When their work was presented to the UN Starship committee they had already been talking to their old colleagues for six months. What they presented wasn’t a finalised design for a starship engine, with only six months theoretical research it was no more than some drawings and calculations, but they were drawings and calculations by the foremost fusion experts in the world with an estimate from these same experts that it was very likely that such engines could be designed and tested and ready for use in twenty years. The rest of the ship was going to take at least twenty five years to build, and it had to be completed and ready to launch in at least thirty three years. “Had to be,” because NASA had done another calculation for them: stars are not fixed points in space, they move, fast, at 220km per second around the galaxy. To make it more complicated our sun and Gliese 451 were moving at different speeds. Despite its size, getting the Zheng He from here to there would be more difficult than getting a grain of sand to propel itself from the roof a moving train in New York and to land itself on the roof of a moving train in Sydney. You had to make a pretty precise calculation to get to Gliese 451 without missing it by several billion miles. To get the Zheng He leaving our solar system at the maximum speed possible, it needed a boost by sling shooting it around a planet or two in our own system. NASA had carried out trajectory calculations like this many times since the Voyager missions, and they had worked out a new one, using provisional figures, for the Zheng He. A window was open to propel it past Jupiter in the right direction if they launched on the 8th of October 2061.
The 100 year Starship project was chosen because they had the best project managers. Project managers who stood in front of the UN committee and gave them initial blueprints, initial estimates of cost, a design achieved following consultations with experts from around the world in everything from claustrophobia, to nuclear physics, to how to raise a fish in low gravity. Most importantly though they presented an engine that could get humanity there and a launch date to send it. Two months later the entire office was hung-over again, this time on champagne, and John especially as he had just received a promotion to head project manager in charge of the fusion engine delivery. The UN chose them but no one was surprised, least of all a short man in a plane pine panelled office on the other side of the globe.
∆∆∆
Now that the project was about to enter the blueprint and building phase it needed to be divided up into manageable section, it was too big for the small team Graham had been leading. The first thing they did was approach the other companies who had presented to the UN panel, both big and small, and offer them a slice of the pie. They would keep control of the engine design and the overall ship structure, but they needed sophisticated plans based around agriculture, architecture, mining, construction, communications, electronics, artificial intelligence, everything. They had to get an asteroid into the Earth’s orbit, hollow it out, line it, and basically create an inside-out mini planet. This was going to take a lot of people, not just thinkers, but people who had built this stuff before. They may not have built it in space, but if they’d built it on the ground then that was the closest anyone had come to this, so that made them the experts.
It was agreed to get started on asteroid retrieval immediately. Cruithne was indeed too big, but a smaller asteroid, about two and a half kilometres in diameter, was soon to pass close enough to make an attempt to capture it. Thanks to the years of robotic exploration already carried out in space, the technology was almost off the shelf. It would take two years to assemble the whole package: three probes, with ion propulsion engines and some simple geological analysis equipment. They would be launched separately, connect in orbit, travel to the passing asteroid, separate again, attach to it, and steer it back to Earth orbit. Sounded simple, in theory it was, in practice the mathematics was hideous, but NASA was up to the challenge of docking three spacecraft to an asteroid and steering it back. It would be called the Arachne project, mainly because the three probes were spider shaped. Their legs would clamp themselves to the asteroid and slowly push what would be the bulk of the Zheng He towards a stable orbit around the Earth. The entire project from conception to orbit would take four years if all went to plan. At last some people began to let themselves get excited. This first step was achievable, this might actually happen.
Not for the first time the media got excited. For months, as plans were being made and construction began, the Arachne Project had been kept under wraps, but eventually people would need to be told they would have a new moon in a couple of years. The front pages of most Sunday newspapers on June 24th 2029 carried various artists’ conceptions of what the Earth’s new moon, the Zheng He, would look like. Le Journal du dimanche had the Eiffel Tower with a misshapen rock looming over it while the Sunday Times had a similar rock looming over Stonehenge. For the most part the PR department had worked wonders and the headlines were the literary equivalent of ham acting, headlines such as “A Triumph of Humanity” and “Because we Can”, however a few of the usual suspects went with “Doom” and “Have we gone too far?” accompanied by a picture of a flaming asteroid wiping out all life on the planet. Over the next year, the PR department justified its budget. To Graham this was remarkable as in his opinion it was the first time in history that a PR department contributed anything of value to civilisation, but what a job they did. They managed to reassure the public that there was no danger, to such an extent that by the time the first spider probe was launched in 2030 about fifty million people worldwide watched it live online. Later that year, about two hundred million people celebrated their own transit parties; the idea was catching on.
Chapter 5: 2030
Laure Dubois MEP looked blankly at the countryside whizzing past the TGV window. She detested the monthly commute from Brussels to Strasbourg, though being French she could never openly admit it. Somehow, despite all the changes that had happened in European politics since the Brexit crisis, that artefact of early treaty negotiations remained. The public hated the farce of moving an entire parliament between two cities once a month, and decried the waste of money. So did the MEP’s, and their assistants, and basically anyone who had anything to do with European politics, yet, it still had to be done because any attempt to remove it from the treaties was vetoed. There were high hopes that by the end of this legislative term something could be done, though those high hopes had existed a long time.
Laure was supposed to be working, she had to give a plenary speech the next day on why the European Space Agency (ESA) needed an extra half a billion euro and why the chamber should support this emergency allocation. Basically, now that the spider probes were en-route to the Zheng He asteroid to bring it back, ESA needed to have the rockets ready to begin sending habitation modules up to attach to it. The brave German miners who had been training for two years to go into space needed somewhere to live while they drilled, blasted and cored their way into the centre of the massive rock. It would be dangerous work, but it would be Europe’s work, and how embarrassing would it be if China paid to begin the project, the United States paid to bring back the asteroid and then Europe left the thing sitting there in orbit because it couldn’t find a measly €500 million at short notice. They say failure can hang over a politicians head, well, this failure would hang there in orbit for the world to see. Laure pretty much knew the funding would come through, but professionalism demanded that she make a solid justification.
She did have a worry though, and she knew it wouldn’t be brought up in the debate. That was the problem; it might never be brought up in any debate. While the current figures all seemed to be fine, the budget projection seemed off, way off. A number of companies had put in for tender on separate aspects of the European parts of the various sub-projects. Their bids for work were good, too good, and several of her colleagues seemed to be pushing for these companies to win the bids. For example, a new company called Xenecon Technologies Ltd. in the United Kingdom had put in a very competitive bid to manufacture the back-up CO2 scrubbe
rs. If something happened to the photosynthetic method of handling the CO2 levels, i.e. if the trees died, then the scrubbers could kick in to keep the colony on board the Zheng He alive. It would be useless mid-flight, but if they were near the Earth or their destination, then it could be a life saver. Laure did a little digging around, and saw that a British politician’s cousin, someone who didn’t seem to have any technological expertise or qualifications, had founded this company six months ago. Similarly, the potential winning bid for the town planning contract, the town that the colonists would live in inside the Zheng He, was from a Hungarian company with a former minister for state sitting on its board. While such things were not unheard of, politics is a dirty game after all; the number of these companies appearing in files crossing her desk was somewhat alarming.
Laure sighed and looked up from her laptop; “Sophie, can you pass me the Ramoko file please? I want to look over those figures again.” Most MEP’s would fly to Strasbourg, but Laure liked having the time to catch up on work and so she usually sat next to her assistant Sophie.
“Here you go. I highlighted some of those discrepancies you asked me to look out for.”
Laure took the file and opened it. “Have you looked through those other files I gave you?” she asked.
“Yes, most of them. So far there are about six that have the characteristics you told me to look out for, their potential contracts total about €11 million, I haven’t looked into all their boards or CEO’s yet, but if experience tells us anything, it won’t be good.”
Laure pulled at her ear lobe as she always did when confronted with an irritating problem, “this is getting very serious, I guess we can’t really discuss it on a train. We still have funding to hire a researcher don’t we?”
“Yes” replied Sophie “at least for a six month contract, want me to write up a job spec?”
“Could you? Good, I don’t want them to do much actual research, I want them to free up some of your time so you can keep working on this, and you seem to enjoy it, don’t you?”
“Absolutely! I think this is the most exciting part of the job, maybe someday you can actually use this information to clean things up a bit.”
Laure smiled, “maybe I will, but I would prefer not to have to use it publically. By the way, did you manage to set up the meeting with John Peeters as I asked you to?”
“Yes, he’s visiting friends in Cadarache next week. He will be flying back to the United States via Paris and taking an extra day there so he can meet you.”
John Peeters should have been somewhat of a minor celebrity in France, but it seemed he didn’t like attention and did all he could to avoid it. His role as project manager for the fusion engines of the Zheng He was bringing billions of euro in funding into the Cadarache facility. Already a factory for making the engines was being built. They weren’t one hundred per cent sure what the final product was going to be like, but regardless they would need a building to make them in. The final engine design needed to be smaller than the Tokomak currently functioning, and it needed to be easily assembled and disassembled into parts light enough to launch into space. Some of the best engineering minds from 20 different research facilities were tackling that one and from recent reports, they seemed to be making some headway already. Laure watched their progress closely. Like the mining modules, if the engines didn’t work it would be a European embarrassment, worse, it would be a French embarrassment, and she wasn’t going to be responsible for that. So she had done her research on John Peeters. If money wasn’t coming through that he needed to progress his work then she needed to know straight away. Delay was not an option.
As the train pulled into Strasbourg, Laure and Sophie waited for most people to get off before them. She had never understood why people stood up with their bags blocking the aisle a good five minutes before the train stopped; it was the rail equivalent of running to the baggage carousel in an airport, it wasn’t going to make it go any faster. As they sat there, Sophie leaned over to whisper in her ear;
“Laure, the Asian guy who was sitting behind us, the cute guy in the suit, have you seen him before?”
“Sophie, the parliament is full of cute guys in suits, and as a married woman I’m not supposed to notice these things anymore; He’s been in that seat since we left Brussels and no I don’t recognise him, why?”
“He was sitting near us at lunch yesterday, and my friend Tom says he was asking around about me, he’s an intern to some Swedish MEP apparently.”
Laure grinned, “sounds like you have an admirer! What are you telling me about him for?”
“If I fancied someone you’d be the last person I’d tell! Just keep an eye out for him, from what Tom told me he’s more interested in my work than he is in me.”
Laure was used to being the slightly paranoid one, politics develops that in a person, and she was a little sad to see it developing in Sophie at such a young age, yet Sophie was very intelligent, that’s why Laure had hired her. If she was suspicious about someone then maybe it was worth taking note of that person.
Three days later and the vote had gone well as planned. The parliament had approved the money and now it was going to the Council for the final decision. Since it was mainly a German contract that would be affected if the €500 million wasn’t found then the Council was sure to approve it. Already the main budget was being finalised by ESA. Laure, in her capacity as chair of the special committee on space development, was already trying to convince others to give most of the decision making power over to ESA, so the Parliament would just have an oversight role. She also had to make sure the Council approved a huge one off funding agreement, if they had to go to the Council to sign off on every €500 million they could forget 2061 as a launch date. European decision making is a slow business. Laure sat at her desk going through one email after another from her constituents. Sophie managed the standard questions about Common Agricultural Policy reform, structural funding for regional projects, her voting record on different issues, Laure just read through these questions in preparation for meeting with voters when she returned home to canvass them. The questions she directly answered by email were the more complex ones about positions that weren’t yet formulated, potential newspaper interviews, and of course questions about funding applications for Zheng He project money. The applications were sent to all members of the committee and in most cases the i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed by the commission, but as chair Laure had to make sure she was exceptionally well read on all aspects of the process. She was on her fifth proposal of the day when finally the 3 p.m. slump hit. The train back to Paris wasn’t for another four hours and she didn’t feel like a power nap, but a power walk might just do the trick.
The Parliament building could be a labyrinth, especially trying to get out of the building without running into someone who wanted to talk to you, and generally if someone wanted to talk to you they wanted you to do something. Miracle of miracles, Laure got out of the complex with only one meeting arranged during the walk from her desk to the front entrance, and even that was for her support on a written declaration she didn’t mind signing. It was extraordinarily rare that she found herself with some time to think, and this realisation in itself was enough to brush away the cobwebs that were entangling her thoughts. She smiled to herself and very quickly she made a decision to finally visit the modern art museum she had been threatening to see for the past few months. She almost felt like skipping there except of course that would make her look a little eccentric, and there were more than enough eccentric members of parliament, a significant percentage of which were supplied by the Independence Party, a loose conglomerate of Eurosceptic’s who didn’t see the irony in banding together to form a political party funded by European taxpayer money to fight for their right to stand apart and cut the spending of said European taxpayer money.
The five euro entry fee didn’t seem so bad, though that would depend on the exhibition. A commune of artists from Grenoble were the curr
ent exhibitionists, in every sense. Luckily Laure didn’t have a problem with nudity. The work wasn’t bad, just a little similar to something she had seen several years ago in the Centre Georges Pompidou. That was the problem with being a fan of art in Paris, the art comes to you. Still, it was good to see new talent, even if she seemed to be the only one interested. It was spookily quiet in the museum, thought that was better than having to peak around tourists at something more mainstream. Laure inhaled and exhaled slowly, it was good to relax, and museums were designed to be enjoyed slowly so she forced herself into that mind-set. She drifted from piece to piece, purposely spending at least two minutes at each to take it in. It had been weeks since she felt so relaxed. As she examined a sculptural piece of a naked elderly lady she heard a soft cough behind her, close behind her, clearly looking for her attention without trying to startle her. It didn’t work; Laure gave a little jump and turned. Behind her was a rather attractive Asian man in a sharp suit. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties if she had to guess. His dark hair was medium length with the fringe falling slightly down his forehead helping to frame his face between high cheekbones. It was the young man Sophie had pointed out to her getting of the train when they had arrived in Strasbourg earlier that week.
“I am sorry if I startled you Madame Dubois, but I have been meaning to have a word with you for some time and it is difficult to get you alone,” he said.
Laure put on her charming political smile, the one she used on voters; “oh, that’s quite alright, I was lost in my own world, I so rarely get time to myself I was day dreaming. I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, I don’t know your name?”
The Project Manager Page 5