Chương 155: Chapter 154: The High Ground (09/14/2004)

DATE: Tuesday, September 14, 2004 LOCATION: New York City | United Nations Headquarters | Conference Room 4 LOCAL TIME: 02: 00 PM EST The room in New York was designed to intimidate. The horseshoe table. The flags. The earpieces for simultaneous translation. I wasn't in the room. I was six thousand miles away, sitting on a cot inside a dust-choked CHU (Containerized Housing Unit) at a Forward Operating Base outside Damascus, cleaning the bolt carrier group of my M4 carbine.

But through the lenses of my Aegis-1 visor, I had an unbroken, real-time volumetric feed of the negotiations. Sitting across from the UN Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space (COPUOS) was Evelyn Vance. She wore a razor-sharp charcoal suit, projecting the exact same cold, predatory aura she had used to gut the Adidas boardroom a decade earlier. Beside her was John Patterson. At the center of the UN committee sat Ambassador Kovic.

He had the tired, bureaucratic eyes of a man who had spent his entire career writing treaties that warlords ignored. Right now, the UN was furious at the unilateral weight of the NATO invasion in the Middle East, and they were looking for a way to strike back at the corporate engine funding it.

"Ms. Vance," Kovic began, his voice dry.

"We have reviewed the filings for your...

'Venetian Restoration Project.' And your proposed 'Lunar Logistics Hub.'" He dropped a heavy document on the table.

"This is the Outer Space Treaty of 1967. Article II is quite clear: 'Outer space, including the moon and other celestial bodies, is not subject to national appropriation by claim of sovereignty, by means of use or occupation, or by any other means.'" John Patterson lit a cigarette. He ignored the "No Smoking" sign with the casual disdain of a man who knew the corporate checkbook covered the fines. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"We aren't a nation, Ambassador," Patterson said, exhaling a thin stream of smoke.

"We're a Delaware C-Corp."

"A corporation is a legal entity subject to the laws of its host nation," Kovic snapped.

"The United States is signatory to this treaty. Therefore, you are signatory. You cannot claim the Moon. You cannot move asteroids. It is illegal under international law."

"It's illegal to claim sovereignty," Evelyn corrected, her voice carrying a surgical, uncompromising precision.

"We aren't claiming the land, Ambassador. We're claiming the improvement." Evelyn rose and walked to the window looking out over the East River. She didn't look back at him. She spoke to the glass.

"Ambassador, are you familiar with the Fifth Amendment of the US Constitution? Specifically, the Takings Clause?" Kovic frowned.

"This is the United Nations, Ms. Vance. The US Constitution does not apply to the Moon."

"The economic logic applies," Evelyn said, turning back to the room, her eyes locking onto his.

"Look at what the Archstone Foundation is doing in the Levant right now. The legacy supply chains collapsed the moment the war started. But our subterranean Ley Lines are keeping the lights on in Turkey and Syria. If you try to seize our infrastructure, the grid crashes. The asset is too valuable to destroy and too expensive to compensate us for." She pointed at the ceiling.

"We are doing the exact same thing to you in orbit." Tapping a remote on the table, Evelyn pulled up a holographic display of the Space Elevator anchored in the Pacific, stretching up to the Lunar Mass Drivers.

"By the time you draft a resolution to stop us, the Space Elevator will be generating twenty percent of the world's electricity via the piezoelectric tether. The Lunar Gigafactories will be producing the cheapest steel and silicon in human history." Evelyn leaned over the table, planting her hands flat on the mahogany.

"If you try to sanction Fractal Systems, you aren't sanctioning a company. You are sanctioning the global energy grid. You are sanctioning the supply chain." Kovic looked at the simulation, the color draining from his face.

"You are holding the global economy hostage," he whispered.

"We are integrating it," Evelyn corrected seamlessly.

"But there is a second layer to this, Ambassador. The workforce."

"The workforce?"

"You think Fractal Systems has a private army of robots on the Moon. We don't," Evelyn said, her smile utterly devoid of warmth.

"We have the voters."