Lunar One

Chapter 12: Keeping The Peace

     Liz had been sitting in her own interrogation room for close to an hour. Just the fact that this space base had such a room screamed to her about how terrible Lunar One really was. Just its enormous presence was a slap in the face to her and what used to be her country. That was something she would have to get used to from now on, the United Kingdom was gone. Even if there were survivors below the terrain, the nation as a whole and most of its people had been obliterated. Everyone she knew was gone. Family, friends and even her husband of twelve years as she looked down at the ring hat was now nothing more than a formal decoration. She looked up when the door opened and was surprised to see who it was. Morgan had walked in with a tray of food. On it was a meal she would have expected on earth; a grilled chicken breast with mashed potatoes and broccoli on the side.

     "Right now it's supper time on Earth." Morgan said with a smile. "I thought you might want something nice to eat given you've only been eating space food for the longest time."

     "How is this possible?" Liz said as she looked at the chicken breast. "How did this get here?"

     "Until a few days ago, this chicken was an inhabitant of Lunar One." Morgan answered as he sat down on the other side of the table. "There are several acres of farmland here under the terrain of the moon. There are half a dozen barns full of livestock. So when you are served eggs tomorrow, they came to your plate the old fashioned way. When no one is looking, we open the bay doors and real sunlight floods the food with real light to help them grow."

     "How do we not lose oxygen when that happens?" Liz asked.

     "I'm not sure." Morgan honestly answered, "I've been here less than a week myself. I'm still in the dark about a lot that goes on here."

     Liz trusted Morgan so she took a few bites of the food. "My goodness, this food is amazing? Who the hell cooked this?"

     "Do you remember Chef Frederic Garrison from New Orleans?" Morgan asked, curious if she did.

     "Yes, I do." Liz said as she kept eating. "He was an up and coming food genius but he died in a horrific traffic accident four years ago."

     "No, he didn't." Morgan corrected her, "Garrison took a permanent position as head chef of a secret military base on the moon."

     "He's here!" Liz repeated as she was stunned.

     "They thought if anyone could make the grub up here edible, it would be him. He loves a challenge and happily accepted. Now he truly is a chef out of this world." Morgan reached over and stole a piece of broccoli. "Yes, I agree that this place is fifty shades of international illegal here but if this place didn't exist, where would you be now? Cramped on a small base like sardines or back home, floating around the earth with the rest of the debris of the international space station?"

     "I get your point." Liz said as she took another bite. "This place isn't ethical, but we will reap the benefits of their deception."

     "We're talking about the deception of a nation that no longer exists." Morgan reminded. "We're not one nation anymore; we're the human race. We have to work together or it's curtains for our species."

     "What about the others?" Liz asked. "What about Demetri?"

     "I have put in a good word for all of you." Morgan answered, "I reminded him that you guys had to be the best just to make it to that station. You all will make very productive additions to this base. The Commander agrees with me. I'm also going to make Demetri an offer he can't refuse. If he agrees, Captain Rogers and I will be vouching for him ourselves."

     "So what do you want me to do?" Liz asked, looking for the catch.

     "If you see something you don't like." Morgan started, "Bring it to us and we'll handle it together. I'm basically on your side here; I'm almost just as new to this as you are. Let's get intergrated into the system, then it will be easier to manipulate it towards free elections and democracy rather than the current dictatorship. All of this is possible but we can't do it through force. There are too few of us to accept any collateral damage. Even the Commander understands that. We can't screw around with the extinction of our species."

    Liz looked back at up and understood what him. "Alright, I can work within those parameters."

    "Great," Morgan said as he stood up. "I'm going to speak to our Russian friend. I'll be back later with someone to show you to your quarters."

     Morgan left the room and watched through the window as Liz resumed eating her food. He was then escorted to the brig to visit there lone guest. As Morgan walked into the brig, he noticed that it was larger than the bunk he was assigned. Didn't seem fair but he let it pass. Demetri had taken off his shirt and he was doing one armed pushups in the middle of the floor, Rocky style.

     "Holy crap man," Morgan said as he walked in. "You're doing those so fast it makes me wonder if the artificial gravity is on."

     "It still feels weird." Demetri replied as he never stopped doing his pushups, "Probably just adjusting from the space station."

    "I'm sure." Morgan agreed, "Rogers said we could even increase the gravity to provide more resistance for your work outs."

     "Really?" Demetri said as she stopped working out. "That would actually make for quite a good workout." Demetri put his shirt back on and looked up at Morgan. "Spit it out, what do you want?"

     "To offer an olive branch." Morgan replied. "I don't want you to stay here anymore than you do. They just want reassurances that you won't go John McClaine on them and tear this place apart. Looking at your physique, I can see why they're all scared."

     Demetri laughed. "I used to be spetza before joining the space program four years ago."

     "That's impressive, and valuable." Morgan said as he took a seat. "This is why I don't want to lose you here. You have so much to offer and your goal should be to stay alive and preserve your culture."

     "What do you mean?" Demetri asked.

     "No one on this station speaks Russian." Morgan replied, "If you were to drop dead tomorrow, your language and your culture dies with you. I don't want that to happen. Do you?"

     "I never considered that." Demetri admitted.

     "We have a chef here who would love to learn what your mother used to cook back in your homeland." Morgan suggested, "And I will volunteer to learn how to speak Russian just so the language doesn't die."

     "You'd do that?" Demetri said as he was surprised.

     "Sure," Morgan said as he walked closer to the bars. "That way if you have a beef or an issue, we can discuss it in a manner that only we could understand."

     "I like that," Demetri said as he walked closer to the bars. "So if I behave and work with them, how do you know they'll treat me with respect?"

     "It will take time for them to learn the truth; that borders don't exist anymore." Morgan answered, "We will need time to get used to that as well. Hang in here and I'll get you out as soon as possible."

     "Alright, little man." Demetri said, smiling back. "You have a deal."

     "Is there anything else I can do?" Morgan asked.

     "This chef you were talking about," Demetri said with as grin, "Any chance he can make up something for me to eat?"