There were a few questions, but once those were answered, Kaem turned to Lee. “Is that shiny thing in the corner your new nuclear rover?”
“Yeah,” she said, a big smile splitting her face. “Wanna see me drive it around?”
“Sure,” Kaem replied. He got up and went over to look.
Lee climbed into the driver’s compartment while Kaem looked in the door. She had a pretty big screen mounted in front. It displayed the view from the periscopes, which could be rotated and pivoted up and down. She had a wheel to steer with, pedals for braking as well as forward and reverse, and an arm with gripper stuck through the front wall. She could move it around with her hand. “I thought you were only going to observe with this model. That you weren’t going to manipulate anything?” Kaem asked.
“Yeah,” she said, looking chagrined. “Then we realized we’d have to be able to open the door to the reactor’s containment if we wanted to get inside to see what’s going on.”
“Oh,” Kaem said. “That would’ve been embarrassing. Are you sure your gripper’s going to fit the knob or whatever’s on the door down there? What if it’s locked?”
“I talked to Turpin,” Lee said. “The lock’s controlled remotely. This gripper should fit, but I’m betting it takes a couple more iterations before we get it to work.”
When Kaem stepped back, Lee promptly closed the door on the rover and drove it over to the door from the main room to the anteroom there at Staze. She used the manipulator to open the door, drove through it, turned around, and drove back out into the main room again. She parked it and got out, taking a bow in response to a small round of applause.
Arya wanted to talk to Kaem and Gunnar alone, so the three of them went out to the anteroom. She reported her concerns about money. “We’ve signed a low-profit agreement to build a Stade vacuum chamber for Space-Gen. Because we’ll already have the Mylar form, we’ll make a good profit on the next one, but we could use some cash now.”
Trying to sound reassuring, Kaem reminded her that once Space-Gen had a vacuum chamber set up, Staze would be casting a ninety-two-million-dollar rocket for them. “That’ll be almost all profit.”
“I’m worried they’re gonna see how cheap we made the chamber and think we should be cutting our prices on the rockets.”
Kaem shrugged, “We will, but we’ve got a contract for the first ten at that price. If they want us to charge less, they’ve got to let us sell to all the other launch companies. Don’t worry, the money’s going to come.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You guys keep promising me my money worries are gonna be over tomorrow… But tomorrow never comes.”
***
Cameron Phelps was walking into the building when he got a call on his personal phone from UVA’s president’s office. When he answered, a woman’s voice said, “Dr. Phelps, one moment for President Morton.”
Morton sounded harried, “Cam, did you get one of those Stade samples from the Seba kid?”
“Um, yeah. It’s… pretty amazing stuff.”
“Do you think it actually would be good for the construction of rocket engines?”
“Well, I doubt it, but I don’t know for sure about that yet. I took it down to the testing lab and they’re going over it, seeing… um, how strong it is etcetera.”
“Have you got any results yet? I’ve got all kinds of people calling me with questions.”
“Journalists?” Phelps asked, dreading the answer.
“No. Not yet anyway. But… I’ll bet one’s going to be calling pretty soon. I’d like to be able to sound intelligent. What do you know about the stuff so far?”
“Let me head down to the lab. I’ll call you when they’ve got some answers.”
When Phelps got to the testing lab, he found Michelle Carter, one of the junior faculty, in talking to Harry. Probably pissed because her testing got held up by Seba’s sample.
As he approached, she turned, “Cam! Have you heard about this Stade stuff?!”
At least she’s not upset about her own testing. “Um, yeah. I’m the one that brought Harry that specimen.”
“Oh! Do you know where it’s from?! This stuff’s amazing! I got a call a few weeks back about a website that listed some material properties in these ranges. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the name of the company to check it. I’m wondering if it’s the same stuff?”
Phelps gave her a look, “What did you think of it when you saw the property data sheet?”
“I thought it was impossible and told them so.”
Phelps turned to the tech, “What results have you got so far Harry?”
Harry just shook his head. “Stuff’s freaking unbelievable. On most parameters, it’s off the charts. Unmeasurable! Can’t measure a coefficient of friction, it’s too damn slippery. Density’s same as air. In bending it’s so strong we can’t even deform it, much less break it. Can’t get a grip on it, so can’t attempt tensile testing. Thermal and electrical resistances measure as infinite, which I don’t think can possibly be true for thermal. When we try to measure a melting point, we can’t even get the stuff hot! I swear, we take it out of the furnace and it’s barely warm.” He sighed, “So, I can’t tell you what its properties are. However, I can tell you they’re almost all way beyond what we can measure!”
Phelps took Carter down the hall a short distance. “Looks like we were wrong about those properties being impossible.”
“Yeah,” she said excitedly, “isn’t this the coolest stuff ever? Do you know where we can get more of it?”
“Yeah,” Phelps said, “it’s cool. Except President Morton expelled the student who sent us this specimen for working and leading a company that was ‘engaging in fraudulent practices.’ Guess who told him the material was impossible and so must be fraudulent?”
“We did?”
“Well, I did at least. Who’d you talk to?”
Carter grimaced. “I don’t know for sure. But she did say something about a president.” She shrugged unhappily. “I suppose it might’ve been President Morton.”
Phelps shook his head. “I did it, no question. I sincerely regret it, but...” He snorted, “There’s no need for you to dig yourself a grave beside mine.”
She stared, “Surely this isn’t that big a deal. You were asked whether you thought such a material was possible and you said no. Any other engineer would’ve said the same.”
He shrugged, “It shouldn’t be a big deal, no. But I’ll bet there’s gonna be a stink and Morton’s not one to let an odor stick to himself.” As he turned to walk away, he said, “I’m not telling you to deny you said it, that’s always a bad idea. I’m just saying, don’t volunteer it.”
She said, “Let me know if you need someone to say they would’ve come to the same conclusion.”
“Thanks, I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
As he walked back to his office, Phelps told his phone to connect him to the president’s office.
“President’s office, Eloise speaking. How may I help you?”
“This is Dr. Phelps. The President’s expecting my call.”
“I’ll put you right through.”
A moment later Morton’s voice said, “Cam! I hope you’ve got good news.”
“Sorry. The sample I got is… Well frankly, it’s just as unbelievable as I said it was when I first saw that material properties sheet. Unbelievable but, in this case, it seems to be true. Its… properties are far out there, so exotic, our lab can’t even properly evaluate them because we can’t reach its limits.”
“So… It really would be a good material for rocket engines?”
“Yeah,” Phelps sighed. “Sorry. We should’ve twigged to it when the announcement said Space-Gen was interested. They aren’t fools.”
“The damned article was all ‘undisclosed sources’ and rumors! Space-Gen didn’t say anything.”
“That’s good. I haven’t re-read it, but if it said it that way I don’t feel as bad.”
“What’re w
e gonna do?” Morton asked, as if depressed.
Phelps said, “Reinstate the kid, of course.”
“I guess we’ll have to,” Morton said, sounding petulant.
“Bill,” Phelps said, wondering whether he was taking a risk using the highly formal Morton’s first name. “Think about it this way. That company has a product that’s going to change the world. We can’t be expelling their employees. We want to be on their good side.”
“Change the world? Come on. A few rocket engines aren’t going to—”
Phelps interrupted, “If the stuff’s expensive, it might not. But if it’s reasonably priced, there won’t be very many things that can’t be built better using it. And there’ll be a lot of new things we’ll be able to build that’ve been impossible until now.”
***
As Art Turpin walked out to the loading dock to meet Kaem and Lee, he reflected on how much he’d had to adjust his perspective on reality after each interaction he’d had with Seba. Starting with the Stade sample Kaem sent him after the meltdown, through stazing a fuel rod pellet and talking about stazing casks…” He shook his head. I don’t know whether to crave or dread more revelations, he thought.
By the time he arrived, they’d backed a pickup up to the loading dock and were untying the ropes over an object covered with tarps.
“Why the tarps?” he asked. “The ropes shouldn’t be able to damage its finish if it’s covered with Stade, right?”
“Yeah,” Gunnar said. “We just didn’t want reflections blinding anyone.”
Kaem smiled, “Or, too many questions.”
“That too,” Gunnar said with a grin.
Ropes loose, they pulled off the tarp, revealing a gleaming, boxy machine on shiny Stade wheels that had rubber tread. In fact, Art quickly confirmed that the tread was the only thing he could see that wasn’t made of Stade.
Well, no. The manipulator coming off the front of the machine has two big grasping fingers that are covered with rubber as well. And there’s an antenna sticking out of the top. It’s shiny, but not Stade shiny.
Lee climbed into the truck’s bed, opened a door into the big box atop the machine, got in, and slowly drove it off the truck and onto the loading dock.
Art had been studying Kaem out of the corner of his eye. Now he turned and gave the young man an appraising look. “You seem… different?”
“Healthier?” Kaem asked.
Art gave a slow nod, “Yeah, now that you mention it. ‘Healthier’ describes it well.”
“I had gene therapy for a chronic anemia. I’m much better than I used to be. Though,” he smiled, “not as good as I hope to be. I’ve got a few months till I’m fully… Um, I was about to say recovered, but since I’ve never been well before, that isn’t correct. …healthy for the first time’s more appropriate.”
Lee said she was ready, so Art led off down the hall. Once he was sure she was following, he turned back to Kaem, “Gene therapy’s awfully expensive, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, Staze paid for almost all of it or I couldn’t have afforded it. I really feel for people who need, but can’t afford, some of these new gene treatments.”
Art nodded, “I’ve got a second cousin…” He shook his head, “It’s pretty sad. Seems like they’re charging way more than they ought to.”
Kaem shrugged, “They’re in business and have to make a profit. But I keep wondering if they couldn’t make more money by lowering their prices and being able to sell a lot more treatments.”
“Insurance companies negotiate lower prices,” Art said offhandedly. “A lot lower. But the poor shmoos who don’t have insurance don’t have any negotiating power so they’re the ones that get screwed.”
Art had turned to make sure Lee’s machine made a corner, so he didn’t see the surprised expression on Kaem’s face when he realized he’d likely paid a lot more than an insurance company would’ve for his treatment.
Since the team from Staze didn’t have the clearance to be allowed into the area of the reactors, Art had had a door like the one into the reactor’s containment set up at the end of a similar hallway. When they got to it, Lee stopped just a little short. She pushed the door to the operator’s chamber—which she’d left ajar while driving—farther open. “If it’s okay,” she asked, “I’d like to attempt to open the door myself before I try to teach you how to do it?”
“Sure,” Art said. “Can I watch what you do?”
“Uh-huh,” she said, grabbing the handle of the manipulator and pushing out on it to extend it. Watching it on the screen, she opened the grabber while commenting, “It takes some getting used to, looking up at the screen while you’re doing something with your hands down here that makes something happen out there. At first, I had some issues that were like mirror-writing. You know, where you try to write something while watching your hands and the pencil in a mirror? For a while I didn’t think I’d ever get it, then all of a sudden, boom, my brain adapted and I could do it. I think you need to practice enough to get to that stage before you enter a high radiation environment.”
As she’d been speaking, she’d grasped the door’s handle with the manipulator and deftly unlatched it. A gentle pressure on the forward pedal and the rover pushed the door open. Lee grabbed a lever to physically lift the cowcatcher skirt over the door’s lip. Then there was a bit of a struggle getting the heavy rover’s wheels to go over the lip. The large knobby tread on the wheels was important as it caught on the lip to help pull the wheels over.
“You made that look easy,” Art said. “Can I give it a try?”
“Um, getting back out will be a lot more important than getting in. How about if I make sure if I can open the door from the other side before I turn this over to you?”
“No problem. I do not want to get locked in a radioactive containment.”
As Art had expected, working the door latch and then pulling the door open proved much more difficult than the pushing maneuver Lee had to perform to get the door open from the other side. Once she’d gripped the handle and unlatched the door, she backed up, pulling the door partly open. Then she quickly moved the manipulator to catch the edge of the door against the manipulator’s “wrist.” Next, she swung the manipulator to the right, shoving the door open wider. With it wide open, she quickly drove forward, managing to catch the door in the open position on the little cow-catcher skirt at the bottom of the rover. The slipperiness of the Stade on the cow-catcher let her drive through to the other side of the door frame, though getting over the lip was difficult again.
When Art got in, Lee leaned in with him to go over the controls. She showed him how to use the AV system that would let people see what he was seeing through the periscope and hear what he said. Then there were the driving controls and the methods of handling the manipulator.
Finally, she pointed out the life support. Starting with an air tank and icebox. “These are serious issues. The air tank provides a source of clean air without radioactive particulates. It’ll be blowing out through any leaks in the cab and preventing the ingress of contaminated air from outside. There’s a relief valve to make sure it doesn’t build up pressure if the leaks aren’t enough.”
“Okay,” Art said after she’d finished explaining how to set flow rates. He frowned, “What about the ice?”
“Since Stade’s a perfect insulator, without AC, your body heat would quickly overheat the cab. If we tried to use an air conditioner to pump the heat to the outside, the AC’s radiator outside the cab would quickly become radioactive. So, we’ve installed an icebox in the back of the cab. The average human generates 120 watts of heat sitting and doing light work, but you’re a big guy and the electronics in here will probably add an average of 80 watts. If we call it 240 watts total, my calculations say you’ll need two kilograms of -20-degree Centigrade ice per hour to absorb that heat. The icebox’ll hold a ten-kilo block of ice that, in theory, will get you through 5 hours but I wouldn’t be confident of that until you’ve tried it out. I
f I were you, I’d spend an hour in the rover in a safe place to see how much of the block actually melts before you even think of taking it into a high radiation environment. And don’t get yourself trapped in the containment! You’ll be dying of the heat and have to climb out of the cab and run through the radiation to get away.”
“What if I get too cold? It’d be counterproductive if I started shivering.”
“Oh.” She pointed, “This door over the icebox is Stade. You open or close it as much as needed to keep yourself comfortable.”
“In case I did have to get out and make a run for it, could I have a Stade vest to protect my central body from radiation? Arms and legs are pretty radiation resistant, but it’d be nice to have my organs protected.”
Lee, Kaem, and Gunnar all turned to stare at one another, then broke out laughing. Gunnar said, “We’ve been stazing some bulletproof coats to sell the police.” He eyed Art a moment. “The XL fits me. You think it’d fit you?”
“That’s what I usually wear,” Art said, stunned by the idea that something like that would already be available.
“Um, the jacket’s long enough to protect your ’nads and has a high collar to protect your neck. Do you want a helmet?”
“The collar’d protect my thyroid?” he said pointing at his lower anterior neck.
Gunnar nodded.
Art grinned, “You couldn’t come up with some Stade goggles to protect my corneas, could you?”
Radiation Hazard (The Stasis Stories #3) Page 20
