The Project Manager

by Terry Connolly

  She turned and nodded “and you’re Santa Claus I suppose? Riding your sleigh around the world. Did you call Abby?”

  “Yes, and I gave her a present, well, my mum and dad did. Some new “neuron” console, you know, the ones where you wear a cap and glasses and try to control players by thinking. A lot like the welding machines we use remotely up top, except virtually.”

  “My nephew got one of those too, apparently it’s the game to have this year,” said Hong.

  John looked at his hands, “I miss her, a lot, and she misses me. This is my first Christmas away from her, and it won’t be my last.”

  Hong gently placed her hand on his shoulder, “She knows John, but she also knows that you and everyone else here are doing something important.”

  His eyes were starting to water so with a quick wipe and a sniffle he looked and smiled at her, “Thanks, you’re right. Come on, let’s go to the mess hall, there is music, cake, and alcohol.”

  “Ok, but first we need to talk,” Hong nodded in the general direction of the airlock locker room.

  Ten minutes later they sealed the door. There was very little chance of anyone interrupting them this evening.

  “What’s up?” said John.

  “Here. This arrived in the supply vessel today.” Hong pressed something small and hard into his hand. “It’s a data stick, I don’t know what’s on it, but I received orders to give it to you. Apparently you can complete your mission with it and return it to me afterwards.”

  John looked at it. It looked like one of the lip balm sticks he regularly used. “The supplies came three days ago?”

  “I know,” said Hong, “but Alex is like your shadow, I had to wait to get you alone.”

  “Ok,” said John, “I’ll go check it now in my office; you head straight to the mess hall and tell Alex I’m on my way.”

  “You are always a man of immediate action aren’t you? Be careful John, and don’t be long.”

  They went their separate ways just around the corner from the mess hall. John felt remarkably calm; finally he might be able to make his move after all this time. He now felt more that he needed to say goodbye to Sophie rather than take revenge. Either way, whatever needed to be done he would do it, the project needed his protection. As he went the extra thirty meters to his office the only people he saw were two technicians in a corner making out. They didn’t see him. Alcohol was not normally consumed on the ship in case it clouded anyone’s judgement, apart from rare occasions like tonight, though there were still limitations. Once inside his office and had shut his door, he went straight to his laptop which he had left on, still in its docking station on his desk.

  It was a simple instruction in a simple text document. The data stick had enough capacity to copy everything on Alex’s laptop. It also had a programme which the text said could access Alex’s emails and secure files to copy them also. It seemed a little simple, he just had to put the data stick into Alex’s laptop and run the programme. It would take three hours to run. Ah, there was the problem; Alex would never part with his laptop for three hours. He kept reading. There was a solution to that too. John removed the data stick and pulled it apart. A tiny sleeping pill floated gently in the air in front of him.

  Chapter 14: 2044

  New Year’s came and went. John had no trouble keeping his mind on his work for the next two weeks. Firstly, because people were coming to him every two minutes with new questions and secondly, because if he didn’t focus on it then he would start thinking about how he needed to drug and steal from Alex. Either that or he would start thinking about Hong. He had met Hong only three times since Christmas Eve. He wanted to see her but being around her reminded him of what he had to do, and somehow that made her feel different to him. On their first meeting after receiving the data stick, John and Hong tried to come up with a scenario where Alex would take a drink from John and where his laptop would be with him. If they orchestrated it too obviously then any indication that there had been tampering would come back to John, and Sophie’s death had shown that Ephrem preferred to deal with troublesome people in a certain and very final manner. There would be only one chance to do this properly.

  The temptation to place the Bridge of the Zheng He at the front of the ship had been strong. The Zheng very definitely had a front end as it very definitely had a back end, the engines, which were the opposite end to the direction of travel. In practical terms, apart from a nice view, having the Bridge at the front made no sense. The front of the ship was the most vulnerable area in the event of an impact so for this reason it was nothing more than solid rock with the occasional storage room for non-essential items. Instead, the bridge was tucked away near the engines and the access shafts at the back of the ship. If the bridge spotted a problem then it could be solved directly from there. Because of the axis of rotation it was off-centre to make sure they had normal gravity to work in.

  Five electricians were at work when John entered the Bridge. It was only half finished, but the half that was there was the half they needed finished first. John approached one of the electricians he knew from their meetings, and from playing magnetic chess in the evening. His Russian lessons had been very useful in the end, “Good morning Nikolai, doing last minute checks?”

  “Ah, John,” replied Nikolai, “Good morning, you are first as always I see. Yes, we are just checking the minor connections one last time, the main ones are finished. I am happy to report there are no loose wires, so if we blow up this afternoon it will not be Nikolai’s fault, eh?”

  John laughed out loud. He and Nikolai, both being technical people, got on pretty well, though they had a few political arguments from time to time. There might be international harmony on the Zheng He, but Earth nations still bickered and flexed their muscles at each other. “No Nikolai, it would be my fault, though don’t worry, no fusion reactor has ever blown up, though admittedly it is theoretically possible and there is always a first time. Don’t worry about it, if it does happen we would be dead so quickly we wouldn’t even notice it.”

  Nikolai nudged him with his elbow, “you Belgians are always so full of the ‘joie du vivre’; this is why I prefer the French.”

  While they were still laughing Alex arrived.

  “Good morning young Braun!” said Nikolai.

  “Good morning Nikolai, good morning John, Mission control sent through the final check list as you requested,” said Alex. He handed John a booklet of about a hundred pages. There were another ten copies in his arms for the senior engineers who were due on the Bridge in under an hour.

  “You ready to make history Alex?” asked John.

  “No, but this thing has to be switched on at some point and today is as good a day as any.”

  “It’s better than any other day, because today we are ready. Anyhow, give me your second opinion this would you?” John went over to one if the consoles which was already operational. It was a bank of thirty screens showing exterior views of the ship through the thirty optical fibre cameras on the surface. He pointed at one screen in particular which showed a view of the communications array.

  “I’m a little concerned about this dish here” said John, “see how close it is to the electromagnet at its base?”

  “Yes,” replied Alex, “they might have hit the connecting wire when they installed it, in fact, in that position it’s likely someone did.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said John, “we’ve all looked over the surface several times and this is the only potential problem which we can see for now. Can you have someone go out and run a quick test on it? If it is broken I’d rather have it patched before we fire up this afternoon.”

  “Ok”, said Alex, “I’ll get on it right away”.

  Once Alex had left, John floated over to the table at the centre of the room and opened his copy of the final check list. As he looked at it he became aware that he had been here once before. It was more than a sense of déjà vu, he could remember the moment in detail. All thos
e years ago in Cadarache, once the largest components of that fusion reactor, the first one, had been in place, he had handed Graham a similar check list, also about a hundred pages long. It was the beginning of the end of their role there. As they had stood and watched engineers and technicians begin their work, work for people with specific skill sets and not general ones, a feeling of transition had come over them, like watching your first born going into school for the first time and handing responsibility for them over to the teachers. Today, once everyone was gathered on the Bridge, John and Alex would become spectators, like set designers watching a play they had worked on. Just after Christmas the captain had arrived. He would be an intermediate captain, a caretaker for the next fifteen years or so, but a captain none the less, with all the responsibilities that would come with the position. The choice of captain had originally taken the media by surprise. Everyone expected some astronaut, some shuttle commander or at least someone who had been to space a few times. Instead it was Captain James Morrison of the USS George W. Bush, a United States Aircraft Carrier. While the media were surprised, to John this was the perfect choice. The George W. Bush had more in common with the Zheng He than any space shuttle or orbiting lab, not just in terms of size but also in terms of responsibility. John had first met Captain Morrison while undergoing his own training in Russia. He found him to be a stern man, fair with a good sense of humour when needed: Captain material. He would do just fine.

  Someone cleared their throat behind him. He thought it was Nikolai who was still poking at wires and ticking boxes on his own checklist, but it was Hong and he was glad to see her. “Sorry I haven’t been around much,” she said.

  “No, it’s my fault, work is no excuse. I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

  “I thought I’d better wish you good luck now, it would be a bit useless afterwards, and I guess I won’t be here during the start up.”

  “Where will you be?” asked John, “the rotation will build up gradually, it should be an interesting feeling to get heavier bit by bit.”

  “I’ll be in the cavern, near the entrance at the centre so the effect will be even slower for me. I know there’s nothing I can do if my work starts to crumble before my eyes, but I want to be there anyway.”

  John stood up and gave her a reassuring hug, “Don’t worry, you’ve double checked your moorings, your colleagues have double checked them, and so did mission control, it will be fine.”

  “I know you’re right, but you are probably feeling the same thing.”

  “Yes and no,” he said, “everything has been checked and checked and checked again. If something goes wrong now it will be either too small to matter or too big to do anything about. At least there will be no cameras on the Bridge, if something does go wrong the PR people will have to handle it with the media.”

  “They think about three billion people will watch it live,” she said.

  John put his hands over his ears, “la la la , I’m not listening.” They both laughed. “As far as I’m concerned there’s only us and mission control to worry about,” he said, “besides, all eyes will be on the captain, it’s his show now.”

  “Well good luck anyhow.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. He could smell the Sicilian orange moisturiser she used, “I’ll see you tonight in the mess hall for celebrations, you’d better have a speech prepared!”

  With that Hong pushed herself away and floated out the door.

  “You must be the only person aboard who doesn’t see what a catch you have there,” said Nikolai in Russian.

  “No, Nikolai, I can see, I just don’t know what to do.”

  “That John, is why God invented alcohol! For men like us who can build a ship to the stars but can’t talk to a woman.”

  Another hour passed while John read through the checklist. A few minutes after Nikolai and his crew left, the man of the moment, James Morrison pushed his way through the air onto the Bridge. John looked up and with a broad grin he saluted, “Captain on the Bridge.”

  Captain Morrison floated over and shook hands, “At ease civilian. I was told you were already here. Good to see you before everyone else John, you’re probably the one person I can admit I’m nervous as hell to.”

  “You’ll do fine Captain, she’s in good hands,” said John. He passed the captain a copy of the check list. “She’s all yours now Captain. We’ve double and triple checked everything. This is the check list for start-up.”

  “Thanks John, mission control sent me a copy too. It seems straight forward enough. Manoeuvring thrusters on short burns until the engines are pointed ninety degrees away from Earth, just so we don’t bathe anyone in radiation by accident, initiate first plasma, should take about three hours to warm up, check if fusion can be achieved, just nudge her forward a couple of kilometres. That more or less it?”

  “That’s more or less it. Each engineer and technician knows what to do. Don’t forget to leave the engines on minimum power after moving her forward so we can get her rotating and move systems from solar to fusion. I think the crew would be pretty pissed off if you forget that,” said John.

  The Captain nodded in agreement, “I don’t think they’ll let me forget that. Any other advice?”

  “Well, I’ll be over there by that control panel. You have your key?”

  “Yes,” said the Captain, “I’ve been through this but once more couldn’t do any harm.”

  John and the captain floated over to the control panel he’d indicated. “If anything goes wrong with the engines,” said John, “then just place your key in here and turn it. It will release emergency coolant around the tori and shut down the engines.”

  “Hopefully it won’t come to that,” said the captain.

  “I hope not too. The engines can be fixed, but it will take while. It’s always been a fear of mine that something might occur mid voyage and there has to be an emergency shutdown. Each torus can handle it but there is an increased chance of cracking one. We will have plenty of spare parts in storage just in case.”

  The captain picked up two of the headsets, which were stuck with Velcro to the control panel, and handed one to John; “let’s phone home and see if they’re awake down below.”

  By 9 a.m. all the senior personnel, who weren’t needed anywhere else, had gathered on the Bridge; each of them in communication with their equivalent responsible person in mission control who monitored what they did but couldn’t countermand them. Ten pages of checklist had been completed before they even formally began. Mainly powering up minor systems and carrying out a few more checks. Alex was the only non-essential member of the crew there, the job he had been given was to carefully monitor people’s reactions and to determine the characteristics he thought necessary for future bridge crew. It was a completely made-up reason, but he wanted to be there to witness the powering up of the Zheng He, and John didn’t mind so no one questioned his presence.

  “Was there any problem with the magnets around the communications array?” asked John.

  “Amazingly not,” replied Alex, “I decided to go out with the technician myself, I had nothing else to do and I wanted one last spacewalk. The trenches did overlap, but the current going through the cables was fine. There is enough cladding so that they shouldn’t pose a problem.”

  “We can make a note of it in the ships computer and the operating manuals, just in case there’s a problem in a hundred years or something, at least it will be known that it was a minor concern to us. I think we’re about to get started.”

  Captain Morrison took a deep breath, “Ok everyone, let’s begin. Ignite all manoeuvring thrusters.”

  “3…2…1…ignition of manoeuvring thrusters successful,” replied one of the crew.

  “Any alarms?” asked the captain.

  “Negative, all fine,” came the reply.

  “Ok then, let’s park her properly. Ease up thrusters to half power in sections 6.2 through to 12.2.”

  “Aye aye sir, easing up. Gyroscope showing movement si
r.”

  “Good. How is the velocity and vector?”

  “Vector fine sir, velocity a little high sir, 1.5 meters per second.”

  “Reduce thrust slightly; compensate with a slight increase power from thrusters…..3.12 to 9.12.”

  “Aye Aye sir.”

  They were all looking at the large touch screen panel mounted on the wall which the captain was using. It displayed an external schematic of the Zheng He, the whole skin of the ship flayed and mounted.

  “We should reach position in 10 minutes captain,” said the crew member at the thruster controls. It was a series of buttons with two joysticks and virtual reality goggles for the operator. Everyone there who had a gaming consul in their youth had a pang of jealousy.

  “Ok,” said Captain Morrison as he checked a few more boxes on his list, “Put me through to the main engine room please.”

  “Engine room, begin charging the tori, estimated time to first plasma please?”

  “Aye captain, torus one on…torus two on…torus three on. Pulses set to fifty Hertz each torus.” A low humming noise, like a car in the distance, could be heard over the communications channel. “They should be ready for first plasma in two hours forty five minutes sir.”

  “Set your watches ladies and gentlemen, not long now.”

  A few minutes passed as readings were checked and double checked. There would be a lot of waiting between steps.

  “She’s in position captain,” said thruster controls.

  “All stop…..belay that, stop thrusters I mean”

  “Aye Aye sir.”

  The captain laughed, “that didn’t take long, she feels a lot like the old G.W.”

  “Apart from the floating about part,” said the communications engineer. It was good that the mood was lightening a little. In John’s opinion they were all feeling the hand of history on their shoulders a little too much.

  “Yes, apart from the floating about part. But that won’t be for much longer I hope.”