possible.” He touched a control and the lights dimmed. A projector threw a computer image on one wall.

  “A simulation of the Earth, ladies and gentlemen, as it was some weeks ago. This was how it looked just before your habitat station lost power.” He clicked the control and a dotted line—a missile track—sprang into being, coming around the horizon, moving slowly. “Approximately thirty minutes before station power was lost, some nation, at present unknown, launched a nuclear strike.” The single track was joined by another, then by six, then a dozen more… back and forth, the lines rapidly started to criss-cross the globe. “Retaliation strikes were launched. The actual number of missiles is not known at this time. What is known is the result.”

  Where the dotted lines reached down and touched, bright lights bloomed, mushroomed, and rolled into a pall. I felt ill. I knew the movie; we came in about that point. It wasn’t improved by an introduction.

  “The Earth is now covered in a thick blanket of dust and vapor. All of the major cities of the globe are craters. What few people have survived the first strike have been devastated by biological weaponry and radioactive fallout. Between nuclear holocaust and deadly plagues, we have managed to rende
r our home planet unfit for human life.”

  A thunderbolt icon appeared in orbit, pulsing a blood-red color. The orbital weapons platform.

  “This is a robotic or drone satellite. We believe it is armed with one-kiloton tactical nuclear missiles and at least one space-to-surface laser. It fires on any ground-based transmission. We believe that it or others like it have successfully destroyed most military installations that tried to establish radio contact with each other after the initial exchange. Plans are in train to shoot down that satellite and prevent it from inflicting any more harm.

  “However, radio traffic from the Earth is suicidal. We can send all we like, but only a fool will transmit in return. That satellite will kill the sender. Once we have destroyed that weapons platform, we will broadcast a planet-wide announcement of that fact and see if there are any organized remnants of our species. We are guardedly optimistic. In the meantime, we are continuing to look for other such satellites.”

  The image on the wall was a dark-clouded globe, hellfire glowing at its heart, with a pulsing thunderbolt looming over it. There was a profound silence in the room.

  Captain Carl touched the control and the lights came back up. The image stayed on the wall, ghostly, almost invisible, but present—hanging there like some awful spirit, gloating at us.

  “As a courtesy to you, our neighbors, the citizens of Luna have gone out and fetched you back at great personal risk and not-inconsiderable cost. We welcome you as our guests until, as a further courtesy to those in need, we manage to salvage your habitat. Those of you who wish to apply for citizenship on Luna are free to do so. You will find applications are available through your room computer terminal.”

  He drew out a palm computer and tapped the screen. Everyone was staring at him, eyes slightly glazed in shock. I wondered if we had looked like that. Probably.

  “Now, to address some of the complaints already filed with my office,” the Captain continued.

  “First, the food is not subject to debate. Rationing in a closed system is not merely required, but necessary. Moreover, the type and nature of the food is an unpleasant reality: vat-grown or reconstituted foods are the only options on this planet at present. Our hydroponics section is being brought up to speed to reflect the new population requirements, but it will be at least a month before we have fresh vegetables in any quantity. Please be patient.

  “Second, accommodations. We are allowing you to remain on our soil in the best accommodations possible to your numbers. We have shown no favoritism, nor treated any of you with more or less respect than your fellows. There will be no preferential treatment of any of you, our guests.

  “Third, money. You are refugees. No matter who you were or what you owned on Earth, you are paupers—as are we all. There is no currency on Luna at present; there are no finances, no stocks, no bonds, no securities. You have nothing of value aside from your knowledge, your skills, and the labor your own two hands can perform. You cannot purchase anything with resources based on Earth—Swiss gold glows in the dark and electronic money has vanished. Please cease attempts to bribe myself and my officers; that is considered rude at best. Persistent attempts will be treated as a crime.

  “Fourth, communications. We will not send any message to Earth except a warning, cautioning any listeners not to transmit. To do otherwise is an unacceptable risk for any survivors that may yet remain.” He closed the palmtop and put it in a pocket. He looked around the room, making strong eye contact all around.

  “Let us be frank,” he said, softly. “Those of us fortunate enough to be in orbit when our race died may well be the only examples of mankind left. Look around you. Meet the human race.” There was a faint stirring, one sob. “Some of you are going to demand to see with your own eyes,” he went on. “As time allows, you may make use of our telescopes to look at the Earth, at the attack satellite, or any other object you please. If you insist, qualified personnel will assist you with fitting a space suit and escort you to the surface for a bare-eyes look.

  “Others of you may feel that you cannot deal with this situation. I encourage all of you to spend time together, discussing your feelings on the matter at hand and to help each other through this trying time.

  “That concludes my prepared presentation. If we can maintain an orderly manner, I will now entertain questions. Please raise your hand and wait to be recognized.”

  Nobody moved for nearly a minute. Peng started to raise his hand, hesitated, then stuck it high in the air.

  Captain Carl pointed at him. “You, at table nine.”

  “Captain, sir? I don’t… I’m probably not… well… Sir, I don’t really want to go back to the habitat. I spent enough time on it trying to stay alive and keep everyone else on it alive. It doesn’t have many good memories for me.”

  “What’s your question, young man?”

  “Sir… what do I do to stay here?”

  “That’s more properly a question we should address to our medical and immigration control officer, Lieutenant Annette Fleming. But, in brief, the terminal in your quarters should have access to a questionnaire and résumé. Fill out the questionnaire and submit a résumé of your previous employment, education, accomplishments, and skills. That, combined with a thorough medical examination will determine whether or not you will be allowed to become either a permanent resident or a citizen of Luna.”

  A woman held up her hand. Captain Carl nodded to her.

  “Captain, I trust you realize the illegal nature of your actions? I was a lawyer before I retired to the Liwei Habitat; your presumption in creating a sovereign state in international territory is in clear violation of the Outer Space Treaty of 1967. It says in part, and I quote, ‘Outer space, including the moon and other celestial bodies, is not subject to national appropriation by claim of sovereignty.’ Therefore, the Federation cannot found a sovereign state on Lunar soil. You have no real authority to issue private citizens any orders whatsoever.”

  Captain Carl looked tired for a moment.

  “Madam, I am fully aware of the legal status of my actions. In rebuttal to your argument, I must make several points. Please pay close attention.

  “First, I did not call for argument; I called for questions. Since, as a lawyer, you should appreciate the technicality, you will understand when I declare this question-and-answer session closed because of your abuse of my hospitality. Anyone who finds that unfair is invited to argue the point—with you, madam, not with me. They can no longer ask questions because of you.

  “Which brings me to my second point: responsibility. If you want to be technical, you may look up the specifications for martial law—government by military power—and see if it has any provisions for extraterrestrial occasions. In the meantime, madam, remember that we are under martial law and that I am a commanding officer operating out of communication with higher authority—and therefore have all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities appertaining thereunto.

  “And last, I don’t give a damn about the legality of my actions in some court that is now a radioactive hole in the ground. The nations that signed that treaty have vanished in fiery holocaust; it is no longer relevant. I, however, have most of the Uniform Code of Military Justice in my head and a computer copy in my office; that’s all that concerns me as far as legality goes. If you have a problem with that, you are quite welcome to go to Earth and make an appeal to whatever court you can find. Failing that, please feel free to follow along with all the rest of the lawyers down there and inquire in Hell.

  “That will be all. Thank you for coming. This meeting is adjourned.”

  Captain Carl held out his hand and Anne put his hat in it. I shouted, “Attention on deck!” again, ignoring the dull ache in my side and drowning out an irate reply from what’s-her-name. Quite a number of people stood up and a few of those saluted while Captain Carl marched out.

  The door closed behind him and the babbling started. A very few people broke down into tears; it’s different being told
as opposed to watching it. It takes imagination to really understand the implications when you’re simply told. Most of the people seemed more interested in re-hashing what Captain Carl said and arguing about whether or not he could do that. A few were calling for the formation of a civilian government, but they weren’t making much headway—these weren’t a bunch of revolutionaries. A lot of people were approaching us, the citizens, with questions—lots of questions.

  “How will we fix the station?”

  “How many more survivors are there?”

  “What sort of skills do you need here?”

  “I want to go home!”

  “What about my pension?”

  “Can I stay?”

  “When can I use the telescope?”

  “Who will take me up on the surface?”

  “I demand to call my daughter!”

  “What are you intending to do about this?”

  Out of a dozen people crowding me and quizzing at the top of their voices, I noticed that last one.

  “Hold it. Hold it!” I snapped. “Quiet down!” They kept jabbering at me, questioning, demanding, insisting.

  “SILENCE!” I shouted, loud enough to reverberate from every wall. I felt a sharp, agonizing stab as I shouted; I pressed a hand to the spot and paused for a moment, gasping. I shouldn’t have been quite so loud.

  The whole room quieted down. People—everyone—turned to stare at me, wide-eyed.

  “You,” I said, as I straightened up and pointed. “You asked a question. Repeat it!”

  The man was older, easily in his eighties, and had that smug, self-satisfied look that made me think of some of the know-it-alls I’ve met. He didn’t seem to mind that I singled him out; on the contrary, he seemed highly pleased.

  “I asked what you are intending to do about this, young man!”

  I nodded. “Right. What am I going to do about this. Excellent question. Really pellucid and well-conceived. Listen very closely, people! You seem to have missed the Captain’s point entirely. I’m going to say this once, directly and simply, without any diplomatic farting around. If you can’t grasp it, that’s your lookout.” I kept my hand firmly against my abdomen; the sting hadn’t gone away. It felt like I might have started some bleeding. It would have to wait.