Man's Hope

by Zellmann, William

  It took Mark only moments to spot the interloper. He immediately called Alcântara. Frank was there, of course.

  "Mr. Weatherly," he said, "I'm picking up our packages loud and clear. But I'm also picking up a fourth signal. Did you send an extra shipment?"

  There was a short pause. "Negative, Man's Dream, but we're picking it up, too."

  Mark grunted. "I'll check it out." He switched to a frequency commonly used for space communication. "Man's Dream to unknown spacecraft. Please identify. You are entering a hazardous area."

  After more than a minute, he got a reply. "We are an unnamed Soyuz spacecraft belonging to International News Network," said a voice in a pilot's typical dry tones. As it completed its sentence, it was overridden by another, more excitable voice. "We are the press, and we know exactly where we are. We are here to cover the arrival of the asteroid."

  "What!" Mark was astounded. Where the hell did a reporter get a spacecraft? And who the hell would launch an old Soyuz? He flipped back to Frank's frequency.

  "I heard," Frank replied. "I'll take over, but stand by. We may need your help."

  Frank flipped to the common frequency. "INN capsule, this is Alcântara Control. You are in a hazardous area, and your presence threatens the lives of people who are trying to accomplish something important. Please leave the L-1 position."

  The voice replying was the second, more excitable one. "Not a chance, Mr. Big Shot. My network spent millions on this coverage, and we're going to get it. The people have a right to know!"

  Frank's voice sounded disgusted. "You jerks decide what the people have a right to know. But right now, you'd better understand that in less than an hour, a rock more than twenty miles long is going to come barging into the space you now occupy. It doesn't have air brakes. There are six people aboard that rock, and eight more in Man's Dream. And you're putting those lives at risk. And your own, of course, but nobody cares about cockroaches that get squashed."

  The voice turned angry. "Screw you, you arrogant asshole. What are you trying to hide? Why don't you want witnesses? Smuggling another nuclear reactor? Or maybe a bomb this time? If you've got nothing to hide, you've got nothing to fear."

  Frank laughed. "I figured that line was coming. Standard answer to it is, 'I'm hiding everything that isn't any of your business'. Now get that tin can out of that Lagrange point!"

  "What are you going to do, big shot? Sue me?"

  "Actually, yes. And your editor, and your network's News Director, Programming Director, CEO and every member of its Board of directors. Oh, and your pilot will never fly again, of course. That's in addition to criminal charges against all of you for reckless indifference and attempted murder."

  The voice gained an edge of panic. "We're just trying to cover the biggest space story of the century." The voice cut off abruptly, and came back almost a minute later. " . . . No, I said. He's bluffing. Listen, big shot. Just leave us alone. You keep making noise about how space is free, and nobody owns it. Well, we're just using that free space. You don't own the L1 point, you know."

  There was a silence of more than a minute before Frank's voice returned. "All right. I've just sent my attorneys transcripts of our conversation, and they are now drafting arrest warrants for all those I mentioned. Oh, I don't have your name, yet, but they'll just use 'John Doe' warrants. Captain Jenson, are you still monitoring this conversation?"

  "Yes, sir," Mark replied. And having a lot of fun doing it, he left unsaid.

  "Good. When Eros approaches, I want you to put Man's Dream between these idiots and Eros. After all, we must protect them from harm. They're in a small capsule. I think that if you turn your belly to it, you can protect them."

  "You bastard," the voice yelped, "We won't be able to see a goddam thing!"

  "Not my problem. But you are in a hazardous position. Captain Jenson is merely doing his duty to protect bystanders."

  Mark grinned. This was going to be fun. But he had work to do first. "Uh, sir, I'll need to gather in the canisters first."

  "Of course," Frank replied. "But be sure you protect these people from any debris or anything that might threaten them when Eros arrives."

  "Understood, sir. I think I'll be back in plenty of time."

  Mark was glad the updating of the Buran had included small drive rockets in the tail; the original hadn't had them. He boosted toward the first canister. George Rayburn, his co-pilot, was already suited up. He headed for the cargo bay. They would use the cargo arm to gather in the canisters. George would then attach them, one by one, to the outside of the ship. The inside of the cargo bay was already full.

  The procedure went smoothly, and Mark hoped those damned reporters hadn't seen a thing. The canisters increased the ship's mass considerably, and complicated its handling, but Mark was sure he could control it until he could drop them on Eros.

  He was heading back toward the capsule when he heard a sudden call. "Mayday! Mayday!" called the reporter's voice. "We have an air leak and require immediate help. Mayday!"

  Mark rolled his eyes. He suspected the reporter had gone to plan B. If Man's Dream was going to block his view, well, he'd get aboard Man's Dream."

  Frank obviously agreed. But no one can ignore a Mayday call. "Mark," Frank said on the Alcântara frequency, "You have to rescue those idiots, of course. But Man's Dream has a very small passenger compartment. Much too small to hold three more people."

  Mark's grin widened. It was standard procedure in a small capsule like a Soyuz for the occupants to wear space suits constantly. Besides, the Buran's personnel airlock had been designed to mate with the Soyuz hatch. So, there would be no problem bringing them aboard. But as Frank had hinted, he'd be damned if he'd let them near a viewport or a transmitter!

  The cargo hold had no ports. So, the reporter would be present for the big event, crammed in between the boxes and drums, just as he wanted. But he wasn't going to see it, and he wasn't going to film it. Mark could hardly wait to see the expression on his face.

  "By the way, Mark," Frank said on the common frequency, "be sure you put a beacon on that capsule, so we can retrieve it later. We'll want to see where it came from, and of course, the investigators will want to examine the damage. For insurance purposes, of course."

  "Yes, sir." Mark didn't trust himself to say more, for fear he'd burst into laughter.

  ***

  Eros' crew missed all the excitement; they were quite occupied. Dolf was now basing his computations on Man's Dream's beacon, since the simple instruction "L-1" was no longer precise enough. His instruments showed the small dot that indicated the Soyuz, but he neither knew nor cared what it was as his fingers flew on the computer keyboard.

  David was upstairs, playing the dozen engine controls like a pipe organ, hands and feet. The others were strapped into their acceleration couches, though Ron was poised to jump into action on a moment's notice, and Yuri had his hand on the lever that would transfer control to his own board. Raoul simply sat and fidgeted. Even his seemingly inexhaustible store of jokes had deserted him. Yoshi's lips moved in what Raoul assumed to be silent prayer.

  The huge potato-shaped rock crept into the L-1 position with glacial slowness. "Fifteen-second max burn . . . Now!" Dolf cried, and David fed max power to the forward-facing rockets

  He counted down from fifteen, while watching a clock, and then suddenly threw the drive handles back to idle. "Delta-Vee?" he shouted.

  "Secure in Lagrange point to the limit of accuracy, sir," Dolf replied crisply. "We appear to have arrived!"

  "Verify!" David shouted.

  "Verified, sir," Dolf replied. "Delta-Vee is within limits, and controllable with ion engines."

  "Thank you," David replied. He flicked a switch to connect him with the frequency they had been using for more than two years. "Spaceship Eros has arrived in home orbit," he reported, then added, "Weatherly Station is now on location!"

  For several minutes, cheers on both ends of the circuit prevented an answer.


  Finally, though, Frank could be heard. "What the hell was that 'Weatherly Station' business?" he demanded.

  David grinned. "Unanimous decision of the crew. Face it Frank, for the next few hundred years you're saddled with a space station named after you!"

  Finally, after so many months, they were able to break Man's Hope permanently out of her ice prison. She would be returning to Earth, and Man's Dream carried a dome that would be sealed into place in her stead. By now, the living spaces had been expanded enough to house at least twenty workers of the "activation crew." Captain Jenson was bringing the first batch, but all three Burans would soon be shuttling back and forth.

  The big Energia booster, its tank more than half-full of oxygen and hydrogen gas, would remain sealed to Weatherly Station, a piece of emergency equipment in case a Buran had to go on a rescue mission. One of the cargo canisters Jenson was bringing contained a compact plant for liquefying fuel gases. Frank felt that one of Weatherly Station's big attractions would be fuel refills. His people were working on a way to provide the purified kerosene many boosters required, but Frank had decided they would not deal with solid fuel boosters – they were too volatile and toxic.

  One of his ideas was that while most of the boosters used today were "reusable," many still required serious refurbishing, especially after falling to Earth and being fished out of an ocean. Frank was planning a sort of "booster trade" program. Spacecraft using oxygen/hydrogen boosters would carry them to Weatherly Station instead of simply dropping them. There, they would trade the empty boosters for full ones, for a fee of course, and would be well equipped for interplanetary travel. Weatherly Station was too far out for his plan to be practical for low-earth satellite launches, but for interplanetary missions, well, as someone said, "Once you're out of Earth's gravity field, you're halfway to anywhere!" Frank felt that his plan would drastically cut the cost of interplanetary travel – at least until ion propulsion took over from rockets.

  David was not enthused about being required to transport the two reporters and their pilot back to Earth, especially given the presence of Yoshi

  "You don't have to make them guests," Frank told him. "In fact, I'd rather they didn't feel welcome. Keep them in the cargo bay, and lock the door. Tell the crew that no one talks to them, that even a couple of sentences can turn into a story; the kind of story we don't want!"

  So, the reporters got to ride home in Man's Hope, though they didn't enjoy it much.

  They found Frank waiting with half-a dozen Brazilian military and police officers, all anxious to talk to them about their adventure, and inquire about their lack of Brazilian visas. Frank provided interview rooms, well equipped with video equipment to record statements. Copies of all the videos, of course, would be sent to Frank's attorneys, for use in the lawsuits he had promised. Even when he had threatened it, Frank had known there would be no criminal actions. He most definitely did not want terrestrial justice systems to think they had jurisdiction in space. But he planned to pursue that network to bankruptcy.

  The crew's welcome home was quite different. They were international heroes, and Frank had been most active in promoting that image. Before they fell into the social whirlpool, though, Frank had a private meeting with them.

  Yoshi had been quietly removed from Man's Hope by a medical team – a Japanese team.

  The welcome had already become hectic, but he had something to tell them that he could not while they were aboard Man's Hope. Frank called them to order.

  "All right, gentlemen, we need to talk finances. You know the salaries in your contracts. None of you are married . . . " he glanced at Dolf, "Well, not currently," he smiled.

  "That being the case, instead of paying your salaries into a savings account where it would draw minimal interest, I've been paying them into an escrow account for each of you, and I have been investing them. Your accounts are now worth more than twenty percent more than your salaries alone." There was a hubbub of "sounds good," and "how much are we worth." Frank waited it out.

  "Let's just say you're all millionaires, now. But that's just a detail."

  "A detail!" David shouted.

  Frank smiled proudly. "Yes, and a small one. You've all been hearing about Space International. SpaceInt is a holding company. That means it just owns things; it doesn't provide goods or services. There are now over a dozen companies under the SpaceInt umbrella. If you'd like, I'll go over the details with you later.

  "But what you need to know is that SpaceInt is a very closely-held private company. There are a total of fifteen shares of stock in the parent company, SpaceInt. I own nine of them. Each of you owns one."

  "You mean we're Space International?" David asked incredulously.

  Frank nodded. "Each of you owns one-fifteenth of the parent company."

  "Even Yoshi?" That was Raoul.

  Frank nodded again. "Yes, even Yoshi. After all, he did make the entire trip. You need to remember that SpaceInt is a parent company. SpaceInt owns a controlling interest in ten companies, and substantial interest in four others.

  "In other words, those shares are worth a lot of money. One-fifteenth of the value of SpaceInt, to be exact."

  "Frank," Yuri said hesitantly, "None of us are businessmen. Are you sure you want to do this?"

  "I know you're not," Frank replied, "and yes, I do want to do this. I've built in some protections for you. In order to receive your share, you will have to sign an agreement. That agreement provides that should you, or even your descendants, want to sell your shares, you must first offer them to the others at a set price. That price is one-fifteenth of the total value of SpaceInt as of the close of business on the day you offer to sell. As of today, the value is a little over one hundred and fifty million dollars. So, if you decided to sell today, your share would be worth ten million dollars.

  Raoul had been drinking. He spewed coffee. "Ten million dollars?" he said incredulously. "U.S. dollars?"

  Frank nodded, his smile broad. "Yes, and growing daily. I would not recommend you sell your share anytime soon."

  David looked concerned. "Frank, that wasn't part of the deal. You don't need to do this."

  Frank's broad smile faded. "Yes, I do. I've had dreams of space since I was a kid. But I'm just a money guy, a computer geek. Sure, I paid for the whole thing, but you, David, gave me back the dream, and the rest of you brought it to life.

  "This has been the great adventure I've always dreamed of. It even brought me together with Susan. So yes, I need to do this."

  "Oh," he continued. There's one other thing you need to know about. After your stunt threatening to send Eros into the Sun, charges were filed against you in the International Court of Justice."

  Raoul frowned, and Yuri looked concerned. "They charged you with interfering with the operation of the United Nations. However," he continued, his smile resurfacing. "Since the resolution failed by a resounding margin, my International Law attorney says there's nothing to worry about. The charges will quietly go away."

  "Now," he straightened, "Let's go meet your public. I hope you don't have any plans for the next month or so. You'll be touring the world."

  The world tour was a great success. Everywhere they went; well-wishers mobbed the crew. Over fifty governments greeted them enthusiastically. Yemen was not among them.

  In the midst of all the excitement, Frank's launch of the third Buran, now named "SpaceInt One," went almost unremarked, by everyone but Frank.

  The launch of Man's Dream had been an experiment. Frank needed to know if the Energia booster was truly reusable. It had returned to Earth on the end of a cluster of parachutes. A crew from Energia and one from SpaceInt were waiting for it. A careful examination revealed that the booster would need only minor maintenance before being ready to launch again.

  SpaceInt One launched less than a month later. It carried the first of the crew that would be establishing the commercial side of Weatherly station. For practical as well as political reasons, it was to be locate
d at the opposite end of the long asteroid.

  Weatherly Station officially went into service four months later, with the establishment of Man's Hope International's sensor and communication systems, which had been transported to L-1 by an Energia Vulkan booster.

  It was another year before Frank Weatherly and Susan Andrews arrived on Weatherly Station. The acceleration on the trip up had been rough on Frank, but upon arrival at the SpaceInt installation, he spread his arms wide and smiling broadly, said simply, "Home!"

  He and Susan were married the following month in a ceremony at the Man's Hope International facility aboard Weatherly Station.

  By that time, the presence of Weatherly Station had been a reminder and a motivator for the entire world. Knowing that a refueling station was available drove all the spacegoing nations to again pursue aggressive goals in space, in attempts to catch up with Space International and Man's Hope International.

  Russia was preparing to test-fly the Kliper spacecraft, to be launched on a Proton M booster with Angara 5 strap-ons. If it was successful, an air launch from the AN-225 was planned.

  At Energia, Anton was lobbying hard for a version of the Vulkan to be built using the completely reusable Energia II main stage. He was having some success; his involvement with Frank and Man's Hope had shot him up the ladder in the company. But he admitted to Frank that production of such a booster was still nearly a year off. In the meantime, Energia was producing their big Vulkan boosters as fast as they could. Energia was no longer threatened with a Khrunichev takeover, and in fact, Khrunichev was working with Energia on several projects.

  In the US, NASA was given permission and money to evaluate a follow-on version of Shuttle that had originally been proposed some twenty years ago. NASA was frantically updating the design, and was talking to Energia about Vulkan boosters and Space-X about Falcon Heavy boosters. The new Director of the chastened agency had overseen a serious thaw in its relations with Frank and Man's Hope International. Frank was no longer a villain and a terrorist; instead, he was a respected space expert, as well as one of the world's wealthiest private citizens. Man's Hope International, the U.S. press had decided, was, in fact, an admirable organization after all, and Space International was recognized as a powerful, legitimate multinational corporation.