by John Ringo
The reception party had come armed with dozens of similar coats and the DPs were soon covered up against the cold. The reception party mostly had to force them into the coats because the DPs were simply goggling at the sights.
The mine was surrounded by towering billows of clouds in every color of the rainbow. The effect was from a combination of electrical interactions—the planet had a very active electromagnetic field, high levels of noble gases and the photo synthetic and lithotropic bacteria that were the cause of the breathable atmosphere. The clouds themselves flickered with pent-up lightning that from time to time grounded itself out on the support cables of the mine.
The support cables towered upwards, quickly lost in the clouds. Composed of literally millions of strands of continuous carbon nanotubes, the four primary support cables split within view, dropping down to the station to connect at sixty-four different points. The “final connect” cables were each more than three meters thick and did not terminate at the lower platform but continued down deep into the planet’s atmosphere.
“I don’t think they’re listening,” Tyler shouted back, grinning.
“Where are the elevators?” Dr. Barreiro shouted.
“They’re not in sight at present, sir,” Fleming said. “They’re both on a run. It’s four thousand kilometers to the upper platform. They’re rarely in sight. With all due respect, sirs, we’ve been waiting out here for a while and it is, as usual, not exactly shirt-sleeve weather...”
“He’s saying he’d like to get inside!” Tyler shouted. “We’ll get another view on the way out.”
* * * *
“I understand that you are extracting helium three,” Dr. Werden said, looking up at one of the enormous refinery towers. “And I know that all of... this is necessary. But... why?”
The tour had already gone on for two hours and the delegates were starting to be less and less sanguine. They were slowly beginning to realize that not only was the Franklin Mine a refinery hanging in midair, not only was it a massive refinery hanging in midair, but that its complexity put any Earth-based oil refinery to shame.
“Concentration,” Tyler said. “You’ve noticed that we all squeak a bit when we talk.”
“Helium in the atmosphere,” Dr. Palencia said. “Obviously. So there is quite a bit there already.”
“Just a trace of hydrogen as well,” Fleming said. “Too low for it to be a fire hazard but about six times that of Earth.”
“Helium three is an isotope of helium,” Tyler continued. “A rare one. There is only point zero, zero, zero, one, three, seven percent helium three in helium. That’s less than one part per thousand in the helium. In this atmosphere, at the level we’re pumping, there is seven percent helium. There is less than one part per million of helium three.”
“A one-gigawatt-per-hour power plant uses about ten kilos of helium three per day,” Dr. Velasquez said. “That takes pumping... ten million gallons of atmosphere?”
“Uh, hundred million gallons of atmosphere, sir,” Fleming said. “You were off by an order of magnitude. Kilos and gallons of He3 are... not the same.”
“Which, by the way, we produce ... ?” Tyler asked.
“About every thirty seconds, sir,” Fleming replied. “Now that we’ve gotten the deep separators working. The combination with the upper separator system has this as the most efficient gas mine ever created. The remaining Glatun consultants are rather proud.”
“The matter conversion systems also aren’t perfect,” Tyler said. “That gigawatt power plant should only be using a few grams of He3 a day. The remainder, as far as any scientist, Glatun, human, what have you, shuttles sidewise into, essentially, another universe.”
“Another universe?” Dr. Palencia asked, incredulously.
“That’s the simple way of saying it, sir,” Mr. Fleming said. “The math gets somewhat complex. The loss, however, has yet to be overcome. Unfortunately. Or we could power most of the spiral arm from this one plant.”
“Now that they’ve started to get their heads around Galactic science, that is one of two questions Earth-based physicists are looking at,” Tyler said. “Well, three. There should be another way to create and manage pseudogravity. Someone, somewhere, created the first grav plate. Since you can’t create grav plates without pseudogravity, someone broke either that rule or they had another form of pseudogravity. The second question, like the first, is how do you create a high enough gravitational vortex to create neutronium.”
“And what is the value of neutronium?” Dr. Werden asked.
“According to the math,” Mr. Fleming replied, “you should be able to use less power to create neutronium than you’d get out from annihilating it.”
“That would seem to violate...” Dr. Palencia said then stopped. “The Law of... Conservative something.”
“Law of Conservation of Energy,” Tyler said. “We’re finding that at the quantum level, that’s more of a guideline. And neutronium would also make a nifty armor. All of which is why I’m still dumping a lot of money into basic scientific research. Bottom-line is we do it this way cause this is what you’ve got to do to create enough He3 for a modern society. If we hadn’t found this gas giant, which actually has a high percentage of helium compared to normal, if we hadn’t gotten the gas mine in operation, we would have had to more or less surrender as soon as the Rangora blockaded us. Call me, as many have, a war profiteer if you want. We’d have been screwed without this mine. Off of which, yes, I make a very pretty penny. Which I dump to ...”
“Scientific research,” Dr. Werden said. “Arms research. Space research and of course SAPL.”
“Sometimes my advisors point out to me, when I get a little wroth, that it’s not up to me to save the solar system,” Tyler said, stroking one of the separators. “That people like, well, you, Dr. Werden, the President, Admiral Hampson, would take some insult from my thinking it’s all on my shoulders. My standard answer is ‘Troy, Franklin, Granadica.’ Not to mention the Apollo training facility in Melbourne, which remains the only private space training facility so we have workers to run all three. Who else, gentlemen? Who else?”
“Who else can compete?” Dr. Palencia asked.
“There is that,” Tyler said. “I, in fact, rather dislike monopolies. They violate some of my very basic philosophies. But in this case... SAPL is not self-supporting. It’s supported by Apollo. Which is supported by the fabbers, metal mining and the mine. The Alliance could, I suppose, break up the company. They’d have to take over SAPL mind you, because it’s not self-supporting. Then, I suppose, rent time to Apollo when it needed it. Apollo Mining, in turn, only makes about two percent profit. Yet it supports the training facility. We’re the sole supplier for helium three in the entire system, yet we, I, deliberately keep the Franklin Division at a three percent profit rate. When the war is over, I’d like to sit down and figure out how to break the company up, like, oh, AT&T or Standard Oil. In the meantime, aware that this may sound self-serving, I’d strongly suggest if it’s not clearly broke, don’t try to fix it.”
“With the number of lobbyists and the way that you’ve structured your corporation,” Dr. Werden said, “that would be difficult for any government to do. And the Alliance has no such power. Yet.”
“I like lobbyists less than I like attorneys,” Tyler said, grinning mirthlessly. “And I like attorneys less than I like monopolies. How, exactly, I came to employ armies of both in the service of the third I often wonder in the deeps of the night.”
* * * *
TWENTY
Dana looked up at the ping from her door and checked the signature. Not only was she not expecting visitors, she really would prefer to avoid them. She was appreciating the down time and a chance to catch up on watching TV. On the other hand...
“Mr. Vernon?”
“Hi,” Tyler said. “Mind if I come in?”
“No,” Dana said, shutting off the viewscreen and unlocking the door.
“Hey, Granadica?” T
yler said as soon as he was inside. “Um, privacy mode.”
“So you can talk about me?” Granadica asked.
“Granadica...” Tyler said.
“Granny?” Dana said, in a somewhat embarrassed tone. “We sort of need... a little alone time.”
“You’re kidding,” Granadica said.
“Kidding or not,” Tyler said. “Privacy lock authorized, Granadica. No peeking.”
“Okay,” the AI said in a humorous tone. “You kids have fun, now. Locking out.”
“Give it any more thought?” Tyler said quickly.
“She’s still going to think we’re talking about her,” Dana said.
“Not if I mis-tie my tie before I leave,” Tyler said, mussing his hair. “How’s that look?”
“Like both our reputations are shot,” Dana said, frowning.
“Great big depressed factory,” Tyler said. “Billions of credits and thousands of lives on the line. Future of the solar system at stake. You want to discuss reputation? Suds must be getting to you. Give it any more thought?”
“Yes,” Dana said. “When we were on the way back and did the flyby of the work on Lud.”
“Brand new shell,” Tyler said. “I’ve come to the conclusion I’m just going to have to cough up the dough. The board is going to be furious.”
“It wasn’t the shell,” Dana said. “It was something that Granadica said. ‘Here I am in the Wolf system...’”
“Where else would she b—” Tyler said. “Oh, no. You’ve got to be joking.”
“She wants excitement, Mr. Vernon,” Dana said.
“I’m not going to stick sixty billion credits, at pre-war prices, in the Terra system!” Tyler said.
“I said ‘when I was looking at Lud,’ sir,” Dana said, “who is scheduled to be installed in the Thermopylae. And then it all came together.”
“Install her in Therm instead?” Tyler said. “Hmm... I could... probably swing that.”
“Several reasons,” Dana said, getting excited. “Some of it I’m just thinking through, sir. First, she gets to do different stuff all the time. The ship fabbers do major repairs, produce various parts, have to interact with thousands of people every day.”
“So she stays busy with new stuff,” Tyler said, nodding.
“Two... I hate being with the One-Four-Three,” Dana said. “It has been, as I understand you’ve found out, a continuous and constant pain in the butt.”
“That is probably going away,” Tyler said.
“We’ll see,” Dana said. “But the point is, it’s still my unit. You don’t really understand what that means. I know I’ve been fighting an uphill battle, but when my unit looks bad, I look bad. Doesn’t matter how good I am. I’m always going to have been part of a unit that totally screwed a MASSEX.”
“I guess that would sort of suck,” Tyler said. “I can kind of understand because of all the issues with Granadica.”
“Granny is a bitch about stuff being right,” Dana said. “I mean, yes, she’s producing intentional mistakes. We’ve figured that out. But she wants things to be right at another level. A lot.”
“Okay,” Tyler said.
“I can’t be everywhere,” Dana said. “Megdanoff can’t be everywhere. Hell, he gave up trying. The other Nortés can’t be everywhere, nor the very few Suds who agree things need to be right. Guess who can?”
“Oh,” Tyler said, breathing out hard. “Oh, Dana Parker, you are a genius!”
He grabbed her head in both hands and kissed her on the forehead. Hard.
“What did I say?” Dana asked.
“Oh, you don’t know how many problems you just solved!” Tyler said looking into the distance. The fact that the One-Four-Three was about to be demobilized was still closely held.
Dana’s eyes flew open as he kissed her on the mouth.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Tyler said, straightening up and looking in her mirror. He started messing with his tie and clothes then mis-buttoned his jacket. “We never ever had this conversation. But if I can figure out a way to let the admiral know we did, you are in for a promotion or a very big medal. From the Alliance President if she knows what she’s doing. You are a fricking genius.”
He straightened his jacket as best he could and walked out the door.
“You kids done canoodling?” Granadica said almost instantly.
“Uh...” Dana said, rubbing her mouth. “Yeah.”
“That was quick.”
“Uh... Yeah... Canoodling?”
“How else would a grandmother say it?”
* * * *
“You want to what?” Dr. Barreiro said.
“Mr. Vernon,” Admiral Duvall said, carefully. “While BuShips is willing to continue certifying shuttles from Granadica, despite the known issues, I’m not sure we’re willing to place it in a location where, frankly, such issues could be even more problematic.”
“I think we can get those issues worked out,” Tyler said.
Granadica had, again, been locked out of the negotiations. She was starting to get a bit tetchy about that.
“So you want to give us a broken fabber,” Dr. Werden said. “The insults just keep piling up.”
“As part of this move, the first issue that Granadica will address will be maintenance issues with the One-Four-Three,” Tyler said. “Furthermore, she will have to be given some sort of military...override. Not only will shuttles be sent through her to be refurbished, as they essentially must be at this point, she will be the official supervisor of maintenance on the Thermopylae!’
“Oh..!’ Admiral Duvall said, placing a hand over her mouth to cover a smile.
“So any issues in production she’s also going to have to fix,” Tyler said. “As such she will have access to all areas in which maintenance is performed at all times and some sort of either direct order or reporting system to manage... personnel issues. To do that job, in addition to her other duties, she will need an upgrade to about, oh, class three AI. Furthermore, Apollo will, on its own dime, do a complete rebuild prior to installation. Starting with a new shell and pulling everything out and reinstalling it. Also such upgrades as may be appropriate. Perhaps even a specialized design purely for battlestation support. More raw material transitional manufacturing capability, for example. So not only will the Thermopylae be getting, essentially, a brand new fabber, it will be getting one custom designed for the work. And an overall maintenance supervisor. One who can be... how was it phrased? ‘Up people’s butt so far she’s talking to them out of their own mouth.’”
Dr. Barreiro’s face suffused for a moment, then he sighed.
“What about the status of the One-Four-Three?” he said.
“BuShips is notionally in favor of this program,” Admiral Duvall said. “Final decision will be based upon positive results, if any. How long? Lud is nearly complete.”
“And Sver was to be next,” Tyler said. “The shell is already cooled. Lud will be complete enough to start the work in a month. Notionally, two months after that. It won’t take long. All the parts are there, already. We just have to yank out her guts and install them in a new shell. Redesign will be easier than you’d think. I’ll turn it over to Thomas and the Night Wolves. Four AIs working on it and the Night Wolves will probably crank out a redesign in a week.”
“So a month behind schedule,” Admiral Duvall said. “In the middle of a war”
“We currently have a notional cease-fire, Admiral,” Dr. Werden said. “I agree it is tenuous but this gives a bit of breathing room.”
“Which both sides are using for rearmament,” Admiral Duvall said. “Which this cuts into.”
“Or you can spend the time transitioning the One-Four-Three to all new personnel and equipment,” Tyler said, shrugging. “And lose out on a source of support politically, fiscally, materially and personnel... ly.”
“Hmm...” the admiral said.
“This is contingent on a few more things,” Tyler said, turning to the South
Americans.
“Which are?” Dr. Werden asked.
“For me to give my backing for Malta to be Battlestation Sud, you need to do two things,” Tyler said.
“Figure out how to do maintenance?” Dr. Barreiro asked.
“That is the first,” Tyler said. “In part. I can guarantee you that no matter how many computers and bureaucrats you have creating complaints against Granadica for her high-handed ways, not only can she respond faster than you can crank them out, it will only feed her ego.”
“Does she have an ego?” Dr. Werden asked.
“Bigger than your president’s, Foreign Minister,” Tyler said. “And as you’ve noted, a talent for invective. Let her do the job. There will be people who will tell her when she’s being truly counterproductive. But that’s not for you to judge. Pass the word that it is hands off. If your units, even with Granadica’s support, can prove to the DOD, not me, that they have the capability to work and fight in space, you will have passed one of the Go/NoGo points for me to put my support behind an All Sud battlestation. That will include their requirements on tactics, astronautics... whatever. So Granadica cannot do it all for you.”
