A Learning Experience

Chapter Twenty-Two

Heinlein Colony, Luna

“Here he comes,” Mongo said, as the shuttle swept down towards the lunar surface. “Are you ready?”

Steve shrugged, unsure. Arranging the state visit had been tricky, to say the least. Every world leader who considered himself important — something they all seemed to have in common — had demanded to be the first to visit the moon. And it hadn’t just been them, either. The Secretary General of the UN, the Pope and hundreds of other significant political figures had also demanded to be the first to visit. In the end, Steve had ruled that the American President would be the first, if the Secret Service let him come. They’d been horrified when they realised they wouldn’t be given complete access to the colony, even though it was their duty to protect the President.

But the President had come. Steve had to smile at the thought. He had thought — and still thought — that the President’s politics were appallingly bad for America, but he definitely had to admit the man had balls. But then, what sort of politician would pass up on a chance to make history?

There was a faint flicker of energy around the shuttle as it passed through the force field and settled to the ground. The force field was keeping the atmosphere in, allowing Steve and the rest of the reception party to stand in the open without spacesuits. But part of him really didn’t like being so badly exposed. One glitch with the shield generator and they’d be dead before they could hope to escape.

The hatch opened, revealing the President and his youngest daughter. She’d wanted to be an astronaut, Steve recalled; she was staring around the lunar surface as if she’d never quite expected it to be real. The Secret Service had thrown another fit at the thought of letting the First Daughter — one of them, at least — go with the President. But they’d been overruled, again.

Steve nodded to Mongo, who stepped forward. “Present… ARMS!”

The small group of soldiers, armed with modified alien weapons, snapped to attention. Steve hadn’t wanted a big ceremony, but he’d agreed — reluctantly — that some form of ceremony was probably required. In the end, they’d made it as simple as possible.

“Welcome to Heinlein Colony, Mr. President,” he said, as the President reached the end of the line. “And you, young lady.”

The President’s daughter looked up at him, eagerly. “Are we going to see Apollo 11?”

“We are,” Steve confirmed. Had he ever been so eager as a child? Probably. “But first we have to tour the colony.”

He allowed Rochester to take the lead as they stepped through the airlock and into the rapidly-growing underground colony. It had been a month since they’d make their public debut and the response had been astonishing. The lunar population had more than quadrupled, while several new factories had been set up on the moon and more were on the way. Indeed, with another starship at their disposal, they’d even started pointing water asteroids towards Mars to start the terraforming process. The protests from environmentalists on Earth had simply been ignored.

“This is an incredible place,” the President said, as they came to the end of the tour. “You must be very proud.”

“We are, Mr. President,” Rochester said. “We’ve built quite a community here over the last two months.”

They entered Baen’s Bar and sat down at a reserved table. The owner had operated a diner in Montana Steve had patronised, but he’d gratefully moved to the moon when Steve made the offer. It was growing harder and harder to run a small business in America these days, thanks to the bureaucrats. Steve knew there would be no shortage of recruits for the foreseeable future.

“Beef, chicken and other kinds of meat are expensive up here, at the moment,” Steve explained as menus were passed round the table. “We’re still working on setting up farms for animals, so we’re having to bring it up from Earth. But, on the other hand, there are fewer overhead costs for small businessmen.”

The President laughed. “Point taken,” he said. “And retaken. And taken once again.”

Steve shrugged. “I’m afraid the food isn’t as fancy as you might get in a state dinner,” he added. “But it is very good food.”

“That will be something of a relief,” the President joked. “Do you know how difficult it can be to endure a ten-course dinner?”

The cook took their orders, then vanished behind the counter. Steve smiled to himself as the sound of frying burgers echoed over towards the table, then allowed his smile to become obvious as a young girl served the drinks. The President’s daughter had chosen a colossal milkshake, which had arrived in a weirdly-shaped glass that had been produced in zero-gravity. Unsurprisingly, the President had settled for coke.

“You’ve done quite a bit over the last month, if the reports are accurate,” the President said, as they waited. “Are you planning to slow down?”

“Not at all,” Steve said. “The first asteroid homesteading kits are being completed now, so we hope to set up the first asteroid mining stations within the next month. Despite the naysayers, we had an astonishing number of applicants volunteer to enter the training program, even though there are significant risks and a very real possibility of death millions of miles from home. And we’re placing orders for components that will be used to construct the first base on Titan…”

He smiled. “We have a very long way to go.”

The young girl returned, carrying a large tray of burgers, fries and other unhealthy foods, which she placed on the table. Steve sensed more than heard Mariko click her teeth in irritation as he took one of the burgers and started to eat it, savouring every bite. It was a genuine burger, nothing like a piece of recycled cardboard from a global fast food company. The meat blended well with the cheese, mustard and catsup. And the fries were just perfect.

“My wife is going to be irked with me,” the President observed. “I’m not supposed to eat such foods.”

“It could be worse,” Rochester said. “You could be eating recycled food.”

“Most of the bloggers on the moon seem to complain about it,” the President observed. “You’d think they’d be able to produce something that tasted good as well as provided the right nutrients.”

“Some of our people have a theory about that,” Steve said. “The whole system is designed to encourage its users to either grow foodstuffs for themselves or work out how to reprogram the system to produce something tasty. We’re working on the first option.”

“Once we have a proper farming system set up here, our food will probably taste a lot better,” Rochester agreed. “It will probably do wonders for morale too.”

After they had finished the meal — the President insisted on thanking the cook and his daughters personally — they walked back to the airlock and boarded the very first lunar hovercraft. It had been a pain to build on Earth because it was next to useless in the low gravity; eventually, once the truth had come out, the designers had promised to produce a far better version. The President’s daughter seemed to fall in love at once, running forward and sitting in the pilot’s chair. Mariko had to gently push her back towards the passenger seats, allowing Mongo to take the helm.

“This is actually a covered bus, allowing us to operate without spacesuits,” Steve explained, as Mongo started the engine. The hovercraft moved forward, balancing on a stream of gas, then inched out of the hanger. “And we added an antigravity generator, but apart from that the system is all human. We could have settled the moon years ago.”

Silence fell as the bus made its way through Heinlein Colony. There were few signs of habitation above the ground, but there were dozens of men in spacesuits and converted tractors, working to set up a mass driver. Given time, lunar rock could be shipped back to Earth for conversion into space stations — or HE3 could be shipped to Earth for the fusion power plants.

“That’s going to be the first aboveground apartment block,” Rochester said, pointing towards an excavation site. “Once its sealed, crews will install everything from plumbing to internet cables, then we’ll invite people to move into it. Half of the apartments have been marked down for long-term lunar residents, the other half will be sold to people who can support themselves on the moon.”

The President’s daughter looked up. “Could I have one?”

“Only if you come and work here,” Rochester said, not unkindly. “Or if you manage to put down the rather large sum we’re demanding from anyone who won’t be working for us.”

Steve nodded. Heinlein Colony simply couldn’t afford freeloaders. People who could work anywhere — authors, artists, consulting technicians — could settle on the moon, even if they weren’t working for the colony. Or people who were prepared to pay the down sum. But someone who couldn’t work, or wouldn’t work… it was going to be a right little headache for quite some time to come.

“I will,” the President’s daughter said, firmly.

The President and Steve exchanged glances. Having the President’s daughter on the moon would be one hell of a publicity coup — and a practical nightmare. She was young enough to adapt, presumably bright enough to learn to live on the moon… but if it became public, it would be extremely difficult for her. If nothing else, she’d be yelled at by men and women who disliked her father’s politics.

“We shall see,” the President said.

We should slip a bug into that conversation, the mischievous part of Steve’s mind commented. And see precisely how that goes.

He pushed the thought aside as the President looked over at Mariko. “I understand that you will be leading the medical teams?”

“I will,” Mariko said. “Now the whining has come to an end, that is.”

Steve winced. Mariko had been quietly furious about the endless series of delays, caused by her fellow doctors. The American Medical Association had filed complaint after complaint, questioning everything from the true nature of alien technology to the credentials of Mariko and her fellow doctors, even though the alien technology did all of the work. In the end, the AMA had only relaxed its opposition after it became clear that it was costing them politically and public opinion was turning against them.

And that people were threatening to sue them, Steve thought, cynically. A terminally-ill rich man won’t hesitate to sue when he thinks the AMA is standing between him and healthcare he desperately needs.

“Politics,” the President said. “And will you be offering treatments to all?”

Mariko tossed Steve an annoyed look. “Adults who can pay and children will get priority,” she said. “Adults who can’t pay will have to wait in line.”

Steve winced, again. They’d come close to a screaming row after he’d insisted on taking paying customers first, even though the colony desperately needed the money. Mariko had objected, violently, to denying anyone medical care, even if they couldn’t pay. He’d eventually given in on treating children, knowing that Mariko would practically strangle him if she wasn’t allowed to help kids. It was necessary, he knew, but it didn’t make it any easier for either of them to handle it.

“There will be hundreds of rich men waiting in line too,” the President said. “People are funny that way.”

Steve couldn’t disagree.

“Here we are,” Mongo said, breaking into their thoughts. “Apollo 11.”

Steve stared out of the porthole as the sight came into view. The American flag was still standing, looking faintly uncanny; NASA had treated it to ensure it looked unfurled, even though there was no wind on the moon. Beyond it, the landing stage stood on the lunar surface, utterly unmarked by the passage of time. But then, there was no atmosphere on the moon either.

“We won’t be going any closer,” Mongo said, as the bus came to a halt. “I don’t want to risk damaging the landing site.”

The President said nothing. Beside him, his daughter was twitching with excitement as she stared at Apollo 11. Steve felt an odd lump in his throat as he took in the magnificent scene before him. Americans had done that, he knew. Americans had reached for the moon and landed on the surface of another world. But would Armstrong and his fellow moonwalkers have imagined that mankind would fumble the ball so badly? That no one would set foot on the moon again using purely human technology?

They didn’t know, Steve thought. They never thought that we would lose our nerve.

It was a purely human achievement, yet it was so trivial compared to what the Galactics had done. A single large starship, manned by competent aliens, could smash all three captured ships and overwhelm Earth’s defences in a moment. Earth’s teeming billions would vanish without trace amidst the trillions upon trillions who thronged through the galaxy, never sparing a moment to think of a primitive blue world called Earth.

“This is a mark of what humans can do,” he said, out loud. “We built this on our own; we cracked the secret of producing rockets, nuclear fission, steam engines and so much more on our own. The Horde did not. We have the basics of scientific enquiry; the Horde does not. They have no hope of duplicating Galactic technology for themselves, we can and we will. And we will reach for the stars.”

“Fine words,” the President said. “Do you plan to run for election?”

Steve gaped at him, then realised he was being teased. “I think we will be holding elections in two years,” he said. “That should give us a large enough population to make them meaningful, while giving us time to finalise the constitution and the legal code. I… don’t know if I will stand for election.”

The President leaned forward. “Who elected you now?”

It was an awkward question, Steve had to concede. But he had a rejoinder. “Who elected the leaders of over half the states with membership in the UN?”

“You need to hold yourself to higher standards,” the President said.

“There will be elections,” Steve said. “At that time, I will decide if I want to stand for office or gratefully retire to the moon. There’s a whole universe out there to explore, after all.”

He looked over at the back of Mongo’s head. “Can you take us back now?”

“Just a moment,” the President’s daughter said. She plucked a cell phone out of her pocket and started taking photos of everything from the bus’s interior to the view outside. Steve sighed as she took a photograph of him and the President seated together, then one of Mariko standing against the large porthole. “These will go on my facebook tonight.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He’d always disliked watching his children post their pictures on facebook — or anywhere else online for that matter. He was mildly surprised the President’s daughter was even allowed to use facebook. Quite apart from the threat of her being stalked, her posts and check-ins would pose a definite security risk. Terrorists would be able to follow the President and his daughter wherever they went.

“I’m sure you will get lots of likes,” he said, finally.

He waited until the bus had returned to the colony, then invited the President to join him in the secure room. “I need an update on weapons delivery,” he said. “Has the USAF thrown another fit?”

“Congress is making a fit instead,” the President said. “They’re not keen on transferring nuclear warheads to anyone.”

Steve snorted. Once, there had been a time when he would have adamantly opposed sending weapons to any country, at least unless it was a genuine ally. And nukes shouldn’t go anywhere outside American control. But now he needed those nukes. The plan to set up a breeder reactor on the moon — or even out in space — was going slower than he would have liked. Most of the people with experience in producing modern nuclear weapons were unable or unwilling to leave their home countries.

“You need to make them listen,” he said, urgently. “Bomb-pumped lasers might be the only surprise we can produce before the Horde comes back.”

“I’ve already pushed things as far as I can,” the President said. “You do realise just how badly you shocked the world?”

Steve nodded, sourly.

“Congress isn’t sure just where it will all lead and they’re getting mixed messages from their constituents,” the President continued. “And there are fears that it will change the demographic map of America permanently.”

Steve rather suspected they had a point. The culture wars had turned America into a deeply divided country. If all the conservatives or libertarians left to set up home on the moon, he asked himself, what would it do for the rest of America? They’d be talking about millions of people, but it was quite possible that there would be a major demographic shift. And what would happen then?

“It will definitely change the map if the Horde bomb America into radioactive ash,” Steve said, tartly. “And besides, maybe they should learn to think of America ahead of their own interests.”

“And exactly how,” the President said, “do you intend to ensure that your politicians put the interests of your… colony ahead of their own affairs?”

“Carefully,” Steve admitted. “Very carefully.”

“Best of luck,” the President said, cheerfully. “And thank you very much for this tour.”

His expression softened. “My daughter really enjoyed herself, Mr. Stuart, and so did I.”

“Thank you,” Steve said. He couldn’t fault the President for pointing out the elephant in the room. How did one screen for integrity in one’s politicians? “And please tell everyone that it’s a good place to live up here.”