The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress Part 18

Suddenly firmed and we saw "Adam Selcne."

Was a still picture of a mature man. No background, just a face as if trimmed out of a print. Yet was, to me, "Adam Selene." Could not he anybody else.

Then he smiled, moving lips and jaw and touching tongue to lips, a quick gesture-and I was frightened.

"How do I look?" he asked.

"Adam," said Wyoh, "your hair isn't that curly. And it should go back on each side above your forehead. You look as if you were wearing a wig, dear."

Mike corrected it. "Is that better?'

"Not quite so much. And don't you have dimples? I was sure I could hear dimples when you chuckle. Like Prof's."

Mike-Adam smiled again; this time he had dimples. "How should I be dressed, Wyoh?"

"Are you at your office?"

"I'm still at office. Have to be, tonight." Background turned gray, then came into focus and color. A wall calendar behind him gave date, Tuesday 19 May 2076; a clock showed correct time. Near his elbow was a carton of coffee. On desk was a solid picture, a family group, two men, a woman, four children. Was background noise, muted roar of Old Dome Plaza louder than usual; I heard shouts and in distance some singing: Simon's version of "Ma.r.s.eillaise."

Off screen Ginwallah's voice said, "Gospodin?"

Adam turned toward it. "I'm busy, Albert," he said patiently. "No calls from anyone but cell B. You handle everything else." He looked back at us. "Well, Wyoh? Suggestions? Prof? Man my doubting friend? Will I pa.s.s?"

I rubbed eyes. "Mike, can you cook?"

"Certainly. But I don't; I'm married."

"Adam," said Wyoh, "how can you look so neat after the day we've had?"

"I don't let little things worry me." He looked at Prof. "Professor, if the picture is okay, let's discuss what I'll say tomorrow. I was thinking of pre-empting the eight hundred newscast, have it announced all night, and pa.s.s the word down the cells."

We talked rest of night. I sent up for coffee twice and Mike-Adam had his carton renewed. When I ordered sandwiches, he asked Ginwallah to send out for some. I caught a glimpse of Albert Ginwallah in profile, a typical babu, polite and faintly scornful. Hadn't known what he looked like. Mike ate while we ate, sometimes mumbling around a mouthful of food.

When I asked (professional interest) Mike told me that, after he had picture built up, he had programmed most of it for automatic and gave his attention just to facial expressions. But soon I forgot it was fake. Mike-Adam was talking with us by video, was all, much more convenient than by phone.

By oh-three-hundred we had policy settled, then Mike rehea.r.s.ed speech. Prof found points be wanted to add; Mike made revisions, then we decided to get some rest, even Mike-Adam was yawning-although in fact Mike held fort all through night, guarding transmissions to Terra, keeping Complex wailed off, listening at many phones. Prof and I shared big bed, Wyoh stretched out on couch, I whistled lights out. For once we slept without weights.

While we had breakfast, Adam Selene addressed Free Luna.

He was gentle, strong, warm, and persuasive. "Citizens of Free Luna, friends, comrades-to those of you who do not know me let me introduce myself. I am Adam Selene. Chairman of the Emergency Committee of Comrades for Free Luna . . . now of Free Luna, we are free at last. The so-called 'Authority' which has long unsurped power in this our home has been overthrown. I find myself temporary head of such government as we have-the Emergency Committee.

"Shortly, as quickly as can be arranged, you will opt your own government." Adam smiled and made a gesture inviting help. "In the meantime, with your help, I shall do my best. We will make mistakes-be tolerant. Comrades, if you have not revealed yourselves to friends and neighbors, it is time you did so. Citizens, requests may reach you through your comrade neighbors. I hope you will comply willingly; it will speed the day when I can bow out and life can get back to normal-a new normal, free of the Authority, free of guards, free of troops stationed on us, free of pa.s.sports and searches and arbitrary arrests.

"There has to be a transition. To all of you-please go back to work, resume normal lives. To those who worked for the Authority, the need is the same. Go back to work. Wages will go on, your jobs stay the same, until we can decide what is needed, what happily no longer is needed now that we are free, and what must be kept but modified. You new citizens, transportees sweating out sentences p.r.o.nounced on you Earthside-you are free, your sentences are finished! But in the meantime I hope that you will go on working. You are not required to-the days of coercion are gone-but you are urged to. You are of course free to leave the Complex, free to go anywhere . . . and capsule service to and from the Complex will resume at once. But before you use your new freedom to rush into town, let me remind you: 'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' You are better off for the time being where you are; the food may not be fancy but will continue hot and on time.

"To take on temporarily those necessary functions of the defunct Authority I have asked the General Manager of LuNoHo Company to serve. This company will provide termporary supervision and will start a.n.a.lyzing how to do away with the tyrannical parts of the Authority and how to transfer the useful parts to private hands. So please help them.

"To you citizens of Terran nations among us, scientists and travelers and others, greetings! You are witnessing a rare event, the birth of a nation. Birth means blood and pain; there has been some. We hope it is over. You will not be inconvenienced unnecessarily and your pa.s.sage home will be arranged as soon as possible. Conversely, you are welcome to stay, still more welcome to become citizens. But for the present I urge you to stay out of the corridors, avoid incidents that might lead to unnecessary blood, unnecessary pain. Be patient with us and I urge my fellow citizens to be patient with you. Scientists from Terra, at the Observatory and elsewhere, go on with your work and ignore us. Then you won't even notice that we are going through the pangs of creating a new nation. One thing-I am sorry to say that we are temporarily interfering with your right to communicate with Earthside. This we do from necessity; censors.h.i.+p will be lifted as quickly as possible-we hate it as much as you do."

Adam added one more request: "Don't try to see me, comrades, and phone me only if you must; all others, write if you need to, your letters will receive prompt attention. But I am not twins, I got no sleep last night and can't expect much tonight. I can't address meetings, can't shake hands, can't meet delegations; I must stick to this desk and work-so that I can get rid of this job and turn it over to your choice." He grinned at them. "Expect me to be as hard to see as Simon Jester!"

It was a fifteen-minute cast but that was essence: Go back to work, be patient, give us time.

Those scientists gave us almost no time-I should have guessed; was my sort of pidgin.

All communication Earthside channeled through Mike. But those brain boys had enough electronic equipment to stock a warehouse; once they decided to, it took them only hours to breadboard a rig that could reach Terra.

Only thing that saved us was a fellow traveler who thought Luna should be free. He tried to phone Adam Selene, wound up talking to one of a squad of women we had co-opted from C and D level-a system thrown together in self-defense as, despite Mike's request, half of Luna tried to phone Adam Selene after that videocast, everything from requests and demands to busybodies who wanted to tell Adam how to do his job.

After about a hundred calls got routed to me through too much zeal by a comrade in phone company, we set up this buffer squad. Happily, comrade lady who took this call recognized that soothe-'em-down doctrine did not apply; she phoned me.

Minutes later myself and Finn Nielsen plus some eager guns headed by capsule for laboratory area. Our informant was scared to give name but had told me where to find transmitter. We caught them transmitting, and only fast action on Finn's part kept them breathing; his boys were itchy. But we did not want to "make an example"; Finn and I had settled that on way out. Is hard to frighten scientists, their minds don't work that way. Have to get at them from other angles.

I kicked that transmitter to pieces and ordered Director to have everyone a.s.semble in mess hall and required roll call-where a phone could hear. Then I talked to Mike, got names from him, and said to Director: "Doctor, you told me they were all here. We're missing so-and-so"-seven names. "Get them here!"

Missing Terrans had been notified, had refused to stop what they were doing-typical scientists.

Then I talked, Loonies on one side of room, Terrans on other. To Terrans I said; "We tried to treat you as guests. But three of you tried and perhaps succeeded in sending message Earthside."

I turned to Director. "Doctor, I could search-warren, surface structures, all labs, every s.p.a.ce-and destroy everything that might be used for transmitter. I'm electron pusher by trade; I know what wide variety of components can be converted into transmitters. Suppose I destroy everything that might be useful for that and, being stupid, take no chance and smash anything I don't understand. What result?"

Would have thought I was about to kill his baby! He turned gray. "That would stop every research . . . destroy priceless data.., waste, oh, I don't know how much! Call it a half billion dollars!"

"So I thought. Could take all that gear instead of smas.h.i.+ng and let you go on best you can."

"That would be almost as bad. You must understand, Gospodin, that when an experiment is interrupted-"

"I know. Easier than moving anything-and maybe missing some-is to take you all to Complex and quarter you there. We have what used to be Dragoon barracks. But that too would ruin experiments. Besides-Where you from, Doctor?"

"Princeton, New Jersey."

"So? You've been here five months and no doubt exercising and wearing weights. Doctor, if we did that, you might never see Princeton again. If we move you, we'll keep you locked up. You'll get soft. If emergency goes on very long, you'll be a Loonie like it or not. And all your brainy help with you."

A c.o.c.ky chum stepped forward-one who had to be sent for twice. "You can't do this! It's against the law!"

"What law, Gospodin? Some law back in your hometown?" I turned. "Finn, show him law."

Finn stepped forward and placed emission bell of gun at man's belly b.u.t.ton. Thumb started to press down-safety-switched, I could see. I said, "Don't kill him, Finn!"-then went on: "I will eliminate this man if that's what it takes to convince you. So watch each other! One more offense will kill all your chances of seeing home again-as well as ruining researches. Doctor, I warn you to find ways to keep check on your staff."

I turned to Loonies. "Tovarishchee, keep them honest. Work up own guard system. Don't take nonsense; every earthworm is on probation. If you have to eliminate some, don't hesitate." I turned to Director. "Doctor, any Loonie can go anywhere any time-even your bedroom. Your a.s.sistants are now your bosses so far as security is concerned; if a Loonie decides to follow you or anybody into a W.C., don't argue; he might be jumpy."

I turned to Loonies. "Security first! You each work for some earthworm-watch him! Split it among you and don't miss anything. Watch 'em so close they can't build mouse trap, much less transmitter. If interferes with work for them, don't worry; wages will go on."

Could see grins. Lab a.s.sistant was best job a Loonie could find those days-but they worked under earthworms who looked down on us, even ones who pretended and were oh so gracious.

I let it go at that. When I had been phoned, I had intended to eliminate offenders. But Prof and Mike set me straight: Plan did not permit violence against Terrans that could be avoided.

We set up "ears," wideband sensitive receivers, around lab area, since even most directional rig spills a little in neighborhood. And Mike listened on all phones in area, After that we chewed nails and hoped.

Presently we relaxed as news up from Earthside showed nothing, they seemed to accept censored transmissions without suspicion, and private and commercial traffic and Authority's transmissions all seemed routine. Meanwhile we worked, trying in days what should take months.

We received one break in timing; no pa.s.senger s.h.i.+p was on Luna and none was due until 7 July. We could have coped-suckered a s.h.i.+p's officers to "dine with Warden" or something, then mounted guard on its senders or dismantled them. Could not have lifted without our help; in those days one drain on ice was providing water for reaction ma.s.s. Was not much drain compared with grain s.h.i.+pments; one manned s.h.i.+p a month was heavy traffic then, while grain lifted every day. What it did mean was that an incoming s.h.i.+p was not an insuperable hazard. Nevertheless was lucky break; we were trying so hard to make everything look normal until we could defend ourselves.

Grain s.h.i.+pments went on as before; one was catapulted almost as Finn's men were breaking into Warden's residence. And next went out on time, and all others.

Neither oversight nor faking for interim; Prof knew what he was doing. Grain s.h.i.+pments were a big operation (for a little country like Luna) and couldn't be changed in one semi-lunar; bread-and-beer of too many people was involved. If our committee had ordered embargo and quit buying grain, we would have been chucked out and a new committee with other ideas would have taken over.

Prof said that an educational period was necessary. Meanwhile grain barges catapulted as usual; LuNoHoCo kept books and issued receipts, using civil service personnel. Dispatches went out in Warden's name and Mike talked to Authority Earthside, using Warden's voice. Deputy Administrator proved reasonable, once he understood it upped his life expectancy. Chief Engineer stayed on job, too-McIntyre was a real Loonie, given chance, rather than fink by nature. Other department heads and minor stooges were no problem; life went on as before and we were too busy to unwind Authority system and put useful parts up for sale.

Over a dozen people turned up claiming to be Simon Jester; Simon wrote a rude verse disclairning them and had picture on front page of Lunatic, Pravda, and Gong. Wyoh let herself go blond and made trip to see Greg at new catapult site, then a longer trip, ten days, to old home in Hong Kong Luna, taking Anna who wanted to see it. Wyoh needed a vacation and Prof urged her to take it, pointing on that she was in touch by phone and that closer Party contact was needed in Hong Kong. I took over her stilyagi with Slim and Hazel as my lieutenants-bright, sharp kids I could trust. Slim was awed to discover that I was "Comrade Bork" and saw "Adam Selene" every day; his Party name started with "G." Made a good team for other reason, too. Hazel suddenly started showing cus.h.i.+ony curves and not all from Mimi's superb table; she had reached that point in her orbit. Slim was ready to change her name to "Stone" any time she was willing to opt. In meantime he was anxious to do Party work he could share with our fierce little redhead.

Not everybody was willing. Many comrades turned out to be talk-talk soldiers. Still more thought war was over once we had eliminated Peace Goons and captured Warden. Others were indignant to learn how far down they were in Party structure; they wanted to elect a new structure, themselves at top. Adam received endless calls proposing this or something like it-would listen, agree, a.s.sure them that their services must not be wasted by waiting for election-and refer them to Prof or me. Can't recall any of these ambitious people who amounted to anything when I tried to put them to work.

Was endless work and n.o.body wanted to do it. Well, a few. Some best volunteers were people Party had never located. But in general, Loonies in and out of Party had no interest in "patriotic" work unless well paid. One chum who claimed to be a Party member (was not) spragged me in Raffles where we set up headquarters and wanted me to contract for fifty thousand b.u.t.tons to be worn by pre-coup "Veterans of Revolution"-a "small" profit for him (I estimate 400 percent markup), easy dollars for me, a fine thing for everybody.

When I brushed him off, he threatened to denounce me to Adam Selene-"A very good friend of mine, I'll have you know!"-for sabotage.

That was "help" we got. What we needed was something else. Needed steel at new catapult and plenty-Prof asked, if really necessary to put steel around rock missiles; I had to point out that an induction field won't grab bare rock. We needed to relocate Mike's ballistic radars at old site and install doppler radar at new site-both jobs because we could expect attacks from s.p.a.ce at old site.

We called for volunteers, got only two who could be used-and needed several hundred mechanics who did not mind hard work in p-suits. So we hired, paying what we had to---LuNoHoCo went in hock to Bank of Hong Kong Luna; was no time to steal that much and most funds had been transferred Earthside to Stu. A d.i.n.k.u.m comrade, Foo Moses Morris, co-signed much paper to keep us going-and wound up broke and started over with a little tailoring shop in Kongville. That was later.

Authority Scrip dropped from 3-to-1 to 17-to-1 after coup and civil service people screamed, as Mike was still paying in Authority checks. We said they could stay on or resign; then those we needed, we rehired with Hong Kong dollars. But created a large group not on our side from then on; they longed for good old days and were ready to stab new regime.

Grain farmers and brokers were unhappy because payment at catapult head continued to be Authority scrip at same old fixed prices. "We won't take it!" they cried-and LuNoHoCo man would shrug and tell them they didn't have to but this grain still went to Authority Earthside (it did) and Authority scrip was all they would get. So take cheque, or load your grain back into rolligons and get it out of here.

Most took it. All grumbled and some threatened to get out of grain and start growing vegetables or fibers or something that brought Hong Kong dollars-and Prof smiled.

We needed every drillman in Luna, especially ice miners who owned heavy-duty laser drills. As soldiers. We needed them so badly that, despite being shy one wing and rusty, I considered joining up, even though takes muscle to wrestle a big drill, and prosthetic just isn't muscle. Prof told me not to be a fool.

Dodge we had in mind would not work well Earthside; a laser beam carrying heavy power works best in vacuum-but there it works just dandy for whatever range its collimation is good for. These big drills, which had carved through rock seeking pockets of ice, were now being mounted as "artillery" to repel s.p.a.ce attacks. Both s.h.i.+ps and missiles have electronic nervous systems and does electronic gear no good to blast it with umpteen joules placed in a tight beam. If target is pressured (as manned s.h.i.+ps are and most missiles), all it takes is to burn a hole, depressure it. If not pressured, a heavy laser beam can still kill it-burn eyes, louse guidance, spoil anything depending on electronics as most everything does.

An H-bomb with circuitry ruined is not a bomb, is just big tub of lithium deuteride that can't do anything but crash. A s.h.i.+p with eyes gone is a derelict, not a wars.h.i.+p.

Sounds easy, is not. Those laser drills were never meant for targets a thousand kilometers away, or even one, and was no quick way to rig their cradles for accuracy. Gunner had to have guts to hold fire until last few seconds-on a target heading at him maybe two kilometers per second. But was best we had, so we organized First and Second Volunteer Defense Gunners of Free Luna-two regiments so that First could snub lowly Second and Second could be Jealous of First. First got older men, Second got young and eager.

Having called them "volunteers," we hired in Hong Kong dollars-and was no accident that ice was being paid for in controlled market in wastepaper Authority script.

On top of all, we were talking up a war scare. Adam Selene talked over video, reminding that Authority was certain to try to regain its tyranny and we had only days to prepare; papers quoted him and published stories of their own-we had made special effort to recruit newsmen before coup. People were urged to keep p-suits always near and to test pressure alarms in homes. A volunteer Civil Defense Corps was organized in each warren.

What with moonquakes always with us, each warren's pressure co-op always had sealing crews ready at any hour. Even with silicone stay-soft and fibergla.s.s any warren leaks. In Davis Tunnels our boys did maintenance on seal every day. But now we recruited hundreds of emergency sealing crews, mostly stilyagi, drilled them with fake emergencies, had them stay in p-suits with helmets open when on duty.

They did beautifully. But idiots made fun of them-"play soldiers," "Adam's little apples," other names. A team was going through a drill, showing they could throw a temporary lock around one that had been damaged, and one of these pinheads stood by and rode them loudly.

Civil Defense team went ahead, completed temporary lock, tested it with helmets closed; it held-came out, grabbed this joker, took him through into temporary lock and on out into zero pressure, dumped him.

Belittlers kept opinions to selves after that. Prof thought we ought to send out a gentle warning not to eliminate so peremptorily. I opposed it and got my way; could see no better way to improve breed. Certain types of loudmouthism should be a capital offense among decent people.

But our biggest headaches were self-anointed statesmen.

Did I say that Loonies are "non-politica1"? They are, when comes to doing anything. But doubt if was ever a time two Loonies over a liter of beer did not swap loud opinions about how things ought to be run.

As mentioned, these self-appointed political scientists tried to grab Adam Selene's ear. But Prof had a place for them; each was invited to take part in "Ad-Hoc Congress for Organization of Free Luna"-which met in Community Hall in Luna City, then resolved to stay in session until work was done, a week in L-City, a week in Novylen, then Hong Kong, and start over. All sessions were in video. Prof presided over first and Adam Selene addressed them by video and encouraged them to do a thorough job-"History is watching you."

I listened to some sessions, then cornered Prof and asked what in Bog's name he was up to? "Thought you didn't want any government. Have you heard those nuts since you turned them loose?"

He smiled most dimply smile. "What's troubling you, Manuel?"

Many things were troubling me. With me breaking heart trying to round up heavy drills and men who could treat them as guns these idlers had spent an entire afternoon discussing immigration. Some wanted to stop it entirely. Some wanted to tax it, high enough to finance government (when ninety-nine out of a hundred Loonies had had to be dragged to The Rock!); some wanted to make it selective by "ethnic ratios." (Wondered how they would count me?) Some wanted to limit it to females until we were 50-50. That had produced a Scandinavian shout: "Ja, cobber! Tell 'em send us hoors! Tousands and tousands of hoors! I marry 'em, I betcha!"

Was most sensible remark all afternoon.

Another time they argued "time." Sure, Greenwich time bears no relation to lunar. But why should it when we live Underground? Show me a Loonie who can sleep two weeks and work two weeks; lunars don't fit our metabolism. What was urged was to make a lunar exactly equal to twenty-eight days (instead of 29 days, 12 hours, 44 minutes, 2.78 seconds) and do this by making days longer-and hours, minutes, and seconds, thus making each semi-lunar exactly two weeks.

Sure, lunar is necessary for many purposes. Controls when we go up on surface, why we go, and how long we stay. But, aside from throwing us out of gear with our only neighbor, had that wordy vacuum skull thought what this would do to every critical figure in science and engineering? As an electronics man I shuddered. Throw away every book, table, instrument, and start over? I know that some of my ancestors did that in switching from old English units to MKS-but they did it to make things easier. Fourteen inches to a foot and some odd number of feet to a mile. Ounces and pounds. Oh, Bog!

Made sense to change that-but why go out of your way to create confusion?

Somebody wanted a committee to determine exactly what Loonie language is, then fine everybody who talked Earthside English or other language. Oh, my people!

I read tax proposals in Lunatic-four sorts of "SingleTaxers"-a cubic tax that would penalize a man if he extended tunnels, a head tax (everybody pay same), income tax (like to see anyone figure income of Davis Family or try to get information out of Mum!), and an "air tax" which was not fees we paid then but something else.

Hadn't realized "Free Luna" was going to have taxes. Hadn't had any before and got along. You paid for what you got. Tanstaafl. How else?

Another time some pompous choom proposed that bad breath and body odors be made an elimination offense. Could almost sympathize, having been stuck on occasion in a capsule with such stinks. But doesn't happen often and tends to be self-correcting; chronic offenders, or unfortunates who can't correct, aren't likely to reproduce, seeing how choosy women are.

One female (most were men, but women made up for it in silliness) had a long list she wanted made permanent laws-about private matters. No more plural marriage of any sort. No divorces. No "fornication"-had to look that one up. No drinks stronger than 4% beer. Church services only on Sat.u.r.days and all else to stop that day. (Air and temperature and pressure engineering, lady? Phones and capsules?) A long list of drugs to be prohibited and a shorter list dispensed only by licensed physicians. (What is a "licensed physician"? Healer I go to has a sign reading "practical doctor"-makcs book on side, which is why I go to him. Look, lady, aren't any medical schools in Luna!) (Then, I mean.) She even wanted to make gambling illegal. If a Loonie couldn't roll double or nothing, he would go to a shop that would, even if dice were loaded.

Thing that got me was not her list of things she hated, since she was obviously crazy as a Cyborg, but fact that always somebody agreed with her prohibitions. Must be a yearning deep in human heart to stop other people from doing as they please. Rules, laws-always for other fellow. A murky part of us, something we had before we came down out of trees, and failed to shuck when we stood up. Because not one of those people said: "Please pa.s.s this so that I won't be able to do something I know I should stop." Nyet, tovarishchee, was always something they hated to see neighbors doing. Stop them "for their own good"-not because speaker claimed to be harmed by it.

Listening to that session I was almost sorry we got rid of Mort the Wart. He stayed holed up with his women and didn't tell us how to run private lives.

But Prof didn't get excited; he went on smiling. "Manuel, do you really think that mob of r.e.t.a.r.ded children can pa.s.s any laws?"

"You told them to. Urged them to."

"My dear Manuel, I was simply putting all my nuts in one basket. I know those nuts; I've listened to them for years. I was very careful in selecting their committees; they all have built-in confusion, they will quarrel. The chairman I forced on them while letting them elect him is a ditherer who could not unravel a piece of string-thinks every subject needs 'more study.' I almost needn't have bothered; more than six people cannot agree on anything, three is better-and one is perfect for a job that one can do. This is why parliamentary bodies all through history, when they accomplished anything, owed it to a few strong men who dominated the rest. Never fear, son, this Ad-Hoc Congress will do nothing. . . or if they pa.s.s something through sheer fatigue, it will be so loaded with contradictions that it will have to be thrown out. In the meantime they are out of our hair. Besides, there is something we need them for, later."

"Thought you said they could do nothing."

"They won't do this. One man will write it-a dead man-and late at night when they are very tired, they'll pa.s.s it by acclamation."

"Who's this dead man? You don't mean Mike?"

"No, no! Mike is far more alive than those yammerheads. The dead man is Thomas Jefferson-first of the rational anarchists, my boy, and one who once almost managed to slip over his non-system through the most beautiful rhetoric ever written. But they caught him at it, which I hope to avoid. I cannot improve on his phrasing; I shall merely adapt it to Luna and the twenty-first century."

"Heard of him, Freed slaves, nyet?"

"One might say he tried but failed. Never mind. How are the defenses progressing? I don't see how we can keep up the pretense past the arrival date of this next s.h.i.+p."