A Learning Experience

Chapter Twenty

Heinlein Colony, Luna

Gunter Dawlish had never really wanted to be an astronaut. They did nothing, beyond flying to orbit and then landing back on boring old Earth. There was no drama in the space program, in his view, nothing particularly exciting. But now… he took a step forward and gasped as he realised just how weak the gravity on the moon actually was. He could jump into the air and fly…

“It gets everyone,” Rochester called after him. “We give new arrivals a few days to get used to it before we put them to work.”

“It’s bloody fucking fantastic,” Gunter said. He knew he sounded like a kid and he didn’t much care. “you could make a mint just letting people come to the moon for a few days.”

“We’re working on it,” Rochester assured him, as Gunter dropped back down to the ground. “Heinlein — the author — talked about people flying under the lunar dome. We’re actually planning to build a stadium for such games in the next few months. Maybe even build some form of antigravity broomstick and play Quidditch.”

Gunter snorted. “Just how big is the colony now?”

“Oh, we’re expanding all the time,” Rochester said. “We have some alien laser cutters to dig into the ground, then human technology to expand and keep expanding. One of our processors turned lunar rock into something we can use to line the colony edges, then we just build the rest of the structure up piece by piece. At worst, all we have to do is dig out a cave, install an airlock and Bob’s the bloke who buggers your auntie.”

He shrugged. “We have around two thousand people working here now,” he added, “with new chambers and living accommodation added all the time. Someone had the bright idea of installing a fish farm, so we’re hopefully going to get some better food in the next few weeks.”

“And we have millions of requests — literally — for places on the moon,” Steve Stuart said. “I think the colony will expand at terrifying speed. But it won’t be the only place.”

Gunter turned to him and lifted an eyebrow. “Where else?”

“We have plans underway to start terraforming Mars,” Steve Stuart reminded him. “And there will be thousands of asteroids to turn into small homesteads. The stars are the limit, quite literally.”

The tour of the colony took longer than Gunter had expected, but he couldn’t help admiring just how much work had been done in just over a month. Rochester put it down to an absence of idiotic bureaucratic safety regulations and the skills of a dozen former combat engineers. They were very good at improvising, he explained, detailing some of the problems they’d had in adapting Earth technology for the lunar surface. Even trucks and tractors designed for very cold environments had needed heavy modification before they could be placed on the moon and put to work.

“That’s one of the few laws we have,” Rochester said, as they passed through a large airlock and into an underground chamber. He pointed at a sign on the rear of the hatch. “And common sense reigns supreme.”

Gunter had to smile. The sign read ANYONE STUPID ENOUGH TO NOT CHECK THEIR SPACESUIT BEFORE PASSING THROUGH THIS HATCH DESERVES TO DIE.

“It seems rather blunt,” he said. “What do your people think of it?”

“They put it up,” Rochester said. He shrugged. “On Earth, you have idiots winning the Darwin Awards by sneaking onto railway lines and getting killed… and then their relatives try to sue the train operators. Or criminals breaking in and then suffering an accident and trying to sue the person they tried to rob. Here… if there genuinely is someone to blame, they will get hammered, but if it was a genuine accident or the victim’s stupidity we will learn from it and move on. We certainly won’t shut down the whole program for years while politicians beat their breasts and cry crocodile tears for a TV audience.”

He smiled. “We do take care to keep the children well away from the airlocks,” he added. “There aren’t many kids up here, but those we do have are supposed to stay in the lower levels without their parents or another adult accompanying them.”

Gunter looked over at him. “You have kids here?”

“This is a city, or it will be,” Rochester said. “You’d be surprised by just how many people on my team wanted to move their families here.”

He shrugged. “Setting up the school took some time,” he added. “But once we hired some decent teachers the kids started to settle down and study properly. And they love the low-gravity environment.”

“I recall at least one science-fiction novel where Luna-born children could never return to Earth,” Gunter said, slowly. “Is that actually going to be a problem?”

“It could be,” Rochester said. “We give everyone muscle-building stimulants, but someone who stays in Luna gravity long enough will have problems when they return to Earth. Ideally, of course, everyone should exercise frequently to keep building up their muscles, but some people will probably fail to keep up with it.”

He shrugged, again. “As we say, time and time again, you are responsible for your own behaviour,” he reminded Gunter. “If someone doesn’t exercise… well, the condition of their body is their responsibility.”

Gunter shook his head, then looked over at Steve Stuart. “What sort of taxes are you going to have here?”

“We plan to insist that no one is charged more than ten percent of their earnings,” Steve Stuart said. “Both personnel and business; if a business is based here, on lunar soil, it won’t be taxed more than ten percent either. We want to avoid the endless problems people have with filling in tax assessments back in the States. If you earn a thousand dollars, you owe one hundred dollars to the government.”

“I might move here,” Gunter said. “Would you take me?”

“We’d take anyone who was willing to accept the rights and responsibilities of citizenship,” Steve Stuart said. “If you wanted to be based here, you would be welcome. But I did have a different job offer in mind for you. I think I’ll need a press secretary.”

Gunter shook his head, quickly. “I hate dealing with the press,” he said. “Sorry.”

Rochester snorted. “You are the press.”

“And that’s why I hate it,” Gunter said. “Being a reporter can be fun, being someone who has to handle the reporters is far less… interesting. But I would definitely like to move here.”

“We’ll let you know as soon as the first apartment blocks are up and running,” Rochester assured him. “Now, if you’d like to see the aliens…?”

“Mr. Komura passed the test with flying colours,” Kevin said, when Steve returned to the starship. “He was something of an idealist when he joined the United Nations, but he isn’t any longer. Apparently, actually dealing with the politicians and diplomats is bad for one’s hero-worship.”

“I’m not surprised,” Steve said. “Does he have any divided loyalties?”

“He’d probably have something to say about it if we moved against Japan,” Kevin said. “Other than that, he will be loyal enough to us, as long as he isn’t mistreated. I explained the rules on working for us and he accepted them.”

Steve blinked. “We have rules?”

“He’s the first employee of our new State Department,” Kevin reminded him. “I would prefer not to start building a monster like the old State Department, one full of bureaucrats, leakers and people who know nothing taking the lead.”

He shrugged. “Anyway, most of the Western Governments are prepared to recognise us as being an independent state provided we share fusion technology and a handful of other technological advances with them,” he continued. “They’ve also agreed not to stand in our way as we recruit, but they’ve requested that we don’t go after serving military personnel. And they want us to buy supplies from them in bulk.”

“We’d have to do that anyway,” Steve pointed out, as he took a cup of coffee from the food producer. It tasted just right for him, but he knew there had already been plenty of complaints from civilians who were not used to military coffee. “Don’t they know that?”

“Of course they do,” Kevin said. “This is just their way of saving face. They can’t stop us from doing whatever the hell we like, so they ask us for concessions we intend to give them anyway…”

Steve rolled his eyes. “So it’s all playacting for the media,” he said. “Wonderful.”

“I seem to recall mom smacking you for deciding you didn’t need manners any longer,” Kevin said, snidely. “Or have you forgotten her lecture?”

Steve felt his cheeks heat. Their mother had been strict, homeschooling her children in-between the hours they worked on the farm. Steve still recalled the thrashing she’d given him after he’d been unjustifiably rude to one of her guests… and how she’d explained, afterwards, that manners were the lubricant that kept society together. If everyone said what they meant, all the time, society would break down. Or so she’d said. It hadn’t been until he’d joined the Marines that Steve had truly understood what she’d meant.

“It’s the same basic idea,” Kevin explained. “They ask for concessions, we grant them… and it looks as though they got something out of the deal. It will soothe their pride.”

He paused. “I did have a set of private conversations with the President,” he added. “He’s having problems with the Senate. None of them are very happy about us just… taking the starship and setting up on our own. A few have even threatened to revoke our citizenships.”

“Fuck them,” Steve said, sharply.

“It’s a valid point,” Kevin said. “You might want to consider renouncing yours anyway, along with the rest of us. Just by being American, we cause problems for the American government, which gets the blame for our existence.”

Steve snorted. “I’m sure the British didn’t get the blame for anything George Washington did after independence,” he countered.

“Washington was President of an independent America,” Kevin said. “He was no longer even remotely connected to Britain.”

He sighed. “Overall, the President thinks we’ll get recognition, as long as the US clearly benefits from the arrangement, but he would like a couple of other concessions.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “What does he want?”

“First, he wants us to continue the antiterrorist program,” Kevin said. “We would have done that anyway, I think, but this will make it official. Second, he wants us to send medics to the United States, armed with alien medical technology. If we helped people who needed it, we would build up a lot of goodwill.”

Steve made a mental note to check who the President wanted them to help, then nodded. “I think Mariko would chop off my balls if I refused,” he said. “Very well. We will give the President his bones.”

“An excellent decision,” Kevin said.

Steve eyed him darkly.

“The bad news,” Kevin continued, “is that almost all of the non-democratic states have been less keen to recognise us. China and Russia are taking the lead, but much of the Middle East is united in its disapproval and, between them, they might be able to delay formal UN recognition. The bigger nations are worried about the effects of the dongles, the smaller nations are worried about losing oil revenues. And then there’s the request for asylum we received.”

Steve blinked. “Asylum?”

“There’s a Christian in Egypt who is facing official displeasure,” Kevin said. “He wants out. And he won’t be the last one, either. There are millions of people around the world who would want to get out of non-democratic states.”

“I see,” Steve said. “And they won’t let them go?”

“Not without being pushed,” Kevin agreed. “You will need to worry about that, Steve.”

They both looked up as the hatch hissed open, revealing a tired-looking Wilhelm.

“Good news,” Wilhelm said. “We’re in business.”

Steve smiled. “We are?”

“So far, we’ve got over two hundred companies, mainly small technological and computing companies like my own, applying to set up shop on the lunar surface,” Wilhelm said. “Some of them are actually quite big, really; placing their factories on the moon would give us a growing industrial base. A number of bigger corporations have also expressed interest in moving some of their operations to the moon, but they want more details of what we can offer them first. I think they’ll expect first glance at any unlocked alien technology.”

He paused. “But many of the smaller companies have hundreds of brilliant people working for them,” he added. “Some of those people are even on the list of people I want to recruit.”

Steve had to smile. “It will still take months to get them to the moon,” he pointed out. “And what about their personnel?”

“Oh, nothing is finalised yet,” Wilhelm said. “But they’re quite keen to move ahead.”

He hesitated, noticeably. “We’ve also had literally thousands of requests for server space,” he continued. “As the alien servers are capable of holding billions upon billions of terabytes, this isn’t a problem. But it’s raised a whole new problem — two of them, in fact.”

Kevin smirked. “How many of those requests come from pornographic sites?”

“I’m shocked you could imagine using the internet for porn,” Wilhelm said. He looked down at the deck, irked. “Half of them, as it happens.”

Kevin’s smirk grew wider. “We could have some fun sampling it.”

Steve had a more practical concern. “Is this likely to prove a problem?”

“We have become, to all intents and purposes, a data haven,” Wilhelm said. “Quite apart from the porn, what happens when someone stores criminal or terrorist information on our servers?”

He shrugged. “I’ve copied the user guidelines from the servers I used to run in Switzerland,” he added. “Child pornography is completely banned. All other pornographic material is to be stored in one particular subset of the servers, so they can be excluded from search results fairly easily. Some of what we’ve been offered is… sickening.”

Steve wasn’t surprised. He’d served in Iraq and seen Iraqi businessmen offering American and British soldiers pornography that would have been shocking in America, let alone in what was meant to be a strictly Islamic country. There hadn’t been anything remotely tasteful about it, insofar as porn could ever be tasteful. He’d never been sure if the Iraqis genuinely did like watching men having sex with animals or if someone was trying to sneer at the outsiders by selling them disgusting porn.

“Criminal operations — and I include mass spamming in this — and terrorist operations are completely banned,” Wilhelm added. “I’d prefer not to get into a legal tussle over what defines a criminal act, particularly as we don’t have a working legal code yet, so everyone who sets up a website on one of our servers has to accept the user guidelines. Anyone who breaks them afterwards can get a hammer dropped on him.”

“Good work,” Steve said. “What else do we need to know?”

“There are millions of requests for lunar accommodation, if not citizenship,” Wilhelm said. “I’ve had to hire new staff just to work my way through them. So far, anyone who might be useful to help build the colony has been forwarded to Charles, while everyone else is being examined on a case-by-case basis. We’ve got several hundred requests from authors who wish to live on the moon and work there — and they can, as long as they have access to the internet. Once we have the accommodation blocks up and running…”

“Quarters won’t be very nice, at least for a few years,” Kevin commented.

Wilhelm shrugged. “I don’t think that matters,” he countered. “They want to be part of something great. And they also want to get their foot in on the ground floor.”

He smiled. “Speaking of which, we have several hundred thousand requests for tours of the Apollo landing sites,” he added. “If we charged them each ten thousand dollars, we’d have much more cash to spend on Earth. Hell, give us a few months and we would probably drag the world economy back out of the dumps.”

Steve understood. He hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to go take a look at where Neil Armstrong had set foot on the lunar surface either. The human tech looked primitive, compared to the technology they’d captured from the Horde, but it had been built without alien assistance. That, according to the databanks, wasn’t entirely common in the galaxy. A large number of races had bought or stolen spacefaring technology from other races. Not all of them had mastered it for themselves.

Us too, I suppose, he thought. But we will figure out how the technology works and how to improve it.

“Keep working on it,” he said. “Maybe we can detail a shuttle to transporting tourists to the moon.”

“We should,” Wilhelm said. “We need ready cash, Steve. Right now, we don’t have as much as we will need in the future.”

Steve rolled his eyes. By any standards, his government was the most powerful one in the entire solar system. But they were also among the poorest, at least for the moment.

“Kevin, I want you to work on Captain Perry,” he said. They’d renamed one of the captured starships, as its original name sounded thoroughly absurd to human ears. “Ideally, I want you ready to depart within the week.”

“I understand,” Kevin said. He sounded both excited and terrified. Steve couldn’t blame him. Neil Armstrong had stepped onto the moon, but Kevin would be flying well outside the edges of the solar system. “I won’t let you down.”

“Just remember that you’re representing humanity,” Steve warned. “Don’t let any of us down.”