Red Hope

by J J (John) Dreese

  On a map the bay looked like a seaborne giant had punched in the coastline. As the wealth in Silicon Valley bulged, it washed down and over the Santa Cruz Mountains starting in Los Gatos, flowing through Scotts Valley and settling here on the Monterey Bay. Chris’s limo continued driving past the beach visitors, the campers, and the tents. The smell from the eucalyptus trees invaded the car.

  After nearly a mile he arrived at an enormous steel paneled gate that enveloped the entire road. Something important was hidden behind this giant barrier. The limo pulled up to the keypad. Chris lowered his window and typed in the code: 2MURCHMONEY. The motorized gate made a grinding sound as it slid wide open. What Chris saw made him stop blinking.

  Beyond the gate was a stretch of enormous beach houses elaborately built out of rare woods and even rarer fortunes. As he drove down the lane, he ogled the Ferrari’s, Porsches, and even a refurbished red Ford Model T.

  Near a cedar-clad beach house, the limo had to stop as a woman in a bikini hopped out of a Porsche and nearly floated across the road in front of them. She smiled at them and waved, looking as happy as a product of unimaginable privilege should be.

  The road eventually dead ended into an enormous three-story beach house with a classic green Ford Mustang parked casually in front of it. The house had a spiral staircase that went up around a marble swordfish sculpture. The stairs ended at a redwood front door on the second floor.

  On the bottom level was an enormous garage with the doors wide open. Instead of being filled with fine Italian sports cars, it contained machinery, shop equipment, and arcade games. It all seemed very out of place for this neighborhood. Aside from the limo, the only other car in sight was Keller Murch’s Mustang.

  A shower of sparks flew out from behind a tall red tool box in the garage. Chris climbed out of the limo and asked the driver to wait for him. He walked toward the garage and spoke loudly, “Hello? Mr. Murch?”

  The sparks stopped and a head popped out from behind the toolbox. The floating head said, “Oh hey, you must be Mr. Tankovitch. I’d shake your hand, but I’m covered in grease. I think Keller is expecting you. He’s upstairs. Go on up over there, by the swordfish sculpture.”

  "Okay, thank you," said Chris.

  He walked up the spiral stairs and knocked on the door. It opened immediately. The bright smile of Keller Murch greeted Chris. He was carrying a large pile of books, but still managed to reach out and shake the NASA director’s hand.

  “Thanks for coming all this way! Please, come on in. Watch your step, the natural slate floor is a bit of a tripping hazard. Hey, so how was Arizona?”

  “Warm and dusty.”

  “Hah, I bet,” said Keller.

  He led Chris to his office at the back of the house. Ironically it had no view of the ocean. Instead it had a view of the vertical wall of dirt behind the house. Chris saw some clods of dirt falling down and hoped today would not be the day for the cliff to let go and bury the house.

  Keller set the books down on his desk.

  “Follow me, I have something to show you,” said Keller as he walked quickly toward the front of the house where the sound of ocean waves got louder. As Chris walked down the hallway, he saw an enormous panoramic stretch of windows overlooking the Pacific Ocean. He saw cresting waves in every direction.

  “That’s an awesome view you’ve got,” admired Chris.

  “No, no, that’s not what I wanted to show you. Look over by the sofa,” Keller said while pointing toward the living room.

  Hovering over the coffee table was a model of the MM10-powered hover ship. Chris thought it looked like the nose cone of a typical NASA rocket straight out of the 1960’s. However, it was just floating there with the sound of a pressurized air leak coming from it.

  Keller grinned and said, “That’s a model of what I’d like to talk with you about. My company built a revolutionary rocket engine that uses very little fuel and runs for a long time. I’ve had that little model running all morning; hovering right there.”

  Keller recognized the look of awe on Chris's face and continued to sell the concept, “It’s like magic, isn’t it?”

  Chris approached the levitating model, got down on one knee and removed his glasses so he could take a closer look. All it had on the bottom were four rocket nozzles that were wavering back and forth in some attempt to stabilize the vehicle. It also had fins sticking out the top, but those were barely moving. Chris’s face suddenly formed a huge smile of childish amazement. He put his hand under the rockets to see if he could feel the exhaust. All he felt were small, but powerful, jets of air.

  “How does it work?” asked Chris without looking away.

  “Well, do you know how normal rocket engines work?” quizzed Keller.

  “Yes, of course. It’s the old ‘throwing rocks from a canoe’ idea,” said Chris while still focused on the hovering model.

  “That’s right. The idea behind a rocket engine is to push on something in one direction and thanks to Sir Isaac Newton, you get pushed in the other direction. It’s like sitting in a canoe and throwing heavy rocks out of it. You and your canoe get pushed in the opposite direction of the rocks,” Keller summarized.

  Chris completed Keller’s explanation by saying “Yes, and all a rocket engine does is push tiny gas particles out the nozzle really fast to get the same effect. But that doesn’t explain this. It doesn’t feel like you’re pushing out a lot of air at all.”

  Keller smiled at the obvious technical confusion. He leaned in and said, “That’s the billion dollar question and that’s why you’re here today. There is more to that canoe analogy. As you mentioned, you can either throw heavy rocks slowly or light rocks quickly. My company has developed a rocket engine that takes it one step further. We throw incredibly small particles out very fast; roughly a thousand times faster than a standard rocket engine. So we barely have to use any of our rock storage so to speak. For the same amount of rocket fuel as a traditional engine, I can get a decent amount of thrust and run it for days, if not weeks.”

  Chris looked puzzled. He gave a skeptical look toward Keller and asked, “But the air coming out isn’t very warm. It’s not burning like a regular rocket engine.”

  “That’s right. Nothing is burning. Each motor contains the most powerful superconducting magnets in the world. The gas is not burned. Instead, it’s first turned into pure ionized plasma through a patented technique. Then we pump electricity through it and the magnets push it out the nozzle at ultra-high speed.”

  Chris interrupted, “Wait, you use magnets to push it out?”

  “Yes. In every high school science class they teach you that moving a copper wire near a magnet causes electricity to flow through the wire. That’s how a generator works, right? Well, it works in reverse too. If you pump electricity through a wire while it’s sitting near a magnet, it causes the wire to move. Or seawater or ionized gas or whatever you’re using to conduct the electricity instead of a wire.”

  Chris questioned, “You mean like magneto-hydrodynamic propulsion? The so-called MHD thrusters? I thought those were all fiction.”

  Keller shrugged his shoulders and said, “No, the theory is real. It works. In our case, we’re using a plasma gas instead of hydro though, so we call them MPD’s instead of MHD’s. Granted, it’s not strong enough to make a sixty ton army tank fly, but certainly strong enough to push a tin-can NASA crew capsule through space for a long time. And it’s a heck of a lot more powerful than any of the existing ion thrusters NASA is using right now.”

  Keller plopped down on the sofa after that explanation. He took a big breath and then continued his hard sell.

  “We have a full-flying prototype. It’s so easy to fly even I can handle it. My guys have told me that this could easily be scaled up for a trip to Mars. With a long constant acceleration, you could get to the Red Planet in about four or five weeks. And the astronauts wouldn’t suffer from zero gravity effects along the way. It is truly the ideal solution to your problem.”<
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  Keller paused before hammering home his final point.

  “The worst part of any vacation is getting there, right? I’m solving that problem for you.”

  Chris stood up and wandered over to a piano bench to sit down. He was shaking his head in disbelief.

  Keller stood up again. He confessed, “I was going to sell this technology to a Russian contractor, but when I saw the president at the press conference with his laughable time table, I had to refocus this technology on the American efforts. Think of it as my attempt to keep our country from looking like a fool.”

  Chris was scratching his chin trying to find the right things to ask. “I have so many questions. How much does it cost? How long would it take to modify it for space travel? Do you have a factory?”

  “I will answer these questions in due time. We’ll head up to our headquarters later on and you can meet my engineers.”

  Keller was interrupted by the sound of soda cans being opened from a doorway at the far end of the living room. A bikini-clad brunette walked out of the kitchen carrying a plate of food and two Cokes. Chris’s jaw dropped at the sight of this mystery woman. She put the plate down on the piano and placed the drinks on coasters. On the plate were cucumber slice sandwiches with some organic tomato sauce. It seemed perfectly Californian. Chris wanted to ask Keller if beach houses were stocked full-time with beautiful women.

  “It must be lunch time,” said Keller.

  He realized an introduction was in order.

  “Chris, this is my assistant Lydia. Hey Lydia, this is Chris Tankovitch. He runs NASA and he’s going to make me famous.”

  Lydia winked at Chris and said, “That’s nice. I’ll just let you boys get back to your rocket talk. Oh by the way Keller, somebody named Tatyana called and left a voicemail for you. She sounded Russian and terrifying.”

  "Delete it," commanded Keller.

  She walked away and Chris tried not to notice. His mind eventually wandered back to the ship floating above the coffee table.

  “Mr. Murch, are these motors strong enough to launch us off of Earth and up into orbit?”

  Keller swiveled his head side to side.

  “No. These rockets aren’t strong enough to launch any vehicle up into orbit from Earth or Mars. However, once in orbit, these MM10 motors would be engaged and give a nice gentle push all the way to Mars; that would greatly accelerate your vehicle. Your travel time will drop by an order of magnitude.”

  Chris shook his head in disbelief; it was just too good to be true.

  He peered at Keller and asked, “What’s the catch?”

  Keller let out a big belly laugh and answered, “There is no catch.” He started to walk toward the kitchen and stopped. Keller turned around with a smile on his face.

  “Well, there is one tiny catch. I will build these rocket motors and maybe even the crew capsules themselves for your Mars program. And I will only markup the cost by one thousand percent. Given your impossible timeframe, I think you’ll agree that’s a bargain. However, I will only do this for you if you guarantee that I am on the first trip to Mars.”

  Ocean mist billowed through the open windows and settled on Chris's glasses. He looked over at Keller through his fogged lenses and said, “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Murch. I’ll see what I can do. We have a lot of work ahead of us and very little time.”

  Chapter 7

  “What do you mean the Russians won’t take us to the Space Station anymore?” asked President Jennings incredulously. He plopped down into his desk chair in the Oval Office before continuing his rant.

  “We’ve been renting seats on the Soyuz from them ever since the space shuttle was axed. That’s the only way to get our guys up to the International Space Station! We’re paying them $70 million a person! How are we supposed to get our people and supplies up there for the Mars mission? Why did they change their minds now?”

  During Chris’s trip home from California, he received a phone call from the Russian Minister of Space Exploration. The Minister explained to him that they would no longer provide Americans with access to space. Now Chris was sitting in the Oval Office trying to explain the situation to an upset President Jennings.

  “Well, it turns out that Mr. Murch made a deal with the Russian Defense Bureau to sell them his entire production of MM10 motors. Then right before he signed a contract with NASA, he backed out on the Russian deal. Oh, and he didn’t bother to refund their money.”

  The president squeezed his eyes shut in irritation.

  Chris continued, “It doesn’t help that Mr. Murch has been on every talk show to discuss his new collaboration with NASA.”

  “So, the Russians are mad at one American and for that reason they’re going to derail my entire Mars program?”

  “Yes, pretty much. Except there is one compromise they’ve offered up to us.”

  The president’s eyes shot open with hope.

  “What is it?”

  “They said they would reconsider if we included one Russian Cosmonaut on the mission. If we do that, then they’ll let us use their Soyuz rocket to get our people up to the Space Station.”

  The president considered the idea and then asked Chris, “Can we afford the extra weight of the person on this mission?”

  Chris nodded his head and answered, “Yes, we can handle it. However, there is one more tiny problem.”

  “Oh crap, another problem?” asked the president.

  “They’ll let us use the Soyuz, but they won’t let it launch from Russian soil.”

  “But what if we have a cosmonaut on board?” asked the exasperated president.

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that. The Soyuz only holds three people and if we take the extra cosmonaut, we’ll have four. That’s one too many. So, we’ll have to modify the Soyuz and they don’t want that blood on their hands if things go badly,” explained Chris.

  “Are there any other gotchas from them?” asked the president.

  “No, that’s the deal they gave us. Include a cosmonaut and launch it from US soil,” explained Chris.

  “The Russians are getting on my nerves. We may need to teach them a lesson somehow.”

  Chris deflected that strange rhetorical threat.

  “Anyway, we’ll use the Soyuz to get our astronauts up to the International Space Station. But, there is still the question of getting all of our equipment and our heavy ship modules to the Space Station.”

  The president asked, “I’m guessing that won’t be the Soyuz?”

  Chris answered, “No, the Soyuz is great for lifting people, but we can’t use it to lift the heavy space equipment that we’re planning.”

  At that moment the butler came into the room and asked the NASA director, “More coffee, sir?”

  Chris waved away the offer politely.

  “So what exactly is the plan anyways?” asked the curious president.

  Chris said, “Well, the plan as you know is to make all the big launches from the International Space Station. It’s too hard to send everything we need from the launch site in Florida directly to Mars. Using the Space Station as an orbiting launch platform will really help us out.”

  Chris looked at some papers in his hand and continued, “The mission will be made up of two vehicles, or modules as we call them. The Science Module which is very large. It will be sent to Mars and stay there. Then there’s the smaller Transport Module which will carry the people with extra food and water to Mars and then back home again.

  The president asked, “So the two modules won’t go at the same time?”

  Chris answered, “No, we’ll send the Science Module to Mars in advance and then send the Transport Module a few weeks later with all the people and additional supplies. Again, launching from the International Space Station will really help us out on rocket fuel resources.”

  The president looked confused and furrowed his eyebrows.

  “I thought you said those Murch Motors were going to get us there with fuel to spare?”


  Chris answered, “Oh, they will. The Murch Motors are good for applying a constant push for long periods of time. However, they don’t have enough oomph to get the Transport Module off of either planet. That short launch phase will use standard rocket engines. The Murch Motor MM10’s will kick in right after the Modules leave the Space Station and will push us all the way to Mars.”

  “You know, Chris, that still leaves one big question. If the Soyuz is too weak to lift the Science and Transport Modules into orbit, how will we get those huge pieces of equipment from here on Earth up to the Space Station?”

  Chris smiled and said, “Actually, we are in luck. I had a long talk with the CEO of Whittenberg Space Launch Systems. He was willing to let us be the first official customer for their brand new Viper9 heavy lift rockets. It has nearly the same payload capacity of the Saturn V rockets they used on the Apollo Moon missions. It’s huge.”

  “Really?” asked the curious president.

  “Yes, their CEO was reluctant at first due to the high-risk nature of this mission, but I talked him into it. Patriotic duty and all. The Viper9 is a very powerful rocket; seriously, it could launch a fully loaded school bus into orbit.”

  The president laughed.

  “Fortunately, we aren’t launching a school bus. I’ll send a note to the Whittenberg team to thank them for saving our butts on this. I may even personally sign it. That should impress them.”

  A moment of quiet settled over the awkward conversation. The president broke it with his final statement.

  “I really do appreciate the details, but when it comes down to it, I don’t care how it gets done. Just make it happen.”

  Chapter 8

  Adam Alston woke up every morning marveling at the fact that he wasn’t dead. His life had been filled with dangerous experiences, mostly brought on by his own curiosity and stupidity. In the back of his wallet, hidden under a flap, he kept a written list of situations where he should’ve died. The instances tapered off after his teenage years, but every once in a while he had to take out the tattered paper and add yet another life lesson.