The Ship: The New Frontiers Series, Book One

by Jack L Knapp

  “Senator, you called me up to tell me that maybe sometime you could actually get results? But so far, you’ve accomplished nothing?”

  “Well, it’s not like that, Sol. These things take time. If we move too fast, we’ll get nowhere. There’s an election next year you know, and if we call hearings about nothing, that will hurt the party. I don’t have that much of a margin myself, not the way the polls are trending, so I have to be careful about how I do this. I just wanted you to know I haven’t forgotten about that talk we had.”

  “I’d have been happier if you had actual results to report, senator.”

  “I expect to have that information in due time, Sol. Anyway, there was one more matter I wanted to mention...”

  “Excuse me, senator; I’m at a board meeting, so I’ll have to get back to you later.”

  There was a click in the headset, then a dial tone. Senator Byington looked at the handset in amazement. Sol Goldman had just hung up on a United States Senator.

  #

  “I think it’s worth developing the orbital refueling station. I’ve been running cost estimates, and I think we can handle it after the DARPA money is paid. The wind generator costs are coming in about as expected, but the PV system cost considerably less than what we budgeted. It’s not a done deal yet, but I’ve had a back-channel message from DARPA. They’re going to approve the proposal and we’ll be getting a considerable amount of money from them. The contract will be for the people mover and the freight hauler, ten units each to start, and the contract is fat.”

  “What about the idea of vertical integration, keeping our device in-house?”

  “I thought about that, but we’re not selling them the devices. We’ll operate and maintain them ourselves, that’s part of the contract since we’re the only ones with trained people. There will be a contract manager and the rest of the employees will be classified as field engineers. Some of our employees have been complaining about the long hours, so I intend to offer them jobs on this contract if they’re interested in switching. The target services will provide support troops for the user test, people to fill sandbags and such, but we won’t be involved with that. Our only job is to provide machines and people to keep them operational. Most of the testing will be done at White Sands, but the over-water tests might require us setting up a branch office in San Diego. The Marines will furnish troops from Camp Pendleton and the Navy will provide a ship from Naval Base San Diego. That won’t start for about a year, not until the testing at White Sands is complete. The DARPA people tend to be thorough, and that takes time.”

  “It really doesn’t matter, Frenchy. Government troops will provide security around the equipment, officers will be filing reports. The secret won’t be a secret long.”

  “I decided it was worth taking the chance, Chuck. It’s the only way we can put those refueling stations in orbit, and without those, the contract we’re negotiating with the Japanese won’t be doable. I think we have to try this.”

  “You’re the majority stockholder, Frenchy. Considering that you also vote Will’s shares and some of the other shareholders’ holdings too, you’ve got roughly 60% of the stock.”

  “I’ve got more than that, Chuck. I bought out some of the other investors. They got nervous at spending all that money with no return, so I got a bargain. I now own 42.3% of the stock outright. You and Will own the next biggest chunks, our original group of engineers own the rest. Will’s given me his proxy, so yes, I do vote the majority of the shares. I hoped you’d support me in this.”

  “I don’t think I’m willing to oppose you. Grandpa’s idea was to get the invention developed first, make money from it second. I can’t complain about providing lifters to DARPA. Still, I hope we’re not doing the wrong thing.”

  “Dolph convinced me. No one will really be able to compete with us in space, at least no one who doesn’t have the backing of a major national economy. China might be able to, Russia probably couldn’t. Both are huge, but at the same time their economies are fragile. Russia’s economy is based on selling commodities, not products, and they took a big hit when the price of oil tanked. Sorry about the pun, but you understand what I mean. As for China, they’ve got a huge economy, but it’s weak. The interior is still poor and largely undeveloped, so their economy is really based on what happens in the coastal cities. They’ve also got a problem with housing and a large financial bubble that could bust any time. They might want to move into space, but they won’t be getting there first. Meantime, they’ve got a very antsy bunch of neighbors to deal with, people who claim the same territory that China does. Militarily, I don’t see them trying to move in on us. If we build a dozen refueling stations, financed by contracts to move industrial waste off-planet, we’ll own the near-space infrastructure. There’s also this to consider; would South Korea or Japan prefer to do business with China or with us?”

  “I hope you’re right. So the plan is to begin building adapted versions of the King for DARPA, one that’s hollow in the middle and one that looks like a capital H?”

  “Right, we build the frames, buy the computer control units off the shelf...it’s the programming that’s important, not what platform it runs on...and then do final assembly either here at the plant or at White Sands. I don’t intend to install impellers until everything is ready, including having our operation and maintenance team on hand ready to go. We still need to hire more people, so I’ve got ads running already. This gives me enough lead time to check out applicants. The first group will be operators, not mechanics, and we’ll train them using the King. As soon as we get the initial payment for the DARPA contract, we start buying the materials for the refueling station. As for the DARPA contract, Joe tells me we’ve got enough aluminum on hand to build the first few frames. We used mostly titanium on the ship, so the scrap aluminum panels and frame members are in the shed, the one where the ranch hands stored hay for the dairy-cattle feeder operation.”

  “I didn’t know that. I knew you were buying usable scrap, but as for storing it...”

  “Morty knew. Matter of fact, it was his idea. He had guys culling the scrap, keeping some and shipping the rest off to the refinery for recycling. The part they kept went into the hay shed. He figured we’d use it eventually.”

  “I guess he was right. So what does this have to do with me? Do I get involved in the building, or do I keep flying the ship? That thing needs a name, you know.”

  “Lina wanted to call it Enterprise, but I vetoed that. Space Truck doesn’t work, although that’s what it really is. You got any ideas?”

  “Let me think about it. Newton, Galileo, Einstein, maybe something like that?”

  “Some of those are already being used for spacecraft. If you named one Darwin, for example, that would probably fly, but Galileo and Newton won’t, because they’re unmanned craft. Our ship would be confused with theirs.”

  “That might be a good thing, Frenchy. But I’ll think about it. Maybe call it Frenchy, or Morty.”

  “Maybe Morty, we could justify that, but not Frenchy. Get real.”

  #

  Newly-promoted Colonel Kotcheff waited, more or less patiently, by the car. General Stroganoff was clearing customs and immigration, and he’d be along in due time.

  “Why was there no one to meet me, colonel? I had to carry my own damned bags!”

  “Sir, you told me to wait by the car.”

  “Are you the only agent in this miserable hole? Don’t you have subordinates?”

  “Well, yes. But when you told me to wait by the car, I believed that you did not want to attract attention by being met.”

  “You believed wrong, colonel. Let that be your last mistake. Don’t we have an office in New York? Take me there immediately.”

  “Right away, sir. I’ll get your bags, you have a seat while I put them in the trunk.”

  Mollified, the general sat down and looked around. The airport was busy, busier even than Domodedovo, but when combined with Vnukovo and Sheremety
evo, Moscow’s airports served about as much traffic. Not to mention the several military or private airports that handled some of the flights. At least, this one was almost as clean and, honesty compelled the general to admit it, better appointed. The Americans spent more money on nonessentials, that was certain.

  The general had served in a number of units before getting this surprise assignment, moving around within the old Soviet Union at first, then later on at various posts in the new Russian Federation. For some reason, he’d never been posted to the West before now. Well, it was probably necessary preparation for his new command, the one he’d take over after he finished here. And really, one major operation to conduct; that shouldn’t take long, and he’d soon be on his way back to Moscow. But first, get this clown with colonel’s rank to do something more productive than scratch his arse! Really, he couldn’t manage to acquire one simple secret, not even a government secret at that! Disgraceful. Time was when the motherland’s agents even penetrated the American Manhattan Project, the most secret operation they had!

  Seize the moment, that was the ticket! Moving aggressively had first brought him to the attention of the party and he’d been doing it ever since. Not everyone could be approved to command a guards armored division, and very few had done so in a shorter time than Alexy Alexyevitch Stroganoff!

  “I will require copies of everything you have discovered, colonel. When I have studied the files, we will speak again. Is it too much to hope that there is an apartment for me in this place?”

  “Sir, I leased an apartment in Washington,” Colonel Kotcheff said uneasily. “It’s where our main office is. This office is only a satellite, kept in case something of interest occurs at the United Nations. We have a lieutenant and four agents here in New York, but all of them are assigned to operations directed from Moscow. There are auxiliaries, but they’re local hires, not field agents.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, then. Perhaps it would be better to engage a hotel room here and leave for Washington tomorrow. For now, I’ve had a long day and I feel the jet lag. I’ll take the files with me to the hotel and read them tonight. That should be safe enough, you haven’t even rented the room yet so no one will expect me to stay there. This car...it belongs to the agency? Is it secure? Have you swept if for listening devices? The Americans have come up with a number of very tiny bugs, I’ll give them that. Are you certain the car is secure?”

  “Yes, sir. We own it, and it’s garaged each night after servicing. The garage is secure. There is a photographic record which is reviewed daily, and no one has approached the garage. Sir, we do have a room here. It’s permitted, based on guidance from headquarters.”

  “Still, good tradecraft demands more. Have the car swept when you get back to your office, colonel. We cannot be too careful. We are in the enemy’s camp, they are literally everywhere. This room, is it suitable for me?”

  “I’ll see to the car, general. The room is kept as a safe house, not fancy but adequate. But I’m sure the car is secure enough for our conversation. Do you have instructions for me?”

  “Yes, but I wish to wait until I’ve read the files. I will want to know what went wrong on that last operation, the barge your people were too inept to steal.”

  Colonel Kotcheff winced. “General, it was a barge, and there was no tow unit to move it. There was an additional concern for our agents, some of the auxiliaries I mentioned, because the object appears to be very massive. I knew we could not offload it in the city, too many people would observe. I accept fault, I directed our agent to have men on shore and others to guard the boat that would tow the barge to a secure location. There was a crane waiting to remove the device and a warehouse to store it.”

  “So why did this not work? I read the summary report in Moscow, but I want you to tell me yourself what went wrong.”

  “It appears that the device was able to move the barge without need for a tow. It also made no sound, although one of my agents on shore suggested perhaps there was a humming noise that could have come from the barge. But police cars showed up before anyone could board it, and then somehow it sank before the tow-craft could reach it. There was one success, our people got away without being arrested, so no one can connect us with what happened. The Americans were careless before, they will be again. We must be ready when they make a mistake.”

  “That may not be soon enough, colonel. We may have to make our own opportunity. Is this the place?”

  “Yes, sir. We keep a room in this hotel year-round. It is safe, a bit austere, but comfortable, and tomorrow we can move you to Washington. I’ll have the files delivered within the hour, general.”

  “See that you do. And get this car swept for bugs! Never underestimate the enemy!”

  The colonel nodded. There was nothing to say, really; the general had given him an order. Perhaps he would be in a better mood tomorrow. Colonel Kotcheff brought the bags inside, loading them into the elevator before conducting the general to his temporary lodging. If he complained too bitterly, the New York branch would simply have to lease another safe house. This one might be compromised.

  As soon as he was permitted to leave, Colonel Kotcheff telephoned the lieutenant in charge of the satellite station. While technically correct, Colonel Kotcheff’s comment about the agents being engaged in work for Moscow didn’t keep them totally occupied. There would be time for them to carry out General Stroganoff’s instructions, to deliver the case files to the hotel and sweep the car for bugs.

  Unfortunately, the sweep found a tiny listening bug, difficult to detect so there may have been more than one. When could they have been installed? The garage was under constant surveillance, and a driver was with the car whenever it was used. How could they possibly have managed to bug the car? And how much had they heard?

  Colonel Kotcheff felt a chill on the back of his neck. He’d assured General Stroganoff that the car was clean; should he now confess his error? Or say nothing, hoping that General Stroganoff would not ask him what results the sweep had revealed?

  There was one other option, see whether the agent who’d made the sweep felt loyal to Kotcheff or to the motherland. He had, after all, been employed here for almost twenty years and he had an American wife. Would he want to be sent home to Moscow? Perhaps he might be encouraged not to report his findings?

  “Martin, I have a question for you...”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  General Stroganoff was unhappy. How was he supposed to accomplish his mission when so little was known? He’d finally realized that Colonel Kotcheff was less of an imbecile than he’d thought. The man might actually have done as much as he could, considering the other imbecile he’d worked for.

  It was like punching a pillow, nothing was known other than that the damned Americans were flying something, perhaps an antigravity device. How else could the ship in the satellite photos float so close to the ground, no propeller, no jet, nothing?

  Not that he would ever mention his new-found respect to Kotcheff. Better to keep him anxious, on his toes.

  Could it be...was someone at Army headquarters doing the same thing to him, to General Stroganoff? Was this a plot to ruin him, send him into a situation tailor-made for failure? That divisional command assignment he’d coveted, someone else was now being mentioned. Someone with connections as good as Stroganoffs.

  Damn them! Failure would ruin him, maybe see him shuttled off to a backwater posting somewhere in the Middle East.

  But he had assets here, people, an expanded budget. But how to use them? What would his superiors accept?

  Certainly not what he’d accomplish since arriving! General Stroganoff wasn’t panicking, not yet; after all, he was a veteran of Army infighting. There must be something!

  “Kotcheff! Get in here!”

  #

  The ship finally had a name, Farside.

  Will found Chuck supervising installation of the second refueling probe, this one on the port wing. The probes, located at the very ends of th
e wings, were designed to connect to tanks on the not-yet-built orbital refueling station. New shipboard pumps, located near the probes, would transfer the fuel from the station to the Farside’s tanks; pumps in the ship’s wing roots in turn transferred hydrogen and oxygen to the fuel cells. The original idea of allowing the them to take ambient oxygen from the chamber in the ship’s aft compartment had required a number of redesigns when the cells were moved to the hull. The ship’s lines, originally sleek, now had lumpy external mounts that held the impellers and the fuel cells. There might be a fairing over them at some point, but so far there had been no time to fabricate one. For now, the task was to finish moving the generating and propulsion systems to the outer skin, install redesigned plumbing, then find out if the arrangement worked.

  The Farside’s plumbing had evolved from something fairly simple into an extremely complicated arrangement. Joe and his team were convinced it would work, but Chuck had doubts enough that he wanted to make sure that no slight oversight would strand the ship in space. This was the only space-capable craft they had. Not to mention that swapping a fuel tank for an oxygen tank halved the Farside’s hydrogen storage.