Man's Hope

by Zellmann, William

  "So, what you get, what Brazil gets, is an almost immediate revenue stream, with professional management, with the Space Agency overseeing and enforcing the contract. Both sides do what they do best, and both sides profit. No unhappy parties. In fact, if we took over management of the entire complex, I would not be surprised if your present profits increased dramatically."

  Joao's smile had turned predatory. "And why should we not simply put the contract out for bids, instead of just giving it to you?"

  Frank shook his head. "Come on, Joao. You know better than that. We still have a contract, for as long as I can drag it out. Yes, you will gain the launch pad eventually, but the surrender is dependent upon the simultaneous license contract or the long drag through the courts. Oh, we'll lose eventually, but we'll have gained several years' revenue, and you'll have lost the same."

  Frank shrugged. "You gentlemen know me, now. You know that I do not lie, and that I am as honest as the laws allow me to be. I leave my proposal in your hands. There is no particular hurry, so please, take the time to consider every side.

  "By the way," he added, "Man's Hope International will be establishing its international headquarters here in Brasilia." He grinned. "My head lawyer hates that. He wanted to put it in Rio."

  Both of the other men chuckled. "All right, Frank," said Joao. "We'll look over your proposal. We know where to contact you."

  "Do you think they'll go for it?" Susan asked as they emerged from the building.

  Frank nodded. "They'll go for it. They know I'm not out to cheat them, and that my word is good. Besides, it must have really hurt Gilberto to have to turn down multimillion-dollar launch contracts. The deal is good, and Joao knows it. They'll go for it. Eventually. First, though, they have to sell it to the President, and a bunch of lawmakers."

  ***

  The crew's living quarters were constantly expanding, now, as they continued to dig ice to feed the atmosphere plant. They had long ago used up the ice piled near the core stage fuel plant, so they were also digging ice to feed that.

  They had discussed digging tunnels to join the living quarters with the fuel plant, but David was concerned about possible accidents, especially with the explosive mix of oxygen and hydrogen in such abundance. He ordered that any digging be done in directions away from the other holes.

  As they approached perihelion, the point in the comet's orbit closest to the Sun, they kept a constant, close watch for vents opening over their expanding living and work areas. The ice plug sealing in the ship had been thickened, but that was little comfort.

  Surprisingly, it was Raoul who came up with a partial answer.

  Raoul's training was medical and psychological, not technical. When discussions turned to scientific or engineering subjects, he usually remained silent, trying to learn from those more technically trained then himself. But this time . . .

  "Excuse me," he said, as they were discussing the ice-heating problem for the thousandth time. "I'm sure this will be a stupid idea, but I remember during our mission training, it was mentioned that even though people talk about the 'cold' of space, space actually has no temperature at all. They told us that sunlight hitting, or not hitting surfaces was what made them 'hot' or 'cold'."

  "That's right, Raoul," Ron said in a slightly condescending tone. "That's why it can be blazing hot in the sunlight, and freezing cold in the shadow of an ice crag only a meter away."

  Raoul ignored the tone. "Yes, they also said that without an atmosphere to carry the temperature, there could be hundreds of degrees' difference between light and shadow."

  This time, David nodded.

  "Well," Raoul continued, "the answer, uh, couldn't be something as simple as a sunshade, could it?"

  Ron opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it. He, Yuri, and David exchanged glances.

  "I'll be goddamed," David roared. "All we need is a goddam parasol! Raoul, you're a damned genius!"

  Within hours, the ice plug, and the Hope itself, were sheltered by their four tarps. Ice temperature measurements taken inside and outside the shade of the tarps showed variations of hundreds of degrees.

  There was no way to shield the huge core stage tank, and its top grew boiling hot. But its own shadow protected the ice surrounding the work tunnel. For once, David was glad they had not yet been able to build very high gas pressures within the immense tanks. At least they didn't have to worry about the heat expanding the gas enough to burst or split the tank.

  Adventure settled in to work, and work became drudgery. But David knew that the crew needed to stay busy; that boredom was their greatest enemy. Boredom led to carelessness, and carelessness in space could kill them. Besides, they were sure they would need the increased maneuverability the core stage rockets gave them. Yuri had carefully inspected the rockets' venturis, and pronounced them safe for further use. The crew was counting the hours until they emerged from behind the Sun.

  When Dolf announced they had passed perihelion, the crew threw a party. Dolf rigged the Hope's main computer to broadcast a selection of the crew's music to their helmets, and placed the helmets in such a way that their globular shapes created barely-adequate amplifiers, of a sort. But it was enough to create a festive atmosphere. Precious soft drinks were passed around, and the crew relaxed, chatted, played games on their tablets, and even sang along with some of the songs. By all measures, the party was a huge success. The tension level and their sense of isolation both declined markedly.

  Still, the time dragged, as they had known it would. Their ability to communicate with Earth, and to receive Earth broadcasts, had been much more comforting than they had realized. Here, they were totally isolated. Intellectually, they had all known that once beyond Low-Earth-Orbit, they had been beyond the reach of help. But now, the knowledge was not just intellectual. The complete lack of anything but static on Dolf's comm panel was somehow very threatening.

  So, they read books, played music, dug ice, and counted the hours until they would regain communication with Earth.

  And finally, one day, they did. Buried in the Sun's static, they could make out broadcasts. As the hours passed, and Dolf could trim his antennas, the broadcast signals became stronger and clearer, and Finally, Dolf was ready to try a broadcast of his own.

  Unsurprisingly, Alcântara Control was monitoring their frequency, knowing approximately when they would emerge. There was celebration on both ends of the connection.

  They learned that the war with the U.S. was over, and that Man's Hope International had won. That was due in no small part to their efforts, Frank assured them.

  "Is your repeater shut off?" Frank asked. Dolf confirmed that it was.

  "Good," Frank continued. "Okay guys. None of you are virgins. You all know that it costs big money to go into space. Well, I'm about tapped out. And, since the war with the U.S. seems to be over, we are moving into a new phase of the project. Until now, it's been all about the science and the technical aspects. We've proven that even with existing technology, space travel is possible. We can do more than orbit and come back. But now, we have to move to more practical aspects. We have to show that space travel can show a profit. I'm going to try to make some of my money back. I'm not quite sure how, yet, but I've begun by proposing a new deal to the government of Brazil. Man's Hope International is a United Nations chartered nonprofit organization. But I've formed a new company, 'Space International', that will definitely not be a nonprofit. We're also starting a worldwide fundraising organization to help pay for ongoing operations.

  "Anyway, I don't want to bore you with the business details," He continued. His voice took on a tone that could only be called embarrassed. "But I will need you guys to trust me to take care of you." His voice reassumed its normal brisk tone. "Now, we've scraped together enough to contract with International Launch Services to launch an unmanned supply ship from Baikonur on a Proton M. I'm not sure yet how much mass we'll be able to lift. You're heading directly away from us now, and the canister will have to c
hase you, so it'll have to have a lot more velocity than the first one. But I'd like each of you to put together a wish list by tomorrow of anything you'd like included. We have to launch as soon as possible; every moment we wait puts you an extra thousand kilometers farther away."

  He told them about the second core stage. "So, if I can raise enough money, we might be able to launch Man's Dream. But I'm not sure when or even if we'll send it on to you. A lot of stuff is still in the air."

  "So," David replied over Dolf's shoulder, "The unmanned supply flight is a definite yes, but the second Buran is a definite maybe. Is that right?"

  There was amusement in Frank's voice. "That pretty much sums it up, yes. I'm looking at sending at least five metric tons, but once the guys here crunch all the numbers we'll know for sure. I'd like to go with a more powerful booster, with more payload, but the Proton M was the biggest booster I could get on short notice." He paused. "I've got to tell you, I'm about tapped out. Now, I already have a Zenit 3 booster I was planning to use for the supply launch, but I was able to get a discount on another Proton-M, which gives us more payload, and I know you guys must be running really short of supplies. Maybe I can use the Zenit 3 to launch a supply shipment on your inbound leg. But I don't have a lot of wiggle room here unless our fundraising pays off."

  "About that supply shipment," David asked. "Frank, the Hope's nose is buried in ice, and she's disconnected from the tank. We're not going to be able to chase a cargo canister around."

  "I figured you wouldn't have the maneuvering capability. So our Japanese friends have designed control circuits that will let you assume control of the canister's guidance system, and guide it to you. You'll have to be careful, though. The steering jets will only have limited fuel. Among other things, we'll be sending you four good-sized oxy-hydro multistart rocket motors. I knew you'd need to maneuver the asteroid, and I didn't know the condition of the main engines on the core stage, but I just couldn't afford ion engines."

  "Yuri checked over the venturis, and he says they look good," David replied. "Frank, it's amazing. We actually have an interplanetary ship! Once we refill the tank and remount it, we could actually travel the planets like the ships in the science fiction books, at least as long as the food held out. The ion engines give us constant boost, and the rockets are there for a big kick if we need it. Our dream is actually, by God working!"

  Soon, they had to switch the repeater back on; the time for Dolf's broadcast was approaching. It was a lengthy one. Dolf reported on their living arrangements and the activities that had occupied them for most of the last three months. He closed by telling them that Man's Hope International was planning to launch an unmanned supply rocket, but he hinted that money might become a problem.

  The broadcast set off wild celebrations worldwide. All around the world, people had been worried about the Hope and her crew. The number of countries that had staged large celebrations and even declared holidays amazed Frank and the crew. Frank was becoming convinced that Anton had been right; the whole world wanted to be part of Man's Hope's mission.

  They still had another six or eight months to travel before they could begin the next phase of the flight, selecting an asteroid. They were barely passing Earth's orbit, and they had to travel beyond Mars, to the asteroid belt. Once there, they expected to spend perhaps two or three more months selecting an asteroid and affixing the engines. Frank would have plenty of time to stage his grand fundraising efforts.

  For the crew, as the excitement tapered off, they returned to their day-to-day drudgery; inspecting, adjusting, and always, always, digging that damned ice!

  But at least they could once again monitor the Earthside radio and TV transmissions, and Dolf could resume his daily broadcasts, although he was told the audience had dwindled considerably.

  Frank, though, was very busy. He had hired the public relations firm, and had told them of the Russian President's offer. The grins were very wide. Within a week, they had arranged for Frank to meet the President at Baikonur, so he could be presented with the core stage publicly. Very publicly. The President's staff jumped at the opportunity for the President to cash in on some of Frank's popularity. Dozens of cameras covered every moment of a very busy day. Frank gave instructions for the VM-T to fly from Alcântara with the plastic container for the huge tank. He was grateful that the special crane at Baikonur had not been the one sent to Brazil

  The fund raising firm had also jumped at the chance to work for Frank. Within hours they had set up several web sites, and Frank found himself sitting in front of a camera with a teleprompter beside it.

  "Hello, my name is Frank Weatherly, and I am President and Chief Executive Officer of Man's Hope International. I'm sure many of you know my name by now, and know that Man's Hope International exists for the purpose of putting man permanently in space, to fulfill man's destiny and take us to the stars. You have heard Rodolfo Ancara's thrilling reports from onboard a comet, and you know that we are really doing this. We are taking the next big step toward man's expansion into the universe.

  "Thousands of people have written and e-mailed us to ask how they can be a part of this great effort, this drive to the future.

  "Well, now you can. We are preparing an unmanned supply launch to support those gallant men on their ice space ship, and you can help us to deliver it. We invite you to send contributions to Man's Hope International, P. O. Box 10879, Brasilia, Brazil. Or visit our web site at www.manshopeinternational.org. There are severe weight limitations on what we can send, of course, and we must be certain that everything that goes will help our crew stay alive. So we are unable to accept foods or any other non-monetary contributions.

  "All monetary gifts, in your own local currency, will be gratefully accepted, and all contributions valued at more than ten U.S. dollars will receive an acknowledgement in the form of a certificate, suitable for framing, recognizing your contribution to the future of mankind. Suitable recognition will, of course, be made for larger contributions.

  "If you are a teacher, or are otherwise involved with a school, please visit manshopespaceschool.com, for special teaching aids and program information. Man's Hope International is devoted to the future, and our children are the future!

  "Thank you for your time."

  He turned to Susan, standing just off-camera. "How did I do?"

  She smiled. "Very well. It was obvious you weren't a trained spokesman, but it's better that way, more genuine."

  The director came over. "Very well done, Mr. Weatherly. I do wish you had worn makeup, though. It will call for some fancy editing work. But we'll have it on the air all over the world in a few hours." Frank merely grunted, and the man drifted away. "Makeup!" he said disgustedly.

  He called the representative for the fundraising company. "Tell me about the school web site," he asked.

  "Well, sir, We tried to do as you asked," the man replied. Frank didn't like him. He was too smooth, too polished, his smile too ready and too toothy. "We've worked out several ideas, and your public relations firm is working with a group of educators to develop teaching aids. But here's what we've come up with." He handed Frank a list and he read:

  Students can write letters to the crew. They will be digitized and put on flash drives for delivery to the crew.

  Teachers can write for four-foot by six-foot posters, showing the planets out to Jupiter, including the asteroid belt, the orbit of the Carter IV comet, and the course Man's Hope followed to the comet. Plus, it will show one of the possible return courses the ship might follow to return to Earth orbit.

  Teachers can also ask for a CD containing some of Rodolfo Ancara's most informative briefings.

  Classes that take up collections will receive a personal acknowledgement from Rodolfo Ancara, direct from Man's Hope. Teachers will be notified which of Dolf's briefings will include mention of their class.

  Frank smiled. "I like them. Especially the letter writing and the poster ideas. I'm not as happy about the collection idea, but
I suppose it's part of the package."

  The man nodded. "Yes, sir, it is. But contributing even a small amount of money will give the kids a feeling of involvement; and having Mr. Ancara actually mention their school will be exciting enough to be worth it. And there's a lot more. We've got a whole list of goodies for people who contribute, right up to a personal meeting with you for a $100,000 donation." He looked slightly embarrassed. "Actually, sir, large donors, those over $100,000 or so, will need your personal involvement. You may need to wine and dine them a bit."

  Frank grinned. "I built a small computer company into a large computer company. I know how to entertain prospective investors. I doubt large contributors will be much different." He paused. "Actually, they may be some of the same people. The number of people able to contribute that kind of money is limited, after all."

  Frank had gone into full business mode. Space International bought the VM-T from Man's Hope International, and formed a small subsidiary specializing in hauling large, bulky cargoes in the containers built for the Buran and its parts. "No sense just letting it sit around," Frank said, "and there's not a big market for 1950's Russian bombers."

  Since the cargo lift would be launched from Baikonur instead of Alcântara, Frank went ahead and signed the new deal with the government of Brazil. A subsidiary of Space International was now the exclusive representative for scheduling launches for Alcântara Space Center. They had also contracted with Khrunichev, via its subsidiary International Launch Services, to provide launch pad services for the Proton M heavy lift vehicle. Khrunichev had long been seeking a launch site closer to the equator and less isolated than Baikonur, and they leaped at the chance to use Alcântara. They could ship the rocket stages to St. Petersburg by rail, and simply put them aboard ships for São Luis, just across the bay from Alcântara. And, of course, a launch pad within a few degrees of the equator meant that payloads could be larger, and launches cheaper than at Baikonur. Rumor had it that Khrunichev and Energia were dusting off the old plans for the never-built Vulkan super-heavy launch vehicle, in anticipation of a sharp increase in space ship traffic. Anton also reported that Energia was dusting off the specs for the old Energia booster, and had begun research on updating both it and the rocket motors powering it. In Russia, at least, there seemed to be little doubt that heavy lift boosters would soon be in demand.