Scott Mackay - Phytosphere

“Gerald, you are understandably angry. But you must accept it. The bright blue jewel you call your home is lost. The control mechanism for the phytosphere is gone. There is nothing we can do for you.”

“You can help us build a new control device, Kafis. Here on the Moon.”

“We’ve made a complete inventory of the Moon’s technological resources. Even if I were to reveal to you the methods involved, you wouldn’t have the materials.”

“It’s gravity, isn’t it?” said Gerry.

This stopped Kafis. “Human, you always surprise me.”

“Am I right?”

“You must claw your own way to wisdom, my son. The Earth is not my concern anymore. I’m here to negotiate with the Moon.”

“Gravity?” said Ira.

“You want to negotiate with the Moon?” said Hulke.

Kafis turned to the mayor. His pupils widened to their fullest. Gerry wasn’t sure what this was supposed to mean, but guessed that Kafis was now going to try to manipulate Hulke.

“What’s this about gravity?” said Ira. “This is the first I’ve heard about gravity.”

He glanced at Ira. Did the man actually care about the Earth after all?

“Because of the actions of a few misguided men on Earth,” said Kafis, “the Moon now finds itself in a precarious position. So does the mothership.”

“The phytosphere is reactive to gravity,” Gerry told Ira. “I sent the report to your office this morning.

You haven’t read it?”

Ira frowned. “Everything is reactive to gravity. Jesus, Gerry, tell us something we don’t know.”

The rebuke stung Gerry. And maybe Ira was right. Everything was reactive to gravity. What was he going to do about it? Especially in relation to the phytosphere?

“Gerry,” said Hulke. “If you don’t mind, Kafis has raised a… a point of some pressing concern for the Moon. Go ahead, Kafis.”

Kafis continued. “We find ourselves thrown together in this… this lifeboat you call your Moon. Look beyond your office window. You see fifteen of our craft. In each of them are a dozen of my people. They are refugees. We ask you for refuge on the Moon.”

“Kafis… that’s not going to fly so well with the general populace. Especially because we’re running out of food. We’ve got our hydroponics facilities going full steam to augment things, but it’s hardly enough to feed… a couple of hundred extra hostiles. People are going around hungry all the time. When the reserve runs out, it’s going to be slow starvation, with just enough coming in from the hydro facilities to make us think we might hang on for another year or two before… before we’re overwhelmed by it all. I’m sorry. We can’t take you. Politically, it’s not possible. And the Earth would have a bird.”

“Ah… but we don’t come expecting to get something for nothing. We have always offered something in return. Not only in our negotiations with Earth, but now also in our negotiations with you. Yes, we are refugees, but we are also scientists and technicians and inventors, and we have a long history of turning uninhabitable rocks into oases. We have the means to double, triple, and even quadruple your food supply. And you need never worry about your air or water again. Humankind can find its new homeworld here on this Moon. This barren rock can now be the cradle of your civilization. Our technology can easily achieve this, if you’ll only let us live here as refugees.”

Hulke glanced around the room. His eyes glowed with euphoric seriousness. Gerry felt the mayor was losing sight of the essential emergency.

He pressed the point. “What about Earth? What about the millions of people who are dying down there?”

Hulke turned to him. “Gerry…I hate to be obvious about this, but maybe we should concentrate on saving what we can. I’m really sorry about your family. I’m sorry about everybody on Earth. But the toxin thing has failed, and the virus thing has failed, and I guess you were right about both of them; kudos to you. Now Kafis is telling us that U.S. forces have destroyed the Tarsalan phytosphere control mechanism, and that there’s nothing they can do because they don’t have the resources to build another.

Kafis is trying to help us here on the Moon, now that he can’t help Earth. And as mayor of Nectaris, I have to think of lunar lives first.”

“Kafis, tell us how to build one of these control devices,” said Gerry.

“Gerald, the technology involved is so beyond the scope of your understanding—and the Moon’s resources—that it’s simply not possible. I come here to offer you what is possible.” And here he went into an elaborate discussion of turning the Moon into the cradle of humanity, of how he and his experts had tallied every nut and bolt on the Moon, and calculated down to the last gram its every natural resource, had assessed all the scientific and technical talent on the Moon, and had come to the conclusion that if they used absolutely everything available to them they could make the Moon self-sustaining.

“Especially if AviOrbit hands over its assets.”

“Now just hang on there,” said Ira.

“That includes your manufacturing facilities, in-service spacecraft, and all singularity drives—including the current models set for delivery to the Federated Martian Colonies Transit Collective.”

“Hey, you can’t take those. That’s our biggest order to date.”

“Those drives will be needed to harvest comets in the short term. I believe the drives have a service life of five years. By that time we’ll have built our own drives for you.”

“Yes, but I haven’t the authority to sign things over to you.”

“And whose authority do you need?”

“Head office in San Diego.”

“AviOrbit, as an entity on Earth, no longer exists.” Kafis paused, and his pupils shrank. “Ira… my friend… we must think in terms of a… a new beginning. We are sitting around this table… and we are making history. The Tarsalans—those of us who remain—offer you heartfelt assistance and a disciplined plan.”

Kafis continued with a more detailed discussion of how the Moon could sustain itself indefinitely. Gerry hardly caught any of it. All he could think of was his family. Of what they were facing. No matter how lucky and careful they were, the food was going to run out. He glanced at Stephanie.

Stephanie leaned over. “Kafis is hiding something.”

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “I can tell we’re not wanted.”

He and Stephanie got up and moved toward the doors.

“Gerry?” said the mayor.

“You’ll go down in history, Malcolm, but not the way you think.”

Gerry and Stephanie left the room and walked down the corridor.

He took out his fone as he came to the Council Chamber and tried to contact Glenda, but all he got was the AT&T Interlunar message. Tears came to his eyes and he quickly wiped them away with the back of his arm.

Stephanie put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Gerry.”

“There’s got to be something I can do.”

“What do you think the people on Earth would do to Kafis if they ever got their hands on him? He’s playing the only card he can. Staying alive until reinforcements arrive.”

“Reinforcements?”

“Don’t they live a long time?”

“Two hundred and fifty years.”

“So he can spend forty on the Moon. That’s how long it’ll take for reinforcements to get here. I’m sure

they’ve already sent their Mayday.”

He shook his head. “And they say they’re not warlike.”

“So when reinforcements arrive, they open the shroud, get rid of it, and go down and resuscitate Earth.

It’ll be theirs for the taking. We’ll be supplanted in our own solar system. That’s why he got so cagey when you started talking about the gravity thing. And when he told you he was impressed, he was just throwing it in your face. I’m sure he could easily build another phytosphere control device if he wanted to.”