“And Moscow,” said Brudnoy. “And London and all the other world capitals. Even in Paris the couturiers must submit their fashion designs to a censorship board before they are allowed to go ahead with them.”
Doug began to wonder if Kiribati could withstand the international pressure, despite the best Greg could do.
“Could we do this without the corporation knowing about it?” Rhee asked.
Doug began to shake his head.
But Brudnoy said, “Perhaps it would be possible to “retire” one of the older transfer craft and then modify it.”
“We’d have to take people off other jobs to do it,” Doug said. “It would show up in the base’s bookkeeping.”
“There is a technique,” said Brudnoy, “known as midnight requisitioning. You must learn to be as creative in your bookkeeping as you are in your engineering.”
“Moonlight the whole project?! Rhee asked.
“Why not?” Brudnoy replied. “O perhaps we should call it Earthlighting, considering where we are.”
“Instead of capital investment from the corporation,” Doug mused, “we get people to invest their own time and talents into helping us. That’s a form of capital that doesn’t involve money.”
“Or the company’s bookkeepers,” Brudnoy added.
Doug said, “Greg would have to be in on this. We couldn’t hide it from him.”
A sly smile crept across Brudnoy’s bearded face. “Fort Apache,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Brudnoy. “I was just recalling a conversation I had with your brother when he first came up here.”
“What we’re proposing is to bring Moonbase up to the next step toward self-sufficiency,” Doug said.
“By mining an asteroid?” asked Rhee.
“If this scheme succeeds, Moonbase will have developed the means of supplying itself with carbon and nitrogen and all the other volatiles we now import from Earth,” Doug said, feeling the excitement rising in him again.
“If we succeed,” Rhee said.
“But if we can do it,” said Doug, “then it won’t matter what treaties or laws they pass Earthside. We can survive without them.”
“By mining asteroids,” Rhee repeated.
“By lifting ourselves up by our own bootstraps,” said Brudnoy.
“Operation Bootstrap,” Doug said, breaking into a huge grin. “We do it without letting Savannah know what we’re up to.”
“Can we get away with it?” Rhee asked.
“Why not?” said Brudnoy.
“We’ll need Greg’s help,” Doug said. “And my mother’s.”
The other two fell silent.
Doug pushed his chair back from the table. “They’ll help,” he said, with a confidence he did not truly feel. “I’m going to tell them about it right now.”
JOANNA’S QUARTERS
All employees were treated equally as far as their living space in Moonbase was concerned. Even the director, who had a two-room suite, received no more living space than anyone else: the director merely had an office that connected to the living quarters, which were no larger than any other one-room dwelling space within the tolerances of practical lunar architecture.
It took energy and manpower to carve out new quarters with plasma torches that vaporized the lunar rock. No one was going to get a bigger living space than anyone else. Utilitarian rules prevailed. Besides, standard-sized quarters prevented jealous comparisons and arguments.
However, Joanna Masterson Stavenger was not a Masterson employee. So while everyone was treated equally, Joanna was more equal than anyone else. Her quarters were a two-room suite; two ordinary living spaces that had been connected by a plasma-torched doorway.
At her own expense, Joanna had brought up furniture from her home in Savannah and turned one of her cubicles into a crowded little sitting room, the other into the most luxurious bedroom in Moonbase, with a real bed of actual wood — polished lustrous rosewood — and a thick cushiony mattress with pillows and flowered sheets and even a comforter that was strictly for ostentation in the climate-controlled environs of the underground base.
There was no space in the bedroom for the two massive wardrobes full of clothes that Joanna had brought with her; there was barely enough space to inch around the massive bed. So Joanna had requisitioned a pair of technicians to build storage space under her bed; the drawers formed a son of platform that was high enough to require steps to get up onto the bed itself.
The bed on its’throne’ — and who might be sharing it with the ’queen’ — quickly became the most talked-about item in Moonbase.
“You must tell Greg about this,” Joanna said to Doug as she reclined on the smaller of the two couches in her sitting room. She was wearing casual pale green silk slacks and a loose cashmere sweater of slightly darker green.
Doug had noticed that some of the women among the long-term Lunatics had taken to wearing more stylish clothes since his mother had come to Moonbase. Some women had started modifying their coveralls, snipping out pieces along the sleeves or shoulders or legs, adding trinkets or decorative patches. Eye candy, one of the guys called it.
Doug enjoyed the fashion trend. The women were adding color to the drab underground surroundings. Like the flowers that Brudnoy grew and the pictures that the Windowalls offered. Women wore perfume more often now, too. Even Bianca had added a trio of tiny gold pins to her collar as soon as she had arrived from Earthside: two cats on one side and some kind of fish on the other.
Doug remembered how Brennart had decorated his coveralls with mission patches and emblems. Yet none of the men had followed his lead. Doug himself wore his plain sky blue coveralls as he sat on the spindly armchair next to his mother’s delicate little upholstered couch, leaning forward intensely, elbows on knees.
“I wanted to run it past you first,” he said, “to make certain there aren’t any obvious holes in the plan.”
The corners of Joanna’s lips curled slightly. “I might even detect a subtle flaw, if there are any.”
Doug grinned sheepishly. “Aw, Mom, you know what I mean.”
“What you’re trying to do is to make Moonbase as self-sufficient as possible.”
“And as soon as possible.”
“Without letting the corporate management know what you’re doing.”
“Or the board of directors,” Doug added.
.Joanna studied her son for a long moment. Then she said, “The board’s in a turmoil since Carlos’ assassination. They’re all jockeying for power down there.”
“Will it affect you?”
She smiled grimly. “Of course it will. The trick is to make certain it enhances my position on the board rather than detracting from it.”
“Will you have to go back Earthside?”
“I don’t think so,” Joanna answered slowly. “The VR link’s been good enough — so far.”
Doug saw the shadow of uncertainty on her face. “I don’t want to start new problems for you, but—”
“No, I think your scheme could be a good insurance policy for us, in case they really do try to stop us from using nanomachines.”
Doug nodded.
“In fact,” Joanna said, smiling slightly, “if all the other major corporations are prevented from using nanotechnology by the treaty, Masterson could become very wealthy. Extremely wealthy.” Her smile widened. “We should support the nanotech treaty!”
“We can’t do that,” Doug snapped. “It’d be immoral.”
With a small shrug, Joanna said. “I suppose so. But still…”
“Will Greg go along with us?”
Joanna’s smile vanished. “Well,” she said carefully, “it’s a lot to swallow in one bite, for him.”
“He wants to shut down Moonbase, doesn’t he?” Without waiting for his mother’s response, Doug went on, “And I want to enlarge it, turn it into a manufacturing center, make it profitable so it can grow and prosper. That’s what Operation Bootstrap is all about…”
Joanna saw the intensity in her son’s face. Operation Bootstrap, she thought. A theatrical name for a pretty daring idea.