MICAH
Scott James Thomas
Smashwords Edition, August 2010
Copyright 2010 by Scott James Thomas
Discover all the Darkmatter Trilogy books at Smashwords.com:
Book 1: MINDWEB http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/11209
Book 2: MICAH http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/11210
Book 3: DARKMATTER http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/11211
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MICAH – BOOK TWO
PART ONE
LANDING
The first of the C-20's approached the bright silvery-gray lunar surface at a latitude of forty-five degrees north of the lunar equator and at a longitude such that the Earth permanently rested just under the horizon.
Daniel Tirisfal, one of the twelve passengers of the C-20, had trouble focusing—his mind was torn between what he was doing and where he was. The C-20, named Whistler, had been flung by the society to a place of solitude—like a small stone being cast into a forbidding and dark abyss, the ripples of which were sweeping over Earth and humanity. He felt the tingle of awe at making such a mark, of actually arriving at the moon. The lunar landing spot did not seem so terribly far from home, only five hours from Katerin, but right here, right now, he seemed like he had been reborn to another dimension. He blinked, tried to focus, to change his point of view in hope that his mind would better comprehend the landscape and his position within it.
The society did not look at this voyage as the first departing, but instead as the first arriving. The Whistler was arriving at a home it had not been to before, a home that did not yet exist except in the minds of the anxious society that had cast it into the void.
After the takeoff, and during the trip up through the atmosphere, the quiet and constant thrust of the meson drives made the trip seem nearly boring, if it weren’t for every anxiety filled second. For five hours they watched the Earth shrink and the moon enlarge, while checking the pressure monitor and engine performance. But somewhere around the half way mark, when the Whistler flipped end for end, so did their thoughts, as the approaching moon and the landing ahead of them began to drill into their minds.
“Sixty seconds,” a voice sounded in his head and Daniel breathed deeply and looked through the monitors at the approaching surface. For a moment it seemed so clear, the inevitability of what was happening, the fateful accumulation of his entire life. The voice was his PC but it was only a relay of information. The message was reminder that it was the Central Computer who had brought them to this point in time. In the thousands of minds of the society they could see many flights to the moon in the near future, it was their communal will, it was their destiny, but they had no delusion—they knew that mostly it was their computer.
The arrival of the Whistler on the gray lunar surface was a milestone in a great endeavor, one small task within a grand scheme that consumed them. The Central Computer had orchestrated the labors, indeed the very thoughts, of the engineers and physicists who had taken it upon themselves to seriously consider the incredible. What the humans could not do, the Central Computer could—what seemed out of reach, the computer put within their grasp. Thousands upon thousands of details were choreographed by the computer for the thousands of humans to struggle with and to solve.
“Thirty seconds,” Daniel’s PC sounded.
He could see exactly where they were going to land, it was only a few meters below his feet. Away from the mountains, the flat plains would be the birthplace of the new settlement. The site had been thoughtfully chosen by many interested scientists in the society, not only to be located on the far-side, but to provide the right terrain to start the settlement. It had to have plenty of wide open and flat plains for landing ships and placing surface buildings, but it also had to be near firm rocky mountains where adit openings could be placed. The future lunar community might start out on the surface but everyone knew that eventually the lunar settlement had to go subterranean for the long term, where there was protection from the constant threat of meteorites and less chance of sudden decompression.
Earth was out of sight and always would be. Many thought their new home should be placed so the Earth was in perpetual noontime position, which would have improved the lighting of the site for a couple weeks at a time. However, others wanted the new city out of sight of the Earth, either for security or so that the view of the lunar landscape from Earth should not be disturbed. Where he was, was the result of the debate, and the citizens of the future Luna1 City would not be able to look down upon Earth without traveling a few hundred kilometers. The Central Computer had assured him that it was an acceptable compromise, but he contemplated the extent at which the Central Computer quietly choreographed the discussion, leading and guiding in subtle ways that were hard to notice.
“Fifteen seconds.”
Daniel held his breath as the rocks grew underneath him. The Whistler could have made the first trip to the moon and back on its own as a test—however, there was little concern for the safety of the first crew. The Central Computer had been deeply involved in every aspect of the ship’s design and construction—he had been convinced that every weakness had been identified and eliminated. Potential problems with the craft’s integrity, navigation or landing, were easily dismissed. A timid start was not deemed necessary so, without hesitation, the crew quarters were full and the cargo bay of the Whistler was stuffed full of equipment that had been selected to take the first step to building the first extraterrestrial city.
The voyage from Katrin had been easy, it had been full of quiet contemplation. What few concerns for danger that lingered, dwelled mostly in the minds of the twelve occupants who had chosen to occupy the craft in its first significant voyage. At launch his concern focused on the operation of the Whistler’s computer, whose experience amounted to training simulations and the single subsequent trial flight. However, the fear was cast without concern into the dark invisible space, as the Whistler’s near-sentient computer worked flawlessly and navigated the C-20 from the island womb to the lunar plains. Now he once again could feel the fear, the tingle of anxiety as the Whistler approached gray surface to within five meters. Its ten powerful meson-propulsion belly thrusters kicked up an almost invisible spray of lunar dust that was thrown in all directions, to simply fall to the ground in the near vacuum of the lunar atmosphere as the tiny particles followed then finished their simple parabolic trajectories back to mother moon.
“Five seconds.”
The Whistler did not have any real windows but several high-resolution monitors strategically placed on the cockpit walls, ceiling and floor showed Daniel a better view of their surroundings than any conventional aircraft could manage. From inside the large pressurized cabin, Daniel looked downward at the floor monitors to see the gray lunar surface take on more detailed texture with brown and tan colors creeping in as the craft slowly lowered straight down. An odd but much anticipated gentle bump occurred then the silent blue glow of the Whistlers’ engines died to black as the craft settled on its landing wheels, to rest firmly on the soft dusty surface. He exhaled and inhaled deeply, and then whispered a note of thanks to the Central Computer.
Daniel Tirisfal surveyed the control panel and monitors but it did not tell him anything he did not already know through the silent communication the Whistler had with his PC, through the ever-present Central Computer. He had no reason to think that the Whistler would have any difficulty in lifting through the light gravitational field when asked to do so. The Whistler had landed perfectly and one set of worries was now behind him. Eventually he would have to inspect the Whistler, he would squeeze in to the narrow passageways inside the Whistlers belly to perform a thorough internal inspection and later an external one for any sign of damage or strain to the craft’s components.
Daniel silently studied the images of his new surroundings that had partially encompassed him. It was about how he expected it to look, gray and lifeless in the extreme—and exciting. Above him was cold and black infinity, he was surrounded in a new universe. Three years ago he did not seriously consider that anyone was going to go to the moon in his lifetime apart from the long gone Apollo project of NASA’s, and the thought that he himself would be on the moon was just silly childish dream. His previous life, as he called it, revolved around a job as an electronic engineer with a large corporation. He only had the job a few months out of school, and it had quickly become a fight for survival in the political arena of the office place. His recreational immersions in the space sciences had led him to the Mantis society, where there were others he could talk to and dream of childish dreams. Four months later he made a secret decision that had changed his life forever. He was not put in the big Bit-Epsilon building where the mighty Protani was, but instead took a position at one of the society’s smaller companies, designing space ships and now here he was, the captain, or as close to captain as the society had, of the first spaceship to the moon. What his life would have been like, what he would have missed out on if he had said ‘no’ three years ago, made shivers run up his back. Looking out to where he now was, the thought going through Daniel’s mind was echoed among all those on the Whistler, ‘Oh my God, I’m really on the moon.’ It was more than the moon he saw, it was all that was, all that would be. The mighty future of the society seemed to be laid out before him in the dust, griping his heart. He felt overwhelming pride in seeing that there seemed to be no bounds to what the society could accomplish. It almost felt like the hand of God was guiding the society’s fate to be more grandiose than possible.
In time Daniel turned from the monitor to see his fellow crew, eleven men and women all dressed in their space suits, who had also been following the ships progress through their PC’s and the viewing monitors that were located around the crew cabin. Each of them was as keenly aware of the ships status, and they too felt the ease at which it gracefully carried them to their immediate destination.
The array of humans grinned as they received silent congratulations and contemplated their achievement. They were starting to rise from their restraints and unlatch the head covers of their suits and chat among themselves, all the while maintaining an eye on the monitors showing the silvery grayness around them.
Neither Daniel nor anyone else sounded out orders since, as in all of the society, there was no hierarchical command on the Whistler. Although his seat was the seat closest to the forward monitors, he would not have considered telling the others their jobs, they already knew what to do, Daniel simply watched them. In the three years of his new life he had gone far, he had become a leader, but not of fellow society members. Within the society all were equal. Any of those before him could have issued emergency commands to the Whistler’s computer if required to do so, anyone in the society could have. There was not that much different between his training and that of his crewmates, the only difference was Daniel had studied the ships construction and assembly closely and studied how to recognize mistakes the ship's computer might make. In reality, any of the others on the ship would be perfectly capable of informing the ship’s computer of variances, but he would have a slightly better chance if something went wrong. Nothing had.
Those on the Whistler were the lucky ones, many had requested to be on the initial landing but only twelve were chosen. They were not chosen on their employment start date, but simply on who would have the best chance of succeeding, a choice that he suspected was heavily influenced by the Central Computer’s opinion.
Looking at the others, Daniel could feel a comfort sweep over him, everything was going to be all right, naturally. Despite where they were, all twelve of them had spent three long weeks training for the mission, they knew what to do. They were not alone, help with any unforeseen predicament was only a thought away. Through the network, many of their fellow scientists on Earth, as well as the Central Computer, were monitoring their activity, waiting for a chance to assist. The network also added the pressure to perform well, they knew hundreds of fellow society members back on Earth would be following their progress in interest and in minute detail.
The chair released him and as he stood he unlatched his helmet. He turned and watched as rest of the crew stood, removed their helmets, displayed broad grins, did small jumps and were gleefully getting used to the low gravity environment. Due to the constant acceleration provided by the Whistler’s main engines throughout the length of the voyage, none of them had been able to experience zero-G or had gotten sick beyond a mild queasy feeling that had not lasted long. The room was full of chatter from the excitement.
John Fielding, who had just removed his own helmet, found Daniel and grinned from the other side of the room, and spoke through the silent network, “Well Captain, I see you’ve managed to at least hit the moon. Good thing it’s nice and big.”
Daniel was seldom referred to as Captain, and then only in jest—he was used to the friendly chastising of his hollow make-believe rank. “Mind yer manners ye scurvy dog or I’ll see ya keel hauled,” Daniel silently replied with a twisted smile.
Daniel exchanged a knowing grin with John then followed his two work companions out of the seating area. The jovial atmosphere was insufficient to cause any delay. How could it, he thought, all his life he had been living for this moment. For the remainder of the crew who would be waiting within the Whistler, the next few hours, despite the smiles, would be tinted in envy of the first shift.
Daniel was proud to be part of the trio that would first step foot in the dust. While others wiggled from their suits and wondered over to the central eating room, which was the single largest room inside the craft and served as a general meeting area, Daniel put his helmet back on and made sure it was secure.
The entirety of the Whistler’s human cargo consisted of the construction crew and the construction crew was divided into four shifts, each shift trying to sleep in their proper time slots for their assigned work period. They schedule was six hours on, eighteen off, with an hour break in the middle of the six hour work shift, which was long enough to get out the suit and relax a bit, if they could. Recreational strolls about the surface were not in the schedule, at least not right away, now was the time for patience and rest. It would only take three days to complete their mission and so far everything was going according to plan, but then they had just landed.
Daniel knew the conversation in the Whistler’s eating room would be lively, all were in good spirits as they reveled in the images the numerous monitors reminded them where they were, how special they had become. In time they would settle down to a game of cards, have their fill of microwave dinners a small robot would prepare for them, then drift off to their bunks. Even in their bunks they would have portable viewers to scan the surroundings by switching between the exterior cameras on the Whistler. Even in their quiet darkness, their PC’s were always there to remind them where and who they were.
While the others on the ship were attempting to settle in, Daniel and the other two men of the first work shift headed to the cargo bay air lock. The three men stood in the airlock, and as the air was sucked out from around them, they could feel their suits expand and stiffen. They looked at each other with a shared sense of exasperation, worry and excitement, too much emotion for words filled them as they watched the green bar in the airlock’s chamber slide from view to be replaced with red. They had been decompressed many times before, but always in preparation for this decompression. Sweat of anticipation began to form on their brow as the suits creaked and stretched. The power and air supply systems they carried fit snugly on their back and around their waist, all of which showed normal functioning. They bent their arms, the joints moved freely in the constant volume suits. They each moved their legs in cautious experimentation, all was in proper order. As soon as the last drop of green disappeared from the pressure indicator, the outer airlock door slid open, the airless cargo bay of the C-20 was laid out before them, they were in outer space!
The top of the cargo bay had already opened, the harsh unfiltered sun beat down onto the cargo. The bay was filled to the rim with robots, lighting equipment, tanks, hoses, cables, plastic cargo crates, and three small golf-cart sized buggies. The three men looked at the wall of strapped tighter cargo, and took a collective sigh. The bay looked like an overstuffed storage closet that would have its various contents tumble out as soon as a door was opened, except that everything in the bay was securely fastened with hundreds of straps. Several visible robots were part of the mass of objects, most being small 100K models. Buried within the mass of equipment were two larger 2T models and one giant sturdy 10T model. This last robot was a quadruped beast with four powerful arms. It stood nearly five meters tall in a normal upright posture and was a picture of strength, if not agility. Despite its size, it was lost from view amongst the stacks of plastic cargo containers and other items. The numerous strapped in robots had turned on their lights and were looking around their cluttered surroundings in which they were imbedded.
Further back in the cargo bay, hidden by tons of tubes, tanks, robots, and other items, was the main drilling equipment they would be using, a large drill rig and the accompanying stack of fat drilling rods, each being sixty centimeters in diameter. The drill rig was in two parts, a low and wide massive six-legged spider-like crawler machine that served as a mobile platform for the actual drill rig. The massive crawler measured six meters in length and about four in width but was only about a meter high. The upper part of the robotic drill rig was the actual mast and motor to do the drilling. The two parts were too large to fit in the cargo bay attached together and so the top and bottom components had been packed separately. Also out of view of the three humans was a large hydraulic crane mounted to the side of the expansive cargo bay; the crane was the only way to move the large drill rig out of the Whistler.
A single hatchway on one side of the cargo bay was the only exit from the ship directly to the lunar surface. John Fielding slid along the side of the bay in a narrow gap between the bulkhead and the mountain of equipment, and carefully squeezed his way to the main hatchway on the side of the C-20. The hatch was three-meters wide and once John saw it was clear, his PC relayed the information to the Whistler, via the Central Computer. The two other men, Daniel and Don Samson also made their way through the narrow gap between bulkhead and mounded equipment, and stood beside John as the ship’s computer slid open the wide door.
The three humans lined up along the threshold of the door to look out upon their surroundings in silence. Before them was the bleak gray landscape that held the promise of the society’s future. The sun was to one side, casting shadows that accentuated the details in the lunar surface, the small craters on the flat plain and the cracks and boulders of the distant mountains. The only disturbance they saw was on the ground around the ship, where it had been streaked with small ripples by what little particle exhaust the meson drives made. Small craters, testimony to the bombardment of the surface by meteorites of various sizes, sprinkled the area but nothing so big as to disturb the construction was visible. The three men knew the whole society was sharing the sights and much of the feeling that came rushing into their minds. It had taken years of labor, uncertainty and sacrifice, giving up old lives to embrace the unknown and the dreams. To have the sight before them was a grand and hard won reward.
Don produced a tiny video camera and started to capture the scene. This was not needed since the Whistler’s cameras were recording and transmitting their images to Earth, but somehow it seemed appropriate.
John gathered his emotions and lowered a small ladder to the ground below and stepped out onto it. He quickly traversed the ladders five steps and before taking the last step onto the surface, he paused and said, “One tiny step for civilization,” then he stepped onto the dust-covered surface.
Daniel followed John to the surface. The landscape seemed delicate, fragile. It was all so pristine and perfect; the way nature intended it to be, that was what made it also appear fragile. He could feel the pristineness melt into footsteps under his feet. He had a desire to feel the moon, it seemed to call to him, fighting his sense that the moon was about to loose its innocence. He fell to his knees in the light gravity. As a lost sailor who had finally arrived at a long dreamt landfall, he placed his hands on the loose lunar soil. He dug in with his fingers and lifted a handful. The sunlight reflected off the dirt as it fell, the moonlight reflecting to his eyes. The shimmering light held his gaze till all the soil had slipped through his fingers. He composed himself, breathed in deeply from his oxygen scrubber and spoke with conviction, “And this time we’re not just visiting, were staying.”
“What? I thought this was only to take three days?” Don said casually still recording the lunar scene, having momentarily pointed the camera towards Daniel wallowing in the dust.
The two other men beside Daniel and took in their surroundings, the massive Whistler, the open plains, and distant mountains. “Wow,” Daniel said while looking down at the handprints he was making. “I can hardly believe it. I’m on the moon!”
“And already messing it up I might add,” Don said capturing the fresh footprints in his camera.
Inside the spacecraft and on Earth, everyone watched the three men on the moon through the images sent by the Whistler. Don started to traverse the ship, panning the camera around trying to capture the desolation all around.
“What a view, the shades of gray with tints of brown,” John exclaimed walking a few meters looking at the distant mountains.
Daniel stood and with John followed behind Don and tried to stay out of camera view as they walked around, surveying the landscape around the ship.
“Well, this site seems to be ok, no surprises. Just a bunch of footprints messing up the natural beauty,” Daniel said.
“I second that,” John replied.
“I’ll make it three so you won’t have to move the ship Daniel,” Don said still panning the camera around.
“Of course not, it only takes one try to be perfect,” Daniel replied while gazing out into his surroundings, “I can see it all now, the crane goes there, about a hundred meters away,” he said while pointing in a vague direction in front of the C-20. He shifted his arm to point to a distant flat area closer to the mountains, “The modules over there. And the cyclotron way out there,” he said spinning around to face out towards the distant center of the lunar valley. “The foundry and industrial complex right over there by that pile of dirt. It’s all here.” He sighed while continuing to scan the lunar city in his mind. He knew hundreds of other people were also envisioning the future city to greater or lesser degrees of detail, the vision as in all their minds while its physical being was being built in the vast bowels of Katerin by their machines. It was really going to happen, he could feel it down deep in his bones. The Central Computer was going to make it happen.
With anxiety filling their hearts, Don finally put down his camera and the three men returned to the white C-20. The side door to the cargo bay was operated by the Whistler’s computer, but the ramp to the lunar surface was not integrated into the spacecraft. The ramp would have weighed a ton on Earth, but with the advantage of the low gravity the three men fixed it in place.
The planning team of the future city of Luna1 had outlined an aggressive series of steps toward creating the city. The first step was to build an unloading facility for the society’s powerful fleet of C-20 craft, and then the ramps would not be required. The large unloading facility was designed to handle several shipments each day and more than one ship at a time. It was the Whistlers job to set the corner stone, or more accurately corner posts, of that unloading facility. It would be a spider web of steel beams, a series of three large connected arches under which C-20 vehicles could roll. A set of six overhead cranes would then lift out cargo and deposit it to either side of the C-20s being unloaded. The facility would stand on thirty-two sturdy legs, each footed into the lunar rock. The Whistler’s crew was there to dig holes for the thirty-two foundations. It did not seem very glamorous, but to the crew of the Whistler it was the most important job of their lives. They were laying the cornerstone to the society’s new home.
With the ramp in place, the three men immediately went to work removing securing straps from the first of the robots then more straps that began to free the aggregation of equipment. As the men unfastened the restraints, the robots were called to remove hoses and small tanks as they became available, to place them on the dusty ground outside. The two 2T robots carried the heavy pallets while the 100K robots worked with the smaller items. The robots were neither slow nor sluggish, but instead were quick and nimble, able to scoot around each other without slowing down on their numerous trips to and from the cargo bay. As the robots labored, the amorphous mass of cargo began to be transformed into neat orderly rows outside the ship. When it was the 10T robot’s turn to leave the cargo bay, it had to carefully bend down as low as it could manage and slipped through the door and out to the lunar surface.
The bay was about half empty when Daniel paused to scan the equipment spread out on the ground, the hoses, steel pipes, and buggies. Much of which they would not be needing, some was for later crews and some was brought just incase it was needed. He watched a 100K robot nimbly stride over and pick up a piece of equipment he knew to be a radar system. After a brief query his PC informed him that a team of engineers on Earth had commanded the robot to begin running a small ground-penetrating radar over the future construction site. Watching the robot begin a regular series of traverses where the legs of the unloading structure would be placed, Daniel briefly wondered if humans were required at all. The dry lunar soil offered excellent signal penetration, allowing the radar to detect buried boulders and the bottom of the dirt covered plain to a depth of a hundred meters. He knew that the Whistler’s cameras were tracking the small robot’s position and the data were relayed real time back to Earth where a team of engineers examined the resulting images, looking for the thickness of the unconsolidated surface material, comparing it with the expected depth. He turned from the busy robot and back towards the Whistler’s cargo bay where the other two men were still freeing equipment.
The unloading of cargo proceeded until all that was left was a large tank of dedust, which was not meant to be removed from the ship, and other items that were too large for the doorway, including two large “safe-houses” and the drill rig. Dedust was a mixture of a thin hydrocarbon base and polyurethane, which was designed to reduce the lunar dust in areas of high activity. The dedust just had to be sprayed onto the ground, where it would soak in and congeal in the vacuum to form a strong and flexible bond that would not crumble under heavy traffic. With the bulk of the cargo bay emptied, three of the 100K robots were instructed to use portable bottles of dedust and spray the dry ground around the Whistler. It would take much more dedust than they brought to do the job well but a perfectly dust free environment was not required, the dry lunar dust was anticipated and planned for in all respects. The pressure suits and equipment were designed to be immune to the dust that tended to cling to everything.
John made sure the tall hydraulic crane mounted in the bay was in working order then swung it over the lower part of the six-legged crawler. The crane’s hook was attached to the crawlers hoisting cable along with two guide ropes. With John operating the crane and Daniel and Don controlling its spin with the ropes, the crawler was lifted out of the cargo bay, swung away from the Whistler and lowered onto its six feet into the dust. The same procedure was repeated with the drill rig but this time the destination was on top of the crawler they had just deposited. The drill rig easily slid into place on the crawler and automatic clamps were engaged as were power and communication connectors. The crawler was activated and instructed to move a short distance from the Whistler. Two safe houses were also lifted out via the crane and the 10T robot was instructed to drag them to strategically located positions.
The safe houses were small, portable, well lit buildings, about a meter and a half wide and three meters long. They looked like oversized out houses but sported a single double-door air lock, an internal air supply, first aid and some basic suit repair equipment. The safe houses simply provided the surface crew with someplace to run towards incase the integrity of a pressure suit was compromised, a feature that they considered extremely important.
The last pieces of equipment in the Whistlers cargo bay were ten-meter lengths of auger and sixty-centimeter diameter casings, which were carried out by the 10T robot whose main task was to handle the heavy casing and auger.
Several robots, including the massive drill rig, followed the men as they walked to the construction site for one last inspection, everything seemed as good and as it could be. The heavy drill was directed to the proper spot where it squatted to the ground in preparation for drilling. Extra power was brought to the drilling crawler via an umbilical cord from the Whistler’s large reactors. A hose from the Whistler’s large tanks supplied a dedust solution that was injected into the drill hole through the tip of the auger bit. By injecting the dedust into the hole while it was being drilled, the dry loose dirt would not continuously collapse.
With the external source of power and dedust connected, the robotic drill started to turn. The slowly rotating auger gradually dug a ten-meter hole that was one meter in diameter. The drilling was not difficult despite the rocks encountered. A second ten-meter length of drill rod was attached to the auger, allowing it to reach twenty meters down, where the bedrock was expected to be encountered. As the hole was dug, a 2T robot busied itself moving the dirt that was piling up around the hole out of the way with a shovel like attachment it had retrieved from a rack on its back. When the auger hit hard rock at a depth of twenty meters, the crawler moved off the drill site and the 10T robot screwed two lengths of casing together and lowered it down the hole. Only a meter of the casing was exposed at the surface after the casing was in place. The crawler moved to another drill site only ten meters away and repeated the process.
The human crew watched the holes being dug, guided by their own instructions and the Central Computer, the robots labored and another hole in the loose lunar bedrock was completed. They spent a lot of time looking around, not only of the vacuum draped landscape, but also of the Whistler standing silently nearby, their safe harbor which their lives depended on. They also looked at each other, exchanging silent glances that were filled with trepidation and excitement, sharing amongst themselves the intense feeling of being on another world. In time the second shift relived the three emotionally exhausted men of the first shift and the robotic work progressed, building the molds for the new lunar foundation.
TENSION
Ken smiled darkly to himself as he thought of the millions of dollars the world was currently spending every minute in a massive effort to know what he knew. The silent global activity of spy satellites, recon planes, the movements of navies and air forces and about a thousand vacations being cancelled, all seemed to buzz in his mind. It was still early in the morning but already he could feel the focus of every intelligence agency on the planet on him. The global envy was palatable, however, the world leaders might be a bit disappointed if they knew what was happening on the moon, a bunch of hole digging. Ken poured himself a small drink from a bottle that was on his desk. However they would not be so disinterested in how they were being dug or the secrets of the C-20s. With a quick query to his PC, he knew that the Whistlers first shift was on duty again, twenty-one of the thirty-six foundation holes had been dug by the Whistler’s robots. The second C-20, the Haliburton, was landing about a hundred meters from the Whistler. The mighty Haliburton, the same as every other C-20, had the noble mission was to fill the freshly dug holes with a plascrete mixture and then set large mounting brackets at the top of the newly poured posts. He sighed, as mundane as it seemed, the first permanent construction fixtures on the moon were being set in place. He recalled setting the first foundations on Katerin, an event that he had managed to attend, the moon had somehow grown a bit out his reach. What was happening on the moon was no longer his concern, he did not closely follow the tracks of the men on the moon.
Ken sighed again, every news radio station was devoting itself to the launches, even the DJ’s on the music stations made it the topic of the day. The same was happening on the television. Ken wondered how many times the cable news networks could repeat the same old incorrect information. Clearly they were just in it to make a buck, not to relay news. The media seemed comical in their attempt to show more than their competitors. But all they had were a few crummy pictures of Karterin, taken from a distance and equally coarse images of a C-20.
However not all the military agencies of the world were being as inept as the news media. The United States military did not fail to notice the short test flight of the Whistler. And Ken was certain that both the United States and Russia watched the event of the spacecraft launching into outer-space and eventually flying beyond the range of their radars. He grinned again, knowing satellite images as well as the radar and infrared images of the Whistlers test flight were being studied by interpreters at the Pentagon and teams of Russian scientists. Secret labs and observatories around the world were frantically shuffling through every scrap of information they could find to come to some conclusion they could pass on to their bosses. With a paranoid thirst for information, naval ships from both of the powerful countries, and several others, were dispatched to international waters close to the island. Official requests for information were bombarding the Indonesian government through diplomatic channels, as well as more direct means. Although the Indonesian government had little real knowledge of the true nature of the island, and were similarity surprised by the launch, they were quick to point out that the launch was the commencement of lunar operations for the Indonesia space agency. Under the watchful eye of the society, the corrupt government kept to its role, acting the part of the proud parent, but Ken knew the savvy would not be fooled.
He sat in his leather chair and looked out over the sparkling city as it began to come alive for the new day. He rarely looked out the window, it seemed different, perhaps as if this morning it was a little less his. The launches were unexpected to everyone except the society members, nobody really thought the Indonesian Space Agency could actually put a man in orbit. Now the world found that not only could Indonesia put a man in space, it could do it in grand style, and everyone wanted to know how, and why. Newspapers were laid out on his desk, the launch was on the front page of each of them. Every news web site and paper in the world had articles and yet all they had to offer was information from his web site and speculation. Even those that cared little for science or space would pause on this day to wonder what was happening.
It was early, the normal workday had yet to begin, but the street in front of the building was a mob of reporters looking for a scoop, as if they felt a physical pain of their own ignorance. A legion of armed security guards had been required for him to gain access to his office. It was well known that the famous financier of Bio Research was funding the Indonesian space program, which had involved creation of the largest man-made object on the planet. The massive rectangular building had been dubbed the ‘KBB’ for ‘Ken’s Black Box’ by the media for the last year. Ken always remained as mute about the project as the Indonesian government had been, but now, with the first launch, the press figured he would have to say something, and they were right. His office had released a notice of a press conference and the turn out was large, all he had expected.
Ken turned his chair from the window and faced one of his secretaries standing and waiting.
“It’s time sir,” the woman said.
Ken silently nodded and stood. He walked to the bar and poured himself a small drink, downed it in one swallow then left his office to the waiting media and the world.
The press conference was staged in a large section of the building’s lobby. It was a roar of noise and commotion that poured out into the street, which only increased in tempo as he worked his way to the podium, ignoring the maelstrom of questions. It seemed there were hundreds of cameras to capture his every movement, his every blink and pause. No less then twenty microphones were arranged on the large podium to capture his words. The roar of indistinct voices was being thrown out on top of each other, each trying to achieve the impossible, to be heard. He ignored them all, and stood at the podium looking out over the desperate and waited for the room to quiet down. He wished he had taken another drink.
The noisy room slowly calmed and Ken took a deep breath, showed a small smile and began, “On behalf of the Indonesian Space Agency, I am pleased to announce that last night the first manned spacecraft to the moon in five decades was launched from Katerin Island. Its destination was the backside of the moon and it arrived safely and on time this morning with all twelve of its crew in good health. A second similar craft has already been launched and in the days ahead, more will undertake the journey. The Indonesian Space Agency and the Indonesian government are proud to host humanities first major construction on lunar soil.”
A buzz of questions flowed and Ken waved them down and continued. “It is the goal of the Indonesian Space Agency that this will mark the beginning of the permanent and peaceful settlement of the moon. The scientific research that will someday take place on the moon will benefit the whole world. This international project, which was born last night, is still in the early stages of life and will require time and patience to fully bloom into the true potential of its commercial and scientific value.”
Again, a volley of questions was shouted out but Ken patiently quieted the crowd and continued. “I know you have many questions about the program, but I will not discuss the technical aspects of the spacecraft. The Indonesian Space Agency is after all a commercial enterprise and wishes the efforts of its scientists to remain confidential for the time being. Now, are there any questions?”
Instantly a flurry of hands waving in the air materialized with a wall of questions being shouted out. He almost felt a sense of relief, he was already done, everything was a secret. Ken waved the crowd down and pointed to a nearby reporter who shouted, “What type of propulsion do the rockets employ?”
Other reporters were waving in hopes to offer a different question but this was a question who’s answer was already decided, an answer designed to perhaps provoke? He replied with the words his PC supplied, “The C-20 spacecraft are not rocket propelled, their propulsion is confidential.” A name, a tantalizing clue? He pointed to another reporter in the maelstrom.
The reporter shouted over the ruckus that seemed unable to completely control itself, “How much have you spent on the Indonesian Space Agency and what is the form of the business relationship you have with the Indonesia Government?”
The room fell a bit quieter and Ken calmly answered, “The cost of the agency to date has been nearly four point six billion dollars. I expect it to cost much more before the lunar facility is operational. Indonesia is central to all operations in this commercial venture, although they are not funding it. I am the sole investor, the financial partner. The Indonesian Space Agency employees scientists from all over the world, it is a global effort, not just the work of a few.”
Before the roar of expectation could come to a crescendo, a shout rose, “How many spaceships does the ISA have?” to which Ken quickly replied, “Eight.”
Someone in the crowd shouted the question, “How many people does the ISA employ?”
“The Indonesian Space Agency directly employs nearly two thousand people from around the world.”
“What is the building on Katerin made of?” Came another quick question.
A stupid question Ken thought, the factories were of no secret but he calmly replied, “The building material is simply a carbon polymer produced in Indonesia. I’ll take a couple more questions,” Ken said as the room once again erupted.
Ken pointed and a question came forth, “How many people will be on the moon when the facility is completed and what type of structure are you building?”
“Current plans are for a continually growing facility but initially a hundred. We envision a combination of modular buildings on the surface and safer subsurface constructions. One more question please.”
At his pointing, “What special relationship do you have with Indonesia so that they became your partner?”
Ken cleared his throat and replied, “Indonesia had several benefits, a good latitude, healthy industrial sector and an efficient government. Partnering with Indonesia allowed this momentous event to occur years before it otherwise could have.”
Ken pointed to a reporter who asked, “How do people join the Indonesian Space Agency? It is clearly not composed of many Indonesians but mostly Americans.”
Ken managed a smile, it was a good closing question. He spoke, “The Indonesian Space Agency keeps many thousands of Indonesians employed. People interested in employment opportunities in the Indonesian Space Agency can visit the web site where there is an application form. Thank you for your time.” With that Ken walked away from the yelling crowd surrounded by a small group of uniformed security personal.
He kept a blank face as he walked away amongst his hired guards. He knew the brief press release did little to satisfy the press or the world governments, but would ease the mind of the paranoid who rightly envisioned that there was much more going on then what there appeared to be. He also knew that the speech would be eaten up by the hoards of space-watching people around the world, who would pick through every word. For a while the floodwaters would be held back, but not for long.
The propulsion systems would be of keen interest to every military organization in the world. Any military tactician would easily see that the revolutionary engines could bring space into the battleground like never before. And having a country like Indonesia in the forefront of heavy lifting would be a nearly impossible pill for some large countries to swallow, their pride and security was threatened. He was now a target.
As he rode the elevator up to his office, he was accompanied by his main secretary and two large bodyguards. There was no other society member anywhere close. That was the way it was for him, he was the front man, and behind him the rest of the society was busy going to the moon. He looked down at his feet, he would go as well, it was just a matter of time before he too would fly away from his building, the city and the envy.
The feds were going to be the biggest issue. ISA was an Indonesian company, if even that, and that meant the feds did not even have the names of its employees, scientists from around the world, something they desperately wanted. A thin dark grin formed on his face, in time they would force the issue and when that time came, all hell would break loose. It was only a matter of time before the world would see through his lies and view the true face of the ISA. Ken looked up as the doors opened, he followed the security guards out into his office lobby. Those guards would be useless when the time came for real security, but there were other plans that were proceeding as they should. He was betting his whole life in the one constant, the increasing strength of the society. He hoped it would be enough. In an effort to make the society stronger, Protani and his elite physics team had set up shop in the basement of the massive island structure. Ken, along with everyone else, knew what they were working on and how it was progressing, and that it was another milestone in the society’s maturity, only it was not yet visible to the outside world. The society had always relied on secrecy to protect itself from other human governments. Now that it was launching ships, it was not quite so secret anymore and a new type of protection had to be prepared.
Ken sat in his office. His newspapers had been removed along with the bottle of scotch. Before him was his list of meetings for the day. There were large empty spaces in it. His staff was well aware that there could be unexpected meetings that might come up this week. No doubt being the focus of so many agencies would disrupt the schedule some, but all he needed was a bit more time. The initial tests of the particle beam had been successful and already a small number of 500K armored robots were being built on Katerin that would carry the initial weapons. Protani’s team was now working on a larger megawatt model and had even predicted the first test would be performed within a few days. Protani had a gift for being correct, Ken knew he could count on it. The time sequence was critical, he had to buy the society time so they could do what they had to, to become truly sovereign.
A silent message was relayed to him, the computer that hosted the web site was under a near-breaking strain as thousands of applications were filled out every minute in utter vain. He decided to see if he could find where the secretary had put his scotch. The demand on the server would not last long, but for now he had a following, that would buy some time—that was now his only purpose, to buy time.
MICAH’S DREAM
Micah Tomkin was sitting in a small but busy pizza parlor that she and her friends frequented at the local Missoula shopping mall. The evening was growing late but like most people of the world, she was watching the dramatic broadcast on the diner’s small television with her friends. Like many other news agencies, CNN had long distance images of the large winged-spacecraft coming and going through the atmosphere. They had stories and pictures of factories in Jakarta and interviewed dozens of people about the mysterious space agency. Some of the interviews were with top US government officials discussing the many political ramifications of the Indonesian action. Other interviews were with an assortment of scientists or anyone else who had a theory or might know something about the large quiet craft that left no pillar of fire behind them. They spoke of such simple things as horizontal take off and landing, single stage to orbit and black zones. It had been going on for hours, always the photos, the speculation based on what little the media knew, over and over, as if by repeating the same things a hundred times it would somehow satisfy their need to know. To viewers all over the world, the events brought curiosity and a sense of fear, fear fed by the news media. It was all very serious and dramatic. To Micah the stupid speculations by idiotic reporters were disgusting.
“This is so cool,” one of Micah’s friends exclaimed, “Wouldn’t it be such a trip to fly to the moon?”
“Oh Jen, you’ve never even flown anywhere, not even on a regular plane,” Micah replied in a sigh.
“Yea but still, outer space and all. Like wow.”
Micah did not have to hear the melodramatic CNN news report that morning. She already knew what Mr. Lindsay was going to say long before his short speech, before he himself even knew. The events of Indonesia were the talk of her high school all day. Her friends’ reaction was more interesting to her than that of the president or the other world leaders. Most people were shocked that Indonesia could launch anything at all, even with the reclusive billionaires billions. She sighed, if only they knew how little Indonesia had to do with it. She closed her eyes and silently asked Sig for the image she often asked for. The new chip, which had been installed a year ago, allowed her to see more exotic images, she never tired of watching the giant colorful globe of Jupiter; the computer gave her what she wanted. The massive sphere was a three-quarters crescent now but waxing. The bulk of Sig’s operations had left Jupiter’s moon of Io but a small contingency force remained, ready to either depart or start another spacecraft at any time. Sig let her immerse herself in the magic of the gas giant and in return Micah felt hypnotized by the bright swirling clouds that contrasted sharply against the dark background. She felt as if she could feel each vortex, the causative conjunctions of temperature gradients and Coriolis effects. They seemed to have depth without end, each vortex composed of ever small smaller vortexes, spiraling in and downwards to the gentle layers deeper with the globe. She felt so comfortable in the vision, it was where she belonged, in the comfort and care of her constant companion.
“I wonder if they’re planning on getting a bunch of job applications?” her other friend, Isabelle, asked shaking Micah back to the Earth.
Micah sighed and with her eyes still closed muttered, “None they would accept. They are already fully staffed. Besides, it would be very exclusive.” Micah opened her eyes, Jupiter fading away. She was a bit annoyed at the interruption. Sig had reminded her on many occasions that she needed human friends, not many but some. Jen and Isabelle seemed tolerable, they had good qualities, despite being teenage girls.
Isabelle simply accepted the reply from Micah as fact. Micah was well known as one of the brightest students at school and certainly the most worldly. To Isabelle it was a privilege to be sitting beside Micah, the very Micah who not even the teachers dared cross.
Micah rarely noticed her friends automatic acceptance of her statement. It was typical, those around her seemed so ignorant, they thirsted for knowledge, or at least the warm glow of perceived understanding, whether they knew it or not, that was why so many wanted to be her friend, why so many hated her.
Ever since she had discovered her ‘phone’ to her robot friend, her life had not been the same. At first the robot was simply someone to quietly talk to, but she slowly learned that the robot was only a mindless appendage of a vast computer intelligence. She had watched the great intelligence through the years as it grew and eventually escaped the confines of the Earthly governments. It felt like it was part of herself that had soared out into the solar system and beyond. It was part of her out there with Jupiter, and part of her was on those ships flying to the moon out in the bright daylight for the entire world to see. While her friends stared at the on going coverage of the Indonesian Space Agency, Micah closed her eyes and let images envelop her vision of men and robots moving things around on the lunar surface under the naked radiation of the sun or the soft glow of their own working lights.
Micah had watched the first crew of the Haliburton explore the area around the ships and start to lay out hoses from their ship to the freshly dug holes. The work on the moon was going smoothly, as she knew it would, Sig had planned it all and made it all look simple, and compared to other things Sig had planned, the activities on the moon were indeed children’s toys. She watched a 5T multipurpose robot carry large brackets and beams from the Haliburton. What will the world think when they catch a sight of the metallic beast the size of an elephant?
The third ship, the Kodiak, arrived just before the Whistler had departed in a slight spray of dust. The Whistler, leaving its robots and piles of supplies behind, had quietly risen from the lunar soil, where it had landed, and headed back towards Earth with its human crew. The first manned lunar mission since Apollo, had come and gone and she had watched with a distinct sense of ownership, and mild amusement.