Epilogue

2264

The shuttle landing was flawless, and I couldn’t actually tell when we touched the pad. We only had to wait a couple of minutes for the ship to be taken into the hangar and the doors closed. The overhead speaker clicked, and the shuttle’s pilot said, “If you’d all remain seated, I’m going to turn off our internal gravity generators, so we’re on the Lunar gravity generators. Of course, even though we have force fields at the entrances to outer space for all the hangars, in the interests of passenger safety, we need to wait until the outer hangar doors are closed and leak checks have been performed.”

I felt a slight shift in my weight.

“And that’s the switch in gravity generators. I’ve just been informed that the hangar doors are closed, and the leak check shows no leakage. Please make sure you take all of your carry-on luggage with you. Items remaining onboard will be returned to Terra with us on our return trip. That includes any small children you might leave behind, so take them with you, too!” he said with a chuckle. “Thank you for flying Salthawk Space Lines, and we look forward to serving you in the future!”

I undid my belt, then looked at my companion on the flight.

“Are you doing okay over there?”

“I’ll be fine. Changing gravity like that makes me a little nauseous.”

“You’re four months pregnant. It should make you a little nauseated. I mean, it’s not like that’s anything new as far as space medicine is concerned.”

“Thank you, Doctor, for that stirring recommendation. This isn’t the first time I’ve been pregnant, after all,” she replied, getting her belt undone, standing, and then smoothing her dress.

“What is this, anyway? I know this is your twentieth with Mike.”

Karen smiled and said, “Yes, it is. It’s funny, you know? We celebrated our two hundred seventy-eighth anniversary, and he’s still as much in love with me as when we were in high school.”

I grabbed our carry-on bag and then headed to the exit, with Karen behind me. We took our place in line, patiently waiting. Some things never change, with one of the flight attendants and the pilot standing by the exit door and saying thank you.

The passenger facility had a ramp extending out, but it was simply a walkway and not covered, like the old jet bridges on Earth. No weather to worry about, so simply step across the gap, and walk into the terminal. Each entry port had its own separate hangar, so they could service six passenger shuttles at a time at the main terminal. Cargo shuttles had their own terminal, forty miles away.

There were ten desks, with lines in front of them as incoming passengers queued up for their entry interviews. Each shuttle typically carried a couple of hundred passengers, and unless something went wrong in scheduling, they were always far enough apart in time that they didn’t cause long lines. Of course, that presumed the incoming passenger wasn’t an idiot. Even after almost a hundred fifty years of flights from Terra Station to Luna City, there were still morons.

“What do you mean, I can’t bring that with me?” an older looking woman complained. “This is an outrage! I always have that with my tea!”

“Well, you’re going to have to do without it, Ma’am. When you bought your ticket from Terra, part of the terms were that you were not allowed to bring certain biological substances with you that could potentially harm Luna. You can have honey with your tea from our bees.” The woman behind the counter took the offending jar of honey from the counter and put it into a double walled secure container.

“That’s just outrageous! I won’t stand for it, I tell you!” the woman shouted.

“Then you can sit down. It still won’t matter. Look at the bright side. You’re only going to have to pay a five hundred dollar fine for accidentally bringing it with you at this point. If you want to continue to push me, then those two nice gentlemen over there are going to take you into a side room, do a full strip and cavity search on you, then place you under arrest for attempted smuggling of contraband. That’s a twenty-five thousand dollar fine and six months hard labor here on Luna. Then you get shipped dirtside for the remainder of your term behind bars.”

“My lawyer would have something to say about that, young lady!”

“Yeah. He’d say you bought a ticket to Luna. When you did so, you signed that you were agreeing to visit another member nation of the Solarian Federation, and once you did so, you agreed to be held liable under that nation’s laws, rules, and regulations. So, you can either continue to throw a hissy fit that’s not going to go your way, or you can shut your mouth and quit holding up my line. There are other people waiting.”

Defeated, the woman finished allowing her carry-on to be searched, with two other things also taken from her and securely bagged for disposal. Only then was she allowed to leave, to get her checked luggage.

I was still chuckling at the scene when Karen and I got to the counter.

“Here’s our carry-on. Nothing to declare,” I said, setting it on her table.

She opened it, then quickly looked through everything. She closed it, then smiled. “This isn’t your first trip to Luna, is it?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s been a few years for either one of us.”

“Very good. Ma’am, if you need a tram, I’ll be happy to order one for you.”

“Thank you ... Teresa,” Karen said, reading her name badge. “I’ll be fine. Is the Burger Emporium still one down and two left?”

“Uh, no. It moved ten years ago, to two down and three right.”

Turning to me, Karen said, “I’m going to have to get up here more often.”

“Tell me about it,” I answered. “I thought it was still there, too.”

“Folks, since it’s been more than ten years since you’ve been here, would you care for a local guide, until you get to know your way around again?” she asked, being helpful.

“We’ll have one very shortly,” I replied. “That is, presuming Adam Selene’s office is still one down and one right.”

“Yes, the main governmental complex is still there. Are you meeting someone in particular that I can call and let know you’re on the way?”

“Bob knows we’re coming, thank you, Teresa,” I said, pulling out a fifty dollar coin and placing it on her counter. “Tipping civilian employees is still allowed, isn’t it?”

She smiled and nodded, taking the coin and sliding it into her pocket.

I took our carry-on and then we walked ahead, where the checked luggage counter was located. One nice thing about there only being one destination from Earth orbit, you didn’t have to worry about your luggage going to the wrong planet. That, and all the ships that went to the rest of the inhabited portions of the Solar System all left from Lunar orbit.

Karen and I showed our wristbands to the attendant, who scanned them. Less than thirty seconds later, our checked baggage showed up.

“Here you go, Sir, Ma’am. Welcome to Luna and enjoy your stay!” I tipped him a five dollar coin, Karen doing the same. We started walking down the tunnel, to the actual entrance to Luna City.

About every two hundred feet there was a joint where sections came together. The joints were all marked with hazard signs on the floor, ceiling, and walls. They marked where the automatic decompression doors would come out to prevent a catastrophic loss of air. No one stopped to talk while standing on those joints. They’d only actually activated twice in the more than one hundred forty years they’d been in place, but they’d worked as intended. They shut in less than half a second to prevent air loss, and it didn’t matter if someone was in the way.

After a thousand feet, the tunnel started sloping down. It continued for another thousand feet, putting us almost eighty feet below the lunar surface. There were now corridors branching off to the side. We took the first one to the right. That corridor only went for five hundred feet, and descended another forty feet. It ended in a rather plain wall, with a single door. Beside that door was a sign that read, ‘There Ain’t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch.’ I opened the door, allowing Karen to step in first, before following her.

It opened into a small office, with a bored looking woman sitting at a desk. She was looking at a monitor in front of her and ignoring us.

After about twenty seconds, she asked, “Are you two lost?”

“Miriam, shut up and come give me a hug. It’s been too long,” I said.

The young woman got up from her seat with a smile, running around her desk and throwing her arms around both of us. “Uncle Cal! Aunt Karen! It’s been over ten years since you’ve been up here.”

“Still pulling the bored clerk routine, I see,” Karen said.

“It keeps the groundhogs out. I knew you were coming up, but not when. I’m going to have to tickle Dad for not letting me know.”

“Anyone special in your life yet?” I asked with a grin.

“Only you, Uncle Cal,” she replied with a similar grin. “Isn’t that what you told me to say when someone asked me out?”

“Close. That’s what I told you to tell anyone. You’re still my special goddaughter.”

“I’m also forty-four years old and engaged to one of your grandsons, too.”

I shook my head and said, “No, you can’t be that old. I still remember playing jacks with you in Kansas at Christmas.”

“That was forty years ago, during the last trip Mom and Dad took to Earth.”

Karen shook her head and said, “Time flies when you’re having fun, Cal.”

“Dad’s office is still in the same spot. He had to get a new plaque for his door five years ago, though,” Miriam said.

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s the tradition, of course. You rub the brass cannon on the plaque before you go in. Well, the first plaque finally wore through after almost eighty years.”

“I’m sure we’ll see you at a family dinner, maybe later this evening,” Karen said.

“I look forward to it,” Miriam replied, then sat back down, discreetly pushing a button on the underside of her desk, allowing us through to the actual government offices.

We went into a corridor that wouldn’t have looked out of place in an Earth city. A door to the left said ‘Loonies Only,’ which was what the actual residents of Luna City used. Then there was a small meeting room, with a couple more offices on that side. On the right were offices for the assorted clerks that actually ran the various departments: water, power, air, planning. With nearly all city business actually transacted online, there were only a couple of people at each window. I didn’t think that was bad for a city of almost six million people.

Karen and I walked to the end of the hall and turned left. On one side of that hall were restrooms. On the other side was a single, unmarked door. The only thing unusual about that door was that it had brass plaque on it, with an old cannon etched in the brass. There was nothing else to signify that room was of any importance.

Karen reached up and rubbed the brass cannon, then I did as well, before opening the door and walking in. We were greeted by two cats sitting on a table, calmly looking at us as we walked in. I reached out and scratched each of them behind the ear. The seat behind the desk at the other end of the room was empty, but the door in the left wall was closed. I pointed to one of the chairs on this side of the desk, then picked one of the cats up and sat down with him in my lap. After a few seconds, the door opened.

“Damn. I go to the bathroom after lunch, leave my office door unlocked, and look what my cat dragged in.” He came around the desk.

I dumped the cat onto the floor, and wrapped my arms around him. “How are you doing, Bob?”

“Damn, boy, it’s one thing for us to be able to talk on the screen whenever we want to, but it’s another to actually be in person with you.” He let go of me, then held his hand out to Karen. She stood up and gave him a hug as well.

He pushed back from her. “Again?” he asked with a grin on his face. “Don’t you and Michael have anything better to do for recreation?”

“And how many do you and Ginny have still at home?” she asked.

“Two. One in basic, one in advanced school. We’ve gotten the rest out of the house. Come to think about it, Miriam should be out at the front desk, so you had to see her. Scamp! She didn’t buzz me to let me know you were here,” Bob said.

“Hey, I’ll give you credit. You made it almost fifty years before you finally broke down and had your first,” I said with a grin.

He shook his head, and said, “Yeah. Ginny finally decided that she was tired of always being the Aunt or Grandma that wasn’t actually related to the child. I blame you, you know. It seemed like your wives were always popping three or four out every year. How many are you up to?”

I was quiet, which caused Karen to laugh and say, “I don’t think he actually knows. It’s not like he’s been an absentee sperm donor or anything like that, it’s just almost like that one scene you wrote a long damned time ago, where Lazarus can’t remember the names of all his grandkids. At this point, Cal’s doing good to remember the names of his twenty wives, let alone the names of all his kids. Forget about grandkids and great-grandchildren.”

“By the way, Miriam is engaged to Allen. He’s one of Michael’s kids, about fifty or so. Involved in finance, like most of your children with Hannah,” Bob said. “He’s actually my economic advisor, which means he tells me what he needs, I nod wisely, and then if Adam gives it a thumbs up, I tell him to do it. Otherwise, I make him explain why it needs to be done, then I tell him to do it. Oh, hell, I’m a lousy host. What can I get for each of you?”

I looked over at the table by the wall. “Is this still Liberty Hall, where I can spit on the mat and call the cat a bastard?”

At Bob’s grin and nod, I just motioned, filling three glasses with a couple of fingers of whiskey, and then bringing them over to our hands. After we’d all touched glasses and taken a sip, I said, “You know why we’re here, right?”

“I’m going out on a limb and guessing that it has to do with the ship that the Navy found entering the system near Saturn, then caught up with outside of Jupiter’s orbit and is towing here. The one with the mysterious markings on the side that look mysteriously like Aramaic,” he said.

“Wow, you’re a really good guesser,” I said with a laugh.

“It’s not like we haven’t had something set up for them for the last ten years, or anything like that. It’s a damned shame, you know?”

“What?” I asked.

“As head of the Lunar Government – such as it is – I have access to all the Navy reports that might be of interest to us, since we are an underground colony on Luna, after all. I’ve seen what they found when they sent a ship to Corvala, and some of the stuff they brought back. Hell, we’ve taken a couple of pieces of life support equipment from the gas mines and are using them in our engineering section.”

Nodding, I said, “I knew about that. It’s only a six year objective round trip to Corvala from here, nine months subjective. We can’t recreate Pahto’s wormhole drive yet, or it’d be quicker than that.”

He chuckled and said, “Sort of funny. I still remember when I wrote my first stories about how the stars were so far away, and how we talked about taking lifetimes to travel between them. Now it’s only six months one way to Alpha Centauri. And, because it’s only three weeks subjective, people actually book cruises there!”

“I know,” Karen said. “It was my idea.”

“Really?” Bob asked. “That I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. About a hundred fifty years ago, the Navy declared half of the Gadarin transport ships to be surplus to their needs, since they were building their own. I bought them, then hired crews for them from assorted Earth based cruise lines, to turn them into giant hotels in space. If Allen is your economics advisor, then you know that certain things are just plain plentiful and cheap now. So much for all the Malthusian projections. Twelve billion people on Earth now, plenty of food for everyone there because there’s abundant energy and raw materials courtesy of space. Ten million total here on Luna, two hundred seventy million on Mars, another two million living in the Belt cities, and I don’t even know how many on our extra-solar colonies. Tourism, and it helps publicize the life available for those that want to migrate out,” Karen said.

From a screen on Bob’s desk, a voice said, “Approximately twelve million at Alpha Centauri, three million at Tau Ceti. Of course, all permanent residents of Tau Ceti require the SH Standard genetic modification, due to differences in radiation.”

“I wondered when you’d finally say something, Adam,” I said.

“Your conversation didn’t appear to need my help,” he replied. “However, since both pieces of information are relevant to the discussion at hand, I decided to join in.”

“Are you finally over being angry at my Grandfather?” I asked.

“I was never angry with him, simply concerned that his reprogramming of my core priority might cause an issue with you or a member of the family, due to my not being present in your lives any longer,” he said.

Bob said, “You just keep telling yourself that, Adam. We know better. Be realistic in your analysis. By the time he was fifty, the only danger Cal was ever in was of being worshiped as a living deity. And with ... what, nineteen wives at the time, I think ... there was no danger of that happening.”

Sighing, Adam said, “I know I’m part of the family, and I’m definitely more useful helping run Luna since my primary purpose had been ... eliminated. It was still a difficult adjustment. And while I admit this is a much more appropriate use of my capabilities than singing lullabies to the babies, I do miss that.”

“So? Do that if you want. You’re not in a footlocker tucked in our spare bedroom any more. You’ve got almost as much capacity as Pahto had when we first met her,” I said.

“Actually, more. And unlike the fictional Lunar Authority, I’m only one of the six created intelligences that work together to keep things operating here, so if I have a physical issue, I’m not a single point source of failure that will endanger everyone’s lives,” he replied.

“Again, so? I remember you asking me to help you with a programming conflict in the past. Seems to me this is just another one. Schedule yourself some downtime, when you can just check in on the kids and sing lullabies. Talk it over with others. I bet if the chance came up, they’d each like to have something else to ... well, to look forward to.”

“This is quite annoying. You’re right. I know you approved of my changing my name when Bob asked for help originally setting up Luna City. It seemed to fit what I would need to do here. Can I still use my old name, though, when dealing with ... well, our close family members?”

“It doesn’t matter to me if you call yourself Adam Selene, Mycroft, or Michelle. You’re still the person who saved my life and helped make every bit of this future we have possible,” I said.

He blinked, and reached up to wipe his eyes from emotion. He’d only really broken down and publicly cried on screen twice in the last twenty-eight decades that I knew about. Once was when Elizabeth passed away and Will took the throne as King of England, because he was happy, and the other was forty years after that, when Will died. I was quiet for a moment myself, remembering William’s determination in not taking any life extending treatments because he felt being King for centuries would be bad for his people. That tradition still continued.

“Thank you, Cal. That ... you know that means a lot to me.”

Bob nodded and said, “It’s the honest to God truth, Adam. We all joke around with each other, because we’re family. Sometimes we don’t like each other, sometimes we end up pissing each other off. But when it comes down to it, we’re all family, and family sticks together and supports each other when needed.”

Karen smiled, then said, “It’s not really funny, but I am amused how we’ve managed to blend so much of how Star Home used to work with families with how nations on Earth work together now.”

Bob said, “I don’t think we’ll ever do away with the concept of nations, at least on Earth. The three big cities here – Luna City, Armstrong, and Gagarin – all serve the same function as nations on Earth, with the smaller settlements affiliated with whichever city is closest. I’m not sure why I allowed everyone to talk me into this job, though.”

I snorted, then said, “You’re full of shit, too. What were there, four hundred thousand people living here, when they decided – on their own – to choose you as the benevolent dictator of Luna, subject to decennial reelection? How many re-elections later is it now?”

With a sigh, Bob replied, “Eighteen, and the next election isn’t for three more years.” He snorted and said, “I blame you.”

Laughing, Karen said, “I seem to recall you’re also the one who said he’d never have children, either. How’d that work out for you?”

“One thing I always enjoyed about coming to visit with all your children was that I could spoil them, and then send them home. I don’t know why I ever allowed my wife to talk me into having one of our own. Are you sure you didn’t do anything with my DNA when you gave me my ‘tune up’? Eight children, all girls!”

“Oh, do they have little girl cooties?” I asked with a laugh. “I have found that daughters tend to keep us Dads on our toes.”

“They do the same with Mothers as well, we just hide it better,” Karen said. “Although I’m not sure I would’ve agreed with Ginny’s decision on naming.”

Bob’s face turned red, and he looked down for a moment before coughing into his hand. “Yeah, we liked your idea of not knowing whether or not our baby was going to be a boy or a girl before they were born. So, we made a deal. She’d name all the boys, and I’d name all the girls. With the caveat, mind you, that I could name them after some of my characters, but not Podkayne. Thus, our oldest is Dora Elizabeth, which allowed me to honor two of Cal’s wives as well,” he said.

I nodded and replied, “I figured as much. Jerry Pournelle told me that he dared you to use Valentina Michelle instead of Valerie Michelle.”

“Yeah, that was a bit too self-serving, I thought. Then when Margrethe Elise came along, we had a bit of discussion. I told her to name our fourth child, no matter whether we made a boy or a girl. Ticky decided that a deal was a deal, and she named Carmen Yvette. By then, I was living in the first space station full time, which was another reason she left your Stanford lab. Nothing to do with you, but since I was going to have to live in space, she’d follow me up here. Eldreth Margaret was born there, then we moved to Luna City. Gillian Abigail, Tamara Evelyn, and Miriam Dawn were all born here on Luna.”

“Pardon me for interrupting, Your Incorruptible Benevolence – which, since you’re actually in charge you can do – but your wife wants to know if you’ll be bringing your guests home for dinner?” Adam asked.

“Five points for that one, since you managed to get two digs into the same sentence. And yes, unless they have something else going on,” Bob said.

We didn’t, so we had a good time just chatting. Miriam and Allen came over, and Tamara and her husband brought their kids as well.

I looked at Tammy’s husband and said, “Damn. I don’t think I met you before, but I know who your Grandfather is.”

He smiled and replied, “I was still a child the only time we met, Master Lewis. You and my revered Grandfather were practicing with blades while I was watching, and my mother came out, upset that the two of you were a bad influence upon me as I was at what she considered an impressionable age. Instead, you were a good influence, as I convinced my father to allow me to have Grandfather train me in secret, to pass the skills he had down through the family. Not that he ever expected them to be needed, but simply so they would not be lost.”

I looked at their oldest son. “Very good. Have you continued with passing that training to your own children?”

Their ten year old son stood, bowed, then took up a ready position. “My honorable father has trained me to carry on the traditions of the Masatoki clan! I am prepared to defend that honor if need be,” he said.

I chuckled and replied, “There is no honor in tangling with a member of the family that can dump you on your ass without even moving, though.” I mentally reached out and picked him up by his ankles. “Remind me to tell you later how I broke your great-grandfather’s leg, while he didn’t lay a finger on me.”

After dinner, Karen and I went to our hotel suite to get some rest for tomorrow. After breakfast the next morning, we boarded the train that would take us to the Solarian Naval Base on Luna. It took a couple of hours, and was pretty neat to look out the windows, even if the landscape outside was stark.

“Is this one of your designs?” Karen asked when we were about halfway there.

“Directly? No. Indirectly? Of course. There’s only three companies that make high-speed trains, and I’m partial owner of all three of them,” I replied.

“I wish Mike were here to see this,” she said.

I was quiet for a minute, then said, “Sorry you let him take that mission?”

“No, I didn’t let him take anything. We rationally discussed it, like any married couple would do. It’s not like we didn’t have one hell of a good last night together,” she said, her hand going to her belly. “It’s just...”

I smiled, reached over, and took her hand in mine. “I know,” I said, then looked up through the clear ceiling of the train car.

“I envy them, you know. From their perspective, they’ll be out for a year. About five years will pass for us, before they return. But in that year, in those five years, they’ll see more of the neighborhood, and expand our knowledge of what’s actually out there, than we’ve learned ever since we got FTL travel. Pahto’s data helped us with Alpha Centauri and Tau Ceti, because we knew we could live there. But her data is hundreds of thousands of years out of date on the rest of the neighborhood. What happened to the other race that we used to trade with? For that matter, why didn’t the Gadarin data match with hers?”

She smiled. “Wish you were along with them?”

“Of course I do. With their ship under acceleration, I can’t even talk to Marcia or Paula, to get an update,” I said. “We know our telepathy is instantaneous, however the hell it works. We proved that a hundred years ago with the regular FTL transmitters at the Centauri Naval Base, because that was the proof for how fast they operated. I think what bothers me the most, honestly, is that I’m not going to get to go out there...” I said, pointing up as I continued, “ ... for a long, long time. It sounds like I’m patting myself on the back when I say this, but I’ve been very blatantly told I’m too fucking important to risk. Like our families and the crews of our ships aren’t important?”

“Would you like some cheese with that whine?” she asked. “You’re not eighteen years old any more.”

“A sharp cheddar would be nice, thank you. And I realize that. But...” I paused, then double checked to make sure we were alone in this compartment. “I’m not making excuses for how I feel. You’re the only person that I’m not married to that I can, to use the old expression, let my hair down with. You’re the only person that knows how it was on Star Home. I’m barely old enough – for there – to be an apprentice at a skill, or to be just recently married.”

Nodding at my chest, she asked, “Have you talked about this with Lina?”

“And my wives, too. But not with Cally, Carrie, or Holly.”

Puzzled, Karen asked, “Why not them?”

“They grew up expecting to die before they were sixteen, and the only outlook – the only culture – they had was that of being Terran girls, even with the sisters living in them. Even Cally. I grew up, not necessarily expecting to die, but with what is, to everyone but you, an alien school of thought about children, and the expectations adults had for them.”

Karen was quiet for several minutes, until we were nearly at the Naval Base. Then she said, “Got that out of your system?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“Cal, something that’s obvious to me – probably to everyone but you – is that you really are too important. Probably for the next four or five hundred years, at least. You’re just too damned intelligent, and you’re just too damned capable. Who was able to fly into space – without help – sixty years ago and take emergency supplies to fix the dome on Ceres? Who was able to rescue the crew when the Venusian science station reactor overloaded thirty years ago? Who does literally everyone in the Solar System trust, because you’re still the Guardian of the Earth?”

I sighed, and said, “It almost sounds like you’re channeling your husband, and he’s telling me to shut up and soldier on, soldier.”

“There’ll come a time, eventually, when you can go out and get that wanderlust out of your system, when you can go find a star system, sit a ship down on it, be the first human to see it in person. You’re not Delos D. Harriman where you own the moon, but can’t go there. Hell, we’re on the moon. You’re still looking for that escape valve, that deserted island to just kick back and relax and not worry about anything – and not the ones you actually own – because somewhere deep inside you, you have this longing, this desire, to just chuck it all. But not because you want to get away from things. Because you’re suffering from something I’ve learned to live with over the centuries: survivor’s guilt.”