While the hours become daycycles, tension mounts. Sometimes Dagny can snatch an interlude of the low-level activity that is a download’s equivalent of sleep, but it is brief and always she is roused from it by the next upward ratcheting of the crisis.
Nominally she is no more than a member of the Provisional Trust, which has a doubtful standing. It is not the home rule government that, legally, should speak for Luna. It is a group that the legislature in Tsukimachi has called into existence and charged with negotiations. She had much to do with maneuvering enough deputies into voting for it, and with persuading Governor General Haugen that his veto would bring the open breach he fears.
In effect, the Trust has become the Lunar government, for it includes the Selenarchs who scornfully ignored a congress now impotent and irrelevant. True, representatives come also from the cities, the major industries and professions, the Terrans who want to stay on the Moon whatever happens. But all desire full independence. To that end, when they see fit they issue decrees which local magistrates put into action.
The power is sharply limited. Luna is still subject to the World Federation. Peace Authority forces have been redoubled. If any significant international statute is violated, the governor is to order the Trust dissolved and proclaim martial law.
Dagny is a delegate at large, chosen by the others and taking her seat at their urgent request. It has become she whose word is most heeded by them, who composes their differences for them, and who oftenest speaks on behalf of them. More than once, this has been directly to Federation President Daniel Janvier in Hiroshima. Such mana does the Beynac name have. It may be even stronger in the download than it was in the living woman. A robotic presence can seem impersonal, impartial. And underneath, does there go a dark mythic shiver … at the voice from beyond the grave, the oracular hero?
Politics on Earth gropes and fumbles. The Lunar question can no longer wait. Unrest, agitation, riots and boycotts and subtler seditions, rumors of forbidden weapons secretly manufactured, hitches in production and trade, warnings from Fireball that worse will probably befall, have thrust aside matters that hitherto seemed closer to home. In the night sky the full Moon hangs like a bomb. Janvier summons a special session of the High Council and Assembly.
Debate drags and lurches. The North Americans and Russians, especially, abhor the precedent; if common heritage is ended on Luna, when then of the whole Solar System? The Chinese and Australians deem the principle obsolete. The Indonesians recall forebears who freed themselves from colonial masters. The Siberians feel that their own example is more apposite. Oratory burgeons like fungus. The president and some of the parliamentarians strive to keep proceedings on course.
For humanity in general, everyday life goes on. The download has none, nor time for it.
The measures take form. They reach the floor. Autonomy passes. Luna shall be recognized as a Federation member after a democratic constitution with proper safeguards has been drafted, approved, and ratified. Across Earth, banners fly and crowds cheer.
The Provisional Trust rejects the program.
It insists on total independence, absolute sovereignty. It will honor the pledges made in a statement of position issued last year: property settlements, emigration assistance, trade and arms control treaties. But this shall be voluntary. Luna shall have complete freedom to make its future as it will.
Dagny knew this would be the response. She forewarned Janvier. He replied that he must do what he could with what he had. Now he denounces the refusal. However, he does not declare the Trust disbanded. He promises to try persuasion. He and Dagny understand that this is a token. “I wish it weren’t,” she says to him on the encrypted laser. “I’d infinitely prefer a republic. But that is not suited for Lunarians, and they are my people.”
Indignation seethes on Earth. Terrans riot on the Moon. Constabulary and Peace Authority have their hands full, restoring and enforcing order.
The High Council of the World Federation directs the president to call up the Authority reserves. Several governments offer to reinforce these, if necessary, with men and matériel from their national militias.
Communications fly across space. Astromonitors observe and report a score of ships returning sunward from the asteroid belt. Upon inquiry, they identify themselves as the law requires: Lunarian-owned freighters for the mining and extraction operations that a few magnates conduct yonder. These enterprises are petty compared to, say, Fireball’s or Maharashtra’s; but the vessels are big and nuclear-engined.
“They cannot be coming back simultaneously by coincidence!” exclaims Janvier.
Transmission lag.
“No,” agrees download Dagny Beynac, “but as long as they follow safe traffic patterns, they are not obliged to give reasons. I’ve asked, and received no answer except that this is private business. It may be a precautionary move of some kind. I suggest you underplay, or you could have mass hysteria on top of your other problems.”
Transmission lag.
“That may not be avoidable,” he says grimly.
The ships do not take Lunar orbit, as they would if shuttles were to bring their cargoes down. They ease into paths around the Earth-Moon system. Such orbits are unstable, and from time to time thrust corrects them.
“They must vacate,” Janvier states. His image in the screen is haggard, sweat beading cheeks and brow. “From where they are, they could accelerate inward, open their hatches, and shovel rocks at meteor speed down on our cities.”
Transmission lag.
“Don’t force the issue yet,” Dagny advises. “It would be a crazy thing for them to do, you know. Most of the stuff would burn up in the atmosphere. What little reached the surface would be gravel size, and trajectory control impossible. Everything would likeliest fall in the ocean or onto empty fields.”
—“That is if it is ordinary stuff, ore, ingots, dust, ice. How do we know they haven’t forged massive, aerodynamic missiles out there?”
—“It would still be insane. Whenever Earth wants to make an all-out effort, it can crush Luna utterly. Killing millions of people would reliably provoke that. I assure you, the Selenarchs are not loco.”
—“I suppose so, although sometimes I wonder. But I have to deal with the public reaction. When the news is released, and that is inevitable soon, any ’cast will show you what it is like. I beg you, convince those arrogant barons and tycoons they have miscalculated.”
—“I am not certain they have, señor. I am certain that the politicians of Earth miscalculated gravely. Let us try together, from our different sides, for emotional damage control.”
Janvier invokes emergency powers granted under the Covenant and commands the Lunarian ships to go. They make no reply. The Trust declares that the order has no legal force, because simply adopting an unusual orbit poses no threat, nor has one been spoken.
Lunarians in the cities occasionally set aside their dignity and leer at passing Earthfolk. The air wellnigh smells of oncoming lightning.
The Federation and its member governments keep no spacecraft capable of attack. Indeed, they have scant space transport of any sort. Normally they have contracted with Fireball, thereby sparing themselves both the capital cost and the expensive, cumbersome bureaucracies they would have been sure to establish.
Fireball declines to move against the Lunarian vessels. What, a private company undertaking paramilitary operations? It would be a violation of the Covenant. For that matter, Anson Guthrie announces, Fireball will not provide the extra bottom needed for lifting more troops to the Moon. He holds that the move would be disastrously unwise, and his organization cannot in conscience support it.
In Hiroshima the speaker for Ecuador, where Fireball is incorporated, explains that her government concurs with Sr. Guthrie and will not compel him. She strongly urges giving the Lunarians their selfdetermination, and introduces a motion to that effect.
However, Fireball and Ecuador will not tolerate bombardment of Earth. Should such happen, every resource will be made available for pacification of the Moon and punishment of the criminals. Meanwhile, they offer their good offices toward mediating the dispute.
Lars Rydberg goes to Luna as Fireball’s plenipotentiary.
His public statements are few and curt. For the most part he is alone with the download. This is natural and somewhat reassuring. Day by day, the terror on Earth ebbs.
The Assembly reopens the independence question. Speeches are shorter and more to the point than before. Divisions are becoming clear-cut. On the one side, the advocates of releasing Luna have gained recruits among their colleagues and in their constituencies. If the alternative amounts to war, it is unacceptable. The Lunarians have the right to be what they are, and as their unique civilization flowers, ours will share in its achievements. On the other side, the heritage persuasion has hardened and has also made converts. Furthermore, it is argued, nationalism wrought multimillions of deaths, over and over, with devastation from which the world has never quite recovered. Here we see the monster hatching anew. We must crush its head while we still can.
The news explodes: Selenarchs have dispatched units of their retainers to occupy powerbeam stations “and protect them for the duration of the present exigency.” The squadrons are well-organized and formidably equipped—with small arms, as the Covenant allows if you strain an interpretation, but equal to anything that the Peace Authority force on the Moon can bring against them. Besides, although the Selenarchs are noncommittal about it, rumors fly of heavier weapons. A catapult, easily and cheaply made, can throw a missile halfway around the Moon.
Be that as it may, a transmission unit would scarcely survive a battle for possession of it.
—Janvier: “This is rebellion. Fireball promised help in case of outright violence.”
—Rydberg: “Sir, I am not a lawyer. I cannot judge the legality of the action. According to the Provisional Trust, it is justified under the law of dire necessity. Think how dependent Earth is on the solar energy from Luna.”
—Janvier: “Oh, yes. They suppose they have us by the throat. I say this is as suicidal a threat as those ships pose, but a great many human beings would die, and I call on Fireball to do its duty.”
—Rydberg: “Sir, we could take out the ships, at enormous cost, but how can we handle the situation on the ground? Let me repeat, Lord Brandir and his associates do not make it a threat. They do not want cities darkened, services halted, panic and crime and death over Earth. No, they will guard those stations from sabotage by extremists here on the Moon.”
—Janvier: “What of the sites they have not occupied?”
—Rydberg: “True, they can watch only a few. They consider it an object lesson.”
—Janvier: “Hm. I say again, they are trying to take us by the throat.”
—Rydberg: “And I say, with respect, they are demonstrating what could, what would happen on a world of wild individualists who felt they were under a foreign tyranny. … Please, I am not on their side myself, I am simply telling you what they believe. … Can the Peace Authority secure the network? Yes, if first you commit genocide on the Lunarians. Otherwise you must guard the whole of it, at unbearable expense, and the guard will keep failing, because they are Terrans, not Lunarians, and as for robots, humans can always find ways to outwit them.”
—“Whereas the Selenarchs, if they rule the Moon, can effectively maintain the system?”
—“Yes, Mr. President. They have the organization and the loyal, able followers. They will not have the revolutionary saboteurs.”
—“Are you certain?”
—“Nothing is certain forever. I am speaking of today, our children’s lifetimes, and I hope our grandchildren’s. By then, Earth may no longer need power from Luna.”
—“But meanwhile the Selenarchs can blackmail us.”
—“Consider their psychology, sir. Those utilities enjoy huge earnings. Why jeopardize that? Lunarians are not interested in dominion over … our kind of humans.”
—“Then what games do they mean to play?”
—“That I cannot tell you. I wonder if they can, themselves. The future will show. I only say, this game is played out and you should concede.”
Undetectable in circuit, Dagny has followed the conversation. It is her wont.
Whipsaw, from a degree of relief about a firestorm from space to a dread of global energy famine. The peoples of Earth and their leaders are alike exhausted. It is easiest to accept the assurances, override the remaining opposition, and yield. After all, the positive inducements are substantial.
The measure comes to the floor. It passes. The Council ratifies, the president signs. Once the stipulated compensatory arrangements have been made, Luna shall be free and sovereign.
Baronial men leave the transmitters. The circling ships enter Lunar orbit and discharge cargoes that turn out to be quite commonplace. As part of the accord, these craft will soon be in Terrestrial hands.
No gatherings jubilate. On Earth, the mood is mostly a dull thankfulness that the confrontation is past. Lunarians are not given to mass histrionics. Terran Moondwellers who feel happy with the outcome celebrate apart. As for those who do not, they begin preparing to emigrate.
Alone, Dagny and Rydberg speak. She wears a bipedal robot body. Weary to the depths of her spirit, if downloads have any, she will not simulate the image of the dead woman; but neither will she be a mere voice.
“It worked,” she sighs: for she has mastered the making of human sounds. “Between the Trust, Fireball, Brandir and his fellows, the space captains—”
“Do not forget yourself,” he says.
The faceless head shakes. “No, nor those I haven’t named. You know who they were. Never mind. What we set up and played through, the whole charade, it worked. I honestly doubted it would. But what else was there to try?”
His tone goes metallic. “If it had failed, it would have stopped being a charade.”
“Yes. Janvier realized that. Do you realize that he did? It succeeded because reality stood behind it.”
“And it was simpler than what’s ahead of us.”
“You’ll navigate, I’m sure.”
He gives her a long look, as if it were into living eyes. “We will?”
“Luna, Earth, Fireball, everybody.”
“Except you?”
“I’ve been useful—”
“What a poor word, … Mother!”
A robot cannot weep. “I kept her promise for her. Now let me go.”
“Do you want to die?” he whispers.
She forms a laugh. “What the hell does that question mean, for me?”
He must take a moment before he can say it. “Do you want your program wiped? Made nothing?”
“Your mother set that condition before she agreed to be downloaded. I hold you to it.”
“Anson Guthrie goes on.”
“He is he. I am I.” Oh, Dagny Beynac loved life, but to her, being an abstraction was not life. Nor does the revenant care to evolve into something else, alien to her Edmond.
“The time could come—very likely will come—when they have need of you again.”
“No. They should never think they need one person that much.”
Her gaze captures his and holds it. Beneath his thin white hair is a countenance gone well-nigh skeletal. He is near the century mark himself. Yet he was born to a girl named Dagny Ebbesen.
After a long time, he slumps back in his chair and says unevenly, “The, the termination will be a big event, you know.”
If she were making an image, it would have smiled. “I’m afraid so. See it through.”
“I already hear talk about it. The same tomb for you—”
“Why not, if they wish?”
A gesture, a symbol, a final service rendered. This hardware and the blanked software may as well rest there as anyplace else. The site may even become a halidom, like Thermopylae or Bodhgaya, around which hearts can irrationally rally. Besides, she likes the thought that that which was her will lie beside the ash that was Dagny Beynac beneath the stars that shone on ’Mond.