Political Compromise, n: an arrangement to solve some complex problem which is satisfactory to no one except the politicians who arranged it.
Chapter 1
"I'll sue all of your asses, you little bastard! I didn't invest my money in your pie-in-the-sky operation to-" "-get only a two hundred percent gain in ten years? Well, tough, that's what you're getting." A.J. rose, mirrored-VRD gaze two inches higher than Anton Margulis' angry brown eyes. "Take it or leave it. But let me guarantee you that if you sue us, even if you win, you'll wish you'd lost. Please, though, go ahead, try it. You've been such a prick ever since you invested, acting as though you thought your money made you a goddamn expert, I'd almost think it was worth it. And I'll enjoy every minute of making you look like the class-A jackass you are." He saw Margulis' fists tightening. "Or you could take a swing at me, and I could hand you your ass in a sling. Any way you want it. So, do you want your money, or do you want a fight?" Margulis glared up at him for a moment. A.J. kept the sneer carefully fixed on his face. He knew the advantage his blank mirrored stare had in this situation, and liked it that way. Finally the speculator's gaze dropped, he snarled something that A.J. deliberately did not let his sensors enhance to comprehensibility, and he grabbed up the settlement form and scrawled a barely legible signature across it. The smart-paper form recorded Margulis' retinal for verification. "Thank you, Mr. Margulis." Hank Dufresne took the form. "And if you will check your designated account, you will find I have just authorized the transfer." Margulis grunted something that might, charitably, have been described as a version of "thank you" and left the office with considerably more noise than was necessary. A.J. collapsed back into his chair, feeling the weight of Earth's gravity crushing him down. He'd worked hard to keep in shape back on Mars, and overall he thought he'd done fairly well, but there was a big difference between keeping in shape andliving in a 1-g environment after being on Mars and similar low-gravity settings for two years. "For a minute I thought he was going to call my bluff." "So did I, and not the part involving a fistfight, either." Hank shook his head. "Can't you find a more diplomatic way to do this?" "Look, you want diplomatic, you get Joe here. Better yet, Glenn." Hank favored him with a sour look. "I would have, if it wouldn't take another six months." He relented slightly.
"Actually, I guess it was a piece of luck that any of you three were here when it came to a head. Some of these guys-like him-won't take anything that isn't said face-to-face seriously." "Hewas the last, wasn't he? Because that was one hell of a chunk of change we had to hand him." "The last one of any note. And I did get one piece of good news: Your TV-host girlfriend-" "My wha-Oh, you mean Myranda." Myranda Sevins, one of the daytime talk mavens, had allowed A.J. to basically use her show as a publicity platform in the days after the big accident that had nearly cost A.J. his life. To their surprise, she'd actually become something of a convert, investing a moderate (for her) amount in Ares. "What about her?" "She sent us another check instead of asking for her money back. Said she figured we'd find a way to make money out of the deal somehow, so if we'd just give her stock she'd back off on the county-sized Mars homestead." A.J. gave a tired grin.
"Thank all the gods for that. I know my limits, and I couldn't outfighther on the publicity front, even with Helen and Maddie helping." "So… you're not broke, are you?" A.J. tried to look nonchalant, then shrugged, looking down. "Not exactly. Liquid assets are pretty much tapped out, though. I've got a bunch of options and locked-in investments of other sorts at Dust-Storm that I could liquidate at a terrible loss, but I'd also lose out on my position there. Which was really what I came here to solidify." Hank nodded. He knew A.J. had made the trip back from Mars specifically to work on major advances to the "Faerie Dust" sensor motes and use his unique talents and access to the alien-technology discoveries made by NASA and Ares to finish acquiring a major stake in Dust-Storm Technology.
It just so happened that a week before A.J. landed, the U.N. finished its acrimonious arguing over how the entire "Mars situation" would be handled. That had set off an awful lot of political and business landmines, including the current crisis at Ares. A.J. brushed back his unruly blond hair. "Anyway, that puts Ares back in the black, or at least enough in the gray that we can operate on for a while, right?"
He felt his gut tighten as he saw the older man's normally cheerful face go carefully neutral in expression. "Well, A.J., yes and no. That takes off the immediate financial pinch, but we have a major issue that's only partly to do with money and investors. If we actually had been granted title-or, let's be accurate, since there wasn't any way we'd actually be grantedownership of a planet-right to exploit for some reasonable time on all of Mars, we'd have kept our investors. Or even if we got a really big chunk of it." "Hey, wedid! " A.J. said.
"Joe's stunt made it so that we didn't lose out!" Hank shook his head.
"We got lucky, yeah. The Buckley Addendum was rammed through, but even though the administration claimed that was to ensure 'fair treatment' of Ares, it was just taking advantage of the situation to make sure that there was some mechanism to allowother government and corporate agencies to claim rights on extraterrestrial territory by allowing the first person to set foot on an extraterrestrial body to have a ninety-nine-year no-holds-barred lease on some portion of that body.
The wording, of course, allows them to decide how much you can claim.
Anyway, the problem is we've got a lot of good territory, by Martian standards, but only about nine percent of what we hoped to get-which is not 'a really big chunk' to the investors. What would your reaction be to someone who got you to invest in new sensors, and the sensors only did about one-tenth of what they claimed when you invested?"
"But…" A.J. shut up. He knew thathe could clearly differentiate between the scenarios, but what Hank was telling him was, basically, that many other people couldn't, and to them Ares was already a failure. "Let's get to the point, Hank." A.J. jumped. He'd forgotten Anne Calabrio was present. She was the only other Ares board member currently on Earth. "We've ditched the whiners and the guys who somehow ignored all our warnings about speculation and so on," Anne said. "We aren't broke, and we've got, what, five million square miles of mostly prime Martian real estate. We're helping build Phobos Station along with NASA, our own colony is starting up fairly well for something so early in the development stages, so what's the problem?"
"The problem is that we're about to be left out in the cold," Hank said bluntly. As Ares' financial genius, his job had always been to look ahead and find innovative ways to keep the perennially cash-short speculative venture afloat. A.J. couldn't ever recall a meeting where he'd looked more grim. "The presidential election ended just a little before the Mars-Phobos Treaties were finalized, and the president wasn't happy about the results of the treaties. Sure, anyone with sense would have realized that something like it would be the end result, but I think you people know that our president hasn't always been sensible unless what you said agreed with what he wanted. My contacts say he's going to be pulling in the wagons and focusing on purely U.S. interests-which means the government and large businesses.
From his point of view, Ares really stole a march on NASA even though we were working together, and we've already been paid for our efforts.
He probably doesn't think he owes us anything, and like most people he doesn't have any real gut grasp of the demands of space travel. So he won't think twice about doing things that can cause us one hell of a lot of problems." "Like…?" A.J. prompted. "Like starting to make us pay our own freight. Yeah, we've started our colony, but it'll be a lot of long, hard years before we can even dream of them being fully self-supporting. If everyone's playing nice, they recognize that helping us stay established helps them with our expanding resource base and so on, but I don't think a lot of these guys will get that angle." Anne sucked in her breath as the implications sank in. "Oh, hell." "No kidding," Hank said. A.J. turned the implications over in his mind. His gut churned as the situation clarified. "You mean we'll have to pay full price for launch capacity. When our own launch capacity never got developed outside of NASA because of the emergency get-to-Phobos-nowproject." "It gets better. You know, I wasn't stupid when we got sucked into this. One of the deals I cut was that after theNike mission was finished-and by the contract I negotiated, it was finished once we'd gotten to Phobos and provided a few months support-Ares could have any available launch capacity basically at cost of launch, no more. But…" Hank ran a hand through his prematurely white hair. "The treaty divvied up Mars, and for political points the U.S. used NASA's foresight in making theNike engine-rocket assemblies detachable to offer each of the other space-capable nations-China, the E.U., Japan, Russia, and India-one pretested, functional, high-power NERVA engine to 'help bring all of Earth into the true Space Age,' as the president's one speech put it. The extra engine they agreed to give to the U.N. so they had something to use for their administration of the 'common property of the human race.' "
"So? That should help us, right? More people have a reason to get into space, and-" Anne shook her head, and A.J. felt his face flush with embarrassment as he saw Hank's almost pitying look. "You're such a genius with your stuff that I keep forgetting that you're also as clueless as a kid sometimes. No, it hurts us. Because all the countries involved are now going to be usingall of their available launch capacity to start building their own ships so they can hopefully find something-like another Bemmius base-that they can claim for their own use under the Buckley Addendum. So…" Now he got it, and A.J. cursed aloud. "Son of a bitch. So thereis no 'available' launch capacity for us to use! That means that we'll be competing directly with the government for its own launch capacity. They'll sell it to us, probably, for 'humanitarian' reasons-translated: they won't let us starve to death, probably-but they'll make it so expensive that we'll eventually have to give up and come home." "Bingo." He slammed his fist on the table. "Dammit, they can't do that! We fuckinggave them Mars! They wouldn't even havefound that stuff without me! If Ares hadn't shown them up early on, they wouldn't even be landing there now!" Hank shrugged. "Fair doesn't mean much in politics. We aren't getting anywhere with that line of thought. We need a solution."
"Sure, I'll just cover myself with Faerie Dust, think a few Good Thoughts, andfly my ass back to Mars!" A.J. knew he shouldn't be directing his anger at either Hank or Anne, but he ached all over and this new turn of events was… well, just too much. He'd spent most of the last month working like a demon at Dust-Storm, only to be pulled out by an emergency call from Hank, leading to him spending almost everything he had to save Ares from a bunch of idiots… And now another bunch of idiots was threatening the whole project.
"Sorry." He thought for a moment. "What about the U.N.?" "Talked with Glenn and Joe on that a few hours ago," Hank answered. "Our guess is that since the U.N. doesn't have any launch capacity of their own, they'll be a long way from building anything. Their best bet will probably be to use the reactor as a power source for Phobos Station or something like that. The countries agreed to let the U.N. be the arbitrator because that was the only deal everyone could live with, but don't think any of them like it. We also don't know yet who's going to be in charge of the Interplanetary Research Institute, which is the body that will be running that part of the show. A couple of candidates could be useful, but a few of the others would be actively hostile to us for a lot of reasons." Something was nagging at A.J.'s subconscious. Something about the mission to Mars… the original crew ofNike… things said… that argument he'd had with Jackie, back in the restaurant before the disaster… Taken off the crew… Dammit, what was it? "So, you think the space-capable powers will be competing?" "Right now it looks like it. Maybe the other four will form some kind of temporary alliance to catch up with the United States, but in any case they'll be using everything they've got to make parity. Nothing left for us." The idea was right there, almost in his hands. "So…" he said slowly, "we need more launch capacity. We can't build it, right?" "You knowthose numbers, A.J. Yes, we could, if we had time. But… I'm guessing we can keep things running for a year or two on Mars, drawing on the credit we've got and so on, but if we have to build our own launch capacity, that goes way down. And of course then to reestablish ourselves we'll needmore launch capacity-assuming that someone doesn't find some legal wrinkle to use that makes ourleaving the area weaken our claim. Which they might." Launch capacity. Outside launch capacity. Outside launch capacity that wouldn't be focused on building other people's ships.
Why did he keep thinking of Jackie? She was a great engineer, but- And then it hit him, in a blaze of inspiration. An ally, a reason, something that only one man would both understand and be able to make work. Somehow heknew this was the only chance they had. Feeling his tired muscles scream in his thighs, A.J. stood. "I think there's a way. We can't do it, no. We need to keep our money for surviving long enough. But if we can convince one of the other countries to help us directly…" Hank and Anne looked at him quizzically. "At their own expense?" "No, for their own benefit. Oh, don't look at me like that.
I'm not stupid enough to think that I could convince any politician of anything like that. But I know one guy who could convince anyone of damn near anything. And he would understand exactly what has to be done, too. If I can get him to come here…" He almost ran out of the room, wireless processing already showing a search for the fastest way to contact his target.
Chapter 2 The message ended. Madeline Fathom Buckley stared at the screen blankly. "Oh… Jesus, Maddie…" Joe put his hands gently on her shoulders. Without a word she turned and pressed into him, letting his arms enfold her. For the first time since… since she could remember, all she wanted was someone to hold her, tell her it would be all right, and make things better. "That son of abitch," she heard Joe growl, even as his hands gently stroked her back. "After everything you did for him!" She pushed away, jaw setting. "Don't you dare blame him!" "Huh?" Joe looked puzzled, then apologetic. "Nothim ," he said, nodding at the now-dark screen where Director Hughes' face had just moments before finished speaking. "The president. That rat bastard. Our mission-carried off on his timetable, so we could be doing our stuff right around election time-practicallygave him the election. And now he turns around and doesthis?" Madeline couldn't help it. She laughed. Then she hugged Joe so tightly that he grunted in discomfort. "You and your friend A.J. are such sweet little idealists. Every time I think you're not quite as innocent as he is, you say something that shows me you are. That's exactlywhy he's doing this, you silly man. He may have built the election on what we did, but in private, we-and especially I-embarrassed the hell out of him and his administration. Once he got the election in the bag, there wasn't any way he'd forget that. No politician likes getting put over a barrel. There wasn't any way he could get rid of the boss, though, so I knew-we both knew-he'd come after me. But I thought he'd do it differently." She frowned, tapping her foot-a motion that, in one-third gravity, tended to slowly cause her to rotate in a lazy circle around her other foot. Director Hughes' message-delivered across the two hundred million miles that currently separated Earth and Mars-was of course couched in the most positive terms. Given that the president and National Security Advisor George P.D. Jensen-two of Madeline Fathom's least favorite politicians-were also in the message, Hughes had probably had no choice but to transmit it that way. She knew the director well enough, however, to know that the very exuberance of the message was his way of apologizing in public. The director had thanked her for her stellar service on theNike mission, her courage and resourcefulness in the crash and survival thereof, et cetera, et cetera, and all the long hours she'd spent trying to maintain the balance between the needs of security and the practicalities of mankind's first sustained space exploration and colonization effort, et cetera, et cetera, and now said the time was right to reward her for this effort by promoting her. She was hereby relieved of her responsibilities as the representative of the United States' security interests in the Mars system. A new security representative had already been selected and was on his way. Madeline and Joe were welcome to take passage home on theNike when she left, and the president had personally authorized a large baggage allowance so that they would have to leave nothing behind. There was more, including fatuous congratulations from both the president and Jensen, but what it boiled down to was simple: now that the president no longer had to worry about elections, he was yanking her back to Earth and sending out someone who'd do what the president said instead of thinking for ten seconds about consequences. She stopped suddenly and stomped her foot, sending her a short distance into the air. This startled Joe, who'd been watching her with both concern and admiration; the slow rotation made for an excellent view, and in private Maddie preferred pretty minimal clothing. Maddie was of course aware of Joe's scrutiny, but didn't begrudge him the view. "You okay?"
"I'm okay, Joe. I… I just don't want to go. Even with you." "We don't have to. You can stay here. I know Ares isn't exactly in the best shape, but we don't have to leave just because you're not working here." That's true, she thought with a sudden moment of wonder and fear. She stared at Joe. "I don'thave to work for the HIA?" Joe knew why she phrased it as a question. "No. You don't have to go back and push papers. You can stay here-at least as long as Ares manages to keep operations running." He studied her sympathetically. "But I know it might be hard to do that with some other guy trying to play super-security man." She managed a slight laugh. "Oh, I think it would be at least as hard for my replacement, whoever he is. Remember, I happen to have a rather inflated reputation." She tried to sit next to Joe with her usual relaxed intimacy, but despite all her years of discipline and training, she suspected Joe could sense her tension.
She wondered if this was what a zoo animal would feel if someone just took away the cage. She'd always thought her attachment to the Homeland Investigation Authority was just loyalty on her part, but she now realized it had also been habit and psychological safety. "Can we drop this subject? Maybe… there was something you were going to tell me, I think, before the call came in?" As usual, Joe-bless him-didn't try to keep on the topic and press for a solution like ninety percent of the men she knew would have. He simply leaned back and smiled, almost naturally, as though nothing had happened. "Well, yeah, there was. You've been working so hard on the Mars Base-setting up stuff for the U.N. to take possession-and then running over here and helping A.J., me, Glenn, Reynolds, and the rest put up our own colony, that I think I've gotten a piece of political news ahead of you, while you were out there working." Thatwould be something of a little coup for Joe, given that Maddie usually paid far more attention to the news than he did. "Okay, give." "They've announced the director of the Interplanetary Research Institute." Maddie sat up. "You win, Joe. How'd you hear this before I did?" "Because I got it from Helen just a little bit before you came in, who got it in a private message from A.J., who I guess was at the U.N. for some reason." She laughed.
"Four degrees of separation? All right, tell me, who is it? Pelletier?
Markovny? Shah?" "Nope. Nope. Nope." Madeline raised an eyebrow. Those had been the three leading contenders. The remainder was a morass of a dozen names, none of them thought to be likely choices. "Okay, give."
"A very good friend of ours." She felt the grin start automatically.
"Not-" "Dr. Nicholas F. Glendale, yes-and from what A.J. said, Nick was as floored as the rest of us. He was sure he was way back in the pack of also-rans. And they'll be sending him out here as soon asNike can restock. He'll be here in, say, four months-and A.J. probably will be, too." Joe looked momentarily depressed. "Though it's anyone's guess as to how much longer we can stay here after that." Maddie knew exactly how difficult things were going to get for Ares. A year, two years, but if a solution wasn't found… Even if onewas found, it would likely take time to implement. They needed something that would give Ares more breathing space right now. Even just one more load, evenhalf a load onNike or one of the other similar vessels being constructed, and Ares could make three or four years-enough to probably get past the pinch. But half a load was over seven hundred tons, far beyond Ares' means… Suddenly she was on her feet, bouncing across the room to grab her uniform and pull it on. "Where are you going, Maddie?" Madeline smiled, all her momentary uncertainty gone. Hughes' overly genial communication had sent a message as clear as if he'd recorded it straight out: do whatever you have to. "Not far at all. Just got to send a few messages. But I have to look my best for the job interview."
"She can't do that!" Director Hughes had to restrain a rather unprofessional grin. Truth be told, he had been anticipating this moment ever since the president, through Jensen, had revealed their plan to perform a genteel railroading, followed by a private tar-and-feathering, of his best and favorite agent. "I'm afraid that's not true, Mr. Jensen. She's a free woman in a free country. There's nothing in her contract that requires that she accept a promotion to assistant director of the HIA. True, it's a hell of a career move, but if she wants to stay on that godforsaken rockball as a glorified security guard, there's nothing I can do to stop her." He was very deliberately exaggerating his sympathetic tones. Jensen was the National Security Advisor he had come to detest more than any other who'd held that post in twenty years. George P.D. Jensen's long, narrow features were twisted with sour anger. His eyes narrowed.
"Don't you get cute with me, Hughes! She knows way too much-" "It doesn't work that way, Mr. Jensen, and you know it perfectly well.
Americans don't give up their rights when they go to work on behalf of national security. They do accept certain practical limitations, but they are neither slaves nor indentured servants. Intelligence agents can quit or retire anytime. They just have to keep the secrets they've learned and return any government property they have. Which Madeline Fathom did. I have her letter of resignation, her Official Secrets certification, and all her equipment accounted for. She's now a private citizen and completely within her rights to take a job with anyone she likes." "But for a foreign power-" "The U.N. is not exactly a foreign power, in the normal sense of that term. Lots of Americans have worked for U.N. agencies over the decades. Besides, Nicholas Glendale is an American citizen. And he's the one who offered her the job." Jensen practically snarled. "Asecurity job-on Mars! Where she'll be on the inside of the U.N. installation and I'll bet will be doing her best to stonewall Keld-ah, our new agent." "Keldering, eh? A better choice than I might have expected, even if he is a major-league political ass-kisser. Madeline might actually have to think around him once in a while. But that's just as well. I wouldn't want her getting too bored out there." For a moment, as the implications sank in, Jensen just gaped at Hughes, open-mouthed. "You… youtold her to do this!" Hughes' expression became very lugubrious. "Mr. Jensen, how could you suggest such a thing? I've sent her just one message since that decision was made, and you were sitting right there with me when I sent it. In the most enthusiastic terms I could think of. Exactly, I will note, as you instructed me to." He managed to avoid the temptation to say anything further. Easily, even. Hughes was a veteran of decades of Washington's infighting and turf wars-a veritable Achilles, one might say-and he was far too smart to say openly what he felt. Thought they could jerk him and his top agents around, did they?
Damn fools. In their eagerness to get rid of Fathom, all they'd done was leave her right where they didn't want her, on Mars-and now with absolutely no control over her at all. For anyone who knew Madeline, that outcome had been a foregone conclusion. Still, it was hard not to let any traces of his gloating show openly. He turned his chair so he faced away from the National Security Advisor, as if admiring the view of the capital through his window. It was a fairly spectacular view, actually.
Chapter 3 Satya Gupta paused by the doors a moment, gathering his thoughts. A.J. Baker's hasty and intense conversation had indeed helped, but there was still resistance to be dealt with. He hoped that the new factors, however, would be enough to sway opinion in his favor. Then he nodded to the guards outside and strode in. The president of India, Goutam Gaurav, rose respectfully, as did the other men and women of the Space Development Committee. "Thank you for coming, Dr. Gupta." "The pleasure is entirely mine," Gupta said, aware of the atmosphere in the room. They were very doubtful. Yes, he had supporters, but most were afraid of the imponderables of perception as well as the practical difficulties of the project he proposed. "It has been some time since I initially made my proposal. I trust you have had the opportunity to consider it?" "We have," the president answered. "And it is a… very interesting idea, Dr. Gupta.
Speaking for myself, I would be inclined to follow your advice. But as you are aware, I am but one member of the committee. Many other members have questions and objections." He nodded slowly, taking in the entire room. The president was being a bit evasive. True, looked at from one angle, Goutam Gaurav was just one member of a committee.
Since the very same person was the head of the state of India, if not the head of its government, however, the difference was obvious. But he did not say anything aloud. The president was simply using the evasion to defer making a decision. Gupta had not expected anything different. "Indeed, indeed it must seem risky, Mr. President." He let his sonorous voice roll about the room. He was aware-none better-that his voice was in some ways his most potent weapon of debate; here he must employ it to the full. "With India being only newly come to space capability, in comparison with the United States, Russia, and even China and Europe, I can understand that it must sound strange for me to urge you tonot develop a NERVA-style spacecraft such asNike, especially when you have been given an engine and reactor capable of driving just such a vehicle. Yet I tell you that this is an opportunity-agreat opportunity-which I can see propelling India to the very forefront of space commerce." "That is what you said in your original proposal," Madhuri Ganeshan pointed out. The speaker for the Lok Sabha, the House of the People in the Indian parliament, was an intensely political, though scrupulously honest, member of the committee. She would be most concerned about the potential for political gain or loss from decisions made here. "We have seen the proposal. And make no mistake, sir, we do appreciate what you have done for us-advocating our side in the debates on the Mars Treaty, and in other ways showing you have not forgotten your heritage. We have read your proposal very carefully. You advocate building a so-called 'space elevator'-something no country has yet attempted-rather than build our own interplanetary vessel, when we are already being given one of the key components for nothing. I can see that such a course appeals to a gentleman such as yourself, Dr. Gupta, since you are well known as a visionary. It may be a bold and daring move to take this course, but many of us are elected to be reasonable, not risky.
Convince me that it is morereasonable to do this, and you will have my vote." Her sharp, severe features, framed by pure white hair, were like a sword upraised in salute and challenge. "I do indeed have additional facts to present, Madame Speaker. And I will attempt to convince you that it is reasonable. Indulge me, however, by allowing me to restate what I think are the compelling reasons why it isnot reasonable to follow the current course." Speaker Ganeshan glanced at the president and the other members. "I have no objection." "In building a ship like the ships that all the other spacegoing powers either have built or are building, you are attempting to compete with them in the area where they are strong and you are weak. We all know how this reflects a lack of wisdom, if an alternate course exists. And there is such a course. "Instead of a ship, which transfers people and materials between the planets, I say that you should instead make a better way to transfer these people and materials from Earth to space.
Build an elevator to space, a tower stretching thousands, tens of thousands, of miles, provided with power to draw up almost limitless material for construction, and to return safely to Earth, people and goods from space. Consider that the major limitation on the construction ofNike according to its schedule was the severe lack of launch capability-pushed to its limit, perhaps six hundred tons per month, far less in ordinary times. With even the simple, single elevator proposed as the beginning of this project, India will immediatelydouble the launch capacity of the entire Earth, and by building additional cables we can increase that capacity, almost without limit. A similar design that rotates may be used as a mighty slingshot, to cast cargoes of nearly any size across the solar system to their final destination. You will need no ships. The ships and colonies, instead, will need you." They stared at him, caught momentarily in the spell of his voice. "But if this is so obvious and easy, why are the other countries not pursuing it?" The question came from one of the other members of the committee-Singh, from the Rajya Sabha, the Council of States, which was the upper house of the parliament of India. "Obvious? Perhaps. Easy? I said nothing of easy.
No project so grand will be easy. Yet it is within India's ability to do, with the right allies." Gupta made a wide, sweeping gesture.
"There are many possible reasons they may not be following this course. Perhaps, as all the other space-capable powers are to the north, they see more of the problems of a space elevator. For example, it must be anchored to the equator if it is desired that one minimize its tendency to sway, and they have no direct access to the equator as we do." That was fudging a little. The southernmost tip of India was eight degrees of latitude north of the equator, not directly upon it.
But eight degrees was close enough, as a practical matter. "But that is probably not the main reason," he continued. "If need be, they could certainly find an area they could lease for the purpose. To name one, the Galapagos Islands are situated directly on the equator. The government of Ecuador has made it quite clear that it would be delighted to provide any spacegoing nation which wished to use the islands as the anchor for a space elevator with a ninety-nine-year lease. Even at a reasonable price." He shook his head. "No, I suspect the main reason is the simplest. A man with an existing skill will invariably seek to apply it to new work before he concludes that he must undertake the more difficult task of learning a new skill altogether. You, on the other hand, do not suffer from that handicap for the obvious reason that you have no significant commitment to the traditional methods of space travel. Why not take advantage of it?"
Speaker Ganeshan spoke. "You mentioned the 'right' allies, Doctor.
This is also in your proposal, but you give little guidance as to who these allies are. You also mention that the ships and colonies will need us. All well and good, but before embarking on such a project I would want to see at least one specific need-a customer, in short, for what we would offer." She held up an imperious hand as a few other members began to speak. "I am not unreasonable myself, Dr. Gupta. I do not expect you to have a market which will make the project profitable in the next five years, not in an area filled with so much risk and speculation. Give me one real customer, one group which I can believe as needing our assistance in this specific way. Give me a name or two that specifies these 'right allies' that we will need to construct your space elevator. No more generalities." Inwardly, Gupta smiled. He had left those broad statements in to allow one of the members to bring up just these points, in just this manner. "I will answer your second point first, Madame Speaker," he said. "While we have our own space program, it is quite limited at this time. To construct the elevator, therefore, we really require two things-the materials from which it is constructed, and additional people with experience and expertise in the construction and maintenance of reasonably large space facilities who are, themselves, not already going to be devoted to their own country's spaceship projects. Now, the creation of such an immense structure can only be done through the use of carbon nanotube materials." The president's eyebrows rose. "I see." "Indeed.
The Tayler Corporation has established considerable manufacturing ties with India in the past decade, as have many other manufacturing corporations in the past several decades. Tayler is the primary-almost, in fact, the only-source of the material needed. Their work has been well-proven in theNike mission-as spectacularly shown by Ms. Fathom's exploits, among others. I have taken the liberty of approaching them confidentially on this matter, and they were very receptive. Based on that conversation, I have brought with me a sample agreement which, I believe, will suit Tayler's needs. "Manpower would seem to be a difficulty, as all the space-capable countries are already working as hard as possible to create their own-or in the case of the United States, additional-vessels. But there is one other source of such expertise-the one other organization which already is established on Mars. I was contacted earlier by Mr. A.J. Baker of Ares, who has supplied me with this letter of support and commitment."
He placed the document on the table. "If you undertake this project, Ares will not only assist you in the engineering of the elevator and all associated infrastructure, but will also contract with you to construct a similar elevator for Mars itself. They are very much in need of launch capacity themselves, and so, Madame Speaker, they may also be considered to be a customer as well as an ally." The committee seemed nearly convinced; a faint murmuring of intense conversation began. Ganeshan's smile, however, was wintry. "I will agree that you have supplied the allies in specific, and sufficiently so for now, but let us not attempt a magician's trick in making one appear to be simultaneously the other. I cannot speak for my learned colleagues, but I have been following Ares' activities quite closely in the past few months. They are essentially bankrupt, are they not? Oh, if they somehow manage to establish themselves and survive the next ten years, they may amount to something, but is it not true that it would be quite ludicrous for us to consider them a significant customer at the present time?" "Madame Speaker, you are entirely correct." The murmurs turned to a hush. "I do believe that in the future you will find them excellent customers, but it is undoubtedly, undoubtedly true that you need another customer, one in the here and now. One which has considerable monetary resources, yet no space capability of its own.
One which has pressing reason to enter space in a wide and diverse capacity but which at the present time cannot do so itself." He saw her eyebrows rise as the thought struck her an instant before he spoke his next words. "Such a market, such a customer, exists already: The Interplanetary Research Institute. I have spoken with Director Glendale on this matter, and he was willing-I will even say, enthusiastic-to commit the IRI to supporting this enterprise." He placed the final document on the table like a poker champion laying down his hand, and looked calmly into the Speaker's eyes. After a moment, she smiled more broadly. "Dr. Gupta, I withdraw my objections and offer my support. This project is visionary, risky, and bold.
But-in the context of history as we are seeing it-it is, indeed, reasonable." Her smile widened momentarily. "And I believe we can all find profit in the publicity." Gupta laughed. "Indeed, indeed we can, Madame Speaker!" He heard and answered additional questions, but the expressions on the faces, the way in which the questions were phrased… The conclusion had already been reached. They would try.
They would at least try. If they could manage to see this project through, the results would transform the world. He thought back to a conversation he'd had years earlier with Jackie Secord where he expressed his lack of complete enthusiasm for the Ares Project's intended approach to space exploitation. One of his major concerns was, and had always been, that the benefits of extending humanity's reach into space be brought to all of humanity, not simply to its wealthiest and most privileged classes and nations. Brought, not in some fuzzy handwaving sense, but in the hard and practical ways an engineer could appreciate. Despite all the economic shifts of the past decades, the United States had always managed to stay-sometimes just barely-ahead of the other countries in its influence and power. Gupta didn't begrudge them that status; he was an American citizen himself, after all. But he felt it was far past time for other countries, especially his native land, to step forward from the red, white, and blue shadow by taking the best that America had to offer and making it their own. The alliances he proposed here would do just that. And regardless of what some of the current crop of politicians might think when they realized that he was helping India "steal a march" on the other countries, including America, he felt that this was actually a quintessentially American direction. The thought came with great satisfaction. Let my native land follow the best of my adopted homeland's methods, and there will be a victory that we can all feel pride in: a victory for the whole world.
Chapter 4 Nicholas Glendale leaned back in his chair, relishing the lightness of one-third gravity-though not quite as much as he was enjoying the majestically rotating view of the Red Planet through his office window. Phobos Station was shaping up nicely. Basically the habitat ring of aNike -class vessel with a docking hub, the station was one of the subsidiary conditions of the Mars Treaty, a centralized location where missions to and from Phobos and Mars could be launched or concluded. Nicholas had wasted no time in making it clear that he intended to permit ships of any and all types to avail themselves of the station's amenities, so long as they were willing to help support the station-or to put it more crudely, pay for the privilege. True, such use was implied in the nature of the Interplanetary Research Institute, which essentially owned Phobos Station. But by making it explicit and enthusiastic, Glendale hoped to ensure that the IRI would be not just an overseeing body, but an active force in the exploration of the solar system. And, as Madeline pointed out, it would also make it a lot easier for us to keep tabs on all the other players. It was a bit of a jarring shift of gears to start thinking in those terms.
While you did try to keep an eye on other scientists' work in academia, the level of paranoia and security needed for his new job as director of the IRI was something entirely different, and one of the least-pleasant parts of that job. Having Fathom as his new head of security, however, certainly made it easier. As he thought that, he heard the faint chime from his door announcing her arrival. "Come in, Madeline." "Good morning, Director. Or is it afternoon?" Madeline glided in, every golden hair impeccably in place as usual. Easier on the eye as well as on my schedule, Nicholas mused. He was quite honest about the fact that he thought both Joe Buckley and A.J. Baker were exceedingly lucky men. Or perhaps just much easier to live with, he corrected himself. As an admittedly handsome and very well-known figure, he'd been "lucky" that way four times, each time ending with a divorce: one friendly, one neutral, two savage. He'd been single for some years now, and suspected he'd be smart to remain that way. For whatever reason-probably flaws in his own personality, he'd readily admit-Nicholas Glendale and marriage just didn't seem to suit each other. "I suppose it depends on your preference," he said, in answer to her light question. "The standard Martian time is early morning.
Hopefully we should be concluded by the time Joe is ready to call you." She gave a slight frown. "I shouldn't be that transparent."
"Madeline, my dear, youshould be that transparent about something that isn't at all a secret. You have to bounce constantly between here, Phobos Station, and Mars-the last thing I want to do is cause you to miss out on whatever you married Joe for. This may be a mystery to the rest of us, but as long as it keeps you happy…" Fathom grinned, sticking her tongue out. Glendale smiled in response. "Always glad to be of help. It's time for the general briefing, is it?" "With new wrinkles and info, yes. I've sent it to your e-mail, too." "Which I will file with the others after I get the live presentation, yes."
Maddie sat down across from him. "Well, I'll try to make it fast.
First, Ares. I am required to give you a big thank-you once again from everyone on Mars. Yes, I know that's the fifth time, but they'll probably send the same message five more times anyway." "And tell Glenn, Joe, A.J., and the others they're all welcome. Again." Nicholas had stretched several points to have a considerable portion of the shipment he'd brought with him from Earth, ostensibly intended to help set up the IRI, delivered to Ares at a very reasonable price. That wasn't, in his view, charity. The division of Mars had given Ares essentially all of the Melas Chasma area as well as a number of other notable claims elsewhere-except for, of course, the Bemmie base on Mars. This made the IRI a political and economic island with exactly one neighbor: the Ares Project. It only made sense to be neighborly.
The fact that many of the people involved were his friends just made it easier. Maddie consulted her notes. "Walter Keldering is requesting another meeting with you. Probably wants to try to push for more U.S. direct access to the research." "Of course he is." Nicholas sighed. "I suppose you'll have to set one up. I don't have any reason to antagonize the United States, even if I'm going to have to once more refuse him special privileges-whatever justification he's come up with this time." Nicholas' hopes had been that whoever was sent to replace Madeline would be a pure political yes-man, someone who just did exactly as he was told. Keldering was political, but unfortunately was very competent indeed. The former CIA operative had not attempted any bluster or bullying, as might have been expected from the current administration's attitude. Instead, he seemed to be almost infinitely inventive at finding legal and practical arguments that would lead to preferential treatment of the United States with respect to any new discoveries in the alien bases. Even Maddie had more than once voiced a grudging respect for Keldering's unfailingly polite, doggedly resourceful approach. Privately, Nicholas suspected part of Madeline Fathom was actually pleased with the situation; she enjoyed having an adversary who might occasionally test her steel. For Nicholas himself, however, Keldering was just an annoyance. "Put him down for an appointment in a week or so." "Yes, sir. On the positive side, the finalized cooperative agreements with Ares have arrived and the Ares board of directors just signed all of them. Once you countersign, all our arrangements will be in place." "Good." "Let's see… America's got the second engine built and tested forNike and is building two more forAthena. Europe's keeping tight lips on theOdin. They're making some major design changes, and I think what they're planning is something more suited for outer-system exploration. Based on preliminary hints and the fact that they've hired a number of people in a couple of related specialties, Jackie Secord and Dr. Gupta have both told me they suspectOdin will be designed to use a mass-beam drive as well as the NERVA rocket and standard electric ion drives."
She glanced at Nicholas to see if he understood. Nicholas nodded.
"Ions or small particles fired at the ship, which catches them, probably magnetically, thus transferring the momentum directly without need for using fuel. Very power hungry, however, yes?" "I think they're also planning on attempting solar powersats to run the thing.
Do it far enough away from Earth to be no particular danger or nuisance, and once you've proven the reliability you can also then market the satellites to supply energy. We'll have to keep a close eye on them. Japan's well along in the construction ofAmaterasu, and current buzz is that they're planning to also build a real orbital colony. This has been a perennial favorite of Japan's space enthusiasts, so that's no real surprise. "China, unfortunately, had their engine go bad-you heard about all that. I think what's going to happen there is that the U.S. will apologize, promise to repair the thing at no cost, and probably sell them or give them another engine eventually. It'll still slow down China's deployment significantly, probably putting them last in terms of getting a functional reusable interplanetary craft going. They may benefit to some small extent from watching other people's mistakes along the way, but overall it's a bad break for them. "India's moving forward with the creation of the space elevator. They've named the project Meru, by the way, after Mount Meru, the legendary world pillar in Hindu mythology. Preliminary calculations show that their proposed design will come in under a thousand tons total mass. Modifying the NERVA reactor to act as a power generator-not the best design if you start from scratch, but having the reactor already up in the sky counts for something-they'll have plenty of power for dragging cargo up and down and keeping a station above the world running. You asked me about anchoring the thing down last time-something I didn't know much about-so I checked into it. The design they're using doesn't really require much anchoring force-about as much as the designed transport capability, actually. They're going to be splitting the base and anchoring it to several nearby ships, so it doesn't have a single simple point of failure. Time to completion, about another year." "One year?" Nicholas sat up straighter. "That seems awfully fast!" "Apparently it's within reason. And building up its capacity will be built into the design. In a few more years they'll be able to send a thousand tons per week up or down. With the IRI and Ares having first call on much of that capacity, we will be a lot more comfortable. And after you made sure Ares got a cheap shipment"-she gave him a grateful smile on behalf of Joe and his friends-"they'll definitely make it long enough to survive the crisis." "Which means we're missing just one element-how are we going to get the stuff from geosynch orbit around Earth to here?"
Nicholas said. "Slingshot?" He was referring to the fact that if one placed a load farther out than geosynch, one could literally let it "fly out" like a slingshot, propelled in essence by the Earth's rotation, just like a real sling spun about someone's head.
"Possible-and, onceMeru is fully operational, I'm sure they'll be building some orbital slingshots anyway. But usingMeru itself as a slingshot is limited by a lot of factors of timing and relative position between Earth and Mars. Some packages could be shipped up with their own little electric drives-once you're in geosynch, it's a lot easier to get elsewhere-but that'd cut down on the actual cargo arriving here and make it alot more expensive. We really do need our own ship." "Well?" She grinned. "Bruce Irwin's willing to be the captain and pilot if we get one built. As you know, Jackie Secord's already offered to run the engineering side, and she's keeping the reactor-engine assembly maintained now. Pricing on the standardNike or Phobos Station habitat ring segments, though, is totally out of our league, even if we could get them to slow down their build schedule to supply us." "We really do need something like that, though, don't we?"
Maddie nodded. "Anything much less than one-third g as constant living conditions will cause a lot of health problems. In fact, I'd really feel more comfortable if we could push that up, and on some of the new ships likeOdin they might well. They'll have more time and luxury for crew selection, so they won't have to worry about spin disorientation as much." "Does Ares have a solution in mind?" This was one of the major reasons for establishing cooperation between the IRI and its closest neighbor. They were, as India had already recognized, the only talent pool of space-qualified experts who were not currently committed to a specific country's space program. "Since the full agreements haven't been signed, I can't officially say anything, but Joe told me to tell you 'Damn straight we do.' If it's what I think, it will work, too." Nicholas leaned back slowly. "Then get me those originals pronto, so I can sign them. Let's get to work!"
Chapter 5 "I can't believe this," said the national security advisor. "First Fathom turncoats, and now the U.N. is going to steal a march on us. You want to explain this particular mess, General?" Ken Hathaway kept his expression respectfully neutral. Despite his dislike for the current administration, he had no intention of torpedoing his own career as the first and, currently, only military commander of a major space vessel. "I wouldn't describe this as a mess, sir. There are actually some advantages for us in this situation." Jensen looked at him incredulously. "You-along with my other analysts-assured me that there really wasn't a chance that the IRI would be able to build a ship around that engine. You all told me they'd probably just use it as a portable power source, or maybe a Mars-to-Phobos transport. And now Walter tells me that they're about six months from launching their own version ofNike!" Ken issued a chuckle, which he hoped looked spontaneous. He'd planned this sort of reaction, and Jensen had obliged him with precisely the kind of line he'd been hoping for. The national security advisor's face darkened. "Would you like to tell me what you find amusing, General?" "Sorry, no disrespect meant, it was just… You haven't seen the thing. Saying they were ready to launch their own version ofNike… Sir, that's like saying Huck Finn was launching his own version ofOld Ironsides when he pushed his raft into the river." Jensen slowly leaned back, the anger shifting toward a hard speculation. "Go on. Are you saying they're not really making an interplanetary vessel?" "Well… No, sir. They are, in one sense. I mean, their shipdoes have a real nuclear engine on it, and that can sure push it around the solar system. But… Here, look at it." Ken sent a command to the White House network, which acknowledged he had authorization to trigger image presentations, and the far wall lit up with a picture ofNobel, the interplanetary vessel Glendale was having constructed. Jensen snorted. There were a few other grunts or chuckles around the table. TheNobel looked very little likeNike. Both had a central hub where the main engine sat, and other parts about four hundred and fifty feet from that center which would serve as living quarters. But where theNike was a shining vessel, an integral structure of smooth components and clear functionality, Nobel was… Clunky, Ken thought, was probably the most charitable term you could use. "They've had to make do with whatever they could get," he said. "They don't have manufacturing capability of their own, and all the aerospace resources we have-all the aerospace resources any country has, for that matter-are tied up in building our own ships and bases. So they had to go to the one group of people who can somehow manage space construction and who don't have their own ship-Ares. But Ares doesn't have the money or the manufacturing capability to crank out things likeNike' s habitat sections. So what do they have?
Speaking as a military man, they've got Tinkertoys, Legos, and an Erector Set to hold 'em together." He pointed. "Look at their so-called 'habitat ring.' Looks like a bunch of tuna cans linked together with duct tape and silver straws. That's because what they've got are basically just standard Ares habitat cans, not all that much different from the ones Zubrin first drew up almost half a century ago. The whole central body there"-he pointed at the boxy gray skeleton in the middle of the screen-"that's just some beams to hold all the pieces together. They'll be using something like an inflatable tank to hold their fuel together, I'd guess, or maybe some reusable solid tanks. The point is, sir, that thing can't matchNike in any respect. Especially since you got us a second engine." The sight of theNobel, looking rather like the result of a high-school science project to create a model of a space station, had thawed the atmosphere considerably. Ken no longer felt that his job was immediately in jeopardy. "You mentioned that you thought this situation offers advantages, General Hathaway?" Jensen said.
"Explain." "If that thing actually works, sir, it takes a big load off of us. We've been committed to being their long-range support since the Institute got established, because there just wasn't anyone else available. Once they have their own ship working, we're free to work more for the United States' direct interests. Sure, we'll still be doing runs to Phobos Station and the Institute. We've got plenty of reasons to do so, and we'll have to help with the short distance ferrying anyway." Hathaway flashed a momentary smile at the realization he was now calling Earth-to-Moon orbit hops "short."
Before he could continue, one of Jensen's analysts spoke up. "What you're saying is they won'tneed us just to survive any more. They can send their own ship on their own errands, ferry their own supplies back and forth, and in general deal with all the logistical headaches we've had to handle the past few years. And welcome to them." Jensen nodded. "All right, General Hathaway. I understand your points. The reports from Mr. Keldering were perhaps overly alarmist. So you don't see anything to worry about in this situation?" "Nothing whatsoever, sir," Ken said. "We have a battleship and they have a rowboat. Let's just hope they don't spring a leak rowing back and forth-that would require us to rescue them."
PART II: