The Precipice Page 21

  Greenleaf steepled his fingers in front of him. “You’re surprised that a sociologist is evaluating your test data?”

  “Well… yes, actually I am,” Dan said, feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

  “I can assure you, Mr. Randolph—”

  “Dan.”

  “I can assure you, Mr. Randolph, that your data has been examined by the best engineers and physical scientists that the IAA has at its command,” Greenleaf said. “We are not taking your application lightly.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply anything like that,” Dan said, thinking, This guy is out for blood.

  Greenleaf shifted his gaze from Dan to the wall screen before him. “I can see that your device has performed within your design criteria quite reliably,”

  “Good,” said Dan, relieved.

  “Except in one respect,” Greenleaf went on.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “Long-term reliability,” said Greenleaf. “The longest flight in your testing program was a mere two weeks, and even then it was at low power.”

  “I wouldn’t call a constant acceleration of one-tenth g low power,” Dan said, testily. “And the IAA seemed very happy with the data we got from that test flight.”

  Pancho and Amanda had flown the test rig on a parabolic trajectory that took them around Venus. The ship carried a full panoply of instrumentation for making observations of the planet as it flew by a scant thousand kilometers above Venus’s glowing clouds. A team of planetary astronomers had provided the equipment and monitored the flight, all of them from universities that belonged to the IAA, all of them ecstatically happy and grateful for the data that the flight brought back—for free.

  “Two weeks is not a sufficient endurance test,” Greenleaf said flatly.

  Pancho snapped, “It’s long enough to get us to the Belt.”

  “Under full power.”

  “What else?”

  “I cannot authorize a crewed flight to the Asteroid Belt until you have demonstrated that your propulsion system can operate reliably at full power for the time it would take to complete the mission.”

  Dan felt burning anger rising in his throat. Pancho looked as if she wanted to reach across the table and sock the guy. But then he realized that Amanda was looking not at Greenleaf, but at Humphries, who sat calmly in his chair, his face as expressionless as a professional card shark, his hands in his lap.

  “Even your flight past Venus was an infraction of IAA regulations,” Greenleaf said, as if justifying himself.

  “We filed the flight plan with the IAA,” Dan responded hotly.

  “But you didn’t wait for authorization, did you?”

  “It was a test flight, dammit!”

  Greenleaf’s face flashed red. And Dan finally realized what he was up against. Oh, by all the saints in New Orleans, he said to himself, he’s a New Morality bigot. They’ve infiltrated the IAA.

  “I am not going to argue with you,” Greenleaf said flatly. “You will be required to fly your device for four weeks at full power before you can receive approval for a crewed mission to the Asteroid Belt.”

  He pushed his chair back and got to his feet, stumbling in the low lunar gravity despite the weighted boots he wore.

  “Four weeks!” Dan blurted. “We can fly to the Belt and back in four weeks under full power.”

  “Then do so,” said Greenleaf, smugly. “But do it under remote control. Without any crew.”

  He headed for the door, leaving Dan sitting at the table, angry, stunned, and feeling betrayed.

  “I’d better go after him,” Humphries said, getting up from his chair. “We don’t want him angry at us.”

  “Why the hell not?” Dan grumbled.

  Humphries left the conference room. Dan sagged back in his chair. “Flying an uncrewed mission to the Belt doesn’t make a dime’s worth of sense,” he muttered. “It’s just an exercise that costs us four weeks’ time and almost as much money as a crewed mission.”

  Pancho said, “Four weeks isn’t so bad. Is it?”

  “It’s four weeks closer to bankruptcy, kid. Four weeks closer to letting that Humper take over my company.”

  In a very small voice, Amanda said, “It’s my fault, actually.”

  Dan looked at her.

  “Martin…” she hesitated, then said, “Martin doesn’t want me to go on the mission. I’m sure he’s had some influence on Dr. Greenleaf’s position.”

  Pancho explained, “He’s bonkers about Mandy.”

  Dan asked, “And how do you feel about him, Amanda?”

  “Trapped,” she replied immediately. “I feel as though there’s nowhere on Earth I can go to get away from him. Or the Moon, for that matter. I feel like a trapped animal.”

  Dan left the two women and went to his office. As he slipped into his desk chair he commanded the phone to locate his chief counsel, the woman who headed Astro’s corporate legal department.

  The phone computer system found her on the ski slopes in Nepal. Her image was faint and wavered noticeably. She must be holding her wrist communicator in front of her face, Dan thought. He could see a bit of utterly blue sky behind her. She was in ski togs, polarized sun goggles pushed up on her forehead, and not at all happy about being buzzed by the boss.

  “What in the nine billion names of God are you doing in Nepal?” Dan asked, irritated. Then he had to sit, fuming, for the few seconds it took for his message to reach the lawyer and her reply to get back to him.

  “Trying to get in some skiing while there’s still snow left,” she snapped, equally irked.

  “Skiing?”

  “I do get some vacation time now and then,” she said, after the usual pause. “This is the first time I’ve taken any since lord knows when.”

  Through gritted teeth, Dan explained the IAA inspector’s decision to her.

  “You could appeal,” she said, once she understood the situation, “but that would take longer than running the un-crewed test flight he wants you to do.”.

  “Couldn’t we ask for another hearing, a different inspector?” Dan demanded. “This guy’s a New Morality fanatic and they’re dead-set against space exploration.”

  The lawyer’s face hardened when she heard Dan’s words. “Mr. Randolph,” she said, “I am a member of the New Morality and I’m not a fanatic. Nor am I against space exploration.”

  Feeling surrounded by enemies, Dan said, “Okay, okay. So I exaggerated.”

  She said nothing.

  “Can we claim an asteroid with an uncrewed spacecraft?”

  “No one can claim ownership of any body in space,” her reply came back. It was what Dan had expected. Then she went on, “No planet, moon, comet, asteroid—no celestial body of any kind. That’s been international law since the Outer Space Treaty of 1967, and subsequent amendments and protocols.”

  Trust a lawyer to use two dozen words when one will do, Dan groused to himself.

  She went on, “Individuals are allowed to have exclusive use of part or all of a celestial body, for the purpose of establishing a human habitation or extracting natural resources. In that instance, corporations are regarded as individuals.”

  “So could Astro Corporation claim use of an asteroid that an uncrewed spacecraft rendezvouses with?”

  Nearly three seconds later she replied, “No. Such a claim can only be made by humans on the scene of the claim itself.”

  “But the double-dipped spacecraft would be under human control, remotely, from Selene.”

  Again the lag, and again the answer, “No, Dan. It’s not allowed. Otherwise corporations would be able to send miniprobes all over the solar system and claim everything in sight! It would be like the efforts to patent segments of DNA and living organisms, back around the turn of the century.”

  “So an uncrewed test flight wouldn’t do us any good at all,” he said.

  Once she heard his question, the lawyer answered, “That’s a decision that you’ll have to make, Dan. I’m just a lawyer; yo
u’re the CEO.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Dan muttered.

  * * *

  Martin Humphries had not bothered to chase after the IAA inspector. What was the point? The young bureaucrat had done precisely what Humphries had wanted. Barely able to hide his satisfaction, he rode the moving stairs down to his home deep below the Moon’s surface.

  It’s all working out very neatly, he congratulated himself as he walked along the corridor toward the cavern. Just enough delay to break Randolph’s back. Astro’s stock is in the toilet, and the other major shareholders will be glad to sell once they hear that the asteroid mission has to be postponed for more testing. By the time they finally get the mission going, I’ll own Astro and Dan Randolph will be out on his ass.

  And better yet, he thought, once I’m in charge I’ll make certain that Amanda stays here on the ground. With me.

  LUNAR ORBIT

  “She looks better now, doesn’t she?” Dan asked as their jumper coasted toward the fusion-powered spacecraft.

  Pancho nodded her agreement. The ship was still utilitarian, not sleek, but now the starkness of the bare engine system by itself was dwarfed by six huge, gleaming spherical propellant tanks. Big white letters stenciled along the cylindrical crew module identified the craft as STARPOWER 1; the logos of Astro Corporation, Humphries Space Systems and Selene adorned one of the propellant tanks.

  The jumper was little more than an ordinary lunar transfer buggy with an extra set of tankage and a bigger rocket engine for ascents from the Moon’s surface into lunar orbit and descents back to the ground again. Dan and Pancho wore tan Astro coveralls as they rode in the bulbous glassteel crew module, standing with their booted feet anchored in floor loops because seats were not needed for this brief, low-g flight. An instrument podium rose at the front of the module, its controis standing unused, since the vessel was being handled by the flight controllers back at Armstrong. Still, Dan felt good that Pancho was a qualified pilot. You never know, he thought.

  As they approached the fusion-powered vessel, Pancho whistled at the size of the propellant tanks.

  “That’s a lot of fuel.”

  “Tell me about it,” Dan said ruefully. “Fve had to default on two helium-three contracts with Earthside power utilities to fill those double-damned tanks.”

  “Default?”

  Nodding, Dan said grimly, ‘Two steps closer to bankruptcy.”

  Pancho decided to change the subject slightly. “So what’ve you decided to do about the long-duration test?” Pancho asked.

  Dan shook his head. “I’ve spent the past four days pulling every wire I know.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing so far. Zip. Nobody’s going to lift a finger to go against the IAA.”

  “So you’ll have to do the test flight?”

  Running a finger across his chin, Dan said reluctantly, “Looks that way.”

  “Then why are we takin’ this ride?”

  The shadow of a smile crossed Dan’s face. He was thinking of the time, many years earlier, when he had briefly become a privateer, a pirate, hijacking uncrewed spacecraft for their cargoes of ore. It had started as a desperation ploy, the only way a frustrated Dan Randolph could force open the space markets that had been closed by monopolists. He had won his war against monopoly and opened the solar system to free competition among individuals, corporations and governments. But at a price. His smile faded as he remembered the people who had died fighting that brief, unheralded war. He himself had come to within a whisker of being killed.

  “So?” Pancho prodded, “Is this a joyride or what?”

  Putting his thoughts of the past behind him, Dan replied, “I want to see the crew module for myself. And we’re going to meet the planetary geologist that Zack Freiberg’s picked out for us.”

  “The asteroid specialist?”

  “Yep. He’s aboard the ship now. Came up to Selene yesterday and went straight to the ship. He slept aboard last night.”

  Pancho huffed. “Eager beaver. College kid, I bet.”

  “He’s got a mint-new degree from Zurich Polytech.”

  The flight controllers brought the jumper to a smooth rendezvous with Starpower 1. While Dan and Pancho stood watching, the little transfer buggy linked its airlock adapter section to the hatch of the bigger vessel. They floated through the womb-like adapter to the fusion ship’s airlock hatch.

  The airlock opened into the midsection of the crew module. To their left, Dan saw the accordion-fold doors of a half-dozen privacy compartments lining the passageway. Further up were the galley, a wardroom with a table and six small but plush-looking chairs, and—past an open hatch—the bridge. To their right was the lavatory and a closed hatch that led to the equipment and storage bays.

  Dan headed left, toward the galley and the bridge.

  “Chairs?” Pancho asked, looking puzzled, as they pushed weightlessly past the wardroom, floating a few centimeters above the deck’s carpeting.

  “You’ll be accelerating or decelerating most of the way,” Dan pointed out. “You won’t be spending much time in zero-g.”

  She nodded, looking disappointed with herself. “I knew that; it just didn’t latch.”

  Dan understood how she felt. He’d seen the layout of the crew module hundreds of times, viewed three-d mockups and even walked through virtual reality simulations. But being in the real thing was different. He could smell the newness of the metal and fabric; he could reach his hand up and run his fingers along the plastic panels of the overhead. The bridge looked small, but shining and already humming with electrical power.

  “Where’s our college boy?” Pancho asked, looking around.

  “That would be me, I suppose,” said a reedy voice from behind them.

  Hirning, Dan saw a husky-looking young man gripping the edges of the open hatch with both hands. He was a shade shorter than Dan, but broad in the shoulders, with a thick barrel chest The build of a wrestler. His face was broad, too: a heavy jaw with wide, thin lips and small, deepset eyes. His hair was cropped so close to his skull that Dan couldn’t be sure of its true color. He wore a small glittering stone in his left earlobe, diamond or zircon or glass, Dan could not tell.

  “I heard you enter. I was in the sensor bay, checking on the equipment,” he said in a flat midwestern American accent, pronounced so precisely that he had to have learned it in a foreign school.

  “Oh,” said Pancho.

  “I am Lars Fuchs,” he said, extending his hand to Dan. “You must be Mr. Randolph.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Dr. Fuchs.” Fuchs’s hand engulfed his own. The young man’s grip was strong, firm. “This is Pancho Lane,” Dan went on. “She’ll be our pilot on the flight”

  Fuchs dipped his chin slightly. “Ms. Lane. And, sir, I am not Dr. Fuchs. Not yet.”

  “That’s okay. Zack Freiberg recommends you highly.”

  “I am very grateful to Doctor Professor Freiberg. He has been very helpful to me.”

  “And my name is Dan. If you call me Mr. Randolph it’ll make me feel like an old man.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to offend you, sir!” Fuchs said, genuinely alarmed.

  “Just call me Dan.”

  “Yes, sir, of course. And you must call me Lars.” Turning to Pancho, he added, “Both of you.”

  “That’s a deal, Lars,” said Pancho, sticking out her hand.

  Fuchs took it gingerly, as if not quite sure what to do. “Pancho is a woman’s name in America?”

  She laughed. “It’s this woman’s name, Lars old buddy.”

  Smiling uneasily, Fuchs said, “Pancho,” as if testing out the name.

  “You handle weightlessness very well,” Dan said. “From what Zack told me, this is your first time off-Earth.”

  Fuchs said. “Thank you, sir… Dan. I came up last night so I could adapt myself to microgravity before you arrived here.”

  Pancho smiled sympathetically. “Spent the night makin’ love to the toilet, huh?”

 
Looking flustered, Fuchs said, “I did retch a few times, yes.”

  “Ever’body does, Lars,” she said. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

  “I am not ashamed,” he said, his chin rising a notch.

  Dan moved between them. “Have you picked out which cabin you want for yourself? Since you were first aboard you get first pick.”

  “Hey,” Pancho griped, “I’ve been aboard this buggy before, you know. So has Amanda.”

  “The privacy compartments are all exactly alike,” Fuchs said. “It doesn’t matter which one I get.”

  “I’ll take the last one on the left,” Dan said, peering down the passageway that ran the length of the module. “It’s closest to the lav.”

  “You?” Pancho looked surprised. “Since when are you comin’ on the mission?”

  “Since about four days ago,” Dan said. “That’s when I made up my mind… about a lot of things.”

  PELICAN BAR

  “So here’s my plan,” Dan said, with a grin.

  He and Pancho were hunched over one of the postage-stamp-sized tables in the farthest corner of the Pelican bar, away from the buzzing conversations and bursts of laughter from the crowd standing at the bar itself. Their heads were almost touching, leaning together like a pair of conspirators.

  Which they were. Inwardly, Dan marveled at how good he felt. Free. Happy, almost. The double-damned bureaucrats have tried to tie me up in knots. Humphries is behind it all, playing along with the IAA and those New Morality bigots. Those uptight psalm-singers don’t want us to reach the asteroids. They like the Earth just the way it is: miserable, hungry, desperate for the kind of order and control that the New Morality offers. This greenhouse warming is a blessing for them, the wrath of God smiting the unbelievers. Anything we do to try to help alleviate it, they see as a threat to their power.

  Vaguely, Dan recalled from his childhood history lessons something about a group called the Nazis, back in the twentieth century. They came to power because there was an economic depression and people needed jobs and food. If he remembered his history lessons correctly.