Scott Mackay: Phytosphere

He paused to register the effect he was making. Judging from the blank looks, it seemed many of them, especially the Lunarians, didn’t know too much about the Secessionist Movement in the western United States. One middle-aged man, a doctor in a lab coat, looking as if he had just ducked over from the Aldrin Health Sciences Center, got up and asked him about it.

Gerry marshaled a few brief facts. “It’s been building for the last hundred years or so, and finds its origins in the general political polarization of the United States into red and blue states. Also, over the past fifty years, as the Hispanic population in these states has shifted from the minority to the majority, the movement has gained a cultural and religious impetus. Make no mistake, the governors in these states are hard-core, and they know their grass-roots constituents favor eventual secession, especially after their long and fractious fight over illegal immigration with the Federal Government. A few of these governors are so archsecessionist that I’m sure they’ll willingly blockade their emergency food stores for political gain. That’s going to adversely impact an already tenuous U.S. food-distribution system. This means the Federalist states could be facing major food shortages sooner than we’d like to imagine. And these food

shortages are going to be badly exacerbated by hoarding.”

The doctor sat down, seemingly satisfied with Gerry’s overview. Gerry continued.

“Western Secessionism is one of the reasons people are going to hoard. But if it gets dark and stays dark, they’re going to hoard because they won’t be sure if they can count on next year’s crop. We don’t know how far the Tarsalans are going to go with this shroud. Or if we can defeat it. As for third-world countries, the situation will be that much worse.” He gave everybody a good glancing over. “And what about us here on the Moon?” He caught the mayor shifting uncomfortably. “Given current stockpiles, and quick implementation of the mayor’s rationing program, we’re perhaps in a better situation than Earth.

But I imagine things will go critical fairly quickly.”

He paused.

“So that’s why I’m really glad the mayor has called this meeting. Because we should get working on this right away. I haven’t got too much else to say. But I think we should all try to appreciate how serious the situation can become. If the Tarsalans decide to go long-term with this, it could get bad. I’m talking really bad.”

The usual party atmosphere of the Moon was gone.

There wasn’t a rustle of sound anywhere.

It was like none of them could believe he was telling them this. As if they had come to party, but he had spoiled the mood.

He glanced around the room once more. And he had to wonder how his brother, Neil, would have handled the situation; whether he would have stood up here and listed problem after problem, as he had done, or if he would have tried to offer solutions. This was the essential difference between them. Neil had all the answers. All Gerry had were questions.

The mayor seemed to think so too, because he finally cleared his throat and got up from his chair.

“Thanks for that insightful… uh… overview of the potential… should I call them problems, or disasters… thanks for that, Gerry.”

He left the lectern and wasn’t sure if he had added anything substantive to the discussion at all. He glanced at Luke Langstrom. Langstrom didn’t look so amused anymore. He gave Gerry a solemn nod, then got up to say his own two bits about the shroud.

As Gerry sat down, Ian gave him a nudge. “Wow. Not exactly what I was expecting.”

“It’s not going to be a holiday, Ian. At least not if the Tarsalans keep it in place for a long time.”

And Gerry felt like the most unpopular man in the room.

The death of the party.

The guy people avoided because he was such a downer.

He did, indeed, feel like Neil Thorndike’s younger brother.

The meeting broke for refreshments an hour later. Mayor Hulke approached Gerry as he spigoted coffee into a Styrofoam cup. Nothing but coffee these days.

“Would you be willing to head this thing, Gerry?” asked Hulke.

“Me?” Gerry was surprised. “Wouldn’t it be better if one of the guys from AviOrbit did, someone who’s familiar with the scientific resources on the Moon?”

“We thought an Earthling might be more appropriate. And of course you carry the Thorndike name.”

Gerry’s lips tightened. “I’m not my brother, Malcolm. If they’re expecting miracles just because I’m Neil’s brother—”

“No one’s expecting anything. But I touched base with the AviOrbit guys during the break, and they say they would be comfortable if you would… more or less direct things. All these guys from AviOrbit—they’re just techies. They get their orders from Earth, and they build according to spec, and they don’t know how to tackle a project like this, not if there’s going to be a lot of pure science involved.

Believe me, I know. I worked at AviOrbit for fifteen years before I became mayor. You’re the only real, working scientist in the group. What I said on the TV about there being a lot of scientists here on holiday… that was just to boost morale.”

“What about Professor Langstrom?”

“Professor Langstrom’s been retired for years. I think you’re the most suitable candidate, Gerry, and so do a lot of other people.”

Gerry nodded, and couldn’t help feeling flattered. He rarely got asked to be the head of anything. “If that’s the way they feel, I’d be happy to give it a shot. But you were talking about budget. Do we have any budget?”

The mayor looked away. “Not really. The city has an emergency fund for fixing unexpected pressure leaks. We haven’t had a leak in forty-five years, so we could dip into some of that. But it’s not going to be much.”

“I’m just thinking… we may need things… things that only the merchants here can provide. Some might donate. But others might be reluctant. We can’t ask people for their livelihoods. Not if they can’t afford it. So if we have at least a little leeway money—”

“I’ll get council to release some of the emergency fund. But you have to understand, Gerry, our tax base is small. We’ll be running things on a shoestring.”

Gerry put a reassuring hand on the mayor’s shoulder. “Malcolm, you don’t have to worry. I’ve been running things on shoestrings all my life.”

Neil sat in the Oval Office six hours later—with barely time to change into a suit. A Secret Service agent walked here and there through the Oval Office, aiming an aerosol can all over the place, spraying the corners, behind pictures, in the vents. The aerosol particles were charged with bug-disabling properties—the Tarsalans were fond of deploying flying listening devices throughout the White House, the Capitol Building, and the Pentagon. Once the Secret Service agent was done—the room turned out to be clean—National Security Advisor Julie Petrov launched into an overview of the situation.

“The Tarsalans still aren’t budging.”

President Bayard sat behind his desk, a lean man from New Mexico, tall, his cheeks lined and tanned, his hair nearly white, every strand combed meticulously in place. Vice President Ben Baldwin stood to one side with his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels, chin thrust forward so his lower lip protruded over his upper one. Others present were the president’s chief of staff, Holden Gregory, and Secretary of Defense Joseph Sidower. Here to represent the National Science Foundation were himself and Dr. Robert Cruz.

“We advised the president to reject the Tarsalan demands,” continued Julie Petrov. “As far as this administration is concerned, all talks are at an end until the Tarsalans remove the shroud, call in their killer satellites, and restore our interplanetary communications. We’ve told them we consider the shroud an act of aggression.” She turned to the secretary of defense. “Joe? Do you want to talk about the military option?”