The following is a novelette I wrote and submitted to a science fiction magazine (rejected). My plan is to post my fiction to the Internet when I can't get it published. I will post weekly instalments for it. I've changed the title several times on this, but I've finally settled on "Lunar Cops"
UN Lunar Detective Daniel Coleman felt the Lunar Hopper begin to decelerate. The pilot announced over the intercom that the vehicle would touch down at its destination in 5 minutes. Unlike the surface to orbit scramjets back on Earth, the hopper would stop and hover above its destination, then slowly reduce the power on the thrusters under its belly, making it more like a helicopter than a plane. Coleman mentally tuned out the news program he had been watching and looked out his window. They were almost over the UN Government substation, located about an hour outside Luna City. The scene of the crime. Coleman thought melodramatically, then something on the news caught his attention:
“…after being disbanded by the Governor, a majority of the members of the Lunar Assembly, now calling themselves the Lunar Congress, have gone into hiding, and issued a proclamation on the Lunarnet declaring Lunar Independence and calling for a general strike by all government workers, most of whom, have complied. The new Lunar Congress has agreed, by unanimous vote, that it will now work with the UN-outlawed Lunar Resistance movement to establish an independent Lunar Republic. We now go to Trisha Abimbola.” The camera view switched to another reporter. “Thank you Bill, I’m here at the now-empty Lunar Assembly building, which, just hours ago, was shut down by Governor Pierson under the authority of the UN Lunar Anti-terrorism Act. I have just been sent a statement, allegedly issued by the new Lunar Congress, declaring all UN law null and void…”
“They’re using a public-key, private-key encryption system for all of their legislation and appointments.” A voice said in Coleman’s ear.
“What was that?” Coleman said out loud, distracted from the news report.
“No need to talk out loud, it’s a subvocal system.” The voice in his ear, Friedman, said again.
“Sorry.” Coleman said silently, following Friedman’s advice. He had just gotten the new implant a few weeks earlier, and was still getting used to it. In the past, he had had to phone Friedman when he needed him. Now his assistant back at headquarters could see everything Coleman saw, and was in constant contact with him.
“You’ll get used to it.” Friedman said before launching into one of his technical discussions. “The new Lunar Congress has issued a proclamation on the Lunarnet that includes a public key. It says that all Officers of the new Lunar Republic will have the private key. Pretty smart system for them to implement. That way, you can know who really works for the Lunar Congress and who doesn’t. All you have to do is encrypt a message with the public key, and send it to the purported Republican Officer to decrypt with the private key. If he can send you back your message decrypted, then you know he’s legitimate, if not, he has no authority. They also use the private key to encrypt all of their legislation, which can only be decrypted with the public key…”
Coleman ignored the rest of Friedman’s technical lecture, and turned his attention back to the news program. He could feel the hopper starting to descend. “The UN embargo will eventually kill this so-called ‘revolution’.” A news analyst noted sarcastically. “So long as the UN maintains military control of Lunar orbit, it will control Lunar trade with Earth and the other colonies, and Lunar succession cannot succeed. The secessionists will eventually be forced to negotiate a compromise with the Governor and the UN or starve to death.”
Coleman turned off the newscast as the Hopper touched down. “Now to business.” He said as he stood up, and donned his suit helmet. “Seal is secure.” His suit said as he walked to the airlock and stepped inside. “Have they set up the evidence collection ‘bot yet?” He asked Friedman as the outer door of the hopper opened up, and he walked down the steps to the Lunar surface.
“It’s finishing up its sweep now.” Friedman responded after pausing to check his computer back at headquarters.
“Did it find any biological material for a DNA database check?” Coleman asked as he walked over to the substation facility about 15 meters from the landing site of the hopper.
“These old evidence collection robots really leave a lot to be desired.” Friedman said as he sent the data over to Coleman’s computer. “They’re really nothing more than glorified vacuum cleaners.”
Coleman examined the ‘bot’s collection results and analysis on the display on his helmet visor. “No DNA.” The outer lock to the substation facility opened as Coleman approached, and he stepped inside.
“Yeah, the perp wore a hardsuit, and he never took it off. There’s camera footage though.”
“I’ll take a look at it on a wall screen when I get inside.” He said as the airlock cycled. “What was stolen?” He asked, embarrassed at having forgotten to ask the obvious. I’ve got to pay less attention to politics and more to my job. He thought. There had been talk of a Lunar break from Earth for years, but he had never really believed it would happen. Coleman was in the Property Crimes Division, and dealing with secessionists was for Internal Security to handle, along with the squatters. Could I do that job? He thought. No. He decided. He wasn’t sure why, but the secessionists didn’t seem like criminals to him. And the squatters definitely weren’t real criminals. He thought bitterly. The secessionists weren’t trying to take what didn’t belong to them and their activities had been fairly peaceful to date. They didn’t blow things up, and they didn’t engage in assassination. They also seemed to have broad support amongst the Lunar population. He didn’t know if a break with the UN government was the answer, but he had never been that interested in politics to study it in detail.
“Top secret UN data.” Friedman answered.
“Are they going to tell us what the data is?” Coleman asked, already knowing what the answer would be.
“No, they say your job is just to recover it, and you don’t need to know what it is to do that.”
“Great.” Coleman answered, annoyed at the UN’s typical secretiveness, but not surprised. As the inner airlock door opened, Coleman again glanced at the data from the evidence collection ‘bot that Friedman had sent over. “That’s odd.” He said to Friedman.
“What’s that?”
“The ‘bot gathered up a lot of regolith. I thought this substation was a clean-room environment for the computers.” Coleman said.
“Yeah, the scrubbers were offline when the break-in occurred. Our burglar used a computer virus to shutdown the substation’s power systems in order to knock out most of the security systems. The computer systems have their own 2-hour power supply, so they continued to function. Then, he just downloaded the data he needed and walked out.”
“Did you notice the anomalous nature of the regolith?” Coleman asked.
“No, what do you mean?”
“Look at the Helium-3 levels in it.”
After a few moments, Friedman said, “That is weird. Why would the H-3 levels be 1/3 less than the normal levels found on this side of the moon?” The substation, like Luna City, and most of the other facilities and human habitation on the moon, was on the far side from Earth precisely because the Helum-3 levels in the lunar regolith were higher here.
The entire Lunar economy was built around Helium-3 extraction, which had become the lifeblood of mankind. About half a century ago, Helium-3 fusion reaction technology had been perfected, creating the potential for a new era of abundant and clean energy. The only problem had been that the Helium-3 isotope was rare on Earth. Even before the perfection of H-3 fusion technology, the market value of H-3 on Earth had been about 120 times the value per unit weight of gold. The incentive to find cheaper sources of H-3 had led men to the moon. The high concentration of H-3 on the moon was the result of billions of years of exposure to the deadly solar wind. Unlike the Earth, the moon had no magnetic field to divert the solar wind around it, causing its H-3 particles to be deposited in the regolith. Over time it had turned the moon into a mine for “solar gold”, as the media had taken to calling H-3.
“Let’s take a look at the camera footage of the burglar.” Coleman said as he walked over to a wall screen. Friedman routed the data feed to the unit Coleman was looking at, and the camera footage appeared in front of him. The burglar was wearing a powered hardsuit. This type of hardsuit was about seven feet tall, and it had motors built into all of the joints. It was designed to give the operator about 3 times his normal strength and endurance. It was also designed for extreme environments, and was therefore visorless. The operator used built in cameras to see his external environment. “That’s not going to help much on making an ID of the burglar.” Coleman noted as he watched him enter the substation through the airlock and walk to the main terminal. The burglar pulled a small device out of an arm compartment, and inserted it into a slot on the terminal. “What’s that?” Coleman asked Friedman.
“It’s a dedicated memory storage device designed specifically for this type of terminal. Only UN personnel with clearance are supposed to have them, but they can be purchased on the black market for the right price. It is the only way to download data off of this type of terminal system.”
“And only the UN has this type of computer?” Coleman asked.
“Officially, yes, and the data couldn’t be uploaded to any other type of computer terminal, so the data he stole would be useless unless he could upload it to another terminal like this one. Once again, there have been rumors that a cloned model can be obtained on the black market, but they are also rumored to be so expensive that I doubt a mere criminal could afford it.”
“It took him less than 15 minutes to download the data, too.” Coleman noted as he watched the burglar pull the memory storage device out of the slot and walk out of the substation. “He knew exactly what he wanted.”
“Incoming call.” Friedman said.
Coleman activated his phone without checking the caller ID. “Detective Coleman here.”
“Daniel, you’re going to be getting some help on this case.” The caller, who Coleman recognized as the Property Crimes Division’s Chief Inspector Simpson, said, and then continued before Coleman could respond, “it’s Lall.”
“There’s no way I’m working with that son of a -.” Coleman began angrily.
“Detective Coleman!” The Chief Inspector said, cutting him off. “These are your orders, and they come directly from the Minister of Justice at the Governor’s Office. Lall should be touching down at your current location any second now, and I want you to work with him. Do not cause problems for me.” The Chief Inspector then hung up before Coleman could respond.
“Who’s Lall?” Friedman asked.
“An old partner from back when I was still a Patrolman. We had a falling out.” Coleman said out loud, in a tone of voice that told Friedman not to ask anything more about it.
“Well, the substation’s sensors say he should be coming into this corridor in about 10 seconds.” Friedman said. Coleman looked over towards the door as Fred Lall entered the corridor.
“Detective Coleman.” Lall said curtly.
“Detective Lall.” Coleman said with courteous lack of emotion. “I assume you’ve already familiarized yourself with the evidence collected so far?”
“I have. Have you discovered anything else of significance?” Lall said, looking at the wall screen.
“The video footage didn’t show anything that was significant.”
“I’d like to watch it myself, and draw my own conclusion.” Lall said with hostility in his voice. Coleman knew that Lall could care less about viewing the footage himself.
“Do what you want.” Coleman said. “I’m going back outside to examine the area for footprints matching the hardsuit the suspect was wearing.”
“Wait a minute, and I’ll go with you.” Lall said, as he began viewing the footage.
“You can catch up with me.” Coleman said, then, unable to keep his feelings about Lall in check, he added as he was walking out: “Maybe I’ll find some people to arrest for jaywalking while I’m out there.” Coleman saw Lall’s face turn to an angry scowl as he walked out the door. It shut just as Lall was about to respond to the quip.
“Wow.” Friedman said. “Sarcasm from you; I thought that was my job.”
“Mind your own business.” Coleman said angrily.
“Yes SIR.” Friedman said with mock seriousness. Coleman knew that he had hurt Friedman’s feelings, and would need to apologize later. He resolved not to let Lall get under his skin during this case.
Once he was outside, Coleman extended the camera unit on his suit, and sent the feed to Friedman back at headquarters. “Check for footprints matching the suspect’s hardsuit.” One good thing about solving crimes on the surface of the moon was the lack of rain or wind to blow away a suspect’s footprints. The bad news was that in well-traveled areas, there could be so many footprints, many of them years-old. The hardsuit that the suspect had used was rare, so Coleman suspected they would only find one set, which would belong to him, unless he deliberately wiped them away as he walked, which would also leave a distinctive trail for them to follow.
“Found them. They travel off in that direction.” Friedman said, lighting up an imaginary yellow line that was projected onto Coleman’s helmet heads-up display. Coleman followed the line. “By the way, Lall is coming up behind you.” Friedman said. Coleman grunted to acknowledge the information, but didn’t turn to wait for him.
“Coleman!” Lall said over the radio. “Hold up, I’m behind you!” Coleman continued to walk, ignoring him. The trail ended at the edge of a deep meteor crater.
“I don’t see any visual evidence that he went down there.” Coleman said. Lall finally caught up with him.
“Are we going to have a problem, Coleman?” Lall asked angrily.
“I said everything I wanted to say to you years ago.” Coleman said to Lall. “Now, I just want you to stay out of my way.”
“Yeah, the pattern recognition software back here isn’t seeing any evidence that he went down there either, but this is where the footprints end.” Friedman said.
“Hmmm…” Coleman thought.
“Looks too steep for him to have climbed down there.” Lall said, trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about. Coleman knew that most of Internal Security’s police work consisted of undercover work and informants, which meant that Lall knew next to nothing about solving a property crime, and he knew it would be easy to throw out a sarcastic reply to Lall, but he checked his emotions and focused on solving the case.
“Friedman, see if any hoppers passed overhead around the time that our burglar exited the substation.” Coleman said, after suddenly realizing how the perpetrator had gotten away.
“An unmanned cargo transporter passed overhead about 10 minutes after the substation’s internal cameras show him exiting the facility.” Friedman said after checking.
“That’s how he got away.” Coleman said aloud. “He probably used a rocket with an electromagnetic head and a cable attached to the other end.”
“That makes sense!” Friedman said excitedly.
“Wha-. What are you talking about?” Lall said.
“They’re used by the military for quick pickups.” Coleman explained to Lall. “The head of the rocket has an electro-magnet, and the bottom end has a cable, which is also attached to the operator’s suit. Then, he launches the rocket at the over-passing hopper, the electro-magnet activates, and it attaches to the belly of the vehicle. Then the operator is carried away, attached to the other end of the cable.”
“What was the hopper’s flight plan?” Coleman asked Friedman.
“It was headed straight to Luna City.”
“Then that’s where we’re headed.” Coleman said.
