“Stronger, lighter, more heat-resistant,” said Doug. “And cheaper to manufacture, with nanomachines.”

Brudnoy nodded, deep in thought, his dinner tray untouched. At last he asked, “Why bring the asteroid into lunar orbit?”

“So we can mine it,” Doug said.

“You can mine it while it remains in its own orbit around the Sun. Then all you need to bring back here are the materials you really want. Why drag the entire asteroid here? It’s inefficient.”

Doug thought about it for a moment. “Yes… that could work.”

“You see, my young friend, in space distance is not so important as the amount of energy you must expend to get the job done.”

Doug nodded agreement. “And it would take much less energy to bring the raw materials we want from the asteroid to Moonbase than it would to move the whole asteroid into a lunar orbit. I see.”

“Much less energy,” said Brudnoy, smiling approvingly at Doug. “Which means much less rocket propellant.”

“Which means much less money,” said Doug.

Brudnoy patted Doug’s shoulder. “You understand it very well.”

Rhee pointed to Brudnoy’s tray. “Your dinner’s getting cold.”

Glancing down at the plastic dishes, Brudnoy said, “It’s almost criminal how the cooks take the fruits of all my hard labor and turn it into unappetizing mush.”

“Maybe we need a good chef up here,” Rhee said, grinning.

Brudnoy nodded dolefully: “We certainly need someone who can create something better than this. Look, even the salad is soggy and lifeless.”

But he stuck a fork into it anyway. “I raised these sad little leaves. They were crisp and cheerful when I handed them over to the cooks.”

Doug had never given much thought to the quality of the meals. He ate what was available.

Munching thoughtfully, Brudnoy swallowed and asked, “What will you use for a spacecraft?”

“Adapt a lunar transfer ship, I suppose,” Doug replied.

“You will need a team of engineers and technicians.”

“We already have an astronomer to pick out the most likely asteroid.” Doug jabbed a thumb in Rhee’s direction.

“Congratulations.” Brudnoy lifted his tea mug to her. “But if you don’t mind my saying so, you’re going to need more than the three of us to accomplish this task.”

“Three of us? You mean you’re willing to help us?”

“Of course.”

“Terrific!” said Doug, tremendously pleased.

They clinked their cups together.

“We’ll take one of the LTVs and have it modified for the mission,” Doug said, his insides beginning to tremble with growing excitement.

“Do you have the facilities for modifying spacecraft here?” Rhee asked.

“No, but the corporation has space stations that can do that kind of work. In Earth orbit.”

Brudnoy’s enthusiasm was muted. “Why do it at a space station?” he asked, jabbing at another piece of salad on his tray. “Why not do it here?”

“We don’t have the facilities here,” Doug said.

“We could adapt what we do have,” said Brudnoy. “We have the talent, too, if we use our people properly.”

Doug gaped at him. “Modify the LTV here,” he muttered.

“Do the entire job here at Moonbase,” Brudnoy said firmly.

“Do you think we could build the Clipperships here at Moonbase?” Doug asked.

“Why not? The nanomachines don’t care where they are.”

“That would mean turning Moonbase into a major manufacturing center.”

“Why not?” the Russian repeated, smiling patiently. “After all, I can feed you lapin a la Brudnoy now, although I shudder to think of what the cooks would do with it. Why not take the next step forward?”

“From a mining center to a manufacturing center,” Doug mused.

“A natural step in the evolution of a frontier settlement. It will allow us to expand from a town into a city.”

“Wow,” said Rhee. “This is getting awesome.”

But Doug sagged back in his chair. “We’d need a lot of additional capital investment.”

“Of course.”

Rhee sensed Doug’s sudden change of mood. “The corporation won’t put up the money?”

“Not with this nanotech treaty hanging over us. The whole scheme depends on nanotechnology.”

“But you said we’d keep on using nanotechnology regardless of the treaty.”

“If we can. We’ll have to fight Washington over it.”

“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.