Critical Mass, page 21
Tighe sighed, then nodded. “I hope you’re right.”
They all surveyed the room.
Chindarkar pointed up at the lights high overhead. “Those should dim and change color as we get toward evening. We’re on a twenty-four-hour cycle—like on the Konstantin.” She pointed at the elevator landings. “Each level differs by 5 percent in perceived gravity. Down here on H1 we’re at 105 percent Earth gravity.” She pointed up to the elevator landing. “Ninety percent up on H4.”
Tighe nodded toward twin pairs of steel toilet basins mounted on the wall in opposite corners of the compartment. “After a week in free fall, those are a welcome sight.” The toilets formed part of what were clearly two separate bathroom facilities, consisting of the same number of sinks in the form of metal basins affixed to the wall, plus two pairs of showerheads. Piping and other conduit ran along the wall. A larger steel sink and drain assembly farther on was most likely for a kitchen. The purpose of other plumbing fixtures higher up were less obvious.
“Lab sink, maybe?” Chindarkar craned her neck to examine the pipe lines.
Near them was the critical life support equipment Tighe had been expecting—redundant oxygen generators and carbon dioxide scrubbers. However, he didn’t see water treatment or water supply tanks. Looking up, he could see that the piping ran all the way down from the central core of the station; this was different from the Konstantin, which had separate water supplies in each hab.
As he walked around, Tighe’s steps echoed in the cavernous metallic compartment. “When it’s finished, this station is going to be huge.” His voice echoed.
“What are we going to name it?” Chindarkar glanced to them both.
Tighe rested his foot on a beam. “I don’t know. What do you guys think?”
Jin pondered the question. “Nicole’s and David’s robot tugs . . . they were consumed in building this.”
Chindarkar replied, “But that’s two names. We can’t choose one over the other.”
“The Nicole Clarke was fully consumed. A portion of the David Morra remains.” Jin looked up. “I say we call this Clarke Station, in memory of Nicole.” He thought for another moment. “And when we build the mass-driver on the lunar surface, we could name that Morra Base, in memory of David.”
“I love it, Han.”
Tighe nodded. “So do I.”
Chindarkar embraced him. “It’s beautiful. Dave was the army engineer. Nicole the ship captain. I think they’d approve.”
Tighe gripped Jin’s shoulder. “Outstanding.” He looked up. “Clarke Station it is.”
Chindarkar keyed her mic. “Transit-01 to mission control. Be advised, we have arrived at EM-L2 and are now safely aboard . . .” She paused. “. . . Clarke Station. Please take note of the new name designation for official records: Clarke Station. Out.”
After a moment, the return came. “That’s a solid copy, and wilco, Clarke Station.”
CHAPTER 16
Ex Post Facto
You lied to us, Erika.”
Erika Lisowski remained calm. “That’s the worst-possible interpretation of my actions.”
“You know it’s true, and I promise you will pay for it with prison this time.”
“I understand you’re angry, but you need me—not in prison, but helping you. I am your liaison to these asteroid miners, and right now they’re the most important thing going on in space. And space is where the action is.”
The elder statesman stared at her. “You may think you can manipulate me, like you have these space billionaires, but I know better. This isn’t an innovation—it’s a provocation. The sudden construction of this space station from those asteroid resources has caused the Chinese and the Russians to accuse us of seizing L2. It’s precipitated a political crisis.”
“But you didn’t seize L2, and what’s more, you know you didn’t.”
“As if China would believe us, and as if their believing us would strengthen our hand. The Chinese are claiming ownership of that station because the resources that built it came from the Konstantin.”
“You have a legitimate claim to those resources as well, and so the bigger question is, who actually controls the station? Answer: the asteroid miners do.”
“It’s a goddamned disaster.”
“I disagree. It’s a surprise, not a disaster. Let me ask: Were you poised to build the largest space station in history on the far side of the Moon using a well-researched design in just a few months? No? Then you should be grateful Clarke Station is now up there.”
“It’s not going to be called ‘Clarke Station’ either. That I promise you.”
“It is a bastion of free enterprise at the edge of a new frontier. A frontier that until recently you were falling behind in. And like any frontier, space will require new ports—friendly ports—from which you can develop commercial and strategic capabilities. That’s what this is.”
He bristled. “This station is illegal and liable to be seized by our rivals and used against us.”
“Not easily.”
“We need to take control of it before they do.”
“And then what? All this rapid progress at the Moon stops, and you’ve turned your advantage into an actual political crisis. Seize that station, and the world will oppose you—along with Russia and China.”
He stared at her in unconcealed fury.
“You need to help these asteroid miners, not hinder them. Let them launch their supplies and their colleagues from Earth. A straightforward commercial launch.”
“One of their team is a former cosmonaut. Then there’s that taikonaut.”
“So? There are Americans and Europeans, too. It’s an international team that won’t engender opposition from the world. In fact, it will ease tensions. This new station can become a free port.”
“Not if the Chinese or the Russians seize it.”
“At present, those asteroid miners have a major advantage in multi-orbit logistics in cislunar space. That new station has thousands of tons of propellant on hand in addition to construction mass—much more than anyone else at the Moon. All of it can be sent on a trajectory to intercept attackers. Any attempts to seize that station are likely to fail.”
“They built that station in violation of international law.”
She made a face. “What they’re doing goes beyond settled law, I’ll give you that. But certainly you’re not going to agree with the Russians or Chinese if they say it’s illegal, are you?”
He fumed.
“I think you should get the CEO of Catalyst Corporation on the phone and demand to know his intentions.”
“We should freeze their bank accounts and seize their assets.”
“I don’t think that will have the effect you’re hoping for.”
“Then what exactly do you propose we do? Oh, let me guess: nothing—just like you advised us to do before we got into this mess.”
“You’re not in a mess. There’s now a friendly port on a new frontier that we can establish formal relations with.”
“Go to hell. It’s a rogue outpost.”
“And if you read our pioneer history, you will know how advantageous those can be.”
He stared at her.
“Don’t send troops. Send observers. Let the world know your intention to send observers. And suggest that the asteroid miners invite Russian and Chinese observers as well.”
“Oh, and they’ll all have a sing-along. Kumbaya-My-Lord.”
“That’s not the point. If you have US personnel on board, your rivals can’t try to seize the station without causing an international incident.”
“That cuts both ways.”
“But we don’t want to seize the station. Do you see the difference? The station is not a threat to us. We want freedom of navigation and free enterprise in deep space.”
“And what if the Chinese outcompete us in this new free port?”
“I think you’ll find that Lukas Rochat, the CEO, is going to insist that trade relations with them utilize a crypto-economic system that is antithetical to authoritarian control. He’ll also insist on observance of human rights and freedom of navigation. That position will garner goodwill from the international community, but is one that authoritarian regimes will have difficulty agreeing to—isolating them and putting them on the defensive.” She paused. “Or . . . they do agree to these conditions, and that becomes a major cultural victory over authoritarianism in space.”
He pressed his temples. “God, you’re giving me a headache.” He tapped a button on his desk phone. “Andrew! Get me Lukas Rochat, head of Catalyst Corporation, on a secure line.”
“Yes, sir.”
The older man ground his teeth.
Lisowski ventured into the silence. “Another way to look at this is that embezzlement solved the rocket equation—Nathan Joyce lied his way past it. And if we play our cards right, humanity won’t ever need to launch the vast majority of space resources up from Earth’s gravity well.”
The admin’s voice cut in. “I have Mr. Rochat, sir.”
“Put him on.”
Lukas Rochat’s voice came in over the speakerphone. “Mr. Secretary, it’s a pleasure to hear from you.”
“Cut the crap, Rochat. I’m here with Erika Lisowski, who I’m told you already know.”
“Yes, glad to speak with you both.”
“I was under the impression we were negotiating a deal for those asteroid resources, and now I learn that you deliberately misled us and were responsible for the unlawful movement of those resources beyond the Moon. You now have a very serious legal problem. Don’t think for a moment that we can’t reach into the EU and freeze every last euro you possess and have you extradited to face criminal charges.”
There was a momentary silence. “I would agree that these are uncharted legal waters. You and the CCP were both claiming ownership of those resources, but Catalyst Corporation had not yet agreed to any settlement.”
“What settlement? You don’t have a legal leg to stand on. Catalyst is based in Luxembourg, and Luxembourg is a signatory to the Artemis Accords. You haven’t been transparent in your actions. You haven’t observed the Registration Convention to properly register objects in space. You flagrantly disregarded clauses on orbital deconfliction and space debris.”
“It is true that our paperwork has not yet caught up, but as for orbital deconfliction: there are only two defunct satellites registered in the EM-L2 region of space. All other—”
“You don’t have the right to be where you are. You don’t own those resources, and you didn’t have the right to build a space station.”
“With respect, whatever discussion we engage in with regard to Clarke Station is ex post facto. That is to say, nothing is going to change the fact that the station exists, and that certain individuals are in physical possession of it. Until that situation changes—”
“This is exactly the sort of shit the Chinese pull, building artificial islands in the middle of the goddamned ocean.”
Lisowski added, “There is a certain poetic justice to it. You must admit.”
The secretary jabbed his finger at the phone. “Listen to me, Rochat, unless you immediately grant us access to this station and reveal your intentions there, we’re going to view this Clarke Station of yours as a national security threat to the United States. And I’m certain China and Russia feel likewise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. We, of course, consider ourselves great friends to the United States and the other democratic nations of Earth.”
The secretary looked up at Lisowski. “ ‘The other democratic nations of Earth.’ Would you listen to him?” He looked back at the speaker. “You think you’re the Moon ambassador, Rochat? Is that it?”
“It is an interesting legal situation. There’s been no precedent where new sovereign territory has been built in open space—at least not beyond low Earth orbit.”
“You are not ‘new sovereign territory.’ As a Luxembourg company, anything Catalyst builds in space flies under the flag of Luxembourg, which is a signatory to both the Artemis Accords and the Outer Space Treaty.” He picked up a highlighted document from his desk and read from it. “Article II of which states that ‘outer space, including the Moon and other celestial bodies, is not subject to national appropriation by claim of sovereignty, by means of use or occupation, or by any other means.’ ” He looked up from the document. “If you have any confusion about that, we can freeze your Earthly assets until you reach the correct conclusion.”
“But Mr. Secretary, you’re forgetting Article IX of the OST, which covers ‘due regard’ for individual parties in space. Specifically, if any party’s activity could cause ‘potentially harmful interference with the activities of others,’ then all concerned parties can enter into consultations to resolve the interference. However, this station hasn’t interfered with any other party. There is no one else in that area. And to be certain that Clarke Station’s activities are not interfered with, as provided for in Article IX, they’re establishing a 200-meter ‘safety zone.’ ”
“You have some balls—”
“The ISS had the same, as does the Hotel LEO.”
“Those are legal stations.”
“Again, I think you will find that no legal mechanism for resolving this dispute currently exists, but we are very interested in working with sovereign Earth nations to develop this area of space law—perhaps using legal precedents from past disagreements about resources of the deep seabed, the water column, the electromagnetic frequency spectrum, or Antarctica as examples.”
“You are already bound by Earth law.”
“Ah, I see the confusion. Clarke Station is not actually owned by Catalyst Corporation.”
“Don’t you try this shell game with me. If we can hunt down terrorists, we will find your offshore—”
“It’s not a shell game. Catalyst’s board members voted to assign the asteroid resources to a decentralized autonomous organization called the Cislunar Commodity Exchange.”
The secretary jotted down the name. “Look, it doesn’t matter where your shell company is based. We’ll find it, and we’ll shut it down, if you refuse to—”
“That’s the thing, Mr. Secretary: the CCE isn’t offshore. It’s off-Earth. As a DAO, it’s self-owning. It asserts its own jurisdiction.”
The secetary stared at the phone. “Jesus Christ, don’t even tell me I’m hearing what I’m hearing. You’re claiming you aren’t answerable to any Earth law now? I hope to hell you live in a deep bunker, Mr. Rochat, because I promise you—”
Lisowski cut in. “I don’t believe we want to sever relations with Clarke Station so early in its existence, Mr. Secretary. As provocative as this development might be.”
“Provocative?” The secretary glared at her. “And you act as if this is a big surprise to you.” He turned back to the phone. “You may think you’re clever, Mr. Rochat, but you are playing a dangerous game.”
“The CCE desires to establish diplomatic and legal legitimacy with Earth authorities through responsible stewardship of the cislunar commons. That will include, of course, becoming a signatory to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.”
“You have no standing to sign international treaties, and you have completely ignored treaties you are already subject to.”
“Again, those are legal questions that ‘ground truth’—or shall I say ‘space truth’—will resolve. The US itself, in setting forth the Artemis Accords, stated their expectation that small groups of users focused on immediate solutions to pressing problems up on the Moon and in space would—in the absence of broad international agreement on fundamental principles—need to experiment continually in the field, iterate, and coevolve principles and practices. Experience has shown this is the best means for building enduring and effective regulatory environments—not proclamations by distant authorities. With all due respect, of course.”
The secretary tapped his fingers impatiently. “You’re going to find this isn’t just a legal question, Mr. Rochat. Astropolitics is going to decide this, not a court.”
“Well, in that case, I think you will find that the presence of the Cislunar Commodity Exchange out at L2 will be a very useful ally to the free world.”
The elder statesman glowered at the phone for several moments. “As a ‘useful ally,’ we’re going to insist on a visit to this Clarke Station of yours.”
“Again, it’s not my station, Mr. Secretary. Clarke Station belongs to the CCE.”
“Yes, the CCE. Of course it does. Well, we will send . . .” He glanced at Lisowski. “. . . a couple of observers to evaluate this new space station that you have nothing to do with. Will you personally guarantee the safety of our personnel?”
“I’ll be happy to pass along your message to the governing body of the CCE, and I have no doubt that they’ll be pleased to welcome your observers as diplomatic envoys and to guarantee their safety.”
“You may think this is all going to turn out fine, Rochat, but you owe the United States government ten billion dollars. And you owe China fourteen billion. No matter what you call it or how many fancy tricks you play with legal and financial structures, let me give you a little advice: you’re going to need friends, and soon.”
“And I trust we will all be friends. It’s a pleasure speaking with you, Mr. Secretary.”
CHAPTER 17
Settling In
James Tighe, Priya Chindarkar, and Jin Han took up residence in the cavernous, echoing, empty chamber at one pole of Clarke Station—which they had dubbed South Hab, while naming its opposite North Hab. A compass-inspired nomenclature, they decided, would serve well as the ring-shaped station was built out, with the East and West Habs housing the landings for the station’s other two elevator shafts (both of which were still unfinished girders). There would eventually be sixteen pressurized compartments along the station ring—three between each of the compartments that housed elevator landings for the station’s four spokes. Jin suggested the middle compartments be named for intercardinal compass points; thus, Northeast Hab, Southeast Hab, etc. The other compartments would be named for tertiary compass points; thus, West-by-Northwest Hab, South-by-Southeast Hab, and so on—though likely to be expressed with initialisms like ‘WNW’ and ‘SSE.’
