Chapter eight is a short story titled "Moon Base Alpha." It has been adapted to a Hollywood screenplay by a professional writer and is being shopped to numerous studios in Hollywood. Wish me luck.
c. Moon Base Alpha
Dave let off on the clutch as he watched the drill head grinding the gray rock into rough gravel. The water he extracted from the lunar soil would be kept on the moon. The remaining lunar ore was sent to earth to extract the Helium3 needed to power their fusion reactors. He had two months left on his rotation. All he could think about was getting back to earth. He had suffered through ten months of loading gray minerals into gray bins that were packed into gray rockets fired at that beautiful blue marble called Earth. When he signed up, Dave told himself one year off-planet would be nothing. With one million dollars waiting for him when he returned home, all he could think about was how he’d have it made. He was in this to be set for life. He’d never considered the toll of living in an environment where his entire outside world was different shades of gray along with the occasional jet black and shiny white.
He could no longer stand the constant drudgery of suiting up in the airlock to go outside. When returning, he not only had to remove his suit in the airlock, but then spend an hour cleaning the dust and vacuuming up. If he was not careful, that damn dust would get into everything. His quarters were Spartan: a bed, a desk, a chair and a holographic entertainment module. His crewmates were like the roughnecks on some twentieth-century offshore oil rig: a tough bunch who liked to drink, gamble, cuss, and fight. The entire operation consisted of three eight-person crews. The four women on the base were lesbians, so sex was out of the question. The corporation would not allow married people or anyone with children to serve on the base. The thinking was that, in case of a disaster where everyone died, a married man with children could cost upwards of 6 million dollars in damages. A single guy with aged parents would cost less than one million. With 24 lives at stake, this policy saved them a fortune in liability insurance.
Liquor was forbidden on the moon. Corporate headquarters deemed it too dangerous an environment to allow men to become intoxicated. But, of course, they’d underestimated the ingenuity of men in seclusion. Crewmembers were fermenting raisins with sugar, and had constructed a copper still, heated with a butane torch to complete the distilling process. Yes, even in the barren confines of the moon, men were still preoccupied with making booze. They called it hooch just like in a Texas prison.
Weapons were also prohibited. It was assumed the promise of one million dollars, tax free, awaiting each miner upon his return, would be enough to keep them in line. Since Moon Base Alpha was owned by an American corporation, they came under the jurisdiction of American Federal Law. Not that any of the crew gave a damn.
They were not alone on the moon. The Chinese, Russians, and Indians had their own bases as well. The European Union was expected to start construction of their own base in the near future. In the meantime, Europe was happy to buy Helium3 for its fusion reactors from the US. While it was theoretically possible to travel between bases, this was never done. Each group kept to themselves. While the Russian and Indian bases were also operated by private corporations, the Chinese base was owned by the Chinese government (like every other so-called corporation in China.) Each base was competing with the other three. This was a cutthroat business in a hostile environment, where the slightest mistake could mean your death, maybe even the death of your entire crew.
Each base viewed the others as not only a competitor but a potentially hostile threat. While governments were finding ways to cooperate with one another for the first time in history, the corporations made sure this newfound benevolence did not make its way to the moon. There was too much money to be made, and they were determined that no hippie dream about the brotherhood of man would interfere with production. Dave wanted to visit the other bases just to break up the monotony, but he never tried because he was afraid of the forfeiture clause concerning his return bonus. Fraternization with the competition was strictly forbidden.
Dave finally finished his drilling shift and headed for the airlock. He was bone tired and his visor kept fogging up. To his right, there suddenly appeared a Chinese national heading his way. He couldn’t see his face but the uniform was quite distinctive. Dave froze in his tracks. His Chinese counterpart handed him a silver cylinder. In the dead silence of this barren wasteland neither of them could speak to one another. Dave had radio communication with the members of his team, but none of the foreign bases carried his channel. This was one more way the corporations ensured they weren’t fraternizing. Once Dave took the cylinder, the Chinese miner turned rapidly and hurried back to his base. Dave then hurried as well, dying to find out what it was.
Dave cleared the airlock in record time. The interior door opened with its customary swoosh as the air pressure equalized. All 24 miners assembled in the main rec room. Jane, the shift supervisor, had seen Dave receive the silver cylinder through the base porthole. He handed it to her. Her rough hands spun the top off and dumped the cylinder’s contents out onto the large breakfast table. Everyone tried to peer over Jane’s shoulder as she read the document. Within seconds, Jane started to cuss up a storm. Moon Base Alpha had just been served with a Temporary Restraining Order signed by a federal judge out of New York. “The Chinese just shut down our whole operation,” shouted Jane. The whole room broke into pandemonium as every miner started demanding answers. The thought on everyone’s mind: do I still get my million-dollar bonus?
Jane handed the Order to Gage, the base commander, as she followed him into the communications center. The “Com,” as it was called, was their only connection to Earth. “Moon Base Alpha to HQ, come in,” intoned Commander Gage. “We have a serious problem up here. We just got served an injunction by the Chinese. Federal judge in New York shutting us down. What the hell is going on? Is this for real?”
Static crackled over the video telecom. Voice transmissions traveling 239,000 miles through the void of space tend to break up. Suddenly a three dimensional hologram appeared in the middle of the room. The corporate wonk looked disheveled and nervous. “Look guys, the Chinese sued us in federal court, claiming we violated their patents on the removal of Helium3 from lunar soil. It’s a temporary injunction while the lawyers try and sort this out. You need to stand down for 30 days.” Gage’s resentment of corporate types sitting in offices playing with the lives of his crew boiled over. He gripped the tabletop in front of him. The classic white knuckles on the desk. “Well, did we violate their patents?” demanded Gage, his rage growing explosive.
“That’s a legal question, Gage, that I’m not really qualified to answer. It’ll have to come from the suits. They did assure us that ultimately we’ll prevail. The court fight may take up to two years, unfortunately.” A smug grin was starting to cross his face.
“If we stand down for 30 days, will this affect the million dollar bonuses we’re supposed to get in two months?” demanded Gage.
“Hey, Gage, be reasonable. If you guys don’t make quota, how the hell are we supposed to pay $24 million in bonuses? No one saw this one coming. On a more positive note, we sent a rocket yesterday with food and supplies that should last a year. Arriving in two days. Steaks for everyone on Saturday.” His smirking demeanor was itself a challenge to Gage’s authority. This was a reminder that while Gage was in charge on Moon Base Alpha, back on Earth he was just another employee.
“Not good enough,” yelled Gage. “You want to hang us out on this, that’s fine. We’re going to handle this our way. Moon base Alpha, out!” He slammed his fist on the console and the hologram disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
Jane and Gage filed back into the rec room. “Okay people, listen up,” said Jane. “The commander just got some bad news and we have some hard decisions to make.”
Gage stepped to the center of the room. “Corporate just ordered us to shut down. They also admitted we aren’t getting our million dollar bonuses in two months.” The entire room went crazy. Twenty-four men and women realized their last 10 months in this grayish hell had been for nothing. Every one of them had suspected there was some clause in the employment contract they signed that would let the company get away with this. The mood was ugly. “So do you have any ideas?” Dave asked.
Gage took a deep breath. “We are on our own. I have an idea but it puts everything at risk, including our lives. We’re a family up here. I trust every one of you. We need to agree before we do anything, and it needs to be unanimous. I say we void our contracts, arm ourselves, and take the Chinese on, straight up. I think we can get the Indians to go with us and I expect the Russians will sit this one out. India is a natural ally. Look at their fascination with American westerns. This is their chance to be a part of a new frontier. We need to put it to a vote after everyone has had a say.”
They argued deep into the night. Hooch being consumed by all. They knew they were about to do something there was no going back from. After hours and hours, they finally came to a vote. Gage had the final word. “We need to make a decision. Option one: we can accept what the company says. We stand down and go home in two months without getting our bonuses. All in favor say aye.” Gage looked across the room. He was met with thundering silence. “OK, people, we know we’re not going to just sit here and take it. That leaves us with one more option. We declare the US courts have no jurisdiction on the Moon and resist the Chinese with force. All in favor say aye.” The room exploded with a thunderous chorus – the ayes clearly had it. These were hard people who had spent almost a year of their lives working in harsh conditions. Having risked everything, they were not about to let some corporate dweeb in a cubicle sell them out. Warren Zevon suddenly came blasting over the intercom. “Send lawyers, guns, and money, the shit has hit the fan!”
Gage turned to Jane and asked her to get on the com and find the closest African nation to Europe who would be willing to play ball. Next he turned to Dave and asked if he knew how to make PVC rifles like their grandparents had back in the 1990's. Dave grabbed two other miners and they ran to the machine shop to get busy. Gage put Hollywood (no one could pronounce Toraidiao, his Mexican name) and another two in charge of reconnaissance. They suited up and went out the air lock to monitor the Chinese. Gage dispatched Mac (no one could pronounce Muralimanohar) – the only Indian American on the team – to go speak with the crew of the Indian base. He took a translation device along with two other crewmen and headed out. Finally, Gage got the Professor to point an old unused antenna at Belize. The US had no extradition treaty with Belize so they could park their money there and tell corporate to go screw themselves.
The Professor was aptly named, having once taught advanced mathematics at Yale. Everyone agreed to trust the Professor with all the money. One miner asked the Professor if he was OK with going up against the Chinese since they were “his people.” “I’m Japanese-American, you stupid moron,” bellowed the professor. “I don’t give a crap about the Chinese.”
Hollywood’s excited voice could be heard yelling over the intercom. “The Chinese are mining our field. They pushed our machinery off to the side and they’re taking our ore. What do we do, Gage?” demanded Hollywood. “Do nothing,” snapped Gage. “Let me know when they go back into their base camp.”
Jane waived Gage into her office. “Morocco is our best bet. They have the cash and they want to play. They have ports to go to northern and southern Europe. Their GDP last year was 300 billion. I committed all three rockets with ore worth 500 billion to land in their desert. They agreed to pay 100 million up front. Another 100 million upon delivery. What do you think, Gage?” asked Jane. “Get the Professor on this,” replied Gage. “We need 25 accounts. Each crewman gets three million and we put the remaining 28 million in our contingency account to smooth the way for our exit.” Gage looked tired as he realized what his crew was about to face.
Dave came in with a huge grin on his face. He brandished a PVC pipe arrangement that looked like a bazooka with wires coming out the side. “How does this work?” asked Gage. Dave pointed it at the wall. “We put hydrogen in the base through this opening and then thread the cap on to close it. We wrapped the breach with rope to prevent it from exploding in our hands. We put the detonation wires through a small hole we drilled in the side. We sealed the hole with pipe dope and duct tape so the hydrogen won’t leak out. We used three inch pipe for the barrel. We got canned goods out of the pantry that will just fit inside the barrel as our projectiles,” beamed Dave. “We have three assembled and ready to go.”
Mac approached the airlock, two Indian nationals with him. “Permission to enter airlock,” requested Mac. “Come ahead, Mac. Are we in for any surprises from your friends?” demanded Gage. “No, sir. They want to join us,” grinned Mac. With a soft swoosh the interior air lock door swung open and Mac entered with his newfound friends. They both spoke impeccable English with a clipped British accent. They had always dreamed of immigrating to the US. It was a true disappointment when they learned they’d have to go to Belize instead or face immediate arrest. But Mac was able to persuade them that a tropical paradise with millions in the bank was a tolerable alternate plan.
The Professor, using the old satellite antenna, was able to set up 27 accounts in Belize, each with its own account number and security code. It was agreed the newbies would be in for an equal share. Three million apiece and $22 million in the slush fund. Another three million apiece when it was done. Six million dollars, but they could never go back. The Indian base had agreed to let them steal one of their crew return rockets in exchange for all the base supplies and ten million from the final payment. The deal was struck. Time to act.
Hollywood came on the intercom. His breathlessness betrayed fear. “The Chinese are back in their base, Captain.” Dave and his team headed for the airlock. Gage grabbed Dave’s arm and looked him dead in the eye. “You know what to do,” Gage's voice barely a whisper. Jane held their rifles as they did the final suit check before going out. The door slammed behind them and she spun the wheel to secure it. “Good luck, you sons of bitches!”
Outside, Dave and his team wasted no time. They went straight to the Chinese base, fast as they could travel in the low Moon gravity. As they came up on the Chinese airlock they looked to make sure no one was inside and leveled their homemade bazookas at a large glass porthole on the side of the outer airlock. “Let’s do it,” yelled Dave over his radio. They each touched a battery to the two wires. There was no sound as flames flashed out from the barrel of their guns, but they could see a slight glint as the cans soared toward the airlock. The high-impact glass shattered with the force of three high velocity projectiles. The cans ruptured as they entered the air lock spraying chili, peaches, and tuna all over the walls. Dave bust out laughing. He was giddy, overcome with adrenaline. “The die is cast,” he said, like Caesar crossing the Rubicon.
The Chinese crew was trapped in their base. They couldn’t pressurize the airlock. It’d be days before a Chinese rocket could get up there to repair the lock and put them back online. They could suit up and open the outer door, but they’d lose all the air in their crew quarters. And for what? They’d been sidelined and would have to wait it out. Dave and his team raced back to base. It was time to go.
Back on Earth the UN convened an immediate emergency session of the Security Council. All four moon going nations wielded veto power. The US announced they were going to send up armed troops to secure order and arrest all involved in the mutiny. China insisted, as the aggrieved party, it was they who should send troops. India maintained that, as they were neutral in the matter, they should send troops to police the matter even-handedly. Russia was not buying any of this. The Russian ambassador accused all three powers of trying to leverage the crisis to get a military presence in space. Once there, they would never leave. He informed everyone he had instructions from the Kremlin to veto any measure that involved military troops on the moon.
The US and China threw a fit. Russia was unaffected by the mutiny and would use this time to mine the Moon and get ahead of everyone. This wasn’t the new, peaceful, diplomatic Russia. This was the old, conniving, autocratic Russia. Once India realized they were still up and running, minus two crew members and one crew rocket, they were in no hurry to see any troops on the Moon. They too threatened a veto. And so the real negotiations finally commenced to align all nations and to allow the private sector to mine the moon as any other commercial enterprise on Earth. As usual, the legal machinery was 50 years behind the technology. All previous suggestions that they address this matter in the past had been completely ignored until now, when an emergency forced them to fix it on the fly.
Back at the base, everyone was moving as fast as possible. The last of the ore was loaded onto the three rockets. Jane punched in the GPS coordinates to send them to Morocco. The Professor signaled that the money had been deposited in their accounts, and Jane initiated the launch. They’d had no time to clean the launch area so everyone hid behind the base as an incredible wave of blast debris showered down everywhere. Everyone’s suits retained pressure. They started loading on the crew vehicles. Eight crew members went over to the Indian base to launch in their newly “purchased” rocket. The other two teams entered the remaining US crew rockets to head to their new home.
Jane had obtained landing permission in a remote jungle location so they would not draw any more attention than necessary. She told the local government they could resell the rockets back to the US corporation. The cash-strapped government of Belize was delighted at the promise of 26 brand new multi-millionaires paying property taxes. Upon arrival, they all found safe houses to hang out in while Gage negotiated the peace. No one believed the corporation would just walk away from this ass kicking. And they were right.
Gage met with senior corporate reps in a hotel in the capital while surrounded by his own personal army. Gage knew the corporation could not get to them legally – this only left exotic means. Gage knew the temperament of the board of directors: predatory scum that was not about to forgive this one. But Gage had an ace up his sleeve. The corporate lawyer leaned over the table, glaring at him, and in a gravelly voice made his offer. “If you and your crew surrender all the money and give us the coordinates of the three rockets that disappeared, we’ll agree no one does more than 10 years in the federal pen. Otherwise, we’ll send a cleaning crew down here and drag you back to the US by your teeth. Belize won’t extradite you, but we will. And once you appear in the US, by whatever means, you’re going to answer for what happened. The US Attorney in the Northern District is working up your indictments as we speak. You’ll be declared enemies of the state and tried as terrorists.”
Gage looked across at the corporate rep. “I want the corporate lawyers out of the room. I need to speak in private,” he said calmly. “And my lawyer stays.”
“That’s ridiculous,” bellowed corporate counsel. “This meeting is over.” The corporate rep raised his hand in a show of authority. “Everyone out.” They all headed for the door while corporate counsel chafed at the humiliation of being ordered from the room like a lackey.
Gage had hired Rob, a personal injury lawyer out of Houston, where litigation was a contact sport. He needed a lawyer who wouldn’t back down. Rob was tall and thin as a rail. He had a hungry look that could cut you to the bone. Rob activated his electronic file. Twenty-four holographic icons appeared on the conference table in front of the corporate rep, one for each of the crew. Each represented a digital interview. Rob looked the corporate rep up and down before he began.
“You and your company have a problem. Your entire operation is outside the law. Given the way corporate counsel just behaved I doubt you’ve shared any of this with him. The Chinese lawsuit is valid. If they prevail you’ll lose the entire company. They will actually force the forfeiture of Moon Base Alpha. A lot more’s at stake than three crummy rockets and $200,000,000. Your whole company’s fate is about to be decided. I interviewed all 24 miners. Unfortunately for you, they told the truth. Digitally encrypted holographic interviews are sitting in several safety deposit boxes scattered all over the US and Europe. A server in a third world country is programed to transmit all 24 interviews to WikiLeaks. Anything happens to me or the miners and they get turned over to the Chinese.” Rob stood up and strolled over to the bar. He put some ice in a glass and poured a scotch. “Anyone?” asked Rob, gesturing with the bottle. Gage nodded. A victory drink if ever he had seen one.
The air slowly went out of the corporate rep. “OK, you bastards. But if anything leaks out – anything – we will turn your little world upside down. Agreed?” Rob laughed. “Agreed. Let’s toast.” It was lost on the corporate rep, who was already halfway to the door. He slammed it behind him and could be heard excoriating his underlings to get him the hell out of this third world hell hole. “Something I said?” Rob asked mockingly.
Gage raised his glass to Rob in a final toast. “Hold on, pardner. This play was not my genius. I was just the messenger. How did you figure this all out?” A sly smile came over Gage’s face. “I found a book written by three authors named Rawlings, Bencini and Smith back in the early part of the 21st Century. They wrote about how dysfunctional the UN Treaties were, even back then. Their plea that it be addressed before we had a crisis was ignored, of course – like every other plea that is made for sanity on this planet. Rob put his arm around Gage as they left the room. “So where’s the best beach to buy a house down here? I don’t think I can go back to Houston for a while.”
This story of the merry band of mutineers is consistent with the inability of national governments (or even world governmental associations like the U.N.) to control the actions of individuals – or, more to the point, wealthy multi-national companies. I believe there will be another affiliation – beyond national citizenship – that will evolve. Imagine Google starting its own country – or getting free rein in a third world country. It might choose to do this because they are wealthier – with fewer obligations and no political process to deal with – and see this as a continuation of their business model. Through an application/affiliation process, you might become a part of GoogleWorld with all its rights and privileges. GoogleWorld enclaves spring up all over the world because of the desire to be with cool people like yourself, with similar interests, and likewise vetted by Google. GoogleWorld provides a nominal safety net for its members. Your participation in GoogleWorld initiatives gives you something like reward points, gives you access to products and services that makes your life better. "Place," as it relates to work, matters even less.
Oh, and GoogleWorld has competition: Apple, Coca-Cola, Facebook, Goldman-Sachs and Exxon are playing the same game. And each has paired with other companies to provide a wider platform of offerings. People start identifying as much with their corporate "nation" as their country of citizenship. They charge people the equivalent of $50,000 a year to join their exclusive "nations." You can live anywhere you want or join a local cluster.
GoogleWorld decides to build its underwater headquarters outside the territorial waters of some country (kind of like a Dr. No building his own underwater Atlantis) and declares it sovereign territory. They defend it themselves with satellite-based lasers and their own military. They have an electronic infrastructure backed up in the cloud.
Let’s say GoogleWorld decides to develop colonies in outer space. The UN treaty on outer space is binding on all nations that signed it. All nations that signed must rein in any private entity within their borders to conform with its terms. But Google was never a party to any such treaty – so Google chooses to colonize and mine the moon, and any other space property, to its own benefit – without interference from the UN or other nations.
This scenario presents a bevy of opportunities and potential problems. (For instance, suppose a violent, international crime syndicate decided to attack and conquer GoogleWorld. The treaty would bar Google from availing itself of the help of any sovereign nation. They could hold the Internet world hostage. What would the UN Security Council do?) Regardless, the confluence of technological advances and international corporate success can create its own unique impact on worldwide legal jurisprudence.
When the legal system is grappling with issues concerning robots and outer space resources, they have an actual object that exists in reality. Another battleground that looms on the horizon will be the virtual world. These are truly serious problems that come about because technology expands exponentially while legal jurisprudence runs at quite a linear pace. Since 2010, the US Congress has even been known to stand still. Let’s explore the problems presented by cyberspace.