For disclaimers, please see chapter one.
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3: 24 – 30 June, 2001
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Sunday, June 24, 2001:
London, The Leaky Cauldron: 09:43
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"H'lo, Miss Wayne," Tom said, nodding down a side corridor as she entered from London. "We've set room five for you; we'll have another pot o' tea in a minute."
"Thank you, Tom," she replied with a smile. She took a deep breath, "Is Mr. MacAdam there?"
"Aye, dinnae worry, lass, you'll do fine."
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The meeting room was the Cauldron's largest, holding about sixty people. The background conversation dipped a bit when Mattie entered, changing to wolvish for the most part. Amy and Sprink broke off from their conversations to greet her, Mattie asking Sprink with a grin, "How's the hero?"
"Hero?" Amy asked, as Sprink stammered something.
"She helped to find a lost little girl," Mattie said with a grin. She gave Sprink a hug as she blushed crimson.
"Let's get the meeting, um..." Sprink stammered.
"Amy, Sprink, there's one thing I want to mention," Mattie said, turning all business. "In this room, for this meeting, we're not exactly competitors, but we're looking out for our own interests. If that means you let the wolf out, then be assured I'll be just as big a shark."
Sprink paled a bit under her tan, when Amy barked something short, then offered her hand, "Good luck to you, then. Florean's afterward?"
"Sounds good," she replied, shaking. "Good luck to you, too," she told Amy, then caught Sprink's arm. "Just a minute," and looked her in the eye. "Hey," she said softly. "This is us, y'know. Best buds, watch each other's backs? Do you understand what this is about?"
"Just that I'm gonna be competing with you," Sprink replied, a touch bitterly.
Mattie raised her chin, looking her in the eye. "You ever play Quidditch with your sister?" Sprink reluctantly nodded, "You still love her, don't you? It's just a game, after all, and you do your best. Who won those games?"
"She did, usually."
"Because she was older, and had played longer. She didn't always win, did she?"
"Na, I won a couple times," she admitted with a ghost of a smile. Mattie grinned too, "Hey, in here, I'm your older sister. I still love you, I want you to succeed. I wouldn't be doing this unless I thought you could succeed. That doesn't mean I'm going to give you a meal ticket, this is just a bite at the apple. You'll feel better about yourself if you earn that apple, and every day, there's another chance to do so. Business is the greatest game in the world; you're not going to win every day, just like I don't win every day." She thumped her gently, "The key thing is to learn from your mistakes, so you increase your odds of getting that apple. One of the things I learned is to find people you trust, and ask their advice. That's why I asked Mr. Griplink to sit in, I trust his financial advice."
"'S not a pot of gold, is it?"
"No, you work for that pot of gold, even if it's not with your hands, but with your brain." She thumped Sprink's chest again gently, "I could have set things up so that I ran everything; I owned everything." Punctuating every word with a thump, she added, "This way is better." She smiled, "Feel better?"
"Yeah, and after the meeting?"
"Floreans?" They grinned, and Sprink moved off, Griplink moving over, "Very nice, Miss Wayne," he said quietly. "Reminds me of a talk I gave my son. You're coming along very nicely, now if you'll excuse me?" He moved over to the werewolves, another goblin with him.
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Mr. Griplink tapped on a teacup, the discussions died down. "Thank you all for coming. This is an exploratory meeting between Arrowhead and the werewolves of London. I believe Miss Wayne would like to make a brief statement. Miss Wayne?"
Mattie stood, smoothing down her suit's skirt, "Thank you, Mr. Griplink. I find myself with a problem, one that I hope you can help me solve. As you are aware, I'm in the process of organizing the colonization of the moon, and I face a challenge in transportation. Quite honestly, without secure, reliable transport from Earth's surface to orbit, and to the moon and points in between, this project, and Earth's future, will fail." She gazed at them, "When I contacted Amy, I proposed that the werewolves of London, and others, form a corporation that could contract with Arrowhead and other firms. I presume that's what you've been discussing?"
"Partially," Professor Lupin said. "You haven't been using a translation spell?"
"No, that wouldn't be honorable, sir. You wanted those conversations private, I respect that."
That caused a ripple of discussion, Remus barking something as Mattie waited patiently. There was silence as they watched her standing calmly, Remus barking something else. He nodded, "Tell us more, we have indeed been discussing forming a company, but we need more information."
She nodded, "Certainly. Mr. Griplink has brought along a colleague of his that you can discuss certain business matters with." She flicked a glance at the goblin, who nodded, "I believe he is working pro bono at the moment, which is something you need to discuss with him. Let me outline my problems, how I believe you can help solve them, and a few suggestions. First, there is the problem of moving people and cargo from the planet's surface to Low Earth Orbit. Currently, a firm comprised of German, Polish, and Russian engineers, headquartered in Warsaw, is completing design work on surface, lunar, and cislunar vehicles. They are using Swiss antigravity plates, and they'll need..."
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Sunday, June 24, 2001:
London, Florean's Ice Cream: 13:38
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"That was exhausting," Sprink commented, "I don't know how you do it all the time."
"You don't," Mattie replied, nibbling on her vanilla single-scoop cone. "You only have meetings like that when you're setting something up." She glanced at Amy, "Want my two knuts worth of suggestions? You may have already discussed this, I don't know."
Amy waved her spoon, "I've put in mine, based on what I've learned from you. Please, it can't hurt."
"'Kay, I'd involve non-werewolves. You're going to have family and friends want to get involved, and you're going to need to keep operating during the full moons and sunths when you lot aren't available." She took another nibble of vanilla, "I'd look into the vampires – a lot of them have money, they might be interested in investing."
"Hadn't thought of vampires," Sprink commented, asking "What else?"
"The most even tempered people you can find for customer service," Mattie grinned. "You're going to have people give impossible demands, wanting to get from London to the moon in an hour, bringing 'absolutely vital' stuff like two hundred kilos of their kid's comic books, which put them over the weight limit."
She took a last bite of her cone, then washing her hands and face in the fountain. Smoothing her skirt as she retook her seat, "This isn't an exclusive contract with Arrowhead; you're going to have to set competitive rates for cargo, passengers, and immigrants for all over cislunar space." She took her spoon, and tapped at the table, "If you're going to move cargo or passengers from points A to B, you're going to need to do it at a low enough rate that you can still make a profit, but that your customers can also make one. That means a long-term, flat rate contract for steady customers, or a higher volume. Remember that you're going to need to negotiate with companies like FedEx and unions like the Teamsters." She tossed the spoon down, "I'd suggest an in-house legal staff, and remember; no business makes a profit in their first few years."
"Why have different rates for passengers and immigrants?" Amy asked.
"The governments will be subsidizing emigration to the moon," Mattie replied. "They'll cover the cost of a claim; their citizens agree to work the claim for between five and seven years, depending on the government. They've got a one-way ticket, which reduces your costs, which means that you can fill your holds with exports."
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Sunday, June 24, 2390:
Luna, Grimaldi Crater, Yates home: 19:03
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Her brother knocked on the open door of Cassidy's room, and she raised the pillow off her head. Smiling, she sat up, sitting tailor-fashion on the bed, grabbing her old stuffed wolf off the bed and hugging it tight.
"This a bad time?" he asked. "You haven't said more than two words to anyone since you came back. Care to talk to big brother about it?"
"I'm still deciding if I'm mad at Mom and Dad," she admitted. "I could use a second opinion."
"What about big brother?" he asked, taking a seat on the foot of the bed, and noticing the tan wand on her bedside table. "That's not the one you used at Hogwarts."
"No, it's actually Grandma Mattie's," she replied, scooting down to give him room, then handing it to him. "I kinda borrowed it when a Guardian came to interrupt the Leaving Feast back in her time."
"You knew Grandma Mattie, and Grandpa Arthur, and the others?"
"Primarily Grandma Mattie, and Aunt Anne, when I time-jumped back then," she said, growing quiet. "They were, um, third-years when I knew them." Shaking her head, she grinned slightly, "Grandma was a real jet, even then, but Anne was a very quiet type. I actually met Minerva McGonagall, before she married!"
"Okay, you've got me hooked," her brother said, unsealing his boots and dropping them on the floor with a 'thunk'. He folded his legs under, adding, "We knew you could time-jump, of course, but almost, what, four hundred years? The last we knew was your raceabout disappeared from scan, and then you called us from the train out of Oldridge months later."
"A bit more than that; and it's funny you should mention Port Oldridge," she grinned. "I met the real Headmistress Oldridge, only it was way back in the 14th century..."
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Monday, June 25, 2001:
London, The Leaky Cauldron: 08:30
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"Good morning, Tom," Mattie told the wizard. "Is Anne Bundy here yet?"
"Good morning, Miss Wayne," he replied with a smile. "You're here so much I'm surprised you don't buy in." He motioned with his head, "She's in th' loo, y've summer school?"
"Yes, potions with Professor Snape today and Wednesday," she agreed, motioning to her school uniform. "Tuesday and Thursday are Charms and Transfiguration, and we'll probably sneak in a History class here or there." She turned as Anne approached, "Morning."
"Good morning to you, also," Anne replied. She smoothed her school skirt, "I still think the uniforms far too brief, but 'different century, different styles'." She eyed Mattie, "Our experience doth give a different perspective to history, does it not?"
She hitched her bag over her shoulder, "It certainly does, and it makes it much easier to understand. I do miss them, and I wish there was a way to contact them, but it would be risky." She motioned to the floo, "After you."
"Thank you," Anne said, taking a pinch of floo powder. "I too wish there was a way to contact them, and I understand the risks now much more than I did then." With a flick of her wrist, the flames turned green, and she shouted, "Hogwarts!"
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"Good morning," Professor Snape told the two girls. "We shall start with a review of the potions we completed this past term, although I understand you had planned to journey to the moon at the end of this week." He looked dourly upon them, "What did you wish to do there?"
"We need to stake two claims, take core samples, and install some equipment, sir," Mattie replied.
"I see. I will permit this as long as I receive copies of the sample results," he continued, "In any case, the first potion we need to discuss is..."
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Monday, June 25, 2001:
Grandview Heights, Morton Home: 08:30 (GMT -5)
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"Arthur, e-mail!"
He whistled, and they stopped for a minute. "Why don't we take a few, and I'll see what that is?" he asked, tossing the football back to Hank as Little Bill and Julie collected tennis balls for Misty. "Bill's getting pretty good on Impedimenta, I think after lunch we can work on the banishing charm."
"Does that mean what I think it does?" Misty asked, as Arthur disappeared into the house.
"We'll put up cushioning charms so you won't be hurt," Julie replied, dumping tennis balls into the levitating bucket Misty was using to volley at them.
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Arthur sat on the relocated picnic bench, glass of crushed ice and lemonade next to him, and read to the others:
25 June, 2001
Hello, Mortons!
Thanks for getting back to me. So far, it looks like our manifest is Alfred (of course!), Anne and I, Vasily from Moscow, Dick & Tomas will be coming along with the four of you. Therefore, please send exact measurements (not 'size six', but in inches or centimeters) for your skinsuits. By the way, that's without underwear, in your birthday suits. We need from the toes to the neck, all of them, not just your leg, arm; inseam measurements – the more data, the better the fit and the more comfortable. You'll be wearing them for several days, and yes, they do handle 'biological processes'. I've attached a basic datasheet on them (Anne modeled the pictures).
Teela, I don't know if you have a digital camera or not. NASA had to retrofit the film cameras Apollo used to work on the lunar surface, I've sent you a gift certificate to get one, or supplies, as needed.
The plan is for the Yates to pick you up about 03:00 Friday the 29th, we scoot for London, someone from Queen's Customs stamps your passports as 'transient', a fellow from the Ecuadorian embassy (they're handling the 'Lunar Interests Section') stamps a visa, and we're off. You must have a valid passport to go – does Misty?
Arthur looked up and took a gulp of lemonade. Misty looked thoughtful for a moment; nodding, "I've got one."
"How much is the gift certificate?" Teela asked.
Arthur looked at the certificate, "Five hundred," he replied, handing it to his sister.
"There was an ad in the Sunday paper!" she said, running off to get it. Arthur took another drink, and resumed:
Once there, we set up some equipment on the lunar equator, at the prime meridian. We're bringing along some test vehicles, so you can do a bit of driving and flying. Vasily is along as a test engineer – they've tried to make them as safe and easy to use as possible. I'm told that if you can drive a car, you can drive a trike.
"Got it!" Teela called, running out with the blue insert. "You guys up for some shopping?"
"Take one of us with you," Arthur replied. "And your cell phones, just in case."
"Yo, Hank!" Steve, one of the neighbors called, coming around the corner of the house, Bill quietly canceling the levitation spell on the bucket of tennis balls. "What say to a friendly basketball game, and you can tell us about that ship we saw?" His dark skin rippled with muscles, as Arthur took a final swig of lemonade, passing the email to Julie for shredding. "I'm in; the girls have some shopping to do. Give us a call if you need us. Bill?"
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Monday, June 25, 2001:
Columbus, Ohio, Morse Road: 10:49 (GMT -5)
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"It takes standard AA batteries?" Teela asked again, as the blue-shirted sales-guy bagged her new camera.
He smiled, handing her the receipt, "Sure does. Need some?"
"We've got a lot at home," Julie interjected. "Sorry."
"No problem, thanks for shopping with us." He gave a final smile, then turned his attention to the next customer, "Hello, my name is Jason..."
"Nice guy," Misty said as they entered the mall proper, but Teela shook her head, "I didn't like the ring through his eyebrow. I mean, I'm all for personal expression, but I've never seen an eyebrow look better with a hole poked through it."
"Miss Morton, you're coming with us," a fellow in a dark suit said, edging close to Teela.
"And who might you be?" Misty asked.
"You don't need to know that."
"If you're law enforcement, show us a badge and a warrant, otherwise leave us be," she replied.
"I said, you're coming with us," he replied, Julie nodding to a maintenance corridor, "In there."
"Works for us," a second fellow in an identical dark suit replied. Misty wrinkled her nose, "You guys must be government; you buy off the rack."
"Clothing allowance," the first said, adding, "Why don't we get some fresh air?" He shoved the panic bar, emerging into a small area with a dumpster and random trash. Julie spun, drawing her wand and shouting, "Stupefy!" at one while at the same time Teela hit the other with her bag. Turning, Julie stunned the second fellow, knocking him out.
"Nice, wish I could do it," Teela said, looking at her torn blue bag. Julie flicked her wand, muttering 'reparo', while grinning at her sister.
"Let's see what we can find out about these two," Misty said, picking one up by the shoulders and trying to drag him behind the large steel dumpster. With a flick, Julie levitated them both, while Teela dug her cell phone from her purse. Julie grinned, casting 'ravelous sticus', causing their cheap suits to disintegrate, binding them as Misty collected their equipment.
"Well, they're not government," the older girl said, looking over the collection. "Can you do a truth spell?"
"Sure, thug one or thug two?" Julie asked.
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The ringing of Hank's cell phone interrupted the neighborhood 'shirts 'n' skins' basketball game. They took a break as Mrs. Mason came out with iced tea, and Arthur nodded in gratitude as Hank moved away to take the call.
"So, Arthur," she asked, "What can you tell us about this ship we saw? Rumor has it that it was an actual starship."
He gulped tea, "Thank you, Mrs. Mason. Yeah, it belongs to my... girlfriend, she picked it up from somewhere, and Luthor wants it."
"Why not give it to him?" Pete asked, taking a glass of tea and running an ice cube over his sweaty chest.
"He wants it for himself, not for the country, or the world, but for himself," Arthur replied. "Mattie doesn't agree, and she's got a plan to ... well, you'll see. In any case, she wants to spread out the technology, help everyone out." He took another gulp of tea, "I know the Swiss have already reverse-engineered antigravity tech, the Canadians are working on fusion power, but Luthor wants all that for himself."
"Didn't think that ship looked like the Enterprise," Steve said, "So there's a chance, a real, honest-to-god chance; that we can go..." His index finger pointed skyward, at the visible moon, and Arthur nodded.
"Where do I sign up?" Pete asked, hunger in his voice.
Mrs. Mason said, "You boys will keep this quiet, we're going to have the Mortons over for drinks tomorrow night. Your parents will let you know what we find out."
"We'll let you know," Arthur said, as Hank came back.
"Goons tried to kidnap the girls when they were out shopping," he said, "Not government, the girls are fine, they kicked the goon's butts, left them behind a dumpster." He stole the ball from Pete, dribbling it, "Naked behind that dumpster," he added.
Concealing his concern, Arthur added,"I love my sisters, just don't piss them off," as he received Hank's pass. "Now, we were in the process of kicking the skin's butts."
"Like hell," Pete replied, as the game resumed.
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Monday, June 25, 2001:
Columbus, Ohio: 18:48 (GMT -5)
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"Stupid fools!" The boss said. "I should have left you with the police in the drunk tank! I send you out on a simple snatch job; you come back naked and with your identities compromised." He snorted again, muttering, "Idiots!" as the door slammed behind him.
"So what are you gonna do?" another goon asked the two.
"Revenge," one answered, a meaty fist slamming into his palm.
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Tuesday, June 26, 2001:
Grandview Heights, Mason Home: 19:17 (GMT -5)
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"Bill, Maggie, how good of you to come!" Carol Mason said, "Jim's outside with the others, can I get you a drink?"
"A beer sounds good," Bill Morton said; joining the other neighborhood husbands on the porch as his wife gravitated to the kitchen and a glass of wine.
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"Bill!" Jim Mason called, "Pull up a chair and a cold one, what's your poison?"
"Wouldn't say no to a beer," Bill admitted, accepting the cold stein as he took a seat. Pete Sanchez passed him the pretzels, Bill taking a few before passing them on. Pete said, "Y'know, Bill, my boy came in with the wildest damn story the other night, that your boy Arthur's girlfriend has a damned starship." He snorted, "I hadda ask him what drugs he was on."
Bill took a gulp of beer, "It's true, she does. Picked it up over in England, I don't really know all the details, but my kids have never lied to us." He munched on a pretzel, "If they can't talk about something, they'll tell us that," he added, looking around at the other fathers in the dimming light.
"Good way to go," Jim said. "Y'know, my boy said the same thing, and that there was a way, a possibility, that we could..." he pointed up.
"Possible," Bill agreed, adding, "It's still early, details are still being worked out, but yeah, it's possible." He looked around, "Why, you guys interested?"
"Oh, GOD, yeah!" Jim said, "The chance to... oh, yeah!"
"Madre dos Dios, yes!" Pete added.
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"So, Maggie, dear," Jill started, "Peter came home yesterday with an interesting story, a story about a starship." She leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her wineglass.
"I cannot tell you everything, I don't know it myself," Maggie admitted. "You know of my son's friend, Mattie Wayne?" Heads nodded, "Last year, she suggested that we form a family corporation; a few days ago, she sent us a deed to a land claim." She took a sip of wine, "I cannot tell you more."
Carol Mason asked, "Mattie Wayne, as in the Gotham Waynes?" Maggie nodded, "The billionaire Waynes, the ones that own Gotham City? They sent you a land claim? WHERE?"
Jill asked, "As your friendly neighborhood accountant, I understand that you can't reveal secrets. However, I hope you don't mind if we do a bit of guessing." She tapped a french-tipped nail against her wineglass, "Peter said that Miss Wayne owned a starship, and I did a quick bit of research on the Internet." The other wives looked at her as she said, "A company called Arrowhead Investments is based in London, I happened upon their prospectus. It was a most interesting read." She took a sip of wine, "Not only the research contracts, but the press releases, which I haven't seen a whisper of here."
"Research in what?" Carol asked.
"Little things like antigravity, fusion power, and warp drives," Jill replied. "Now, I'm not an egghead, but I wonder why Europe is benefiting from this, and the US isn't."
"Because Luthor wants it all for himself," Maggie replied.
"Which explains why there's such a diverse group of investors," Jill explained. "The Russians, along with the Cubans and the Germans?" She took a sip of wine, "Then we come to land claims. Miss Wayne has claimed ten percent of the lunar surface, and is selling land." She looked at Maggie, "Including a certain crater called Grimaldi."
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"So, Bill, my wife dug up some very interesting information," Pete said, passing the refilled stein back as the bug zapper sparked, killing another insect. "Now, I'm just a regular guy. I don't know that much about real estate law, I'm a criminal attorney. Still, I had a few minutes, and I do have a Lexis account. Going way back to the 1800's, Ohio law has it that a claim has to be surveyed." He resumed his seat, "I presume English law is similar, which means a certain crater called Grimaldi needs to be looked over."
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Thursday, June 28, 2001:
Ohio State University, Evans Laboratory (Chemistry): 13:08 (GMT -5)
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"Hey, beautiful," Hank greeted his fiancée outside the building as Steve lounged nearby. "Can I buy you lunch?"
"Better offer than he made me," Steve said with a grin as they walked past some bushes.
"You're coming with us, Morton," the first goon said, adding to Steve, "Get lost, boy."
"What did you call me?"
"Oh, crap," the second, slightly smarter goon said, adding, "Just get lost, son, this doesn't concern you."
"I called you boy," the first goon said, smirking.
"Say what?" another student said, as a couple more stopped.
"You heard him," Steve said, "Me and my home boys here just chillin', and these dudes go all klan on us."
"Forget that, dude," a couple of white guys said. "That ain't right." Textbooks and backpacks were dropped, and knuckles were cracked as Misty moved off with some other girls.
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Friday, June 29, 2001:
Grandview Heights, Parkinson place traffic circle: 02:55 (GMT -5)
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The small white ship ghosted over the trees, silently landing at the apex of the traffic circle. The ramp lowered as Mattie came down, stopping as she saw the people in bathrobes and slippers standing in their front lawns, watching silently.
"They want to come," Bill Morton said uneasily.
"I want them to," Mattie replied quietly, "Just not now." She raised her voice, "We've got a few minutes, anyone interested in a peek?"
"Hell, yeah!" Jim's voice carried through the darkness.
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"All present and accounted for, Alfred? No stowaways?"
"No, captain," he replied. "Shall I lift ship?"
"Gently, please," and she waved at the people on the ground as the Yates hovered, landing gear retracting with a thump. Gently and silently, she slid upward.
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Friday, June 29, 2001:
Low Earth Orbit: 08:18 (GMT)
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"Welcome to space, everyone," Mattie said, and people grinned and applauded when she added, "Under ESA regulations, you are now officially astronauts. Appropriate pins and certificates await you with your skinsuits. Ladies, cabin two, gentlemen will please use cabin three to change. As a registered starship, we operate under English naval law; please obey the commands of Anne as your first officer, Alfred as Owner, and myself as your Captain."
"Aye, aye, Cap'n Mattie," Dick said as he moved to join the guys in cabin three.
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Friday, June 29, 2001:
Luna, Sinus Medii: 18:17 (GMT)
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With a thump, the landing gear deployed, and motion ceased. Mattie entered the common room to announce, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the moon." A cheer went up, people hugged each other. Alfred displayed a map as she continued, "About two hundred kilometers east, and twelve north, is the Apollo Eleven site. We are about fifty meters north of the lunar equator, Earth is directly overhead. Who's ready for their first moonwalk?"
Teela raised her hand, "Excuse me, but can we visit Tranquility Base?"
"We can visit, but we can't walk there, it's a UN historic site. We need to stay at least half a kilometer away." Mattie grinned, "After we get the work done here. Vasily?"
"Ready to go, Comrade Captain!"
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"I think that's got it," Bill Morton said, stowing the wrench. "I don't have much experience with gas turbines."
"Not too different than a jet engine, Comrade," the burly Russian said. He climbed on board the experimental forklift, and cranked the engine. With a vibration, it started, Vasily adding, "It is silent here, on Earth it is a loud one. Please disconnect the solar cells." He revved the engine, entering the hold to fetch another bit of cargo.
Bill clapped his son on the shoulder, "Ever think you'd be fixing a forklift on the moon?"
"Na. Ever think you'd get to see that?" he asked his dad, pointing straight up at Earth hanging overhead. He squinted, adding, "Looks like a storm is coming south over Canada."
"Oh, man, this is cool!" Misty said, driving the trencher toward crater Bruce. Resembling a farm tractor, a set of teeth dug two meters down, microwaves fusing the trench walls into a solid mass. The power cable unspooled behind the trencher, a plow arrangement towed behind the cable filled in the trench. It slowed to a stop and Misty called, "Battery time!"
"I got it!" Teela called, popping a wheelie on the trike. She disconnected a battery pack from the solar charger, charging off. Bill Morton snorted, "Kids."
"In that we are agreed, Comrade Morton," Vasily said over the radio. "Ah, my Svetlana wished to come, but she could not. Comrade Captain, where do you wish the big light?"
"Where my brother is assembling the frame, please, Comrade Danilov," she replied, adding, "Svetlana is welcome to come after she has the baby. I did not wish to risk their health."
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Friday, June 29, 2001:
Grandview Heights, Morton Home: 20:27 (GMT -5)
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The phone rang, Elena picking it up, "Morton residence, Elena speaking."
There was a pause, then "Hi, honey. There's a three second delay, but I'm standing on the moon's surface, looking up at Earth. Can I talk to your mother?"
"Sure, dad!" Elena replied, running into the living room, where her mother was sitting with neighbors, "Mom, Dad's calling from the moon!"
"William, please tell me you're all right!"
There was a pause, then "Everyone's fine, honey. There's a three second delay, due to distance, but everyone's fine. We've got our chores done here at the prime meridian; we're going to fly west to Grimaldi. Are Misty's folks there?"
Maggie handed the phone over, and sat back, telling the group, "They're safe, they're all safe, they'll be flying west to Grimaldi." She leaned over the newly-purchased lunar map on the coffee table, tapping the junction of the equator and the prime meridian, "That's where they are."
"Never thought I'd see the day," Jim said over the rain pounding on the roof.
"I know," Pete said, looking up from his legal pad. "We're agreed on the 'Grimaldi Crater Homeowner's Association?" he asked.
"Miss Wayne has a 30 percentstake in that," Jill said, and Pete nodded. Checking his pad, he moved on to the next item, "The circumference of the inner crater is 450 kilometers, give or take. Now, Miss Wayne has people interested in leasing a section or two." He grinned, "The lunar truckers, I understand. Still, if we divide that perimeter by 720, leaving each of us half a degree, that's still over half a kilometer stretch for each of us to build on."
"Don't forget, there's several hundred meters vertically to play with," Carol added. "Plenty of room for expansion. However, what we need to do is to decide what each of us, including our kids, can bring to the table."
"I don't know with all these meters and kilometers and such," Maria Mastrianni fretted. "What's wrong with feet and pounds?"
"We'll have neighbors from all over the world," Carol said gently. "We don't need to be exact here, we're just doing planning. If it helps, a meter is a bit more than a yard; a kilometer is a bit more than half a mile, so each of us has about five hundred yards of frontage to build on, and about as much vertically. Does that help?"
Maria looked thoughtful, "That's a lot of room."
Pete added, "That's right. One reason I was hoping Al would be here... where is he, by the way?"
"He's watching the Mets in Atlanta."
"I knew there was a good reason," Pete grinned. "One thing I'd like to talk to him about is that while Carol's an architect, Al's the one that builds the houses, and I think a community needs a handyman."
"Especially for those of us that can't figure out plumbing," Carol added, looking fondly at her husband. "In any case, the Brits that are looking to rent from us are used to feet and pounds, but they also use meters and such. However, the Russians and the Germans use meters, so we need to have a common system." He shrugged, "The rest of the world uses meters, so we're outvoted."
"I think that there's always a need for accountants and lawyers," Jill said. "I don't think there would be a formal school system for the first few generations. Therefore, home schooling, but it might be a case of the teacher coming to the students."
"I don't know," Jim replied. "Universities have remote courses now, and I understand there's plenty of data capacity planned. There would probably be a lot of 'work from home', with the occasional site visit needed."
"I'll put a question mark next to that," he said. "Next item, what kind of taxes do we want to impose on ourselves as an association, and how do we do it? I understand there's already bankers involved, and I'm sure there's going to be a hot market for development. What do we want to do regarding..."
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Saturday, June 30, 2001:
Luna, Crater Grimaldi: 06:00 (GMT)
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Big Ben woke the sleeping crew, the speakers announcing, "Good morning, it is six o'clock in London, time for the BBC World News. Yesterday, the Prime Minister announced..."
Vasily muttered a Russian curse, rolling over in his sleeping bag. The news clicked off, Alfred saying, "You needn't call me that, Mr. Danilov."
"Sorry, Comrade Alfred," the big Russian said, sitting up in the common room. He nudged Bill, "Comrade Morton, another beautiful day, da?"
"Da, er, yes, Mr. Danilov," Bill said, groping around for his glasses. Vasily found them and handed them over, Bill nodding his thanks.
"Good morning, Comrade Danilov, Mr. Morton," Mattie said, coming out of the Captain's cabin with Anne. "Sorry about the rough accommodations," she added, giving them a hand up. Bill waved it off, "We were fine, we both snore enough to keep each other awake."
"Good morning, Mr. Danilov," Misty said, giving him a peck on the cheek. "I hope you don't mind, standing in for my father in our morning ritual."
"He is a lucky man, then, to have such a beautiful daughter. Would you stand in for my Svetlana in return?" Misty blushed, and Vasily kissed her gently on her forehead, whispering a phrase in Russian. "It means, 'Go with God, my love.'"
"Oh. My. God," Bill Morton said, looking up at the hill containing the buried meteoroid. "How tall is that thing?"
"Seven and a half kilometers, give or take," Mattie replied. "Breakfast first. Mr. Danilov, we've got genuine Russian kasha if you'd like some."
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"If we divide, we shall get more done," Anne said. "Therefore, the Captain shall go with Mr. Morton to stake the claim in the flyer, whilst..."
Mattie raised a finger, "My brother has more experience flying, and a helicopter license. He should go with Mr. Morton."
"I did not know." She looked at Dick and Bill, who traded looks and nodded. "Since we are in communication with all, we can rush to another's aid if needful. Therefore, Henry and Misty can cap the vents to the south, the Captain and her brother to the west, while Mr. Danilov and Teela work to the east. Is that agreeable to all?"
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"Here we are, Bill," Dick said, "Due north; let me find a place to land."
"No magnetic deviation?" he asked, as the flyer landed in a place about twenty meters across.
"Nope, no lava flow underground. Buckle up," Dick replied, passing him a pair of safety tethers. "We need to get as close as we can, then we can belay to the right point."
"Just like a bosun's chair," Bill replied, clipping the GPS unit and other equipment to his belt.
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"How is everyone doing?" Misty called hours later, "We've got these southern vents capped and leading to a storage tank. Should we go east?"
"We've got most of the circle staked, with just northwest left," Bill replied. "Alfred, how are the transponders?"
"Working well, Mr. Morton. Mr. Danilov, your status?"
"Good, Comrade Alfred, although the rock flung off the blades of the cutter is doing terrible damage to the protective screen, and my helmet is scratched."
"Please come and replace your helmet, Mr. Danilov. We will devise something for the cutting blades."
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"The machine has a poor design," Vasily said, as he examined the damaged helmet. "Worse, it is my design." He sighed, "This is why we are here, to test these things. Remotely operated, perhaps? What about moving the spoil?"
"Remotes are simple enough," Dick said, as the guys huddled with the Russian engineer. "Move the control cable along with the power cable, and..."
Mattie sighed, moving into the flight deck with the other girls, flopping down in the command chair. Anne took the helm, while Teela sketched, and Misty sat, rather delicately, on the floor. Teela asked, "Inserts bothering you, too?"
"One becomes adapted to them," Anne replied. "What shall we do with Mr. Danilov?"
"That scared me," Mattie said, jumping up and beginning to pace. She motioned for Misty to take the chair, who moved over as she paced, "You've only got ten seconds before you lose consciousness in vacuum, Teela, you were closest, could you have..."
"Nope, and even if I could have gotten there, the only thing I could have tried was to slap my glove over a hole," she replied, "These gloves aren't exactly air-tight, either."
Misty looked up, "I've got an idea. Alfred, is it possible to insert a plastic liner inside the helmet? A clear one to see through, tough enough so if the helmet loses pressure, it won't get cut and will keep someone alive long enough to get inside?"
"It is indeed. Please recycle your original helmets, I shall retrofit them."
"Alfred, please file a patent for this under Misty's name," Mattie asked, holding out her hand, "Welcome to the moon, Misty. You've just saved lives."
"And made a few pence," Anne added.
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On the evacuated cargo deck, Vasily's damaged helmet was set up. Misty shyly handed over a survey hammer, "Mr. Danilov, please give your old helmet a good whack." He looked at her; then tapped it. A glass chunk flew out, but a small bubble of plastic protruded. He roared with laughter, taking her in a massive bear hug. "You have saved my life, my daughter. What made you think of such a thing?"
"Um, I forgot to change the trash bag before I left home..." she admitted. Vasily laughed, "Come, my little one. You are not the only smart one here! Come; let me show what your papa has created!"
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