Matt felt relief flow into all the hypertense muscles in his body. He started thinking they might possibly pull this off. "And here we are again. You understand the problem?"
Colin nodded. "If you can't use your rockets more than five times you can't fulfill your contracts."
Werner spoke. "So we need to be able to launch from a ship. But the ship needs to be as robust as a standard launch facility, and just as stable. As stable as your standard isle ship may be, it is not stable enough."
Alex nodded. "We were thinking about rocket launch facilities for the BrainTrust even before your tragic accident," he confessed. "No real work, just daydreaming about it, figuring that it would be important someday. " He smiled. "Besides, it was fun." He touched his tablet, and the wallscreen behind him lit up with a photorealistic rendering of a ship the likes of which had never before been seen. "Behold the Heinlein. We worked on it all night."
It was a beautiful ship in its own way. The outline followed the same rectangular, barge-like hull shape as the isle ships, but no superstructure rose from the deck except a complex metal skeleton on the starboard side amidships. Fore and aft two solid black circles filled a large fraction of the bow and stern. A thick black line stretched from each circle to the gunwales on port and starboard sides. Clearly, the circles were launch pads, though the color was a surprise.
Werner asked the obvious question. "Are those circles just paint, or do they have some special significance?"
Alex looked sidelong at the medical scientist. "Dr. Dash, perhaps you would care to explain?" He looked back at Matt and said, almost apologetically, "It was her idea."
The doctor rose to her feet and moved to the rendering of the Heinlein. "Thank you, Alex." Suddenly she put her hand over her mouth as a sound suspiciously like a giggle fell from her lips. "First let me just say, I am very excited by this opportunity to work with you. I have been interested in space and rocketry since I was a little girl, painting the stars for the constellations on the ceiling in my bedroom. I too have thought much about the challenges of ocean-based rocketry since I was awarded a research investment on the BrainTrust."
Matt couldn't contain himself. "A research investment in what, may I ask?"
"Telomeres," she said and turned to the display.
Matt shook his head. "Telomeres? As in the fountain of youth?"
Dash looked down at him with pursed lips. "It is most certainly not the fountain of youth. It is just telomeres. They do happen to play an important role in aging."
Matt nodded gravely. "Ah." He decided not to pursue the matter further.
Dash turned back to the rendering and zoomed it on the circular pad. The pad consisted of large numbers of black tiles. "These tiles are composed of a new material devised by a startup on the Dreams Come True, in collaboration with a professor and a student aboard the BrainTrust University. The new material is a variant of carbon-fiber-reinforced carbon, or CFRC. You probably know it best as the tiles for the nose of the old Space Shuttle."
Werner doubled over as if in pain. "You have got to be kidding me. Those tiles were so fragile they made the shuttle a death trap."
Dash nodded her head. "Yes. The multiple shuttle tragedies caused by tile failure tainted the material in the eyes of the public. But this is a very different application and a significantly better material. A tile failure has no dramatic consequences for the launch pad. A cracked tile merely needs to be replaced before the next launch.”
She opened a small side window that displayed a complex interlace of material. “But more fundamental is the difference in the material itself. Instead of reinforcing the basic carbon matrix with carbon fiber, our people have reinforced it with graphene. Graphene Reinforced Carbon, or GRC."
Matt thought about the possible ramifications of substituting graphene, then whistled. He asked, "so it's both stronger and more heat resistant?"
Dash bobbed her head.
Matt leaned forward suddenly like a tiger preparing to leap. "But if I recall my history correctly, those tiles were not only fragile, they were also damned expensive."
Dash nodded again. "At the time they cost a hundred thousand dollars per square foot."
Everyone gasped except Colin.
Dash continued, “A large part of the cost was the result of the extremely precise aerodynamically curved shapes required in the shuttle application. In contrast, we are simply mass producing a standard flat hexagon. And our manufacturing techniques have advanced as well, with robotic control of the entire process. As a result of the streamlined manufacture of simple shapes, even with our more advanced and complex process using graphene, we have reduced costs to one percent of the shuttle tile costs."
Matt shook his head. "That's still pretty expensive. Why not make a normal concrete pad?"
Colin explained, “Your current pads are only normal by some very special standards. Notably, the Fondu Fyre concrete that coats the flame trench would be expensive to import here, and we can’t make it. Since it ablates away during each launch and needs to be replaced, this gives you both an ongoing cost and a cycle-time-to-next-launch problem. The GRC, on the other hand, has only one elemental ingredient, carbon. We cheaply manufacture carbon by harvesting and cooking algae from our artificial reef. When maintenance and replacement costs are included, I think you'll find Dash's solution is both cheaper and better."
Dash spoke. “And I think the big advantage, as Colin mentioned in passing, is the cycle time to next launch. You should be able to launch every one to two hours from a graphene reinforced carbon pad.”
Werner looked excited. “If it works, that would be magnificent.”
Matt found himself distracted by applications far beyond tiling a launchpad. “Why haven’t I heard of graphene-reinforced carbon before?”
Colin answered, “Many years ago, a famous actress developed a brain tumor. She claimed it was caused by graphene. The claim was controversial, the scientific backing almost nonexistent, but on her deathbed, she was awarded four hundred million dollars. Graphene research pretty much stopped after that. Except—”
Matt finished for him, “On the BrainTrust.”
Dash continued, “Anyway, to import the materials for a classical launch pad would also take about as long as manufacturing the tiles. Which brings up an issue. The tiles must be steeped in a carbon-rich vapor. Think of it as a curing process. It will take us a week to make the tiles, and a day to place them. Can you wait that long?"
Matt blinked. "You think you can start launching in a week? What about building the ship that needs to go underneath those launch pads?"
Alex supplied the answer. "We have a partly completed isle ship currently under construction. We had intended to make it into the manufacturing ship for the Fuxing archipelago. We can repurpose the ship, and build another ship for the Fuxing project."
Matt knew what was coming. "For a satisfactory fee."
Alex nodded. "We’ve assumed that time is more important than cost for you, within limits."
Matt laughed playfully. Everyone understood Matt would fight tooth and nail over the costs of the more outrageous line items, but for now… "Price is no object. It's so freeing, isn't it, to unshackle yourself from the constant grinding need to reduce costs?" He turned sober. "You do realize we have a little financing problem as well? The four billion in liquid assets we had two days ago is going away."
Colin leaned forward. "We’re aware. And to fulfill your needs on a crash-project timeline, it looks like we’re talking about a two-billion-dollar undertaking here. But there are several financing alternatives." He held up his phone. "I have representatives from both the Goldman Sachs and JP Morgan offices here on the BrainTrust sitting outside eager to talk with you about some possibilities." He rolled his eyes as he reluctantly added another option. "And in a few days the new isle ship Haven, a residential ship built and populated by billionaires, will arrive. You could probably make a deal with their consortium." He grimaced. "I would be careful with them, ho
wever."
Matt laughed again. "And I don't have to be careful with the boys and girls from Goldman?" He expression turned speculative. "Are you really sure you can be ready to launch in a week?"
Alex shrugged. "Ten days," he admitted cautiously. "No more than that, if you give me the go ahead today."
Matt shook his head. "I can't possibly get the finances all lined up in time."
Colin waved it aside. "We don't need the finances all fixed to begin work. You have an excellent reputation, Matthew Toscano. We just need your handshake. We'll take the risk your word is good."
Werner growled, “We still haven't talked stability."
Alex answered, "I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised."
Werner looked skeptical.
Matt leaned forward and thumped the table. "Werner, you stay here and talk stability." He looked at Colin. "Is there a private place -- a very private place -- where I can talk to the Goldman rep? I have an idea." His face had turned hard and angry, but a hint of a smile now played on his lips. "A very satisfying idea, actually. Let justice be served." He clenched his fist and released it. "Werner, if you get an adequate answer on the ship, and I get an adequate idea on the money, we'll see if we can kick this plan off by dinnertime."
So Colin introduced Matt to Keenan Stull of Goldman Sachs, and Alex and Dash talked with Werner, and many hurdles were identified and overcome, at least on paper. And so when Alex met Werner and Matt for dinner, the real work began.
Half-empty champagne glasses sat on the desk in the office of the President of the Russian Union, seeming to glow in the setting sun’s light. Pascha gazed into the mirror in the lid of her compact and fixed her lipstick. The President buckled his pants.
Except I am no longer President, he reminded himself as he picked up the champagne flute for another sip in self-congratulation. He was now the Premier of the Russian Union. No more pesky elections. The Premiership was a lifetime post. He had certainly earned it.
Now that he had finally freed up all the time he used to spend managing the electoral cycle, destroying the dangerously popular opponents, setting up dummy candidates as alternatives on the ballots, and making sure the news media toed the line, he could focus on wielding that power full time rather than just half.
It was time to take the matter of getting old seriously. He was having trouble giving Pascha all the satisfaction she deserved.
Judging from his last, admittedly hasty effort to retrieve the rejuvenation doctor from the BrainTrust, he needed a more serious plan this time. Even if it meant blowing the cover on one of his top assets.
COUNTING DOWN
Life is all about picking yourself up over and over again.
—Lindsey Stirling
The entire BrainTrust, it seemed, turned out 24/7 for the task of getting the Heinlein ready for launch. The students on the BTU turned out in full force, producing final detailed plans for the different parts of the ship, or programming the bots to implement those plans, or just wrangling the bots in real-time to account for programming and planning deficiencies.
Almost all were motivated to participate, to a greater or lesser extent, by knowing that this project had a rendezvous with destiny. They knew they wanted to be able to tell the story. “I was there, and this is how I helped make history happen.”
But there were other motivations as well. Some of the politically enthusiastic students — the Reds and the Libertarians — loved the opportunity to poke the Blue California government in the eye. Others came because their friends had urged them to come along. Still others saw the girls they wanted to date (but were afraid to ask) helping, so they joined to get the chance to talk to the girls.
And of course, most were motivated to a greater or lesser extent by the whopping bonuses if they finished on time—in ten days.
Matt watched the expenses accumulate at an incredible rate and shook his head. He calmed himself by looking through his virtual window on the Elysian Fields, watching as his new ship practically leaped into existence at a rate he also found incredible. Werner, who didn’t care about the cost, glowed with elation as he stood in the thick of things on the Heinlein itself, supervising everything he could get his eyes on. Periodically Alex or Colin would go out and distract him to help the workers get their tasks done.
The professors were at least as engaged as the students. So for ten days the BTU effectively closed its doors. Even the med students turned out, because somehow, even though all the hands-on labor was being done by bots, the students and professors and even the professional ship engineers still managed to get themselves injured.
Virtually all the startup companies on the Dreams Come True ceased normal operations as well. Each of them had a mad new tech, and somehow each and every last one of their CEOs could easily explain why their latest invention was the critical new piece of gear needed for seaborne rocket launch.
Matt looked at the gaggle of tech magicians in dismay, but soon enough figured out that Dash was the perfect person to filter out the noise. She knew all the new technologies under development, and she understood the core needs of the project. She understood Matt’s greatest concern. “I understand, Mr. Toscano. It is not a problem if it is a little expensive, but it is a disaster if there is a little risk.”
At first, Matt wondered how many lifelong enemies Dash was making in the startup companies. He could see no way she could get the respect she needed from them to accept her decisions as final. He eventually concluded his concerns had been naive. The CEOs seemed a little afraid of her, while the tech leads tended to look at her in awe. He soon learned her full name. She was known throughout the Dreams Come True as Doctor “I believe this can be improved upon” Dash. In the end, he thanked Alex for sending her to him. She was saving his life, he explained. Alex grunted. “She does that sometimes,” was all he would say.
Housing was a problem. The Elysian Fields had nearly full booking; Matt was lucky indeed to get himself a single room cabin. But the Heinlein’s launch facilities needed the expertise of Matt’s best and brightest from his launch crew. So even though Matt brought out less than half his personnel from Vandenberg, the archipelago had no place for any of them to stay. So Colin and Amanda—the current Chairman of the Board for the BrainTrust—encouraged the residents of all the ships to run a variant of an Airbnb, renting out beds rather than rooms — no residents having a whole spare room due to BrainTrust policies. Naturally, in keeping with their entrepreneurial spirit, the residents charged exorbitant prices for these beds. Matt just sighed and paid.
Eight days from First Launch, the Haven showed up and cut a deal to dock off the Dreams Come True. The Haven was a purely residential ship, built by a consortium of billionaires so they could have homes larger than the single-cabin dwellings standard throughout the BrainTrust. The Haven arrived expecting to be the center of attention and much fanfare, bringing many of the rich and famous with much capital for investments in BrainTrust enterprises. No one noticed them.
When the Haven residents found out that the advent of SpaceR had completely overshadowed their own arrival, rocket fever infected them as well. They immediately set to work figuring out how they could exploit the upcoming event.
Seven nights before First Launch, at midnight, three of SpaceR’s four Autonomous SpacePort Drone Ships made port in San Pedro. SpaceR workers moving quietly, swiftly, and in near darkness, loaded each drone with four side boosters and two cores, enough for two heavy launch rockets per drone ship. Those six rockets would be the Polar Orbit fleet for SpaceR for the next several months.
The drones had not been designed to carry so many boosters; they’d had to be modified to accomplish it. Having six boosters loaded on a platform designed for a one-booster landing was precarious at best, but in the end SpaceR’s team had the boosters locked down and ready to sail. The drones left port again before the sun rose; before either the media or the California government learned of either the drones’ departure or their precious cargo.
Six days and counting, near noon, Dash stood by Matt on the topmost deck (the roof) of the FB Alpha watching as the rockets on their drones glided across surprisingly calm waters. Dash had invited him here to watch the drones arrive. It was one of her favorite places, since most of the deck was overgrown with a lush botanical garden that included plants from all over the world, including Dash’s home in Bali.
Dash frowned. “Are you sure you have to take your own rockets like a thief in the night?”
Matt replied curtly, “Don’t know, don’t want to find out. What good could come of it if the politicians found out? Think they’d apologize, tell us to keep our money, and offer us drinks on the house if we came back?”
Dash shook her head. “You know they’ll find out in a day or so, someone involved with loading the rockets is bound to Twitter about it.”
Matt shrugged. “The later, the better.” He pointed farther to the east. “See the California Coastal Patrol ships? Above all things, I want to get those rockets docked here before they decide they’re supposed to do something.”
Time compressed. Shortcuts were taken. Only one of the two launch pads was properly outfitted with reinforced carbon. The other was temporarily covered in Portland cement, adequate to withstand the relatively small shock of the landing of a single booster but not the launch of a full heavy rocket.
With five days left a key part of the plan had to be scratched and revamped. One of the projects Dash had cautiously recommended to Matt for funding was a prototype algae-to-methane converter for making the fuel. It would be very cheap and efficient, if the inventors could only get it to work for more than fifteen minutes before clogging up. On this fifth day, Dash told Matt it wouldn’t be ready in time, no matter what the CEO and tech lead might say.
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