by Issui Ogawa
The space tugboat discussion was shelved for the moment. Everyone stood up hastily. Shinji still seemed worried. “Why is America bringing this complaint anyway? We just gave NASA some assistance last month.”
“The Americans do things by the book,” said Gotoba. “They won’t admit any linkage there.”
“I don’t know…It just doesn’t sound like NASA to me.” Shinji stood shaking his head as he watched them go.
ELE, GOTOBA, AND TGT, not the Japanese government, were the real force behind construction on the moon. ELE’s senior counsel formed a defense team and took up the challenge of contesting the International Court’s ruling.
The team’s first move was to challenge the basis for the injunction, since neither plaintiff nor defendant were signatories to the Moon Treaty. But this move was rejected by the court, which ruled that the treaty had universal application, just as humanitarian law applied to all nations.
Sixth Continent objected to this ruling on the basis of intertemporal law, which requires that juridical facts be evaluated in light of laws in force at the time. The Moon Treaty did not anticipate that one day corporations might build facilities on the moon for the benefit of all humanity. Its restrictions were out of date. But Sixth Continent’s plan to charge huge fees for travel to the moon was seized on by the court as demonstrating that the base was hardly intended for humanity’s benefit.
The defense team next tried to challenge America’s qualifications for bringing a complaint against Japan. They cited Section 11.3 of the Moon Treaty, which states: “Neither the surface nor the subsurface of the moon, nor any natural resources in place, shall become the property of any State, non-governmental entity or person.” NASA was, after all, harvesting surface ice. Why couldn’t Sixth Continent do the same?
The court rejected this move like all the others, citing Section 6.2 of the treaty, which states, “the States Parties shall have the right to collect on and remove from the moon samples of its mineral and other substances. Such samples shall remain at the disposal of those States Parties which caused them to be collected and may be used by them for scientific purposes.” Since NASA planned to use Liberty Island as a base to explore Mars and other planets, their installation was obviously scientific.
The legal headwinds were stiff. The United States seemed to be pulling out all the stops to support their complaint with a formidable combination of lawyers, documentation, and funding. There was no indication that the Americans were actually attempting to bribe the court’s fifteen judges. But they were obviously aiming for an early victory and were using every means available to put pressure on the court. The judges took less than a month to consider and dispose of every argument Sixth Continent mounted.
Public opinion was split in favor of Sixth Continent, but nearly everyone thought the Americans would ultimately prevail. The heads of Gotoba Engineering and ELE used their connections to obtain a reasonable level of support from Japan’s government. But diplomacy was one thing, courtroom argument another. When it came to the actual legal battle, there was little chance that Sixth Continent could prevail against the United States, which saw everything in terms of cold logic.
Ryuichi Yaenami was not foolhardy enough to waste time and energy helping fight a battle outside his area of competence. Adam 5 successfully delivered its mysterious payload to the lunar surface. But whatever it was, it was not scheduled to go into operation until a month after it reached the moon. Furthermore, Sixth Continent would not reveal its purpose. TGT’s refusal to supply details fanned speculation that Adam 5 might have blown up before reaching the moon. Reporters descended on Ryuichi for comment. Once again his character was on display, even in his silence. All he did was repeat, “No comment,” without hinting why. This steadfastness earned him praise in some quarters, but overall, criticism of TGT only grew stronger.
The life force of Sixth Continent was like a candle in a gale.
THE BAROMETER IN the Liberty Island Unmanned Operations Support Room was dropping.
At the eye of the storm sat Caroline Cadbury, on a chair in a corner of the room, looking fixedly downward. Her exact expression was concealed behind her sunglasses, but she’d already bitten the heads off the last eight members of her team who’d been foolhardy enough to try to speak to her. The ninth was quietly taping a sign to the wall behind her as a warning to others:
HURRICANE CAROLINE
FORCE 12 WINDS
Indeed, Caroline’s mind was a swirling vortex of conflicting thoughts.
Sixth Continent was about to have its oxygen supply cut off. Caroline was struggling with the same doubts that had assailed Shinji: strangling Sixth Continent suited senior politicians in the U.S. government, but it was not something Caroline or her team would have wanted. Still, with NASA’s rivals seemingly about to retire from the field, she should’ve been feeling elated. But her personal “right stuff” was having major problems with the situation.
What was it, ultimately, that was essential to face that hostile environment known simply as “space”? Undermining rivals with legal maneuvers couldn’t possibly be part of it. America’s early space program was indeed driven by competition with the Russians. But even at the height of the space race, the men who led the charge—the seven legendary Mercury astronauts—simply wanted to fly. The competition was nowhere on their radar screen.
Should NASA actually take steps to banish its opponents from the field? Or should it proceed as if they did not exist?
“Oh, of all the…What am I going to do?”
Just then her wearcom display lit up: incoming call. At first she ignored it, but then she noticed the caller ID: SOHYA AOMINE, ACTIVE TASK FORCE CHIEF, GOTOBA E&C.
“Sohya…?” After a moment, she had it: this was the Sixth Continent engineer who had sent her words of encouragement. Almost despite herself, she took the call.
“This is Cadbury.”
“It’s Sohya Aomine.”
He appeared on the display: an Asian man with black hair and a placid, youthful face. Japanese, like the people who had destroyed her father’s dream! Giving in to her emotions, Caroline answered tartly, “What do you want?”
“My boss has asked me to negotiate something with you.”
Negotiate?”
“Yes. Sixth Continent needs NASA’s help.”
“Wonderful. We’re rivals, you know. You’re asking me to help you?”
“Hear me out and I’m confident you will.” Sohya’s voice was calm and soothing. Why are these people always so damn difficult to deal with? thought Caroline. How can I yell at someone who talks this way?
“So what is it you want to negotiate?”
Sohya began explaining. After several minutes, Caroline leapt to her feet. Her chair fell over with a crash. The team looked at her, braced for the worst. She broke her silence with a shout.
“What? Sixth Continent is equipped for that? Well, so what? That doesn’t offer us much…You’re joking! You’re willing to give us TROPHY?”
Craig came half out of his chair at the mention of TGT’s engine.
This timid-looking controller, whose wearcom was integrated into his Coke-bottle glasses, was a Boeing-trained rocket engineer with a consuming interest in TROPHY technology.
“Carol! What was that about TROPHY?”
“Hold on, Craig.” Lambach put a large hand on Craig’s shoulder and gently pushed him back into his chair. Caroline kept talking feverishly into her sunglasses.
“Yes, I get it. That gives us a way to move. My boss? Don’t worry, I’ll convince him. He was a Rockwell test pilot. He was in line to fly one of the shuttles. Offer him a chance to fly on Apple, like TGT’s president. Yes, I’m sure he’ll approve…Yes, leave it to me!”
Caroline reached up a finger and rang off, then took off her sunglasses. Her sky blue eyes were shining. “Get me Ringstone!”
“Carol, what’s going on?” said Lambach.
“We’re going to help Sixth Continent!” Lambach picked up the
phone. Caroline jerked it away and impatiently hit the call button. Craig stared at her, mystified.
“I thought you weren’t a big fan of the Japanese,” he said. “And what was that about TROPHY?”
“I’m willing to convert if we can get that technology. Even if we can’t…Hello? This is Cadbury at JPL. I need to speak to Ringstone—now.”
Craig watched his boss and shook his head. “Is she on something?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Lambach shrugged. “Hurricanes go where they have to.”
IN THE HAGUE, final arguments regarding the Sixth Continent injunction were under way in the spacious courtroom of the International Court of Justice. Throughout the process, the superiority of the American position had been obvious. Special Assistant to the President Jim Lord, representing the United States, sat on the plaintiff’s side of the room, wearing a confident smile.
The fifteen judges were drawn from as many countries. The chief justice of the court was an Australian jurist named Melville. She looked out over the courtroom and said in ringing tones, “We shall now hear final arguments from the defendant. Richard Ringstone, please take your place on the witness stand.”
Commotion rose in the gallery and the plaintiff’s section of the courtroom. Lord’s mouth opened in surprise—Ringstone, NASA’s administrator, was the last person he’d expected to see as a witness for Japan.
Ringstone was sworn in and sat down. Melville said, “The Court has been advised that you are here to present newly ascertained facts of relevance in this matter. What are those facts?”
“Sixth Continent is a scientific installation,” said Ringstone.
“A scientific installation?” Lord said.
“That’s right, Mr. Lord. Sixth Continent incorporates a SETI module. The module is already in operation. It was carried to the moon a month ago, on the last launch before the injunction was delivered.”
“Utter nonsense. The defendant is obviously clutching at straws,” Lord said to Melville.
“It’s not nonsense. I was alerted to this by my subordinate at JPL. I personally investigated the module they are using. I can confirm that it is indeed an apparatus for detecting intelligent signals from deep space. Sixth Continent is a scientific facility. As such, Section 6.2 of the Moon Treaty applies to its activities, as it does to NASA’s activities at Liberty Island. Sixth Continent has a right to make use of the moon’s resources.”
“Why are you here, Mr. Ringstone?” Lord was beginning to lose his temper. “What are you doing testifying against the interests of your own country? I would expect you, as NASA administrator, to adopt a rather different yardstick of behavior!”
Melville broke in. “Mr. Lord, this is not a forum for debating where the interests of the United States lie.”
Lord grudgingly fell silent. Ringstone continued in a firm tone. “Maybe it is time to consider the interests of the United States of America. We need a competitor. With a strong opponent, we show what we’re really capable of. I believe Sixth Continent is the best opponent we could ask for. Yet at the same time, we at NASA don’t see ourselves in competition with anyone. We act on behalf of humanity, to look far into space, to touch the stars. We don’t play political games to achieve our objectives.” So saying, Ringstone gave one of his trademark bows and stepped down.
The sound of applause rose like a wave—from the Americans in the gallery. Ringstone’s testimony had struck home. Lord’s pale complexion turned a deep shade of scarlet.
“Madame Justice, I wish to address the court.”
“Proceed.”
“I’ve tried to restrain myself from pointing this out to the court, but I can no longer continue to do so. I wish to draw your attention to the manipulation of this process by the government of Japan. Japan is ultimately responsible for the activities of Sixth Continent. They’ve even planted their national flag on the base. They refuse to exercise control over Sixth Continent’s operations, yet they skillfully conspired to bring a representative of NASA here to testify in support of their position. I find this truly deplorable. I would like the court to affirm that Japan bears full responsibility for Sixth Continent’s actions!”
The justices looked uneasy. Lord was reopening an issue that had already more or less been settled. Until now, the Americans had consistently taken the position that the Japanese government was only nominally overseeing Sixth Continent. In effect, Lord was asking the court to take the entire process back to square one.
“Madame Justice, may I speak?” Tae Toenji raised her hand. She had traveled to the Netherlands to be present on this final day of arguments. Since she was funding the project, she was seated with the defense team. Melville nodded.
Tae rose to her feet. “Madame Justice, would it be possible to bring Sixth Continent’s home page onto the courtroom monitor?”
“Yes, I believe so,” said Melville and motioned to the clerk of the court. “Would you please?”
The clerk opened a browser on the courtroom monitor. Tae gave him the address, and in a moment Sixth Continent’s home page came up. The home page had a real-time webcam feed from the multidozers. Japan’s rising sun flag was planted in the regolith, a crossbar on the pole holding it taut. Tae asked the clerk to freeze the image.
“Enhance, please.” The clerk zoomed in on the flag. Tae murmured sadly, “I hate to say this, but I have no choice…All right, you can stop there.”
The image of a red circle on a white ground filled the screen. Everyone in the courtroom craned forward to get a better look. Jutting from the top of the sun disk was a tiny, curved stem.
“This is the flag of Eden, not Japan. It’s a red apple on a white field.”
A hush fell. Tae’s voice rang through the courtroom.
“All the equipment and facilities of Sixth Continent are the personal property of me and my grandfather, Sennosuke. We are not associated with Japan’s government, either in name or in fact. I was unwilling to have the national flag represent my Eden, so before it was taken to the moon, I modified it. That, Madame Justice, is an apple.”
“This…this is sophistry…” Lord stammered.
“Is it, Mr. Lord? How many of your arguments so far, as well as ours, have been anything but rhetoric? Let’s drop this pointless war of words. Don’t you think the best way to conclude this process—for both of us—would be for the justices to rule on this matter now?” She smiled, the smile that had charmed the world. Lord’s mouth was moving, but no words came out.
Melville announced, “This concludes final arguments. The court will recess for thirty minutes. We will then hand down our verdict!”
The room began to buzz. Journalists jumped up and ran outside. In the gallery, Sohya looked over at Caroline.
“I smell an upset win. I have to say, Ringstone’s speech was great. I can’t believe you convinced him to do it.”
“He’s fifty-five, but he says he still wants a chance to go into space,” said Caroline. “With TROPHY technology, we can develop our own scramjet and build a low-G lift vehicle that can take people with arrhythmia like Ringstone into space. That’s all I had to tell him. Of course, we won’t disclose the TROPHY deal till this whole issue blows over.” She looked over at Tae, who was congratulating the members of the defense team. “Impeccable timing, getting the SETI module up when you did. That girl is really something. I’m impressed.”
“That’s a compliment, especially coming from you.”
“But it doesn’t mean we’re buddies.” Caroline stood up. She looked down at Sohya defiantly. “Ringstone meant what he said. NASA doesn’t have rivals. We’re pioneers. That’s what we’ve always been and always will be. Today is special, and we’re here together. After today, I wish you the best of luck.
You’ll need it.”
“Thanks for that. We know you won’t slow down just for us,” said Sohya. He stood up and folded his arms across his chest with a smile. Caroline answered with a smile of her own and made no attempt to shake his hand.
She spun on her heel and strode briskly out of the courtroom.
THE TELEVISION IN Ryuichi’s office was an old flat-screen monitor from the beginning of the century. When he saw the news flash at the top of the screen—sixth continent vindicated—he sat back on the sofa and clapped.
“Shinji, we won! The verdict was unanimous!”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Shinji was sitting opposite Ryuichi, slurping instant noodles out of a Styrofoam container and tapping away on a laptop. He nodded knowingly. “Aomine told me already. Anyway, I’m the one who ordered their SETI module. I can’t believe Tae had the foresight to realize we’d need it.”
“Are you sure she launched that module just to create a legal trapdoor?”
“That must’ve been part of it. Anyway, I’ve never pretended to understand what she’s thinking. Even Aomine gets jerked around by her. A SETI module on the moon is a cool idea though.”
“You think so?”
“Why not? I mean, it can’t fail. No one can prove it’s a waste of time as long as there’s no deadline.”
Ryuichi snorted with amusement and peered at the laptop. Shinji had been working away at it all morning. “So what’s cooking?”
Shinji turned the computer around so Ryuichi could see the screen. He finished the noodles in one titanic slurp. “Faifan fen,” he said with his mouth full.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” said Ryuichi.
“Fokay…Ah, it’s a proposal to modify the Titan X.”
“Titan? That’s one of theirs. It’s based on an old ICBM design. Why modify it?”
“Since they’re getting the plans for TROPHY, they might not need the last few Titans they have on order. I ran the concept past Ringstone before he left for the Netherlands. He sounded interested.”
“What’s the concept?” said Ryuichi.
“As configured, Titan X can put forty tons into low earth orbit. With a few modifications, it looks like we could use the third stage as a space tug. All we’d need to do is swap in a power plant with a longer service life. If we can include a few of these in the barter deal for TROPHY, it’d make things a lot easier going forward.”