REBEL MOON: Excerpt

Rebel Moon

Office of the Governor, Port Aldrin
24 October 2069
21:47 GMT

Pieter von Hayek sat in his black chrome office chair like a convict in an execution chamber awaiting a call from the governor. Except that I am the governor, he reminded himself, and this was all my idea. He'd long since given up trying to project an aura of confidence to the dozen or so other people crowded into the small spartan office and was now simply hoping that his sweat wouldn't soak through the armpits of his gray pinstripe suit.

This is what I promised I'd do, if elected, he reminded himself. He took off his bifocals, massaged the bridge of his long, aquiline nose, then put his glasses back on and picked up the photo in the ebony frame on his desk. It was a holo of his long-dead wife, Erika, still young and beautiful forever on film, cradling their son, Josef. We committed to this day more than twenty years ago, my love. All my adult life I’ve worked toward this. He set the picture down carefully.

So why do I want to scream out, "Wait!"

Somewhere in the room a comm unit chirped. Von Hayek glanced up; Patrick Adams, the governor's shadowy right hand, fished a phonewire out of his coat pocket and pressed it to his left ear. "Yes?" Adams listened, then nodded once, folded up the phonewire, and put it back in his pocket. He turned to the governor.

For a millisecond he smiled.

"Ladies? Gentlemen?" Adams strode across the room and took up his station at von Hayek's side. Like flowers tracking the sun, all faces in the room turned toward him. "It is my pleasure to announce that our people have taken operational control of all six cargo launchers. General Consensus reports no casualties, no violence, and no alarms."

Adams stepped away from von Hayek, then turned to face him and bowed. "Governor? We await your orders."

Though his stomach was churning, von Hayek pasted a confident smile on his face. No turning back now. "My fellow governors," he began, addressing the dozen other men and women in the room. "I have tried many times to prepare words for this occasion. We owe our posterity some grand statement that will ring down through the ages; some careful explanation of how we have exhausted all diplomatic channels, grown weary of endless fruitless negotiations, and how it is that now, only after all else has failed, we at last resort to the threat of violence in our quest for freedom.

"I have tried to find those stirring words, and I have failed. So let me just say this: the die is cast. As of this moment, we in this room are no longer the democratically elected but completely powerless governors of the United Nations' lunar possessions. We are now the Governing Council of the Free State Selena."

He picked up the comm unit from his desk. "So let's ring up New York and tell them the good news, shall we?"

Patrick Adams
As with many of the pivotal characters in the 2069 Lunar Revolution, Patrick Adams is something of an enigma. First off, "Patrick Adams" was clearly his nom de guerre, as no record of the man exists before his abrupt appearance in 2067 as Pieter von Hayek's right-hand man. To this day, the story of Patrick Adams's true origin-and his ultimate fate-remains a mystery.

As for his exact role in the von Hayek administration, that also is the subject of considerable debate. His title was chief of staff, although it appears his actual duties went well beyond that. Depending on the occasion, he seems to have functioned as von Hayek's intelligence director, military adviser, public relations manager, and even nanny, as the situation required.

It is believed that Adams was an American, before he emigrated to the Moon. Beyond that, almost nothing is known about his personal life. Presumably he had one, although that may be an unjustified assumption.

- Chaim Noguchi, A History of the Lunar Revolution

United Nations Headquarters
New York City
24 October 2069
4:54 EST

Antonio Ramón Aguila, undersecretary for lunar affairs, United Nations Committee on Lunar Development, sat behind his broad executive desk, in theory reading a highly technical report on thorium production, but in fact, daydreaming.

Look at this office, he thought, as his dark eyes traced patterns in the grain of the Bavarian walnut panels that lined the walls. My father raised eleven children in a squalid shack no larger than this room. No electricity, no water, no sewer except the roadside ditch; Papa's world was made of corrugated tin and cast-off plastic and his floor was of hard-packed naked dirt. If he'd ever stumbled across a piece of expensive polished wood like this, he'd have burned it to keep his children warm. A small, bitter smile played at the corners of Aguila's expressive lips as his gaze came to rest on the matched pair of French Provençal chairs in the corner. We could have fed the whole barrio for a year on what my predecessor paid for those two chairs.

Aguila looked away from the chairs and let his gaze wander on, across twenty years' worth of accumulated symbols of success and power. Old collegiate athletic trophies, the brass now burnished to a pleasant glow. A bookcase filled with century-old printed books, from back in the days when information was stored in toxic ink on murdered rain forests. A dozen or so quite authentic, and probably now quite illegal, primitive cultural artifacts, collected during his many fact-finding trips around the globe. Two carefully selected and gently understated pastel sketches, originals signed by Edgar Degas.

And below them, on the wall, in a simple black frame, his summa cum laude doctorate from Harvard Law School.

Not bad for a niño who spent the first five years of his life scavenging for scraps in the garbage dumps of Santiago, Aguila thought. Not bad at all for an orphan of a civil war who learned to read in a UN refugee camp. And I'm not even forty yet.

The thick red leather of his armchair creaked slightly, as Aguila leaned back and allowed himself a moment of smugness. So ask me again, you imbecile norteamericanos: do I really believe the United Nations can make a difference? More than I believe in God, Aguila decided. The church gave us priests and missionaries to save our souls, but the UN gave us food to save our lives.

And with that thought Aguila sighed, leaned forward, and made one more attempt to read the report on thorium production. Like all technical writing, it was arcane at best, incomprehensibly dense at worst, and throughout written in a dry and academic style that simply begged the mind to wander. Aguila's mind soon did.

He was saved by the chirp of the office intercom. Aguila blanked the report window, put on his best serious business expression, and tapped a corner of the desktop. A video window flashed open on the dark simulated wood, and his personal assistant's face popped into view.

"Yes, Allegria?"

"Sir?" Allegria Saldana was just the way Aguila liked his women: intelligent, beautiful, competent and subservient. "Pieter von Hayek is holding on line six."

Aguila frowned. "For me? That's odd."

"No, sir. He wanted Lord Haversham, but the Secretary seems to have left the building for the day."

"Ah." Aguila nodded and let out a small sigh. "Lucky Haversham. Any idea what sort of bee is in von Hayek's bonnet this time?"

"No, sir. He insists on speaking to either Lord Haversham or you."

A thought struck Aguila and made him shudder. "He's not seeing little green men again, is he?"

"As I recall, they were large orange monsters, but no, sir, if he's seeing them again, he hasn't mentioned it."

Aguila sighed again, deeply this time, then took a deep breath and composed his features. "Very well, let's humor him. Put him through." Allegria blinked out, and three seconds later the patrician face of Pieter von Hayek popped into view.

"Governor," Aguila said, feigning a warm smile. "This is an unexpected pleasure. What can I do-"

"I expect you're babbling some meaningless niceties," von Hayek said. "The lightspeed lag is going to make this- Ah, yes, there's your response now. As I was saying, the lightspeed lag is going to make this difficult enough, so what you can do for me, young man, is be quiet and listen." Von Hayek looked down at something below the scan area of the video pickup, and the sound of rustling paper came through.

Aguila nodded politely, but said nothing.

"Good. Now" -the video pickup cut to a wide-angle shot and revealed the cluster of people standing behind von Hayek- "as you can see, I have most of the other colonial governors here with me. We have taken a vote, and against the advice of some of our more bloody-minded colleagues, we have decided that it is only fair to give you and the CLD some advance warning."

"Warning?" Aguila blurted out, forgetting that he was not supposed to speak. "What-"

"In approximately fifteen minutes we will be broadcasting our formal Declaration of Independence. This is not a negotiating ploy, nor is it a declaration of war, but rest assured-"

"Wait!" Aguila raised waved a hand to catch von Hayek's attention. "Wait! Governor!"

"-that we have taken precautions to secure our- Ah, yes, there's your reaction now. I told you; please don't interrupt, young man. We will not negotiate with you. We are through negotiating with the CLD. We will discuss this matter only before the full General Assembly, after our representative has been recognized and seated. Do you understand this?" Von Hayek paused.

Aguila considered his answer. "Pieter," he said gently, as he pulled a calm and fatherly expression onto his face, "this can't work, you know. Your labor strike last year failed and only made things worse for you. I can't imagine the trade sanctions have improved your quality of life any. How can-"

Von Hayek interrupted, speaking slowly and enunciating his words carefully. "We control the automatic cargo launchers," he said. "Check with your SAS spies. I'm sure they can verify that what I've just said is true."

There was a long, long pause. Aguila kept his face carefully neutral. "Are the launchers still operating?" he said at last. The three-second lightspeed lag crawled by like a snail.

"For now," von Hayek answered. "Whether they continue to do so depends on you."

Aguila stared blankly at the video image, and said nothing.

"Good," von Hayek said brightly. "Now if you will bear with me just a minute longer, I will present our list of demands." He paused to adjust his bifocals, then lifted a long sheet of paper and began reading.

"Point one: immediate recognition of the independence and sovereignity of the Free State Selena, to be composed of the former colonial possessions that have signed this declaration.

"Point two: immediate recognition and seating of our chosen representative in the United Nations General Assembly, with all voting rights and privileges customarily pertaining thereto.

"Point three: immediate removal of all United Nations Special Aerospace Security personnel stationed on Luna, both uniformed and undercover.

"Point four: immediate arrest and prosecution of Colonial Administrator Kinthavong, for bribery, corruption, abuse of authority, violation of the civil rights of lunar citizens…"

Still keeping his face carefully neutral, Aguila muted the microphone on his end of the conversation, then punched in the code for the second comm line. Another video window popped up next to the first, and Allegria's face flashed into view.

"Sir?"

Aguila smiled so that he could speak without visibly moving his lips. "Allegria? 'ake a 'en-second loop of 'e nodding and looking thoughtful. Cut it in to Hayek, and cut 'e out."

She tapped a few keys on her end. "Ready." Aguila closed his mouth, and focused on von Hayek's speech again.

"Point nine: immediate removal of all United Nations military personnel presently stationed on Luna, including the so-called scientific research teams operating in and around Copernicus Crater.

"Point ten: Immediate…"

"Got it!" Allegria said. "Adjusting synchronization and….. okay." Von Hayek's face and relentless voice blanked out. "Our favorite political gadfly is now talking to a digital loop. What do you need to do next?"

Aguila stroked his chin, as much to hide his worried scowl as to help his thinking. "Find Lord Haversham," he said at last. "Put Jurgen on it. Now. Then find out if any other members of the Committee on Lunar Development are still in the building."

He paused, this time furrowing his brow and not caring if his worry showed. "Wait. First, get me Mobutu in the Office of World Telecommunications. Then put in an urgent call to General Buchovsky at Peacekeeper HQ."

Allegria blinked. "It's that bad?"

"Yes, it's that bad. Then track down Kinthavong- No, never mind, I already know all his excuses by heart. But schedule a press conference for one hour from now, then do everything else I said."

Allegria nodded. "And then order out for pizza, right? It's going to be another long evening."

Aguila took a moment to look at the video image of his seemingly psychic assistant, and spared her a smile. "Yes, Allegria, I'm afraid it is. Those imbecile Loonies have finally done it."

Office of the Governor, Port Aldrin
24 October 2069
22:08 GMT

Pieter von Hayek was confused and angry. "What do you mean, the satellite's gone off-line?"

Patrick Adams swore and slammed a fist on the desktop comm unit. "I mean exactly that: the L-five repeater has just gone offline. We've lost UNET and all the primary comm channels." His phonewire chirped; he fished it out of his jacket pocket, pressed it to his left ear, and listened, frowning. "Secondaries also. We're locked out of all the geosynch nodes." He folded up the wire and put it back in his pocket.

Von Hayek was still struggling to understand. He shook his head. "What about the commercial networks?"

"They piggyback off the UNET. They're all gone too."

Von Hayek sagged back into his chair, took off his bifocals, and tapped the right earpiece against his lower teeth. "I don't understand. What can this mean?"

"It means," Adams said, "that it was a dumb idea to tip off the CLD. I warned you about that. They've had World TeleComm pull the plug on us. Blacked out all Earth-Moon communications. Totally."

"You're joking! You mean there's no way we can get a signal through to Earth?"

"Well." -Adams shrugged and scratched his head- "There are the direct laser channels. I expect Kinthavong is burning his up right now. But at this time of day the ones we control can only hit North America, and only a few amateurs will be on to receive."

"That's a start," von Hayek said hopefully. "What about conventional radio?"

Adams shook his head. "We don't have a transmitter powerful enough to punch through all the local traffic down there. We could probably build one in two or three weeks. Maybe use the Rheinhold radioscope."

Von Hayek put his glasses back on and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk. "This is ludicrous. There are a half-billion satellite dishes down there, and you're saying we can't get through to any of them?"

Adams had run out of exasperated reactions. "Not without going through the satellite nodes. Those dishes are all aimed at geosynch points over the equator, and the angles of incidence are all wrong for us. But even if they weren't, the Inverse Square law comes into play. We're about twelve times farther out than a geosynch satellite, so we'd have to put out"- he paused, obviously trying to do the math in his head- "well, a hell of a lot of power, just to override the satellite signal." Adams stopped speaking and waited for a cue from von Hayek.

None came.

"So," Adams said, "what do we do now, boss?"

Von Hayek took his elbows off the desk, sat up straight, and assumed a noble bearing. "We issue the declaration anyway, to our own people, if no one else. Whether or not Earth chooses to listen does not alter the fact that as of this day, we are free."

Von Hayek took a deep breath, allowed a confident smile to spread across his face, and stood up. "Come along!" He started for the door to the council chamber.

Adams fell in one step behind him. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

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Created: October, 1996
Last Updated: May 16, 2001