Power Base: Book 2 of the Leaving Earth series

by Kaal Alexander Rosser

  'Actually, this will be a bit arsey-farcey. I've got the amount of antimatter needed to get from earth orbit, or the moon to Mars in forty five days from some NASA figures, but what that translates to in continuous load, I have no idea.'

  'Tell me the mass, then,' said Grum, pulling up a calculator app on the phone.

  'Ten milligrams.'

  Grum paused. That was just less than one of the new containment cells worth of antimatter. But… Have to figure in the losses, so… 'I'll assume that NASA was talking about perfect annihilation — I'd love to see the paper on that, by the way — and see what energy they think is needed.'

  'Fair enough. To be perfectly frank, I think it was just an article, but I know some people at NASA, so I could confirm.'

  'If you could, that would be great. OK, now…' Grum tapped at the calculator. Starting from scratch with E=mc², gives me joules, over seconds in an hour to get watt-hours… Forty five days, Hank said, and twenty four hours in a day. 'I get two hundred and thirty-odd kilowatts continuous. I can tell you that you will like the answer.'

  'Oh?'

  Grum plugged in the numbers to the generator configuration app. 'Well, I kinda knew from the moment you told me the mass. You see, the output from a single collection phase of a single new production assembly will be eleven point three milligrams. But, best to be sure…'

  The figures were on the screen.

  'A month?' asked Hank.

  'At full capacity it would be three of those a month, and each one a little north of eighteen and a half million dollars. However, I'm guessing you'll want to bring the shuttle back from Mars, and you'll want redundancy…'

  'Triple redundancy…' Hank interrupted.

  'OK, then. How long do you want the shuttle to run for without the generators being replaced?'

  'A few years would be good. Say three years?'

  'OK. Let's plug it in with the biggest version of the generators we want to build.' Grum put the figures in, and looked at Hank expectantly.

  'Just shy of a billion, and five months lead time. Could we stagger the production?'

  'Sure, but wouldn't that increase your costs?'

  'At the prices we'll be charging to take stuff to Mars and back?' Hank grinned, wolfishly. 'We'll buy cargo space on a heavy payload rocket to Earth geosynchronous and pick it up from there if we have to.'

  Grum changed the figures to reflect a yearly quota.

  'OK. I feel obliged to point out that we can't even begin this production rate until the new builds are complete in Nevada…'

  'That's fine, Grum! I get it. But the yearly costs are about the same as launching one of those heavy lifters into orbit and back. Just once! Trust me when I say that for once antimatter is actually a good deal, here.'

  Grum was relieved. With luck this could mean the would have real orders on the books by the end of the year.

  'Now. Let's see what else we can come up with…'

  Chapter 5

  GRUM had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Ben's email came in that afternoon, the footwear fell. It was in Ben's normal style. Straight and to the point: "It's no good, I can't do it".

  Ben went on to explain that just upgrading the current rigs would not work the way Grum wanted them to. It would need the current production rig to be rebuilt along the lines of the new assemblies.

  That was going to put a crimp in the timelines. Along with a reduced production capacity at some point down the line, the entire complex — bar the offices and accommodations — would need to be powered down and serviced. That would take a month each time they switched round. If they were very lucky they might get away with just the once.

  Grum called Stew, who came over immediately.

  'I've got about ten minutes before the next chat. Will it take longer than that?'

  'Hope not. We'll keep this to an update.' Grum showed Stew the email from Ben.

  'Bugger.'

  'Indeed. Gotta do it, though. He is the man with the knowing of the things.'

  'True. If we're going to do this, we might as well make the current assembly into a clone of the others. No point in upgrading to a lesser state.

  'We'll need some serious exclusive processing time on the compute grid,' said Grum, thinking of the pain they went through when they were setting the site up the first time round.

  'Short bursts only.' Stew cut his hand through the air in contradiction. 'We can farm the longer analyses out to the distributed public network in chunks. You know that they'll crunch away if you provide the work, credits and a promise that it'll all be made public eventually. Only the model combinations and the time sensitive stuff would need to go on the internal grid.'

  'OK,' said Grum, accepting Stew's analysis. 'Get it done then. Tell Ben the news.'

  'He's not going to be chuffed.'

  'I know. It means a lot of upheaval. Tell him that I'll visit and chat with everyone. In fact, we both will, since you were more popular.' Grum grinned at Stew. 'If we provide any extra facilities people really want, it should help. And as far as Ben, himself, goes… If this comes off right, he'll be the head of the most high-profile — and profitable — department in the company.'

  'How do you figure profitable? We'll barely cover costs on what we charge the Space Division.'

  'You're thinking only of the big stuff. Take a look at the costings when you get down to the pico-scale generators. I was playing with the settings on my generator config app, earlier, and got a surprise. The equivalent of a three thousand milliamp-hour battery which lasts ten years would cost less than ten cents with mass production. Think on it.'

  Stew left Grum's office, looking thoughtful.

  Grum realised that he had never verbalised those thoughts before. Now he had, though, they would not go away. What other applications were there for these tiny generators? He had suspected that there was some utility to those generators, but the concept of profitability from them was new.

  What he needed to do to combat all sorts of misinformation and wishlistitis, was to produce a catalogue. In fact, two catalogues. A service catalogue, telling the rest of the company what they could expect from the department, and a product catalogue showing what they could produce. Along with what the real specs were, and how much it would cost them.

  That was not just true of Nevada, though. He was the VP of Core Power, now, and had to think of the whole Division. If he was to walk the walk of syncretisation, then he had better start with his own Division. Each department would have to produce their own catalogues. Stew could organise that. In addition, it would be ideal for Stew to them oversee the production of these catalogues and spot any technologies which were in one part of Core Power but which could help solve a problem in another.

  If he could also take his own app as a prototype and get someone to make a portal which did the same thing based off the various catalogues… That was something he could present to the board, point people at when they came knocking, and even use himself if he got awkward questions. It would take a lot of the meeting load off his plate, for sure.

  Case in point, thought Grum. There was an incoming call from Hank Bowers.

  'Hi, Hank.'

  'Hey, Grum I don't suppose you could spare a couple of minutes for a slightly early end-of-day meeting? I'll be at the bar.'

  'Uh, sure, Hank. See you in five.' Hmm, at five, more like, thought Grum, confused. The bar normally opened at around five thirty to make sure people had finished their normal day before alcohol was served. Hank had not sounded happy, and Grum wondered if he were unhappy enough to have forgotten the opening times. Nevertheless, Grum had just promised to meet him, so down to the bar he went.

  'You didn't know your pass will open the bar for half an hour?' said Hank as Grum arrived.

  Grum's surprise must have registered on his face, because he was caught off guard at the sight of Hank behind the bar. 'Er, no, I didn't. New to this gig, see.'

  Hank gave him a somewhat wan smile and waved Grum in the dir
ection of the ramp, as he came round to sit on a barstool. 'Help yourself. Just press your security badge to the register and it'll unlock your thirty minute tab.'

  Grum noted that Hank had got himself a large whiskey and soda. He was not going to go down that road at the staff bar, so he grabbed a bottle of some generic light ale, opened it, and went round to sit with Hank.

  'I take it there's some bad news?' said Grum, when Hank continued to sit silently.

  'You could say that. My Chief Engineer has decided to take early retirement.'

  'Really? Why? I thought he was all up for the current programmes. Didn't he have at least a finger in designing them?'

  'A whole hand in most. Up to the elbow in one or two. Yeah. He's integral all right. But he's getting on, and he's not a well guy. Says he and his partner want to sell up and go live somewhere warm with beaches. Fort Lauderdale, probably.'

  'Can't blame him for that.'

  'Naw. But it does leave me — and you — with a problem.'

  Grum did not like the sound of that one bit. 'How's that, Hank?'

  'Well, like I said, he's integral. I've worked with him since the old days, before USSMC. My fault for not seeing it. Shoulda given him an admin assistant years ago, but there was always something new to get on with…' Hank trailed off for a moment. 'In any case. He's the one who knows most about how we could integrate your generators into the current programmes. But now, I have to have him writing up reports and documentation for the next three months until he leaves, or we don't get the information we need to keep the programmes going without a major setback.'

  'Crap.'

  'Crap, indeed. All this is on the QT for the moment, you hear? Only just heard from the man, myself.'

  'Understood. Did you want me to help in some way? Try and get you some cover resources?'

  'Naw. I just wanted a drinking buddy, and I know you Brits like to drink. Besides, you're veep, like me, so I can talk to you and I don't have to share my tab.' Hank grinned, sidelong, at Grum and raised his glass. 'Cheers!'They had only stayed for one more drink before the bar was open to the rest of the company. So they shut their tabs, and went home.

  Vann was already making dinner when Grum arrived home. Ju was quietly watching everything from his chair in the curiously intent way that infants do, but stuck his arms out when Grum got close. So Grum picked him up for a cuddle, and a back-and-forth pace, while Vann cooked.

  It was becoming a familiar routine, but Grum knew that very soon Vann would be back to full-time hours and they would have to find a new routine. Daycare at USSMC was very good, though neither of them were ever actually happy to leave Ju there.

  As he paced about the kitchen with Ju, Grum told Vann about the events of the day and she did the same in return. According to Vann, his decision to make the upgrade into a full rebuild was causing strife at Nevada. She had Ben Abelson on the phone at least three times over the course of the day.

  'It's not that he's resisting. He agrees. But it's an organisational nightmare.'

  'I know. But it has to be done. Did you have any more calls after Stew spoke with him?'

  'When was that?'

  'About four-ish.'

  'No. But then, I think he was in meetings with the senior staff for most of the early afternoon, so he would not have had a chance before I left for the day.'

  'OK. I'm hoping that we can allay some of his fears and give him something to look forward to.' He outlined what he and Stew had spoken about. 'Just hoping it helps.'

  'It'll help somewhat,' said Vann, putting the pasta-bake into the oven. 'I think that there is still going to be a lot of consternation from the staff, though.'

  'I'm going to go down and meet with everyone to try and address things as best I can. It really does need to happen though. From a business point of view, there's precious little point in the Nevada Facility without the changes.'

  Vann looked surprised. 'It's that far off track?'

  'Not off track, precisely, but the practical applications of the generators they are capable of producing are few and far between. The original design of the place was just to produce a stockpile of antimatter, not to put it to any real use. Unfortunately, the term for something without a use is "useless". It would be an expensive vanity piece to just keep running as it is.'

  'I see. Have you explained that to Ben?'

  'Not in exactly those terms, no.'

  'Probably best.' Vann had washed her hands while they talked and was now drying them on a dishcloth. 'Do you want to put him down while the dinner is cooking? There's something else we need to talk about.'

  Warning bells rang in Grum's head. There was definitely warning phrasing going on here.

  'Uh, sure.' Grum put Ju back in the bouncy chair. There was a token protest, but he soon settled.

  Vann sat on the sofa and patted the seat next to her for Grum to sit down, too.

  Good grief, he thought, this gets worse!

  'Don't worry, Grum, it's nothing bad.'

  Yikes! 'OK. Just so's you know, everything you have said and done since "we need to talk" indicates bad.'

  Vann frowned. 'Guys are weird. It's about work.'

  Grum relaxed a bit. 'About your starting back full time, you mean?'

  'Well, partly that. There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it…'

  FUCK! Grum tensed, fear mode fully re-engaged.

  'Oh, for crying our loud, Grum!' Vann was clearly exasperated. 'I don't want to work for you any more. That's all!'

  Grum relaxed. The Grum wondered why he had relaxed. This actually was a bad thing. 'But, why not? We've always worked well together! I was looking forward to getting the inner circle back together properly.'

  'That's just it, love. You and Stew have taken to the more managerial roles really well, but I'm hands-on engineering. I don't want to follow you up the management chain. I want to stay in a job where I can still muck in on engineering problems as the major part of my daily job. Hell, I enjoyed my work better when I was in Nevada and you were here!'

  That was harsh. Grum was cut to the quick by that. Then he pulled himself together. She's an engineer. She's precise. Listen to the words she's saying not the ones you think you're hearing. He paused and took a breath. 'You want to move back to Nevada?'

  'No, you idiot! I missed you horribly, but I enjoyed the work more. I realised that we might have worked well in the past, but not in the future. Going back to work, here, on the lower hours has confirmed it. I need a new job. I can't have you as my boss any more.'

  'Well, I can't stop you, of course.'

  'Don't get huffy, Grum. Just grow up a bit. This isn't about you, me, or our relationship. This is about work. It's about the job. And it's about me not being comfortable with you as my boss any more.'

  'So you want to get a new job. Somewhere else?'

  'At least in a different Division of USSMC. That might be enough.'

  'I need to process.'

  'I know you do. But don't go making conclusions without checking with me first. You know how you are.'

  'Yes, love.' Grum blew out a breath and deliberately relaxed. 'Sorry. Too many surprises, today.'

  Vann smiled at him. 'Do you want extra cheese on your slice?'

  'There is nothing which cannot be fixed be the addition of more cheese,' said Grum, definitively.

  'Right you are, then.' Vann got up and went back to the kitchen.

  Grum stayed on the sofa for a moment. A peaceful life. Couldn't I just have one of those, please? For a while?

  Chapter 6

  GRUM stared at the figures on the screen, but could not make any sense of them. Not that he was really trying. His thoughts were elsewhere.

  I should have just left it alone when she went into the kitchen. That would have worked. That would have been fine. But he had not done that. He had put Ju to bed after dinner, sat down to watch some random nonsense with Vann, and… Said he wanted to clarify a few things.

  By the time the next s
et of adverts rolled onto the TV they had both lost their tempers, Ju was crying, and Grum was walking him round the apartment trying to soothe him.

  The bed in the spare room had not been comfortable. He had a crick in his neck which was not entirely to do with staring at a wall screen. Said screen was full of notes and figures about the Nevada rebuild. This was doing nothing to improve his mood.

  Stew walked into the office and stopped in his tracks.

  Grum glared at him. 'What?'

  Stew's gaze shifted to the wall screen. 'That.'

  'What the bloody hell is Ben playing at? I thought you were going to calm him down! But this? This reads like a strike settlement!'

  'It's not quite that bad.'

  'Oh it isn't?'

  'No. No-one is actually threatening to walk out.'

  'What the hell? Why did this blow up to this degree?'

  'Ben knows his staff and he's assessed their needs against future requirements of the facility. He's included the likely increase in staffing required for the wider complex, and what would be necessary to replicate the current quality of living arrangements. And he's done so pretty calmly. Now if we're talking about calming down, are you going to chill out and discuss this or do I have to call the boss?' asked Stew.

  'No, don't do that. She's in a mood, too.'

  'So what's made you two such happy souls?'

  'You know how one argument suddenly becomes a proxy for all the other arguments and crap going on, and even if you actually agree, or would under normal circumstances find common ground, you just don't? You keep arguing about it until neither of you can back down.'

  'Normally, I give in after about five minutes token bargaining.' Stew shrugged. 'Unless it's something that is an actual relationship breaker it's not worth the agro.'

  'Same here. That's what I was going to do. In fact, I did. But, then, I didn't again — and now it's taken on a life of its own.'

  'I take it that this is about Vann not wanting to work for you in this Division?'

  Grum glared at Stew again.