Waters of the Moon: Tranquility's End

"Every night," Grey lied, staring at the preparations in near disbelief.

Banners, streamers, helium filled spheres, and two large flags, one a tricolor embroidered with the rising star of Russia, the other emblazed with the White Towers logo representing the Lunar Republic. Never had he seen so many ceremonial trinkets! And the service units! Three of them! Just to serve a meal! Grey was willing to overlook much since the humans were so pleased, but he intended to take issue the Service Computer later.

"Is something wrong, Grey?" Sharkov asked.

Grey turned, the critical glare not yet gone from his eyes, but then he remembered he was supposed to be a host and quickly recalled the procedure.

"All is well, Professor," Grey replied. "I believe you will enjoy tonight's selection."

A few uneasy glances circled the table.

Suddenly music sounded through the speaker system, first the Russian national anthem, and then, strangely enough, the Northern Alliance Hymn. Apparently no one had updated the music since the revolt.

The Russians stood up and Grey followed their example, thinking it a foolish part of the protocol. The stirring songs reverberated through the room, and Grey had to admit he liked the part of the Northern Alliance Hymn that sang, "We shall stand against the wind." He knew what the metaphor meant.

Once the anthems were finished, the speaker system played an assortment of music mixing elements of contemporary styles with Russian classical themes. Koltov, observing precedence, waited for their host to sit before giving the signal to his crew, but Grey continued standing, wondering what would happen next. Finally Sharkov perceived the dilemma and took his seat, drawing Catarina down next to him. The others followed, much to Grey's relief.

Service units began to scramble about, and a moment later, the lounge entrance opened. Grey was flabbergasted to see, of all things, the bartender unit enter! As he had cannibalized parts of the bartender into more useful robots many years before, Grey wondered what valuable equipment had been butchered to put the useless device back in operation.

"Would anyone care for a cocktail?" the bartender asked.

On duty, Peter and Catarina looked to Koltov for guidance. Koltov cast no suspicion by his enthusiasm.

"I shall have a vodka martini," Koltov requested in a clear, jovial voice, melting away the unnatural formality.

"Do you have champagne?" Catarina asked.

"Only the best," the bartender responded. "May I suggest Napa Valley '26?"

"Yes, that sounds good," she agreed.

"I, too," Sharkov requested, perking up at the first mention of California champagne.

"Do you have any wines from Europe?" Peter asked.

"Yes, sir. Would you prefer Commonwealth or Empire?" the bartender replied.

"Do you have any Rhine Valley?"

"Yes, sir, a popular selection," the bartender said with muffled politeness.

All eyes turned to Grey. Somehow he didn't seem like the drinking type.

"I'll have a red eye," Grey requested.

"A red eye, sir?" the bartender said. "I believe we're out of red eye. Would a Kentucky bourbon do as well?"

"Affirmative," Grey said.

"Thank you, Governor," the bartender said, the unexpected recognition indicating recent reprogramming. The robot rolled off at a rapid but dignified pace.

"That's quite a machine," Sharkov complimented.

"The unit may only perform one function, but at least it performs the function well," Grey admitted.

"This is exciting," Catarina said. "Is there going to be entertainment?"

"I wouldn't be at all surprised," Grey answered, almost afraid to imagine what wasteful festivities the computers may have planned, but Catarina's infectious enthusiasm soon put all thoughts of computers from his mind.

"I hope we haven't interfered with your duties too greatly, Governor. We appreciate the trouble you've gone through for us," Koltov said.

"Yes, thank you very much," Sharkov added.

"We were wondering if you might tell us more about yourself?" Koltov continued. "Your presence here is quite mysterious and interesting."

"Me? Interesting?" Grey said. "I'm not unusual in any measurable way. As Captain Kantanee was kind enough to point out, I'm just a human like any other." He turned to look at Catarina and she blushed.

"You're very modest," Koltov said.

"How about telling us your story anyway?" Peter said, leaning forward anxiously.

"My story?" Grey said. "I don't tell stories. Telling stories is the Library Computer's function."

"Peter means we seek more details of your history," Sharkov said. "For instance, how old are you?"

Grey smiled, glad to have a precise question.

"Seventeen years, five months, twenty-one days," he replied.

"Ah? You were born during the lunar revolt, then?" Sharkov continued. "Our knowledge of those events is not exact."

"The Administration Computer records the revolt took place on 29 July, 2049. I was born on the 31st," Grey explained.

"I see, just a few days after the evacuation," Sharkov observed. "That explains why we have no record of your presence here. Is it true only McKinsey and a few of his staff remained behind after the garrison was expelled? No others?"

"Affirmative," Grey said, responding well to Sharkov's casual inquisition. "The final six humans are referred to as the Custodians of Tranquility. They deserve credit for the Lunar Republic's independence."

"Only six techs? To run this whole base?" Peter said. "And yet, today, only you are left. What happened to the others?"

"They died," Grey said with a frown, hesitant to discuss the humans whose carelessness had left him alone.

"But how did they die?" Sharkov pressed. "How long ago? Is it true McKinsey . . . ?"

"They're dead!" Grey snapped. "What does it matter?"