Spinning Diamonds

by Steve S. Grant

SPINNING DIAMONDS

  by

  STEVE S. GRANT

  Copyright © 2013 Steve S. Grant

  ISBN: 978-0-9917393-6-3

  Thank you for your support.

  Illustration by Frank Garoufalis

  SPINNING DIAMONDS

  The tall and burly salesman threw the kitchen bowl down with all his strength, like a running back spiking a football. It bounced to the ceiling and back to the floor with a clatter and a roll that ended near the president’s shoes.

  “It won’t break, it won’t crack, it won’t change color, it’ll last forever,” said Vincent Lambert. “Same thing for all our products. An absolute must when working in space. Trust me, the last thing you want after recompressing a temporary shelter that’s been idle for decades—and last used by a bunch of greasy astronauts with questionable hygiene—is cold food that tastes like paint or plastic.”

  He roughly slapped a microwave before pushing it off the table. The rugged exterior absorbed the impact with a satisfying crunch. Evidently it could take much worse. Vincent kicked it hard across the room, taking full advantage of his steel-toed shoes.

  “Forget baby-proof, army-proof, or whatever else passes for durable on the market. The Eclipse product line is space-proof, made to work in the worst possible conditions. You can overpressurize this thing, or expose it to vacuum; it’ll work like brand new. Boil it? No problem. Freeze it? No worries. Roll it in moon dust, the fine powdery stuff that can’t be wiped off, and it’ll still do what it’s supposed to do. Of course it will; it’s an Eclipse! Same thing for our lamps, electric converters, power generators, power tools, heaters, fans, and furniture. Maybe there’s a race of aliens out there with more reliable equipment, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  The salesman brought the microwave back to the table and quickly made himself a cup of tea.

  “The durability of your ‘appliances’ is commendable,” said one of the engineers across the room. “But, your prices are… extremely steep. It’s not like you invented these things.”

  “Not invented, reinvented,” corrected Vincent. “Reengineered. Oh, you can go to the corner store and buy all of this at very low prices, but nothing will work in vacuum. On the off chance that it does work—anything’s possible—it would never work the way it is intended to and would quickly fall apart. Like I said, nowadays, pretty much everything being manufactured is disposable garbage with an expiration date. Built-in obsolescence is at the heart of our economy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. It’s a business model that works well on Earth. But—as we’re all aware of—not on the moon. That’s why Eclipse products are so popular with off-world workers.” Vincent raised his steaming cup to his lips.

  A short silence ensued.

  “Well, this is certainly something to think about,” said the president, before standing up. “Thank you very much for this excellent presentation.”

  The executives of XL Propulsion followed suit, and Vincent stepped forward to shake hands with everyone. Although all these men and women were younger than him by at least a decade, he was careful when wrapping his big paw around their thin knuckles. “Thank you for your time,” he repeated.

  He rarely pitched his products to such a large crowd; when it did happen, it was usually after repeated marketing efforts that bordered on harassment. Three days ago he had never heard of XL Propulsion. A personal call from its owner, Harry Long, had quickly set up this presentation. Maybe Eclipse products were finally getting word-of-mouth publicity, since clients were now contacting him.

  They all left and Vincent, with practiced movements, placed the cups and plates inside each other before stuffing them in the microwave. As he gathered the rest of the scattered equipment, the president of XLP walked back into the room with one of his engineers. They were both middle-aged men in their early forties.

  “Mr. Long, anything else I can do for you?” asked Vincent.

  Harry Long smiled and waved his hand negatively. “You were very convincing, Mr. Lambert; I’m sure that our employees will end up working with your products. In fact, your energy and general health condition are remarkable.”

  Vincent raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry, this is out of context. After reading about you and your work on the moon, I thought… this is delicate, I thought you would be somehow physically diminished.”

  “Ah, a common misconception.”

  “Obviously. You look ready and able to kick these poor appliances across a football field,” joked the engineer, who had introduced himself as Bill Ross. He retrieved a lamp and brought it to the table.

  Vincent tossed it on top of the rest in a big case. “I wish we had that sort of equipment while I was there. You can’t imagine how much time we lost because of basic, technical difficulties. It’s a miracle we got anything done.”

  “Well, you certainly got things done,” said Mr. Long. “All in all, you spent over eight years on the moon and were in charge of digging the foundations of Base 1, of tunneling to the Larson caves, of taking over a thousand samples from pole to pole.”

  Vincent stopped packing and smiled.

  “You were going to head the exploitation of the Sinclair mineral site,” added Mr. Long.

  The smile vanished. “That’s not public knowledge. Who told you that?”

  “Who else could they trust? You were the obvious choice.”

  “There were a dozen other astronauts just as qualified as I was.”

  “Let’s not argue over this; it’s a plausible hypothesis, nothing more. I certainly didn’t expect to see you in such good health.”

  “Yes, well, epilepsy isn’t that bad, really. Not in my case. Only had a couple of seizures before I was medicated.”

  “Unfortunately, it forced you to retire in your prime,” said Mr. Ross.

  “Can’t have an epileptic in a spacesuit,” said Vincent. “You seriously think that fifty years of age is an astronaut’s prime?”

  “Of course. Especially one with your qualifications. You are a rarity; a man with building, mining, and excavation experience in zero G as well as on the moon. Your work with explosives is still being studied by various experts. If you weren’t retired, I’d hire you in an instant.”

  Vincent clipped the large case cover and leaned on it. “I’m not retired, just uninsurable.”

  “Did he say ‘not retired’?” asked Harry Long.

  “That’s what he said,” replied Bill Ross.

  “Mr. Lambert,” said Harry Long. “Would you like to have lunch with us? I feel we have much to talk about.”

 

  * * *

 

  The food was as good as the wine. XLP could afford the best—one of the perks of having recently revolutionized rocket propulsion—and the private booth where the three men had been exchanging pleasantries for the past half hour was the only one left occupied in the restaurant. When Harry Long leaned back in his seat while cupping his balloon glass with both hands, Bill Ross cleared his throat.

  “Would you consider coming out of retirement for us, Mr. Lambert?”

  Vincent looked at both men in turn. “You’d have to have very convincing arguments as to why you’d want to hire me instead of someone else.”

  “Fair enough. We want to send a mining expedition to the belt using salvaged sections of space station Blue Star, with our very own rockets as propellant.”

  “A manned mission?” asked Vincent.

  “Yes.”

  “To the belt?”

  “Well, to be exact, to Mars’ orbit to rendezvous with an asteroid from the belt.”

  “Leaving when?”

  “Three months, give or take a few weeks.”

  “Why a manned mission?”

  “
Have you ever heard of Carbonado?” asked Mr. Ross.

  “A new brand of coffee?”

  “Hardly. It’s a natural polycrystalline diamond found in central Africa, and Brazil. Only these two locations. It is often referred to as ‘Black Diamond’ because of its color.”

  “You want to mine an asteroid for diamonds?”

  “We already know that the Carbonado found on Earth comes from interstellar space. That’s why it’s only found at these two locations. Probably got there while the continents were still attached. But that’s just one theory. One of many.”

  “There are millions of asteroids floating around. How do you pick one?”

  “I told you we were dealing with an intelligent man,” said Mr. Long as if he was winning an inside bet.

  “Fifteen years ago,” continued Mr. Ross, “the Proteus probe characterized over a thousand individual asteroids as it flew through the belt. We’ve had access to this data for some time, and recent financial developments allow Mr. Long to finance this expedition.”

  “How can you possibly hope to break even on this investment?”

  “Oh, a few tons of rough diamonds should do the trick,” said Mr. Long with a wink.

  “You must have a very specific asteroid in mind with that kind of expectation,” said Vincent.

  “We do.” Mr. Ross brought forward a little flat screen displaying a colorful graph highlighting the composition of (14 932) Alex. “Alex is an Amor asteroid, which means that at some point in time it shares an orbit with Mars. This small rock is mostly diamond. We should have no problem extracting rich chunks from it.”

  “There is no we at the moment. Why would you even consider me for the job?”

  “To be perfectly honest, you’re our last hope. There is no one else qualified and available.”

  “Sounds hard to believe. Lots of astronauts would jump at this opportunity.”

  “Scientists, all of them. None with your experience. We need that experience. We did have someone lined up, but he had an unfortunate accident.”

  “What sort of accident?”

  “A car crash. Mr. Saitama is permanently incapacitated and won’t be able to fly the mission.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. You could still hire someone else and use me as an advisor.”

  “Considering the nature of the mission, that wouldn’t be practical. You see, Alex will briefly share Mars’ orbit, which will make it reachable in roughly eight months. There will be a two-month window of work time to pick up diamond ore, and then a rendezvous with Mars for a flyby. Return to Earth in another eight months. Unfortunately, communications with Earth will not be possible during a large part of the work window. The sun will be between us.”

  Vincent whistle softly. “No communications during the critical part of the mission: the actual mining work.”

  “None.”

  “I see. An eighteen-month trip?”

  “More around twenty. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, considering how often the present conditions repeat themselves.”

  “In an obsolete space station?”

  “We’ve been restoring it,” said the engineer as he put his screen away.

  “How many people are you sending?”

  “Only two. A mining specialist with your experience using explosives in zero G, and me.”

  “And what will you be doing on this little outing?” asked Vincent.

  “I was part of the team of geologists who initially analyzed the data from the Proteus probe. I have since made it my business to develop tools and methods that will help us refine the ore we gather in space. I hold degrees in both geology and engineering.”

  “I see.”

  “You don’t seem very excited,” said Harry Long. “I expected more enthusiasm at the prospect of returning to your first love. That is, considering the way you manhandled those poor appliances of yours.”

  “I have to let it all sink in. This is very sudden.”

  “I understand. I can guarantee that if you accept, you will return a very, very rich man.”

  “I’m already a rich man,” said Vincent. “And I have professional commitments.”

  The president of XLP coughed politely. “Yes, your present occupation. How many shares of Eclipse do you own?”

  “Fifty percent. My daughter owns the other half.”

  “A family business. And at how much would you evaluate your company?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe five or six million dollars.”

  The president grinned and refilled the three glasses. “If Mr. Ross’ estimates are a tenth of what he believes, that amount will be pocket change.”

  “What about my medical condition? You know that I am uninsurable.”

  Harry Long leaned forward and whispered in conspiratorial tones. “Don’t worry. This entire mission is totally uninsurable.”

 

  * * *

 

  “Are you insane?” Suzanne Lambert stood from the couch and stared at her father in horror.

  “Suzanne—”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Please, let me finish.” Vincent grabbed her hand but she roughly pulled away.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  Vincent also stood and took a deep breath. “This is exactly why you never close a sale. Being overly emotional.”

  “Overly emotional? You’re talking about leaving for two years. Two years! How am I supposed to be happy about that?”

  “If you’d let me finish instead of being such a drama queen, you might see things differently.”

  “Because you’ll bring me back a black diamond? I don’t care about that. We’re in business together. Things are going good.”

  “Are they, really, so good? Look at us, working sixty, seventy hours a week, and barely turning a profit.”

  “It’s a long-term investment. This is how every successful American entrepreneur starts out.”

  “I know, and I believe in it. But I also believe in seizing opportunities when they come along. And XLP is definitely an opportunity.”

  “Are they going to buy out our inventory?”

  “Better. They’re going to buy the company from us.”

  Suzanne took a step back. “You’d sell Eclipse? After all the work we poured in it?”

  “Why not? Look, it’s obvious that you’re a great businesswoman. You started with nothing. An engineering diploma, an old astronaut as partner, and look where we are now? Selling Eclipse would make you a millionaire at 27 years of age. Imagine how much easier it will be to start and fund your next ideas.”

  “I don’t want to start another business.”

  “No, not now. Of course not. You’ll a need to break from all this, a vacation to clear your mind.”

  “I knew that partnering with you would be a mistake. Deep down, I always knew.”

  “Suzanne, that’s not true. We’ve taken Eclipse a long, long way. We’ve opened a new market. You know it. What do you think will happen when competitors join us with comparable products? Our monopoly will be at an end.”

  “It’s always about you, isn’t it? About your career. You weren’t there when I grew up and you’re going to leave me again. And for what? So you can go on a two-year fishing trip?”

  “You’re not being rational.” Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose. “And don’t bring up the old ‘You were never there when I grew up!’ argument. We’ve been through this. It’s water under the bridge.”

  “Not for me, it isn’t.”

  “Well, grow up and fucking get over it.”

  “You’re epileptic! You’re not an astronaut anymore! When are you going to get that through your thick skull?”

  “Some people think differently. And I haven’t had a seizure in years.”

  “You’re 54 years old!”

  “So what? I’m in better shape than I ever was. Healthy diet, exercise, no alcohol–”

  “No alcohol?”

  “I could kick
your nerdy boyfriend’s ass anytime, so don’t you give me the too old speech.”

  Silence stretched between them, as if the outside world did not dare interrupt their staring match. Suzanne finally looked away while shaking her head. She sat down and brought her hands to her face. “Your mind’s made up; what’s the point of arguing?”

  “The point is that I want your blessing.”

  “No, you don’t. You always do whatever you please.”

  “That’s not true. If I did that, I would have sold my share of Eclipse six months ago.”

  Suzanne’s head snapped up. “What?”

  “It was a good offer. You dismissed it without a second thought, but it was a good offer.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because you decided for both of us. You didn’t bother to consult me; you assumed that I felt like you.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Suzanne, I love working with you. Building this company, struggling through the start-up, seeing it take off, it’s been fantastic. I got to know you so well, and, you know, being an entrepreneur isn’t something that I thought I would ever do. Six months ago, I didn’t want to end your dream.”

  “You’re ending it now.”

  “I think that I’m saving it. XLP made me an offer that I—we—can’t refuse. Look at it from any angle, and we’re getting at least 20 percent more than what we’re worth. But that’s not all. I might come back in two years extremely wealthy.”

  “Or you might not come back at all. What Mom always feared.”

  Vincent rolled his eyes dismissively. “She backed my career all the way. You know that.”

  “What would she say now?”

  “You really wanna know?”

  “Humor me.”

  “She’d say, ‘Vincent, you’re not a salesman, you’re an astronaut. Just go out there and do what you do. One last job before you retire.’”

  “Ah, retire! You’ll never retire! As long as they offer you work, you’ll do anything they ask.”

  “You’re wrong. This is it. My last chance. My last opportunity to go out there and do what I do best.”

  “And what if you don’t come back?”

  “Then you’ll know that I died doing what I loved.”

  Suzanne sighed and stared at her father. “Just promise me that you’ll get back. I don’t care about the money, just get back safely. That’s all I ask.”

  “Don’t you worry about that. I’m not going to take chances like when I was younger. I’ve learned my limits the hard way.”