Into the Unknown

by John Stevenson

Into the Unknown

  Orbit the Sun - Part1

  By John Stevenson

  Copyright 2014 John Stevenson

  As an advertisement it was quite modest; and only placed in the most exclusive of magazines: magazines read by those who literally had money to burn. Alongside the glossy pictures of watches that cost the equivalent of a third world countries gross budget it looked bizarrely plain; still after all it was just a press release. But placed between an advertisement for super-yachts, and a mansion on the Riviera Coast it held its own in cost. The small headline stated ‘See Apophis like no one else on Earth’. Five days for twenty-seven million dollars; per person. The cost seemed absurd, but the offer wasn’t aimed at attracting anyone but the tiniest fraction of the eight billion people on the planet. This was a holiday that even millionaires couldn’t afford.

  It wasn’t a coincidence that anyone approaching Earthrise, would immediate have Stanley Kubrick's, 2001 come to mind. Besides having the movie in the in-flight catalogue the space station had many design features directly based upon the orbiting hotel.

  Once disembarked from the shuttle though they would immediately see that this hotel was far from as opulent as its famous counterpart. It would never have plush carpets or pretty young girls behind a large reception desk. Moving machinery and materials from the planet below was a vastly expensive exercise, so minimalist was the most that could be expected.

  The World United Banking and Investment Corporation: known by its common acronym; Wubic: big as it was, still had shareholders who expected a profit; at least a profit at some future time, and occasions like the passing of a huge space rock gave them the opportunity to move that time a little closer.

  Strictly speaking the hotel wasn’t open for business. Technical problems and the vagaries of the stock market had put completion behind time, and on the morning its first paying guests arrived the hotel was far from complete.

  To an observer: like Andrew, they appeared a motley bunch in age, sex and disposition, but with the common link of all being wealthy beyond most people's dreams.

  Stepping away from the screen showing the equalization chamber, Andrew Craig wasn’t too troubled by his new arrivals: as station commander it was his concern to keep Earthrise fully functioning; and in that capacity he had more than enough problems with fitting out; commissioning, and troubleshooting everything that was hidden from the view of any hotel guest; wherever that hotel may be.

  The person that did have the responsibility was Sara Drew; the accommodations director, or in practical terms the hotel manager. To Sara the guests were her first priority, and while she understood Andrew wanted a precise orderly orbit: she wanted a comfortable and value filled holiday: together they would produce a unique experience, unequaled anywhere on the planet below.

  Of course that was the theory: the reality was that as the guests passed through the air lock and into the arrivals lounge Earthrise was anything but orderly or comfortable; and if the practicalities of being open for business at a time when construction and technical engineers were still trying to complete their tasks wasn’t enough Andrew had received a directive from Wubic to move and place the space station as close as possible to the asteroids pass. It was something he was reluctant to do. He had immediately begun a stream of communications up from, and down to head office, until everyone was quite clear on their own, and the others position.

  To Andrew any alteration was fraught with problems and a burden he preferred not to add to the multitude of others; but each time: each and every reason he posed to head office was examined and replied to with a validation to their own position, and slowly Andrew was left without justification. Maybe some technician could justify the decision when they were sitting comfortable and safe in the big city, but hundreds of kilometers above that city he knew any change of orbit was a worry. But while he was ultimately responsible for the safety of the station: a responsibility would never willingly compromise, he was also an employee, and one who took orders from management above.

  Andrew was aware his assistant commander Clive Parke had stepped up beside him. Andrew turned. "So how are our guests?"

  Clive grinned. "Apparently sick and excited Andy; in that order."

  Andrew smiled back. "Then with any luck I'll be sitting alone at the captain's table tonight."

  "Don’t count on it; you don’t make the money that lot have accumulated by wimping out on something you paid a lot for."

  Andrew nodded. "No, I guess not."

  "Sara said a couple of them were critical of the accommodation?"

  Andrew shook his head. "They shouldn’t be… they were told about the situation weren't they?"

  "Of course: maybe they have just lost touch with what we ordinary people call normal."

  "Do I sense a trace of sarcasm?"

  "No; not particularly."

  "Well company policy, guests are guests."

  "Yes; and thankfully someone else's problem."

  Andrew hoped it wasn't going to be his. "I'm sure Sara will cope in the diplomatic way she always does; anyway they can be as critical as they like, they signed the release clarifying that we are not fully fitted out."

  "But apparently they were led to believe it was more fitted out than it is."

  "Well good luck to them if they want to get their money back off Wubic."

  "Actually one could; some guy high up the European section."

  "Then make sure he keeps off the bridge. I don’t want any head office types telling us how to fly. Anyway forget them: You’ve seen the latest update about our other significant guest?"

  "Yea; slightly puzzling: it's not like the astro guys to be mish-mashie with their words."

  "Possibly peanut shaped and rolling; what the hell does that mean?"

  Clive looked serious. "I'm informed that it's a very technical description."

  Andrew smiled. "Well whether it is or not we need to be absolutely sure what affect it will have on us."

  "Control doesn’t seem concerned."

  "Maybe not, but they're down there and were up here."

  "I've had a word with the shuttle crew and they will be ready to assist with an extra little push if it comes to it."

  Andrew nodded again. "And they know they will probably have to help us re-position?"

  Clive looked at him curiously. "I assume they still do… you haven’t heard anything to the contrary?"

  Andrew shrugged. "No; I suppose I'm just looking for problems before they become problems."

  "No doubt you… we all will get our share, but right now it's my shift on the bridge, so you had better toddle off and get into your dress uniform."

  Andrew sighed and looked hopeful. "You're not going to report in sick?"

  "No; no excuses?"

  "What if I'm feeling nauseated?"

  "I'd be surprised if you weren't. Nope, you have to look all prim and proper down to captains cap and braid so all our special guests can feel they have got at least some of their money's worth as they would first night at sea, with a full formal welcoming dinner."

  “You sound as if you rehearsed that.”

  “I did.”

  "At least if I was at sea I could throw myself overboard."

  "I wouldn’t recommend it; it's a long way down to the water. Now go before I have security march you off in irons."

  Andrew tried to look threatening. "I should remind you that I'm head of security."

  Clive looked equally serious. "Go. Now, before the crew mutiny."

  It wasn’t every day they had a meal like this on the station: not that they ate out of tubes the rest of the time. Mostly they were supplied bulk dehydrated foodstuffs that as and when needed: and once rehydrated, the were prepared into meals with at least so
me similarity to those they were used to back home; but supply was never assured, so having a stocked larder was more of a priority than having meals with appetizing freshness. Because of this every supply rocket had carried at least something edible to bring it up to its maximum payload to fuel ratio. As they sat and ate of all the things that still needed to be done on Earthrise, a full food store was the most completed.

  Occasionally: if room and weight permitted, treats were sent up, but the meal now being laid out before them was a veritable feast. There were several reasons, the wealth and influence of the guests being the main one, and the hoped for publicity a close second. To ensure success a special cargo drone had preceded their arrival to ensure that appropriate fare could be provided.

  Looking around the table Andrew could see only two of them were now missing. He tried to put names to the faces sat beside him. Some were easy to recognize: some more elusive, and some whose images never appeared in public.

  They seemed okay, mostly conversing: even animatedly, with their peers. A couple preferred only to eat and stare out the window. Andrew could understand why: It was a magnificent sight. The planet: the stars, and every few minutes, when Earthrise turned back again: the distant asteroid, though it was still small.

  Space to those who have had the good fortune to observe it close up is a sight that amazes and continues to amaze even the most indifferent of eyes. There is no commonplace: it is not a place that one can become used to, and part of that is the view. Even given its location Earthrise was in all ways a hotel and as Earth bound developers like beaches and oceans, the stations builders were well aware that the view was of the highest priority. Each of the cabins had a window: small in terms of an ordinary house, but massive in its location, but the window in the communal dining area, was unprecedented. In a family home on Earth a picture window was a feature of any home; here it was a focal point, but when the asteroid emerged from the edge of the window; and eyes turned towards it, no one gave a thought to the engineering marvels that had formed and enabled the sight; even Andrew was lost in what it framed.

  While small Apophis was now large enough to make out some detail of its surface, and indeed it did seem to be turning; though it looked more a wobble than an ultra-slow spin. Andrew had been told that on Earth the cloud of accompanying particles that formed a kind of tail appeared short; stunted, and not very spectacular, but here close up, it was spectacular.

  Andrew tore his eyes away; it probably wasn’t good form for the captain to be so obviously awestruck in front of the guests, even if he was. To take his mind away he looked around the table, briefly wondering what collective amount of wealth was sat beside him.

  Immediately to his left was Mai Tong, the apparently wayward daughter of a communist party official and billionaire, who made his colossal fortune in automobile construction and gambling. Beside her were two Silicon Valley entrepreneurs: one with his wife. Then there were the Russians: three of those with at least one rumored to have made his fortune in a less than legitimate way. There were four other Americans, a Brit, and a couple of guys from the Gulf States: fourteen in total. The future guest list would be even more packed; a fully operational Earthrise was intended to house up to fifty guests in first class comfort; though with fewer facilities than the present one-off group