Ship of Fools - Chapter 32
Blending Genres
[Start at the beginning of the novel: Prologue.]
[Go to the Table of Contents.]
Welcome back to Ship of Fools, my satire about a science journalist trying to make sense of conspiracy theorists, flat-earthers, moon-landing deniers, New Agers, and more.
Having arrived at Tranquility Lunar Base, Slim gets his marching orders straight from the big boss himself, Lonnie Ester.
SLIM had been at Tranquility Base for a day and was beginning to get used to the one-sixth-g environment, no longer bouncing up and hitting his head on ceilings, when he received a summons to a personal meeting with Mr. Ester himself. The message came in on his new wristband comms device, the danged thing vibrating and lighting up just as Roger Rogersson, the base’s head of security, was wrapping up an orientation and training session on moonwalks. That had earned Slim a sharp glare.
This proximity to bosses would take some getting used to. Slim had never had much truck with any type of supervisor, viewing them neither favorably nor unfavorably in themselves, but their entire existence as an inevitable infringement on the rights and freedoms of the individual. He was glad to have spent most of his days and nights out on the range on his own, or with a pardner, far from any ranch foreman or trail boss, answerable only to himself and his own conscience. But life on this station promised to bring him in contact with his superiors on a more regular basis, the limiting factors being the size and layout of the station itself and, more importantly, the hours of oxygen in an environment suit’s tanks.
But the message from Ester’s assistant said to report to the central offices immediately, so off he went in the sort of scuttling rather than striding gait he’d adopted to avoid excessive bouncing.
“Ah, Slim,” Ester said, rising to shake his hand as he entered the office, all teak and high-grade plastics painted in muted tones, like a rich man’s yacht. “How are you settling in?”
“Just fine, Mr. Ester,” Slim replied, taking the offered seat across the desk from his boss. “How was that cruise you were on? I hope those conspiracy nuts didn’t give you too hard a time.”
“No more than I expected. Fortunately I was able to cut it short by a couple of days.”
That was enough beating around the bush. “Mr. Ester, I should apologize for what happened back at the ranch. Those Nazis were just way more numerous than I ever expected when we first took ’em on.”
Ester gave a dismissive wave. “Not to worry, Slim, the ranch is fine, just a few bullet holes in the porch, which only add to its character. I’m moving to enlarge the security team, which should prevent any further attacks.”
“That’s good to hear, boss, and I want to thank you for findin’ this continued employment for me. But I’m surprised to find you here, what with all the companies you need to run and political wheels you need to grease.”
“Just some labor relations that need sorting out, as well as…”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Mr. Ester, but if you brung me up here to bust union heads, I don’t think I can see my way to doin’ it. I may disagree with them bandin’ together ’stead o’ standin’ on their own two feet, as any self-respectin’ individual should, but I don’t think they deserve to be beaten, kilt, or worse.”
Ester was giving him a genuine look of distress. “Slim, I thought we knew each other well enough by now, but I suppose my reputation as an evil billionaire precedes me, even within my own organization.”
Slim didn’t see how the few days Ester had spent visiting his ranch over the last several years, plus a few nights around the camp fire on a shortened, eased-up version of a trail drive, counted as knowin’ each other particularly well, but he could see that he’d given Mr. Ester offense. “If I misunderstood, then I sure do apologize.”
“I promise you, when I founded SpaceOut, I committed to running any colonies that result from our space program democratically. It’s a giant pain in the ass, but it’s a principle I won’t abandon. I’m only here to conduct the negotiations face-to-face, which is vital in these sensitive situations.”
“Only makes sense.”
“But that’s not why I brought you here. No, it’s another situation, one that grew out of just this kind of misunderstanding of my motives.” He paused and gave Slim an appraising look over the tops of his steepled fingers. “You’ve heard of these groups, No Exit, CAOS, and others, that believe not only that space exploration is a waste of scarce resources, but that my space colony program is just an escape hatch for rich white people after we’ve stripped Earth bare?”
“To be honest, we’re pretty far removed from news of that sort in Sombrero Flats.”
“No matter what I’ve tried, TED Talks, media appearances, op-ed pieces, advertising, nothing has persuaded this group that my intentions are precisely the opposite: to save Earth by providing a relief valve for its population, and more important, to extract resources from the moons and asteroids and barren planets, and to move destructive, polluting industries into space. Life on Earth will only improve as a result of these efforts.”
“It sounds like a lofty ambition.”
Ester rose from his seat and paced back and forth behind the desk. Bein’ criticized by these groups must have gotten him really worked up, Slim felt. “And anyone, regardless of race, color, creed, religion, sexual orientation, gender identity, etc., etc., will be able to emigrate to the new colonies, as long as they pass the psychological exams and possess a necessary skill. Once the colonies are well established I hope even those restrictions can be lifted, and anyone will be able to book passage and buy a housing unit for the price of a modest home back on Earth.”
To Slim’s admittedly uneducated ears, it sounded a mite too good to be true. He just wished Shorty was here and wondered what he’d say if he was. “Beggin’ your pardon, Mr. Ester, isn’t it just possible that those psychological exams might have a way o’ selectin’ only white people, and weedin’ out other groups, even unintentional-like? And the same with the skill requirements?”
Ester turned to him, gripping the back of his leather executive chair. “You’re right, that is a risk, so we’ve designed the exams to be as color-blind, gender-blind, every kind of blind, that we could think of. We included psychologists from all over the world, all races, all genders, to design and administer the tests. And we have a broad definition of essential skills as well, including artists, writers, musicians, counselors, philosophers, ministers of a variety of faiths.”
“Well, it sure sounds like you thought of everything. But these folks at No Exit still ain’t convinced?”
Ester shook his head and went over to stare into a glass liquor cabinet, as if he really wanted a drink. After a moment’s pondering, he shook his head again and said, “It seems that once you earn your first billion, people no longer look at you as a human being, but as a cartoonish, villainous stereotype. It’s upsetting, really. As if money were any kind of motivation for me. I only want to save humanity, and Earth as well.”
“Alrighty then,” was all Slim could think of to say to that. Saving humanity and Earth were worthy goals and all, but maybe just a tad too big for the britches of any one man. “So where do I come in? What is this No Exit group up to?”
Ester turned back to him. “If it were only that they were swaying public opinion against our efforts, that would be one thing, since we could easily overwhelm them with our own messaging, as we’ve done in the past. But it seems they and other groups are now resorting to direct action, perhaps even terrorism. They’ve already damaged several of our facilities on Earth. And more distressing, it seems that they’ve struck here on Tranquility Base and may be prepared to do even greater damage in the near future, putting every colonist’s life at risk.”
“You don’t say.”
“I do. We were having trouble with our water processors a few months ago. We thought it was just a design flaw, but as our engineers dug deeper, they discovered signs that it might have been sabotage. After that we tried infiltrating the organization and its fellow travelers, and it seems more terrorism is in the works.”
“All right. So what do you want me to do?”
Ester took a seat on the edge of his desk and adopted a confiding tone. “Slim, I’m hoping that your presence here will in itself deter any attacks. But also, keep your eyes and ears open. Get to know as many people on the base as you can. You’re personable, and quite the character, if I may say so, and shouldn’t have any trouble embedding yourself in the social networks. If our team on Earth develops any leads, we may ask you to pursue them up here. And of course, if you do find anyone in an act of sabotage, I hope you won’t hesitate to ‘bust their heads,’ as you put it, use your weapon, or whatever else is necessary to stop them. These are terrorists who threaten hundreds of lives here on the moon. That won’t be a problem, will it?”
“Nope, not if I have to act in self-defense or in defense of the station. It’s just, well, this sounds more like detective work, and I’m just an old cowhand. Seems like we’re blendin’ genres here, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”
Ester gave a dry laugh. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just think of yourself as Jim West in that old TV show. It’s just too bad you couldn’t convince Shorty to come along, although he’s not quite the Artemus Gordon type. Maybe we need to look for another sidekick for you.”
Shorty wasn’t a sidekick, but there was no time to protest as Ester stood and moved across the office, ready to show Slim the door.
Just then Slim remembered something. “Say, Mr. Ester, there was one fella on the rocket comin’ up who sounded a bit like one of these No Exit types.”
“Really? What did he say?”
“Just somethin’ about we shouldn’t be pioneerin’ space.”
“Did you get a name?”
Slim had the unaccustomed sensation of his cheeks growing warm. “I’m afraid not, least ways I don’t think so. Said his name was Billy the Kid, and I thought he must be pullin’ my leg.”
Ester smiled. “It would seem so. But don’t worry. Every passenger’s photo is in the database, and Roger can run you through the logs for your ship.”
With that, the interview was over. Slim left feeling abashed that he just might have had a terrorist within his grasp and had failed to realize it.
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, please give it a like, a share, a restack, or a comment. And if you really enjoyed it, I hope you’ll buy me a coffee or upgrade to a paid subscription.
What do you think? Is Luddington a space terrorist? And how well will Slim perform his duties as a space detective?
Next up: Chapter 33, “One With Everything,” in which Liz adjusts to the news that they won’t be skiing to the South Pole, while Dawa Tenzing suggests an alternative.