David felt his luck was indeed quite good. With the subterranean crystal mine, he likely wouldn't need to travel to the lunar poles to mine industrial water.
While the icebergs in the shadow zones of the lunar poles could theoretically provide 2.9 billion tons of freshwater, the difficulty of extraction there was far greater than blasting icebergs at Earth's North Pole. Meteorites, volcanic activity, and extreme weather—if luck was bad, any of these could turn most human industrial equipment into a pile of scrap metal within days.
"What is that thing?"
David reached down to pull up his pants... then remembered he didn't have any.
He crouched and moved at nearly one-twentieth the speed of light. He arrived in front of a small robot that was poking around with two drum-shaped tools, rolling forward and collecting lunar soil. Even with a massive figure like David standing directly in its path, the small robot had no intention of detouring. It simply bumped right into him.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, you stupid thing."
David flashed behind the machine and lifted the mining cart by its back.
Although the mining cart was equipped with LiDAR, the designers had intentionally reinforced its protection to handle the moon's extreme temperatures (ranging from -180°C to +120°C) and rugged terrain while collecting diverse samples.
"This thing is actually quite heavy."
David held the small robot up to his eyes to inspect it. He estimated its total weight was around 45 kilograms. As the robot was lifted into the air, its camera lens tilted toward David—the culprit who had caused its mission to abort—and began taking rapid-fire photos.
Snap!
David raised his right hand and gave it a light tap. The camera on top of the robot fell off. He flipped the robot over and saw a line of small text on the side: "NASA" "RASSOR".
The mining robot belonged to NASA.
Having identified the owner, David quickly dismantled the robot's two rollers and removed its power block. He then began searching the surrounding area. A mining robot couldn't operate independently; there was bound to be an operations platform nearby for energy replenishment and maintenance.
He soon found the spacecraft.
Even though David was technically the latecomer to this piece of land, he had no intention of surrendering this valuable spot to NASA. The spacecraft consisted of four basic modules: excavation, research, mobility, and recycling. It looked like four roller carts with robotic arms joined together.
David skillfully pried open the robot's "front door." NASA likely never imagined there would be a "five-finger discount" operation on the moon, so David saw the internal structure of the ship without much effort.
Although the ship was small, the internal space was about five to six square meters. Inside, a machine rumbled, stirring the lunar soil brought back by the robots to extract water and decompose it into hydrogen for recycled energy. David could guess that NASA's goal for this ship was not just mining. They likely had designs for interstellar migration and lunar outposts in mind.
It was a good idea, but it wouldn't work here.
David dismantled the ship's power board. The spacecraft gave a few weak alarm chirps and fell into a state of paralysis. He circled the area twice but couldn't find where the monitors were. It didn't matter.
Even if NASA discovered something wrong on the moon, what could they do? It wasn't as if they could launch another moon landing to arrest him.
And what if a Sophon noticed the anomaly?
David threw down the wrench he was holding. That would be even better.
While the moon was small compared to Earth, there weren't that many Sophons capable of invading the Milky Way within ten years. To monitor the moon, the Trisolarans would have to divert at least a third of their Sophon force away from Earth. As for David, as long as the Sophons couldn't "dox" him, he could just switch to another planet and keep going.
With Warp teleportation technology, David wouldn't lose anything except some experimental equipment that could be easily replaced from Earth. Meanwhile, the Trisolarans, forced to produce more Sophons for surveillance while on their long expedition, might find their resources drained. Their "Long March of Hardship" across the galaxy would become even more difficult. They might actually take the full four hundred years they originally estimated to reach Earth, rather than the two hundred years seen in the original timeline.
After checking the perimeter and confirming there were no other national probes besides the NASA ship, David picked up a palm-sized meteorite from the ground.
"I won't take advantage of you," David muttered to the spacecraft as he used psionic energy to carve words into the meteorite. "Today, this land is being rented, and the ship is being borrowed."
Regarding the lease term, David first wrote one hundred, then added a zero. Finally, looking at the thousand-year lease, he felt it wasn't enough. Just to be safe, he drew another circle.
The lease term: ten thousand years.
As for the rent? What rent! One shouldn't be so greedy. Returning it in ten thousand years should be enough. David felt there weren't many people left in the world as honest as him.
Looking at the contract on the meteorite slab, David nodded in satisfaction. He took one last look at his chosen experimental base, left a Warp crystal as a coordinate marker, and returned to Earth.
NASA Headquarters.
Researcher Sander scratched his head in confusion at the mining probe's sudden black screen. Seconds before the signal cut out, there seemed to be strong electromagnetic interference. Sander watched the lunar footage for a long time but couldn't deduce what the ship had encountered.
Was it hit by a meteorite? Sander thought.
He turned and went to the soda machine for a cup of cola. He uploaded the footage and the malfunction report to the maintenance department's system. Then, he started typing on his keyboard, reporting the fault to Commissioner Smith, who had just taken office at NASA headquarters yesterday.
Compared to the previous NASA chief, who delayed everything and sat on the fence between political parties, this new Commissioner Smith from the new government was much more serious. Sander looked at his $3,000 teacup and $10,000 keyboard—items valued as such in Smith's budget reports—and smiled. He clicked upload.
On the other side, David opened his eyes back in the hotel. He glanced at his phone and saw a text message sent by Shi Qiang a few minutes ago, requesting a meeting in Yenching tomorrow.