by Jeff Pollard
“What am I looking at?” Brittney asks.
“You know what you're looking at,” K replies.
“The bloody midget-cricket?!” Hammersmith shouts.
“That's Hummingbird,” K corrects her. The Hummingbird is a one-fourth-scale model of the first stage of the Eagle 9 rocket, and featuring a single Arthur engine. The HB has large landing legs supported by some heavy duty shock absorbers. For all the data we have on aerodynamics and flight performance of planes, helicopters, rockets, etc., there just is no experience anywhere with making a rocket this size hover or descend in a controlled way. There's plenty of experience with gimballing or directing rocket engines to steer rockets while ascending, but none about descent. The Hummingbird I is a one-fourth scale of the Eagle 9, while the not yet built Hummingbird II will be a 67% scale version, using five Arthur engines. Once many many tests are done on these two experimental vehicles, the data analyzed, flight computers programmed, only then can they attempt to try bringing a real Eagle 9 back down.
“I know it's a midget-cricket, but what is it doing there?”
“They're running tests,” K replies matter-of-factly.
“No, I mean, what is it doing existing in the first place.”
“To test things,” K replies. “This is a really great existential conversation, I like it.”
“I thought these were staying on the drawing board for now,” Brittney says, getting in K's face.
“We're pushing forward,” K says proudly.
“Kingsley. We're already pushing forward, we're doing historical firsts, and we're going to make money doing it, that is unless your bankrupt us by spending all our money. I can't make payroll next month!”
“Relax, I brought on new investors,” K replies. “They'll cover our cash flow problem while I get the reusability program up and running.”
“Program?”
“Yeah, Hummingbird II is under construction, the Thermal Protection System team is working on lightweight heat-shielding for the first stage, and the aerodynamics of second stage re-entry to design a more robust heat-shield, and we're working on upgrading the last Eagle 9 1.0 with landing legs and cold-reaction jets so we can get more data before we finalize the v1.1 design.”
“You took on new investors?” Brittney says, getting even more in Kingsley's face.
“That's right, so we're good,” K replies, walking away.
“No we're not good, sit down!” Brittney shouts. Kingsley sighs, then sits in his swiveling chair. Brittney stands over him, collecting her thoughts for a moment, eyes closed, trying to keep from screaming. “Kingsley. You're like Henry Ford. You just made the Model T assembly line, a rocket cheap enough that anyone can buy one, you'll have more customers than you know what to do with. But instead of going along happily building Model Ts now that you've done all the work of making the assembly line, imagine if instead Henry Ford said, screw that, let's spend all our money, risk bankruptcy, bring on meddling investors, all so I can design the Model U. Just stop. You've done something amazing already, let's not jeopardize the whole god damn thing so you can skip five steps because you're impatient. Are you listening to me?”
“I'm hearing the words you're saying.”
“And?”
“Hearing and caring are different,” K says.
“We're perfecting the cheapest rocket in history, lets make a shit load of these, make some money, then invest in the next thing. Let's try turning a profit first.”
“I don't care about turning a profit,” Kingsley replies. “This company isn't about making money.”
“Well that's a problem for me, because I'm the CFO.”
“And you're doing a great job,” K replies.
“Kingsley.”
“I want to make humanity a space-fairing civilization, and if an asteroid comes and wipes out the human race while I'm sitting around counting my profits instead of building a base on Mars...you try spending money after the apocalypse.”
“Whatever,” Brittney replies, shaking her head. “Who's the new investor?”
“Sergei-”
“Don't say Sergei Kuznetzov,” Hammersmith interrupts.
“Alright, I won't,” K says, getting up and walking to the bar in the corner of his office.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a drink,” K replies. “You want one?”
“No,” Brittany says testily. “Is it Sergei Kuznetzov?” Hammersmith asks.
“I was told not to say it.”
“God dammit Kingsley, Sergei Kuznetzov is Russian Mafia,” Hammersmith says.
“You think he's gonna have my legs broken?” K asks as he sips whiskey.
“Why, why, why would you take money from the Russian Mafia?”
“Because every other investor that's interested is trying to get in here so they can stop me from doing reusability. They all want to own the, by far, cheapest and best product in the market, they'd effectively have a monopoly. Anyone who's investing got their money by caring more about money than anything else, and none of them are interested in advancing the human race by bringing down the cost of rocketry by a factor of ten or a hundred. It's not good business sense. They all say you'll run out of customers, you'd have more rockets than you would payloads. I think that's not true, but they say it to defend the fact that they want these things to be a hundred million dollars a piece and to sell a dozen of them a year, not a thousand of them for a million a piece.”
“And what makes you think Sergei Kuznetzov isn't trying to do that?” Hammersmith asks incredulously.
“He's Russian Mafia, he's not thinking about dominating the world's rocket market. He's just trying to legitimize the business front of his operations...and launder money.”
“Kingsley,” Brittney says.
“Yeah?” K says, leaning back in his chair.
“I need a drink.”
“I knew you'd come around,” K says, opening up his bar. “Vodka?” Hammersmith glares at him. “If you'll excuse me, I'm supposed to be hanging out with Mr. Universe right now.”
“I thought Mr. Universe was your nickname?”
“I'll settle for Mr. Solar System,” K replies, heading out the door.
“What's that?” Arnold asks, pointing to the Hummingbird on the horizon as they exit the rocket plant.
“Let's go check it out,” K says, flipping Arnold a set of keys. Arnold is confused, but Kingsley points behind him at a new prototype Tezla.
“I've driven the first Tezla, the two-seater,” Arnold says, approaching this car that looks unfamiliar.
“This is the Tezla Z. I designed it myself,” K says. The Z is a bit like an Indy or Formula One car. Very low to the ground, with a driver's seat in the center of the vehicle, wings to keep it pegged to the ground, and of course, electric motors at each wheel, rather than one large engine.
“I'm not sitting in your lap,” Arnold says.
“I got my own,” K replies.
K and Arnold zoom down the wide open asphalt, much like a runway, connecting the factory to the Grasshopper launch pad. The men race each other, driving side-by-side in their open cockpit vehicles.
“Don't go over 80!” Kingsley shouts through the deafening wind.
“You want me to go 80?” Arnold shouts. Arnold zooms away.
“Oh dear,” K mutters. He watches Arnold put distance between them, hitting probably 90. Kingsley frets, then has an idea. He grabs his phone from his pocket and searches through his contacts for Schwarzenegger, while keeping one eye on the road and Arnold as he weaves back and forth across the runway at close to 100 mph.
“Scalia,” K says, glancing down at his phone, “not there yet,” he flips further through his contact, “Schwimmer, I've gone too far.” K back tracks, distracted from the road. “No Schwarzenegger? Right...” K flips through his contacts, looking for “Ahhnuld.” Eyes down, K glances up to find Arnold and his brand new Tezla Z spun out, sitting sideways, right in his path, with Kingsley closing at 80 mph.
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K jams his foot on the brakes. The Z stops faster than you would think physically possible, coming to a screeching halt only a foot from Arnold's car as the terminator looks on with scared wide eyes.
“Don't text and drive,” Arnold says.
“I signed that law myself,” Arnold says as the two of them carefully walk the remaining distance to the Hummingbird launch pad.
“These aren't public roads,” K replies as he opens a gate.
“And what is this thing?”
“It can hover, move around, come back down and land.”
“So it's like a rocket helicopter?” Arnold asks.
“I guess so.”
“So can you take this from LA to Sacramento in like ten minutes?” Arnold asks.
“It's not really for transportation.”
“Can I get one, how much is it?”
“Fifty million, but that's mostly because it's one-of-a-kind, you know, with volume, price-per-unit comes down.”
“What?” Arnold asks. An alarm sounds, echoing off the hills. “Are we supposed to be here?”
K looks around at flashing lights, “I don't think so.” The Hummingbird starts making noise, whirring of a turbopump powering up. “I think it's time to run.”
Arnold follows Kingsley as they run toward the gate. The alarm doubles in intensity as the test has been aborted. A technician rushes toward them from a bunker in the hillside. “Get the hell out of here, this is a rocket test site! What the fu-” The technician stops in his tracks. “Sorry, I didn't recognize you.”
“It's alright, we were doing something pretty stupid,” K says. “Arnold, this is, some new guy, new guy, Mr. Universe.” The tech doesn't even acknowledge Arnold, staring at Kingsley, star-struck.
“It's a huge pleasure for my meat,” the tech says, shaking K's hand. “To meet you.”
“Yeah, that's not weird,” K says, trying to shake off the new guy's nerdgasm. The tech holds K's hand, not really shaking as much as just holding it, unaware of his surroundings.
“I just want to say, seriously, thank you for this job.”
“I'm sure you were qualified and such, don't thank me for that,” K says. “You are qualified right, we didn't just hire some homeless person who said, will science rockets for food.”
“No, I worked at Lockheed,” the tech says. K pulls his hand away. “Sorry.”
“Why are you so thankful for a job if you worked at Lockheed, you weren't like a janitor there right?”
“No, actually I made a lot more money there,” the tech says.
“Alright, so this isn't weird,” Arnold says. “Should we move farther away from the rocket?”
“It's probably fine,” K says, as he and Arnold start walking back to their Tezla Z's.
“Mr. Pretorius!” the tech follows. “I really just want to thank you again, seriously.”
“For what exactly? Paying you less?”
“For giving me a job that matters, at Lockheed, it's just like...nobody cares about rockets or space, it's all business, bottom line. They don't dream. They don't care about grandeur, Voyager 2, going to the Moon, Mars. They don't care, it's just a job to them. I mean, we're working on this Orion capsule thing, but it's not even going to fly until 2022, it's like...how do we get excited about that?”
“Wait,” K says, stopping, letting the tech catch up. “2022?”
“Yeah, first flight is scheduled for 2017, and that's unmanned, then 2022 for first manned flight.”
“2022!?” K is stunned. “Hey Arnold, go ahead and go back up to HQ, ask to see T-Bowe, they'll know who you're talking about, he'll get you started on the flight training.”
“I'll be back,” Arnold says.
“Well, I'm not staying right here, so...”
“It was a joke.”
“Good one,” K says sarcastically.
“It's not a tumor,” Arnold says. “No? I'll just go then.”
“Tell me more about the Orion,” K says to the tech. “First, what's your name?”
“Josh Yerino.”
“Kingsley!” Caroline calls out in Kingsley's Castle. “We have dinner plans, remember? I know you're here somewhere.” Caroline sighs, calling K on her cell phone. “Where are you? . . . Stay there.” Caroline walks down stairs to Kingsley's sim room which has multiple simulators and cockpits. “We have dinner plans, did you forget?”
“Sorry,” K says, “Just got a little wrapped up in something.”
“You got ten minutes to get ready.”
“Oh...I'm not going, I'm working on something.”
“K, you can't cancel at the last minute like that,” Caroline says.
“It's your friends, I'm sure they can cope,” K replies. “Besides, I've got company, we're in the middle of something.”
“Company?” Caroline asks.
“Yes mam,” a voice says from inside a simulator.
“Who's that?”
“Josh Yerino...mam,” the young technician says, poking his head out.
“Eyes on instruments,” K says sternly. He walks over to Caroline, escorting her toward the stairs. “I'm sorry about the fundraiser, or wedding shower, whatever it is, but this kid just started working for me. Get this, he used to work for Lockheed, and he says the Orion won't put people in space until 2022.” K pauses dramatically.
“And?”
“This changes everything!”
“What does that have to do with you putting him in your simulator and hanging out all night?”
K sheepishly smiles, not really wanting to answer. “He reminds me of a young me.”
“You weren't that nerdy when you were young...were you?”
“I created and sold a video game when I was twelve. I founded three Internet start-ups before I was twenty-two. What do you think?”
“Alright K, but don't leave me hanging like this again. It's a fundraiser, and people are expecting us both, and they aren't my friends, they're the trophy wives, and there's nothing they like more than gossip, and this just gives them something to gossip about.”
“You really hate LA, huh?”
“No, I love smog and stuck-up bitches.”
“And that's saying something coming from a duchess.”
“Damn straight,” Caroline replies. K kisses her on her elegant neck, then pats her butt.
“Go kick some ass.” K watches Caroline walk away and up the stairs. She knows he's staring and accentuates her walk. K gulps and walks back to the simulator, checking on Josh.
“I didn't know you were married,” Josh says.
“Not married.”
“Then, I didn't know you had a girlfriend.”
“That makes me sound like some kind of loser, of course I have a girlfriend,” K replies.
“No, I mean...like, you have girls, obviously, I'm surprised you keep one around for any amount of time.”
“Eyes on instruments,” K says.
“Oh that, I landed already.”
“Really?” K asks, looking to the control console. “Alright, good job. That was fast.”
“Well, I figured out what my max thrust was, figured out what acceleration I could get with that. So I turned the engine off, let her free fall toward the Moon, then when I was at four hundred meters I burned at full power, coming to a hover at thirty meters, then I just maneuvered to a nice spot and landed. You use a lot less fuel like that, much less gravity losses.”
K chuckles.
“What?”
“You just...sound like me.”
“Well it's true.”
“I know it's true, it's just that it's the way a physics major would fly, not a pilot. Pilot's don't like to do that, they call that a suicide burn. They much prefer to maintain control and steer toward a safe landing site the whole way down, rather than do a suicide burn at the last moment.”
“But if you do it my way, then you have more fuel to maneuver to look for a safe landing site.”
“I was a physics major too,” K says. “Come
on out of there.” Kingsley turns on a touch white-board with a projector that covers half the wall.
“So why are you simulating Moon landings, is there a Moon program on the drawing board?” Josh asks.
“Not yet,” K says. “Until today, I thought NASA was thinking big. The Orion, it's huge, too big to fly on existing boosters, it's almost twice as heavy as an Apollo Capsule, so clearly it's not designed for just low-Earth-orbit missions, right? They're going back to the Moon, on to Mars, Lagrange points, asteroids, etc. But today you told me they aren't putting up a manned Orion until 2022, and projecting only one Orion launch a year at best. I knew the first test flight was set for 2017, but I didn't know there was going to be a five year gap after that, nor did I know they were going to fly so infrequently. I thought maybe two or three per year, but if every other year is on the table, that's insane. I also know they don't have a lunar lander in the pipeline. They don't have anything on the drawing board for Mars, it's all just a wait and see approach. They want to get Orion going, then do that, right? This just smells like the shuttle, where they had all kinds of plans, like a space station in the 80's, putting up components for interplanetary ships or return to the Moon. Then they got shuttle going and never got around to those things. They only got around to doing the space station when the Russians were on board.”
“What are you getting at?” Josh asks.
“Here's how I see it going,” K says. He writes on the white-board. “First manned launch, 2022, just a lunar orbit mission, nothing we didn't accomplish in Apollo 8. They'll tell you that they'll then start doing these deep space missions, but I'll bet you anything by the time we actually get to 2024, they'll have changed plans, lost funding, canceled things. Then, since they'll have canceled or changed lander designs so many times, they won't have one, so what they'll do is just go on tourist missions that don't require more hardware, right? They'll go to the Earth-Moon-Lagrange points, as just a technical stunt. They'll visit an asteroid since that doesn't require a lander or the delta-v to get in and out of a gravity well. But I bet they won't send an Orion that far. Not to Mars, not to a Venus flyby, nothing like that. Too risky. No landings, no lunar-rendezvous, too dangerous. They're an agency that's devoted to keeping their budget, not by doing bold things. Maybe eventually they'll get around to pushing the envelope in 2030 or later.”
