by Jack L Knapp
“You think someone found out she had impellers on board?”
“That’s the only way this makes sense. We searched the area off Puerto Rico, but suppose the ships came from Venezuela? Tesla was there, discharging cargo. She also picked up a load of...let me see, crockery. There was a shipment of pitchers and vases, things like that, made by local people. Apparently it sells better up north than it does in Venezuela. Could someone have realized that Tesla was different?”
Chuck was silent, thinking about what she’d said. “Keep talking, Martha.”
“Venezuela doesn’t have a huge navy, but they’ve got patrol craft. Those might have been what the crew spotted. As for small boats, there’s no shortage of them in that part of the world.”
“Recommendation, Martha?”
“Search the area again. Start with that presumed location, but this time search due south, spreading out in a cone covering the northern coast of South America. I don’t see that we have anything to lose.”
“Good idea. Okay, I’ll see to it. What about the sailors?”
“I’ll see if they’re interested in going to school. If they are, we’ll find a place for them.”
“Thanks, Martha. I’ll get back to you.”
#
Chuck dispatched Lina for a second search, then went back to work. Subassemblies for the new ships, some made in India or South Korea, others in Indonesia and the Philippines, had begun to fill NFI’s pipeline. Giant picked up shipments as soon as they were ready, then hauled them to the moon. Rotating assembly crews worked ten day shifts at Moonbase, then went home. A second crew moved in, and ten days later a third crew took their place. The men loved it; ten days in space, then ten days at home with money to spend, followed by ten days learning new skills...
The information spread around the world. Good jobs, good pay, plenty of time off; NFI’s Swiss office now had a waiting list of applicants. Few were accepted; NFI could afford to be selective, and was.
New reactors, all following the small modular design developed by Japanese scientists, were also available. Each month, Giant or Goliath picked up a reactor and took it to Moonbase for temporary storage. Pete’s staff now worked on a different kind of design; Giant-class ships would be taken out of service on the moon, power rooms stripped out, and new, stronger frame members installed. Their fuel cells would be stored as spares for the older Farside-class ships. They were simply too small, too old, to justify being converted to nuclear power. Chuck wondered what to do about them, but put off making a decision.
Frodo showed up later that afternoon and asked to speak to Chuck. Adelheid, transferred from Rovaniemi now that the base faced closure, had taken over the Iceland office. She notified Chuck and Frodo was shown in a few minutes later.
“Good to see you back so soon. Did you find Tesla?”
“No, but I found something else. I went ahead and completed the search just to be sure, but I came back north and took a second look. There’s a US Coast Guard cutter and a commercial ship of some kind there. I didn’t get a good look, but I got camera footage. They’re not anchored, but they’re staying in position. Between the time I first saw them and when I came back after searching south, they hadn’t moved.”
“Not anchored?”
“Not there. According to the chart, there’s no anchorage. There are a couple of ridges near that area, but most of it’s really deep, around six kilometers. The Muertos Trough is even deeper.”
“Are you thinking the same thing I am, Frodo?”
“If you’re thinking that’s a task force looking for Tesla, I am.”
Chuck shook his head. “It only makes sense if the ships Tesla’s crew spotted came from the US, not Venezuela. But how would they know?”
Frodo hitched his chair closer. “You got a message from Tesla, right?” Chuck nodded. “Was it encrypted?”
“I don’t know, probably. But it would have used an older version, something that’s at least five years old, maybe ten.”
“You know there are ears everywhere. Satellites, big antennas...wouldn’t the US have a way of monitoring conversations? Puerto Rico is a US possession, after all.”
“Let me summarize, then. You tell me where I’m wrong.” Frodo nodded, waiting.
“Sven radios a report. This one was longer and contained more information that the routine position reports he usually sent. It also came from an area that the US has an interest in.”
“Right, they have security concerns, and Cuba is pretty close. There’s still a lot of unrest in that part of the world. The US...what’s that agency? The one that snoops on conversations?”
“Most likely the National Security Agency. Go on.”
“Somehow, they picked up the radio message. Decoding something that old, piece of cake. Tesla was originally bought in the US and rebuilt there. There were almost certainly records, and if someone looked deep enough, they would have tied it to NFI.”
“You’re making sense. I don’t like it, but I think you’re right,” said Chuck.
“So they send someone to take a look. Something went wrong. The crew takes to the boats. The only one missing now is Sven, right?”
“Right.”
“Sven does something, or the ships sink Tesla. They know where she went down, and now they’re looking for her. It only makes sense if they believe that she carried impellers.”
“Those sons of bitches!” Chuck was angry, and it showed. “They’re as bad as the fucking Russians!”
Frodo looked at him, alarmed. This wasn’t like Chuck, who rarely allowed his voice to rise. Maybe going home had something to do with that.
“Take it easy, Chuck. We’re only guessing. We don’t know anything, not for sure.”
Chuck leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was still in that position when he spoke.
“How likely are they to find Tesla?”
“It’s going to be a stone bitch, I think. Searching those seamounts and canyons, it’s like trying to find an airplane somewhere in the Rockies. Even if they know exactly where she sank, ships don’t just go straight down. They tend to drift around, especially assuming she sank through six kilometers of water. There are currents, thermoclines. They might not be within a kilometer, maybe ten kilometers, of Tesla. If she really sank, I mean.”
“But they’ll find her eventually.”
“If they’re willing to spend the time and money, Chuck. They found that Russian sub in the 1970s. Deep free-diving subs are a lot better now than they were back then. So yes, if they want her bad enough, they’ll find her.”
“Thanks, Frodo. You’re not flying now, are you?”
“No, I’m done for the day. It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.”
“How about a drink?”
“I could use one.”
“Well, let’s see.” Chuck opened the cabinet. “Pretty good selection. You name it, we’ve got it.”
“Scotch?”
“Single malt, Laphroaig, Macallan, Lagavulin...”
“I’ll have that last one, Lagavulin. Neat.”
Chuck nodded and poured two fingers into each glass, then handed one to Frodo.
“Cheers. You did a good job. Speaking of that, are you happy being my personal pilot?”
“Absolutely. Fly that little sportster of a ship, or one of the space trucks? I’ll stay where I am.”
#
The president was still angry.
He’d been furious, at first; how dare that man refuse a phone call from the President of the United States of America! Who the hell did he think he was? Not even the premier of China would do that, Russia either. Still angry, he’d eventually gone to bed, but couldn’t sleep. A pill helped, but a midnight call to deal with the aftermath of flooding in Florida had left him groggy.
Three cups of coffee later, he was grouchy when Mark brought him the morning briefing papers. He opened the folder, glanced at the summary, then closed it.
“Mark, you mentioned contacts with
China and Russia. Who else is on that list?”
“The European Union is aware of it, Mister President. I don’t know how committed they are.”
“It’s time to find out. See how long it will take to set up a meeting. Heads of government, maybe one or two aides at most. Maybe that jumped-up asshole will listen if we stick a sharp stick in his eye!”
“Yes, Mister President. They’ll want an agenda.”
“Work it out, Mark. Let me know when you’ve got something, but here’s my thinking. NFI’s holding onto space, but we’ve got the planet. They need stuff, food and water, air, a lot of other stuff. If we work together, we can shut them off. Not so much as a drink, not a pound of hamburger, not a single breath of air. When they come crawling, the shoe will be on the other foot. Let him beg me to talk to me!”
Mark nodded and left, cell phone already in hand. Moments later, Pinchot Forberger answered. Mark arranged for the two to have dinner that evening. Over cocktails, he brought up the president’s idea.
“Shoot down spaceships? The Russians had a go at one, missed him. On the other hand, they didn’t try to shoot him down, just scare him. Okay, I’ll start working on this. Got a time frame?”
“Soon. The boss is seriously tweaked. He wants Sneyd’s guts for garters.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Messages were dispatched, but there was no immediate reply. Heads of government don’t drop everything; they want to discuss issues, look at them carefully. Mistakes can be devastating.
The EU had internal problems. The northern nations were restive; in their view, the EU was costing more than it was worth. SA similar attitude prevailed along the Mediterranean, but for a different reason. Nations there faced the brutal prospect of economic collapse. France and Germany felt that holding the uneasy alliance together was essential; one had only to remember the bad old days, when bloody war was followed by catastrophic famine and decades of rebuilding.
Russia had commodities, oil, gas, timber, even diamonds. More, in fact, than the nation could use, but the excess could only be sold at deeply-discounted prices. The national leadership felt the pressure, not only from citizens but also from the oligarchs. They missed the old days, when wealth flowed in instead of dribbling slowly away. If the western nations were really in trouble, might there not be opportunity? After all, England had once been the seat of empire. Would it be worthwhile to join the western nations now, or would it be better to wait and pick up the pieces when they collapsed?
China had come to the same conclusion. Unlike Russia, China mow had a growing industry building rockets, ships that were almost ready to make supply runs to the moon, and for that matter a base on the moon itself. But NFI held the whip hand. Could something be done to weaken them? They made regular runs to Japan, and China now had missiles in place along the coastal areas. There were also missiles on the artificial islands in the South China Sea. Radars were also there.
The following day, a meeting took place. Senior Chinese officers listened and a plan was put forth. Two days later, reflecting the urgency felt by the leadership, the plan was approved.
Chapter Twenty-five
Several months later
Chuck canceled his morning appointments. He was depressed; a newspaper interview in the United States had come to his attention. The interview, conducted by a newspaper in Florida, quoted a sailor who claimed that a ‘drug ship’ had broken up and gone down with all hands. He’d also inadvertently revealed that it had happened during a pursuit by US Navy ships.
What to do? What could he do? He’d called Frenchy as soon as he saw the article, but Frenchy had been no help. A sailor’s boast wasn’t proof, of course, but when considered in the light of a possible salvage operation...the ships were still there, doing something...the story took on plausibility.
A private company with no diplomatic standing, NFI couldn’t even file a diplomatic protest. As for a lawsuit, there was no proof, and in any case it wouldn’t bring Sven back. Depression faded; anger took its place, but there was no outlet. Chuck headed for the hangar. NFI would have to do without him for a day; he was going home to visit Lina and the four-year-old twins.
Will had good news; the Australian government had declined to permit a foreign-owned corporation from building a base in the outback, but had pointed out that a citizen of Australia could purchase land and engage in business so long as regulatory requirements were met and taxes paid.
Frenchy, Lina, and Will had immediately applied for Australian citizenship. Lina, the mother of two babies born in Australia, received approval first, but the others soon followed. The ink was barely dry before a subsidiary corporation, New Frontiers Australia, was set up. Lina was listed as company CEO and Will dealt with business matters. As for the future citizenship of Robbie and Bobby, they could sort that out for themselves when they came of age. Agents and a small army of lawyers headed for the outback, looking for a suitable location to build a base.
The new company’s reputation was enhanced by association with NFI. There would be good jobs and prosperity; hadn’t that happened to every nation that allied with NFI? A few politicians had been uneasy, but had remained silent. Jobs and money were a combination that no politician could ignore.
Spirits bolstered by good news, Chuck flew back to Iceland the following morning. Perhaps the Greenland government would also act soon; the Reykjavik base was crowded, and as new ships completed their acceptance voyage, it would only get worse. At least the new ships required no refueling; the SMR power units would not need replacing for at least five years, and in any case servicing would be done in Japan.
A decision coalesced in Chuck’s mind as he flew north. He radioed Adelheid and asked her to set up a meeting with representatives of Japan, Indonesia, and India. The US government either had or soon would have access to impellers, even though broken and soaked with seawater. They could be reverse-engineered. The process might take a year, but it would happen. What then? Should the nation that had dealt so harshly with NFI, that had caused the sinking of Tesla and the death of Sven, become the second entity with impeller-driven ships? And what about filing a patent? Could NFI ignore the possibility that the US government would patent whatever they discovered during the examination of Tesla’s impellers? A second phone call went to the legal staff. What should be patented? The modified Tesla coil that was the heart of the impeller system, a single primary and multiple revolving secondaries, was the heart of the system. Could a patent application be designed that would cover the coil, but not tie it to the impeller?
Questions, followed by more questions. That’s why they pay me the big bucks, Chuck thought.
The underlying anger remained, but was gradually supplanted by other concerns. Good news arrived that afternoon. Chuck was soon on his way to the moon.
#
“She’s magnificent!” Chuck looked at NFI’s latest acquisition. She sparkled, not only from the new skin, but from the charged particles striking her plasma field.
Frisbee had been completed ahead of the type-class ship, Saucer. Something had gone wrong during Saucer’s assembly, and as a result construction had paused. Work had gone on, some of the assembly workers being sent to Frisbee and Disco while engineers tried work-around after work-around. Eventually, the ship’s interior had been gutted; the wiring harnesses, exposed, would soon be replaced, but meantime the projected launch day had been set back by about two weeks. The harnesses had been manufactured in Indonesia; whether the defect was due to inadequate quality control or sabotage had not yet been determined, but no future deliveries would be accepted until the question was answered to NFI’s satisfaction. Meanwhile, a South Korean firm, using the original specifications, had taken up the slack. Their plant was turning out new harnesses, including a replacement for Saucer’s defective one.
Instead of being the first, it appeared that Saucer might be the third ship in her class to launch.
Frisbee floated above Luna’s surface, held aloft by impell
ers barely above idle. Fully stocked and crewed, the first true interplanetary ship would soon depart for Mars. Smaller craft now hauled cargo to Mars, but they were cramped and needed to make landfall every ten days to replenish supplies. Frisbee carried enough to support her crew for six months.
Cigar and Stogie would escort Frisbee during her maiden voyage. Each had already made independent trips to the red planet, surveying the surface and selecting sites for bases. The moon was a stepping stone; Mars, lacking only an atmosphere, would be humanity’s second home. Frisbee would provide temporary quarters while workers built the first four bases on Mars. Equipment had been ordered, fuel rods stockpiled; lessons had been learned. Marsbases One through Four would be much easier to build.
“They’re waiting, Chuck.” Reminded, Chuck contacted Frisbee’s captain. The order given, Frisbee accelerated straight up, increased sparkles showing the impeller field had strengthened. Someday he might visit Mars, but not now. There was a desk waiting, papers to examine, people to see. The adventure would continue, but Chuck would be more observer than participant.
Chuck sighed. He had one more stop to make, then he would head for Reykjavik.
Lina arrived at the Chinese base a short time later. Today’s nominal pilot was Alex Reutnor, taking over for Frodo, but Chuck decided he needed more stick time and kept control during the approach. He relinquished control to Alex as the hatch opened, then sprang directly from the hatch and landed, taking two steps to arrest his momentum. John followed, but walking or jumping on the moon was now second nature. Behind them, the hatch closed and Lina drifted up, hovering twenty meters above the surface. A small delegation of Chinese left the dome and headed their way.
Chuck and John went with the Chinese to a large domed structure and entered the airlock. Moments later, they found themselves inside. Their hosts removed their helmets, so John and Chuck did likewise. Chuck had come prepared; he opened a flap on his suit and took out a small translator.
