by Bob Goddard
Yonaton turned towards the crashing surf ahead of them, fully aware it offered only the faintest hope of sanctuary. The old captain would need to draw on every trick he had learned in a lifetime at sea if they were to evade the Pelican and the demonic Cardinal. He called out urgently. “We must make the most of this chance. Mammed, bale out the hulls again and Ben, pull in the sail a little. Maybe we can get away before they recover.”
* * * * *
Moon, 2088: Saturday 28th February
It was a red-eyed and dishevelled group of department heads who assembled in Nadia’s office next morning. After the bombshell revelation of the previous day they had each accepted a mood-med patch from the doctor before stumbling off to their quarters to do some serious thinking. None of them slept much that night.
Nadia had asked them to return with carefully considered suggestions for how this latest development should be handled. How and when should they share this news with the rest of the colony? What steps should they take to secure their future?
“This is the hardest test any of us are ever likely to face,” she had said before she dismissed them. “But we don’t have any choice. We have to face up to it and we have to succeed. It is not just the survival of the colony in our hands now. It is the survival of the human race. Mankind as a species is on the brink of extinction. So think hard and think wisely. We will meet here at 10 hours tomorrow to discuss what we must do.”
Now as they shuffled into her office they looked more like survivors from a shipwreck than cool-headed decision makers about to map out the future of mankind.
“Thank you all for coming,” said Nadia. “I can see you slept no better than I did. I am sorry to put so much responsibility on your shoulders. Thijs tells me he has some more information about Earth so I will ask him to go first.”
“It is not good news, Nadia, but I think you ought to know. You will remember that in the months following the first comet impact, we were able to detect a heat signature from most of the world’s nuclear power stations. This proved that survivors were keeping the stations running, providing themselves with light and heat. It was an encouraging sign when we had no contact with them, before your father figured out a way to call us.
“Sadly the reverse is now true. For the first time we have clear signs of those power stations cooling down, first in India, then China. These facilities go into automatic shutdown within a few days if not attended. It is further proof that something catastrophic has happened to the survivor communities.”
Thijs turned his weary eyes towards the others. “I am sorry to tell you this, but there it is. I don’t think the rest of the colonists need to know.”
“Thank you Thijs,” said Nadia. “Please ask the two other members of your team to keep this information to themselves. Anything else?”
“Yes. Looking to our future here, we need to start thinking about how to achieve a complete view of the universe. At the moment we only see half of it from the top of Mt Malapert. Ideally we need an observatory with optical and radio telescopes at the North Pole. It is a crazy suggestion I know, but we are very vulnerable here with no atmosphere to protect us. We need to see what might be coming out of that half of the sky and we are blind since we lost the feed from the space telescopes in Earth orbit.
“We also need to re-establish a lunar satellite network to replace the ones damaged by the original meteoroid storm. We only have four of our LPS satellites working which means tracking and communications for anyone out on the surface are compromised. We need to make and launch our own satellites as soon as we can.”
“Okay,” said Nadia. “Any thoughts, Will?”
“Jeez,” said Will, brushing his hand over his head. “The North Pole is 11,000 kilometres away. We would need to use the LTV to haul equipment that distance, but it could be done… eventually. Replacing the four dud satellites will be much easier. I’ve been thinking about a rail-gun launch system to put them into orbit. Need to get Marina in on this for the electronics, but I think it’ll work.”
“Very well,” said Nadia. “Please go ahead with the satellites and launch system and keep me posted. I want to put the LTV back into service. We need to explore and exploit much more of the Moon’s surface. Then eventually we will be able to install an observatory at the North Pole. But I’m not allowing anyone to travel beyond the reach of rescue.
“That’s why Will’s new Moonbike is restricted to 40 kilometres until we have a second one up and running. And before we fly our LTV again we need to have another one ready and waiting. All life is precious, but as of now, every single one of us is irreplaceable. We take no risks. None. Understand?” She fired a fierce look at all of them. They nodded in response.
Will chipped in again: “Building a second LTV will teach us some valuable lessons in rocket engineering. Gonna need that if we’re ever going back to Earth. And maybe Thijs’s second observatory would be better parked at one of the Lagrange points instead of the North Pole?
“We can achieve increased lift with a scaled up rail-gun launcher, but we still need rocket engines. So I suggest we set to work building a replica of the LTV as a first step. Francoise Durand, head of the geology team, has asked to use the Moonbike to explore further out. We need iron and titanium but the richest deposits are in the lowlands, the volcanic maria, over a thousand kilometres from here.
“So we need a second LTV for that and a couple more Moonbikes with extended range for the local stuff. The new surface suit is nearly ready for testing and once that’s done we need to be making them in quantity. Are we planning on equipping everybody, Nadia?”
“Yes, I think we should. Surface workers first of course. It looks as though the engineering department is going to be busy for quite a while. Thank you, Will. ” She turned to his wife. “What have you got for us, Lian?”
“Oh, well, I hope this suggestion won’t be too shocking.” She looked at the others with wide eyes. “What we need – most urgently – is a major breeding programme. We need every man here to breed with every woman. It is essential.”
“What!?” Will looked at her in astonishment. She hadn’t discussed this idea with him.
“Okay, Lian,” said Nadia with a weak smile. “You’ve got our attention. Care to explain a little further?”
“Yes, of course! Small populations are very vulnerable. Disease or accident can lead to extinction. Ten thousand is considered to be the minimum safe population size.
“If we are the only humans left alive, then we need to expand our population as soon as possible and we need to mix our genes as efficiently as possible. It is essential that we interbreed thoroughly to obtain the maximum benefits of hybrid vigour and genetic diversity in our population.
“We are very fortunate here. We have fifty-fifty men and women representing almost every racial type on Earth. Due to the internationality and sexual equality of the ISCOM mission we have nearly perfect mix of human genetics here in our tiny community. We will need to cross-breed very thoroughly to rebuild the Homo sapiens species up to a safe and viable population for the future.
“But we must hurry! Many of our women here are in their late thirties and have only a decade or two of optimum fertility left. The men also produce less fertile sperm as they get older. We can, of course, preserve sperm and ova as well as embryos in cryostore and we must do this, but we still need healthy wombs to gestate our babies. There is no time to lose. We must start our breeding programme now!”
“Jeez!” muttered Will as his hand fluttered across his scalp repeatedly.
“Goodness, Lian!” said Tamala, wide-eyed at the thought. “You make it sound like factory farming.”
“Or a good old-fashioned orgy!” said Thijs with a smile. “Maybe my luck is about to change?”
“Before we get too carried away,” said Nadia, “we need to ensure we have the infrastructure to cope with a population explosion. If I understand Lian’s thinking correctly we will be looking at 140 babies being born in less than a year from now—”
>
“Oh, more than that, Nadia,” Lian interrupted her. “It is essential that every woman becomes pregnant with twins or triplets – which is simple with IVF – and then continues to produce children every year for as long as her body can do it. The future of the human race depends on it.”
“Jesus Christ, Lian!” Will was aghast. “Do you have any idea what you are suggesting? Where are we going to put them all? We’ve only just managed to expand our living space to cope with the people we have now.”
“Well.” She turned to him with a smile. “While we women are busy growing babies, you men need to get busy building all the accommodation we need for our children. Nurseries, schools, recreation halls. We should create open spaces filled with trees and flowers where they can run and play, ride their bicycles. There will be a lot to do.” Her eyes were shining with excitement.
“What is needed,” said Nadia, “is an expandable accommodation and biosphere complex in a new location. I would think that Amundsen Crater would be suitable for that purpose. We had better start drawing up plans.”
“And we will need to expand our medical facilities, Nadia,” said Yasmine. “And train an army of midwives and nurses. We will need a lot of extra equipment and pharmacy. I’d better draw up a list…”
“Well, Lian,” said Nadia, “I was hoping today’s session would produce some ideas to keep everyone busy. You have come up with the most ambitious plan that will keep us all working flat out for the rest of our lives. I’m not sure how I feel about turning my body into a baby factory, but I can see the rationale of your argument.”
“Just a minute, Nadia.” Tamala looked worried. “I was going to suggest that we kept the news about what has happened on Earth from the rest of the colonists. At least for the time being, to limit the psychological damage. If we suddenly launch Lian’s breeding programme we can’t hope to keep it a secret, can we? Everyone will want to know why and the rumours will force the truth out into the open.”
“Ah, yes, I see what you mean. We will have to think this through carefully. I plan to announce the loss of communication with Earth in my vidcast today. That will be a big disappointment. To balance that news I will tell them of progress with the surface suits and plans to build more Moonbikes.
“Then next week I can tell them of the plans for satellites and launch system. The week after that I can announce the LTV programme, mineral prospecting and plans for a new complex at Amundsen. We need to decide how to introduce the idea that we might be here for some time to come. Then, eventually, we will have to tell them about the power stations shutting down on Earth.”
“You will also have to tell them about the biological weapons, Nadia.” said Tamala. “They will want to know what has happened to their families. However awful, the truth will be better than endlessly hoping that their loved ones are still alive.”
“Yes, I can vouch for that,” said Will, grimly.
“Very well. So a gradual release of information balanced with good news. And how about Lian’s breeding programme? When will we start that?”
“I’ve started already!” blurted Lian.
“What do you mean, Lian?” asked Tamala.
“I’m pregnant!” She looked up at Will with a beaming smile. “I have been trying to find the right moment to tell you, Will, darling. We are going to have a baby!”
19. Thirty Seven Years Later
Moon, 2125: Tuesday, 24th July
Governor Ngaio Griffiths stepped up to the lectern and surveyed the sea of people who filled the central plaza of Amundsen City. Nearly all of the Moon’s 7,617 population were gathered for the memorial service, a celebration of the life of their beloved ‘Moon Mother’, Nadia Sokolova.
She hadn’t always had such a lovable epithet. During the early days some had called Nadia The Ice Maiden or worse. That was when she struck fear into the heart of anyone who failed to live up to her high standards. But it was her vision and drive, her foresight and energy that had inspired the colonists in the aftermath of Comet Santos. The comet that had marooned the original 297 at Armstrong Base and wiped out all the inhabitants of planet Earth.
Ngaio had learned about the hardships and heartaches of those terrible times in her history lessons. She remembered the classroom full of children agog at the tales of former times on Earth, when millions upon millions of people had packed the planet’s cities. The ruins of those cities were now buried beneath the ice that covered the Earth except for a broad ribbon of green and blue between the tropics. Three years after the first comet impact the skies had cleared to reveal an utterly changed world.
It was hard to believe those people were all gone, laid waste by a snowball from outer space that spilled pestilence into their atmosphere. What kind of people would create such a biological hazard in the first place? And then bury it in the sand to poison their grandchildren! What were they thinking?
Robotic probes had told them that the Earth now appeared to be a safe place for people to live once again. The daily view of the blue and white planet on their horizon was tantalising. Even for the children who had never been there, it was home, the focus of their school lessons, a place their parents and grandparents discussed endlessly and yearned to return to. The Moon was where they lived, but the Earth was Home.
All they needed was to perfect their spacecraft, their guidance systems, their entry through Earth’s atmosphere. Then they would be walking on the old planet, breathing air without a surface suit. The thought was intoxicating.
They had come so far already. In less than 40 years they had created all the living space and resources they needed to support their massive expansion. The colony had adopted the Lian Plan, an ambitious breeding programme to create a 10,000-strong population as rapidly as possible.
Only six of the original 297 colonists had died. A Japanese man named Nakashima had committed suicide the day the fate of Earth’s population was revealed. There were two more deaths in the weeks that followed. A Malaysian woman had died in childbirth twelve years later, and then it appeared the remaining Terrans might live forever, having adapted to the Moon’s environment far better than any had expected.
Last year the lovely old Greek philosopher, George Niarchos, who had been such a help to Ngaio’s mother, had passed away aged 101. And now Nadia. It was a sobering thought that one day there would be nobody born on Earth left among them. That living link to the home planet would be vital when they launched their first manned mission to return there. She hoped it would come soon so that even if she was not selected, one or more of her children would be included in the crew.
At 38, Ngaio was already a grandmother of two bonny babies and her eleven children would soon produce many more. Her family would have been far larger but a complication with her last pregnancy five years ago had put an end to childbearing. Her disappointment was soon forgotten when their inspirational leader became too sick to continue as Governor and Ngaio, already one of the Moon’s leading cosmonaut-pilots, was elected to take her place.
Now, after two rousing songs and moving eulogies from Will, Lian and her mother Tamala, it was Ngaio’s turn to wrap up this glorious send-off with a few choice words.
“My dear fellow Lunies,” she began, her amplified voice echoing around the vast chamber. “While our hearts are sad today at losing our beloved Moon Mother, Nadia would not want us to wallow in grief. If she could speak to us now she would urge us to redouble our efforts to bring closer the day when we will once again walk on the Earth.
“Ever since ‘that bloddy iceberg’, as she called it, devastated our home planet Nadia promised that one day we would return home. It is our duty and our destiny to keep that promise for her and replant humanity back on Earth, to flourish there as we have here on the Moon.”
She looked down at the front row of the audience where Doctor Yasmine Rozek stood. She was surrounded by Nadia’s and her own children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. It was one of the biggest families despite Nadia’s early break from chi
ldbearing due to her cancer. Yasmine appeared serene and calm, only her moist eyes revealing the torment of saying goodbye to the love of her life.
To one side of the Sokolova-Rozek family were the Coopers, Will and Lian standing proud among their many offspring. Uncle Will was looking piratical with his dark eye patch and grey hair drawn back into a ponytail and also slightly menacing in his faux-leather waistcoat with its Hell’s Angels patches. Aunt Lian – Ngaio’s godmother – appeared bright-eyed and sprightly, despite her shock of white hair and a stick to steady her wobbly legs.
On the other side was Ngaio’s father Darren, standing tall with his hand resting on her mum’s shoulder. They were surrounded by Ngaio’s siblings and children of all sizes, most holding babies. The women from mid-teens upwards sported swollen abdomens like most lunar females of childbearing age. Ngaio caught her mother’s eye and was rewarded with a reassuring smile that lit up her brown face.
“All life is precious,” she continued, “as Nadia constantly reminded us. And no life has been more precious than that of our beloved Moon Mother. She was our rock, our shelter when fear and despair raged in our hearts. She was our inspiration, our tireless leader who knew neither rest nor compromise while our future was at stake. She was our prophet who foresaw the challenges ahead and our guardian in times of hardship and famine.
“Sleep well, Moon Mother. Rest in peace. Your life may be over but your legacy lives on. We are that legacy and we will fulfil your dream. We will thrive here on the Moon. And we will return to Earth!” A great cheer went up as Ngaio struggled with a lump in her throat. As the noise died down she found her voice again.
“I hope you will all join me in dedicating this fitting memorial…” she looked up and raised her arms wide as if to encompass the whole plaza, “to our beloved Moon Mother. I hereby rename this glorious metropolis after the woman who conceived and created it… Sokolova City!”
Another exultant roar of approval faded away as the Lunar Symphony Orchestra struck up. They filled the cavernous hall with the rousing strains of ‘Jerusalem’ and the crowd began to sing lustily about building a new city in a green and pleasant land.