Writers of the Future Volume 27: The Best New Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Year

by L. Ron Hubbard

  “What about the headset that your officers confiscated from me earlier? I want that back.”

  Captain Hail nodded to the desk. Marianne heard a rattle and then saw the access drawer slide open. Inside were a dozen headsets.

  “If you could return the rest of them to the media control room personnel, it would be appreciated,” Captain Hail said. The security door buzzed open, and he disappeared behind it.

  Marianne gathered up the headsets with a huff and stormed out of the security office. She would have to check each headset to find which one she was using during the broadcast.

  She found a secluded space in a nearby cafeteria and booted up the first headset. When she pressed the playback button, the headset chimed immediately. Nothing was recorded on it. She set it aside and tried another. Like the first one, it had nothing in its memory.

  A knot grew in her stomach as headset after headset turned up empty. As she put on the final one, she felt a glimmer of hope, but it had nothing stored in its memory either. Luna City Security had erased everything. She wondered if security had downloaded the conversations before they erased them and made a note to ask Captain Hail. But she suspected that he and his men wouldn’t give her the recordings even if they had them.

  She wondered why Luna City Security would delete the conversations from the headsets. They were routine behind-the-scenes instructions and responses between the director and network crew used only to ensure the smooth operation of the broadcast. It didn’t make sense. Unless, she reasoned, Luna City Security and the officials that followed them into the booth were trying to hide something. She felt that familiar tingle in her stomach. There was something here to uncover.

  Since the Magistrate that Marianne needed to meet with was out of his office, she decided to visit the memorial museum in the hallway that used to lead to Habitat Fourteen. The first thing she noticed was the cleanliness of the museum. The rest of Luna City was starting to show signs of neglect. The walls that robot builders had constructed out of moondust and then bleached white were starting to turn gray in the joints and around the windows. Many hallways had visible scuff marks and even minor chips and abrasions. The whole city, except for this hallway, reminded her of a resort that had long ago lost its popularity.

  But the Habitat Fourteen Memorial Hallway was still as pristine as it must have been when it was first constructed. It looked just like any other hallway in Luna City, with the exception of a mismatched wall blocking the destroyed end where multiple messages expressed love, sorrow and well wishes for the victims and their families. These messages included electronic pads connected to permanent power supplies, notes written with pen or pencil and art on primitive construction paper drawn by elementary school children.

  Marianne read the first dozen notes with interest, then realized that they all basically said the same thing—you will be remembered, our prayers are with you and sorry for your loss. She skimmed over several others before she realized her actions were a perfect analogy of how Earth had lost interest in the Luna City tragedy. Overexposure of the same information led people to become numb to that information. The novelty of the event had worn off. The fear of visiting this city, however, had not. She thought about this and wondered if she could find something similar to pull readers into the story she was building.

  Along the left wall, monitors offered videos, still-image pictures, paper photographs and news clippings. Marianne pressed the display picture on next to a sign that read, “The Final Moments of Habitat Fourteen.” The monitor showed the famous, five-year old video that her director had also aired before the broadcast was shut down. An image of Habitat Fourteen, one moment perfectly intact with its red beacon flashing, the next moment the explosion and vaporized air escaping through each of the seams as the geodesic dome blew apart.

  “You’re that reporter that covered the memorial, right?” a man asked behind her.

  It had been a long time since she had been recognized in public, but considering the population of Luna City and the memorial she had covered earlier today, it wasn’t surprising someone might recognize her. “Yes, I’m Marianne Summers.”

  “I didn’t appreciate you letting that nut on the air. We lost a lot of good people in that explosion. You had no right to denigrate our suffering.”

  Marianne held her hands in front of her as if to push the accusations away from her. She hadn’t put Tommy on the air. Luna City had asked him to lay the wreath. “I understand,” she said. “We didn’t plan it. He brought up that conspiracy theory nonsense on his own. I was just as surprised as anyone.”

  “Well, I didn’t appreciate it.” The curator stared at her for a moment, then returned to the hub-end of the hallway and sat behind his desk. His eyes never left her.

  Great, Marianne thought, another unhappy viewer. She could imagine a whole slew of them back on Earth cursing her name as their holotanks went blank. This opportunity to work was turning out to be another black spot on her career.

  She moved on to the next screen and pressed the play button. It was a history of Luna City and Habitat Fourteen in particular. After the Chinese CNSA landed their first three-man team on the Moon, NASA in the United States and ESA in Europe combined forces and announced plans to build a permanent settlement on the Moon within the decade. Within three years, the Russian RFSA, the Indian ISRO and the Japanese JAXA had joined them and a global consortium was born.

  Remotely programmed robotic builders completed the first structure in 2040. After insuring Habitat One was airtight, three people set up the first permanent residence on the Moon. Over the following twenty years, that single dome had expanded to a seven-kilometer city with a centralized hub, fifteen habitat domes, a utilities spur and a spaceport.

  Habitat Fourteen was started in 2058. Initially designed as one hundred, two- and three-person apartments with a central dining and recreation complex, it was built to consolidate several older Luna City housing facilities into one common area. Completed two years later, Habitat Fourteen became a sought-after place to live for mid-level technicians and workers.

  Then, on the morning of May 9th, 2062, terrorists destroyed Habitat Fourteen. The same footage of it blowing up started playing again, and Marianne walked away. She wondered how many of the presentations here contained that same footage.

  One of the other displays on the opposite wall of the hallway was a 2-D monitor that offered biographies of the victims of the explosion. She pressed the play button underneath the monitor and a video essay for Major Randolph Young came up. When it was finished, another started. She watched several biographies in turn. The victims were a mishmash of people with various backgrounds, united in history by all being in the wrong place at the same time.

  It was getting toward lunchtime so Marianne thanked the scowling curator and left, heading toward the cafeteria on the hub.

  After lunch, Magistrate Melle asked her into his chambers. His huge hands engulfed hers when he pumped her hand vigorously. “Marianne Summers. I’ve followed your career for years.”

  Marianne hoped the Magistrate’s large smile and enthusiastic greeting would help her get her interview. “It hasn’t been much of a career lately, but thank you.”

  “Indeed, since the plagiarism charges, you have only been published in tabloid blogs and vlogs, am I correct?”

  Feeling her chances slipping away, she said, “Yes.” The tabloid work helped pay her bills, but probably harmed her already-soiled reputation as much as the false charges of plagiarism her executive producer at the National News Network made up twenty years ago. She said, “I was hoping this report of your memorial service might boost my career. What I mean to say is . . . most people of Earth don’t truly appreciate the tragedy that happened here. The Moon is so far away from their everyday lives. What I had hoped to do was to illuminate your story within more legitimate blogs and vlogs. Luna City has a brief, but wonderfu
l history, and what happened five years ago was horrific. The people of Earth need to be reminded of that.”

  “My aide tells me you wish to interrogate Captain Gerald Hail and Thomas Rubner.”

  “Interrogate is not the word I would use. What Thomas did warrants a slap on the wrist. He should have been released already, but Captain Hail is still holding him for some reason. I simply wish to interview both of them and find out why Mr. Rubner would be so disrespectful at such a solemn occasion.”

  “Ms. Summers, can’t this wait until Mr. Rubner is released?”

  “By that time, the story will have grown cold, Magistrate.” He didn’t say anything, and she wondered what else he might be deliberating. “Maybe I can put it another way. Just before the broadcast transferred up to the Moon, the network share meter was at twenty-two percent. After Thomas Rubner went off script, the share meter jumped to seventy-four percent. That’s over four billion extra people from Earth watching the broadcast. That’s a huge number of people, looking for information about Luna City.

  “Then, the broadcast tanks went dead. The last thing those billions heard was about this conspiracy. They need to know the truth. But they need to know it now, not a couple of days from now. In a couple of days, those conspiracy theories, like Thomas Rubner exposed last night, will continue to grow and tarnish Luna City’s reputation.”

  Magistrate Melle seemed to regard her words for a few moments. He finally said, “What Thomas Rubner said was not flattering of the Lunar Republic.”

  “Exactly!” Marianne said. “He starts spouting this conspiracy theory junk. He claims his wife is still alive and demands to speak with her. Why?”

  “Why, indeed.”

  “I can’t figure that out! Is he insane? Where did he get those crazy ideas? Who or what polluted his thinking? But the longer this story waits, the more it will look like there really is some conspiracy keeping him quiet.”

  The Magistrate looked contemplative, and Marianne hoped she was starting to sway him.

  She said, “Billions of people back on Earth need to know the truth. Luna City is safe. What has the tourism rate been here for the last five years? With new exposure, visitation would increase again. With more tourists would come increased revenues for suffering Luna City merchants. That translates to increased Lunar Republic revenues. It’s a success for everyone in Luna City.”

  Without a word, the Magistrate crossed to his desk and typed onto his holographic keyboard. After a while, he finally said, “I am granting you permission to interview them. Captain Hail will be able to find my ruling online.”

  Marianne let out a grateful sigh. “Thank you, Magistrate. Thank you.”

  Marianne turned to leave when the Magistrate called to her, “Ms. Summers. I never doubted those plagiarism charges from NNN.”

  Marianne’s heart sank.

  The Magistrate added, “Until now.”

  Marianne thanked him again and left his office, heading down the hallways to Luna City Security with renewed hope in her heart. When she arrived, the same desk officer from earlier addressed her with annoyance. “Captain Hail has already told you. He’s very busy.”

  Marianne smiled as she said, “I’m here to see Thomas Rubner. Magistrate Melle has issued a writ granting me permission to interview him. You should be able to verify it online.”

  With a scowl on his face, the officer tapped on his holo keyboard. After a moment, he said, “Have a seat.” He disappeared behind a partition, returned minutes later and ignored her.

  While she waited, she organized her questions for both Tommy Rubner and Captain Gerald Hail. Twenty minutes later, Captain Hail emerged from behind the “Luna City Security Personnel Only” door. She had beaten him, and with a legal writ, nothing could keep her from interviewing Tommy.

  Marianne marched toward him with a grin plastered on her face. “Magistrate Melle has granted—”

  He cut her off with a raised hand. “I know. Follow me.” She followed him out of the Luna City Security office and around to the opposite side of the hub toward where the Magistrate’s office was. She objected about being led away from the jails and Tommy a number of times along the way, but Captain Hail ignored her protests the whole time. When she finally saw the LED display over the archway where they were headed, her heart sank. It read “Medical Center.”

  She hoped Tommy would be coherent enough to speak with her and wondered what sort of injuries he had suffered during his tussle with the security guards out at the ruins.

  A man in a white lab coat, who Marianne assumed was a doctor, greeted them. He said, “Captain, this is most unusual.”

  The captain nodded toward Marianne and said, “This is Marianne Summers. She has a legal writ to see Thomas Rubner.”

  The doctor looked confused, then nodded and said, “Follow me.” Marianne followed the doctor with Captain Hail behind her. The doctor led them through another door that read “Authorized Personnel Only” and into an area bathed with ultraviolet light. He then led them to a gurney topped with a black body bag. The doctor unzipped the bag and pulled the flap away.

  Even though the flesh was colored by the ultraviolet light of the morgue, Marianne recognized Tommy Rubner’s body immediately.

  Marianne headed to Chang’s room in order to review the footage he shot of Luna City Security escorting Tommy away from the ruins of Habitat Fourteen. When she pressed the announce button on his door, he didn’t answer. She pressed again, longer this time, but he still didn’t answer.

  She headed to a cafeteria just off the hub and pulled up the Luna City Directory on the public terminal. The room that Chang had stayed in was listed as leasable and the software asked her if she would like to reserve the room. She declined and checked the departing shuttles from Luna City. A transport had left an hour earlier.

  She called up the boarding service and got a chirpy mechanical attendant on the other end who spouted off the number of exciting travel deals available if she was interested in traveling to Luna City.

  “I am already at Luna City,” Marianne said.

  The robot said, “Would you like to book a departure? Luna Transport offers a number of exciting travel options back to Earth. Experience space travel as it used to be in the zero-G, general passenger staterooms. Or, enjoy breathtaking views and full Earth gravity during your trip back in the Grand Suite on the outer ring. We have options available for any budget.”

  “No. I am inquiring if a passenger boarded your afternoon transport.”

  The robot’s tone changed to informational and said, “The transport to Earth had two hundred twenty-six passengers. What is the last name of the passenger you would like to inquire about?”

  “Chang.”

  “What is the first name of the passenger you would like to inquire about?”

  “Peter.”

  The robot paused, then said, “Peter Chang departed on the afternoon transport, interior stateroom one-one-four-Quebec. Would you like to place a message to interior stateroom one-one-four-Quebec? Luna Transport offers up to terabyte-bandwidth in data, voice and video formats. And for a small additional charge, encryption is available for the most sensitive communications.”

  She didn’t know Chang’s private number, so she couldn’t call him on her visor. She didn’t have much money, but decided to take precautions against Luna City tracking her public call and said, “Secure audio.” Chang answered after the second buzz. His voice sounded as if he had been sleeping.

  “Chang, it’s Marianne Summers.”

  “I remember you. Still on Luna?”

  “Yeah.” Marianne didn’t know how much she could trust a secure call, but Luna City Security would have to announce the death of Tommy soon. “Thomas Rubner is dead.”

  “What? How?”

  “The doctor said he died from exposure to the Moon’s
environment. Do you still have that footage when Luna City Security apprehended him earlier?” It was a rhetorical question. Camera operators kept everything they shot, no matter how mundane it appeared. You never knew when a trivial piece of boring footage might suddenly be in high demand.

  “I’m not sure.” Chang said carefully. Marianne knew what he was doing—turning this new information over in his head. If Tommy was dead, then Chang might have the very last footage of him alive. That was a profitable position to be in.

  “Look, I’m not trying to steal your story. The medical examiner is telling me that Tommy died from asphyxiation while out at the ruins. I don’t remember it that way.”

  The counter on the view screen showed twenty Luna dollars. She didn’t have much spare cash to spend debating this. “This call is costing me a fortune. Check out the footage, and I’ll call you back.” She hit the disconnect and charged the call to her habitat room. She would have to call Roy to wire her some cash to cover the expense.

  She slipped on her visor and telephoned Roy. His avatar answered, “Hi, Marianne. What’s going on?”

  Marianne told him about Chang being on the transport and the footage he had. “Make Chang a good offer and send me an encrypted copy, immediately.”

  “Marianne, this was a routine memorial piece. What do you think is going on?”

  “Tommy stepped on some toes when he brought up this conspiracy theory. Now he’s dead.”

  “I see where you’re going. It doesn’t make sense that Luna Security killed him over some wacko conspiracy theory. It’s as crazy as the conspiracy about the JFK assassination, the American government being behind the 9-11 bombing or the story that the Challenger Shuttle collided with a UFO.”

  “Then why is Thomas Rubner dead?” The question hung between them for a while. Marianne finally said, “Exactly. Can you pay Chang?”

  “I’d have to see the footage first. How much is it going to cost me?”

  “It’ll be worth it.” She hung up, hoping she sounded convincing. If her gut instincts rang true, she was onto something. Unfortunately, those instincts also reminded her that her gut had not served her well these past twenty years or so. Still, she hadn’t felt this way in years and the feeling told her she was close to uncovering something big.