Space For Sale

by Jeff Pollard

  “Assuming Griffin 3 works fine,” Dexter says. “And we've already got 4 and 5 in the cargo configuration. So assuming they work fine, I'd be willing to strap into Griffin 6.”

  “Griffin 5 isn't very far down the line,” an engineer chimes in. “We can easily change it to a crewed configuration.”

  “Would you be brave enough to ride Griffin 5?” K asks Travis Clayton, who had been conspicuously quiet.

  “I'm the wrong person to ask,” Travis replies.

  “Why?” K asks.

  “I'm on board with the stow-away on Griffin 3 plan.”

  “So assuming Griffin 3 and 4 work fine, would we be comfortable getting on Griffin 5?” K asks Travis and Dexter.

  “Absolutely,” Travis replies.

  Dexter thinks for a moment, looking at the mixture of worried and excited faces around the table. “I'm in.”

  “Griffin 5 it is,” Kingsley jumps to his feet and pumps his fist. “I know some of you aren't quite on board, but I will listen to any criticism, if there's a worry, a problem, anything, I want to hear about it. But I think we will be ready in time for Griffin 5. It's hard to say that with confidence with only two missions behind us. But you have to think about how the picture will look in eight months, when we've got four perfect missions behind us. Imagine if we got there and hadn't made this decision, and didn't have any manned Griffins in the pipeline yet. It would seem silly that we didn't think ahead. Alright. Let's go to work.” Many of the doubters are swept up into being believers. The room fills with resolve and hope that SpacEx will be sending Kingsley, Dexter, and Travis into space within a year.

  “I hate to ruin the mood and all, but there's one thing you're all forgetting,” Brittany interrupts. “We're only under contract for Griffin 3 to the ISS.”

  “We have the cargo conference coming up,” Kingsley replies.

  “But Orbital Sciences and ULA are both planning cargo launches before the conference,” Brittany replies. “There's no guarantee beyond the proving mission that we get any cargo missions.”

  “Oh come on, we were the first to do it, you think we won't get any contracts?” K asks.

  “Do that fast forward thinking trick you just pulled,” Brittany replies. “Imagine being at that conference in four months when a CST-100 and a Cygnus have both been to the ISS. Being first won't seem so important then.”

  Chapter 7

  “It's just that...if all I had to accomplish, was to completely re-invent rocketry and space travel by implementing re-usability in an unprecedented way, then I would be fine,” Kingsley says, laying on the couch at a therapists office. Kingsley would dispute it if you called it his therapist's office. “You know, out-designing, out-doing, just beating my competition, that's a challenge, but not one I would lose. But it's not a fair fight. I'm fighting an uphill battle at all times. They've got every advantage, more money, more power, political clout, a government full of people they've bought off that are rigging the game in their favor. They're having me followed, I'm not crazy, they're really following me everywhere I go. They're waiting for me to make a mistake, and they'll pounce on it. If I'm caught with drugs or girls or something, they'll rush to the press, embarrass me, and kill my space program. That's what gets me. That it's not a fair fight.”

  “Have you ever failed at anything in your life?”

  “I only spent two days in grad school,” K replies.

  “That's different. You left to start a billion dollar company, that's not failure.”

  “I couldn't solve my parents' plane crash,” K says.

  “Nobody expects you to raise the dead.”

  “No, I mean, the technical problem of the flight. I couldn't figure it out.”

  “Weren't you a child at the time?”

  “That's no excuse.”

  “Kingsley, I'm worried that you are unprepared for failure, and because of that, you lash out when things don't go your way. I've heard stories about you lighting papers on fire in meetings, jumping up on tables, yelling, making rash decisions-”

  “You're listening to Hammersmith too much,” K replies.

  “I'm worried that you are unprepared to fail. That if you were to fail, your world would come crashing down around you because you'll drag it all down with you. Like you're dead set on either succeeding or going down in a blaze of glory.”

  “That does sound like me.”

  “That's fine, I'm not telling you that I have a window into your future, I'm just trying to open your eyes to what others are seeing. I mean, what would happen if SpacEx failed? What if you lose a rocket, contracts dry up, you start losing too much money, some other company comes along and beats you and you go into bankruptcy. The dream is over. What then? Would you survive that?”

  “I'd still have Tezla,” K replies.

  “Would you? I think you would sell Tezla, you'd sell everything you own, spend every dime you have, trying desperately to save your space program. And if it failed, you would be broke.”

  “What the hell kind of motivational shit is this supposed to be?”

  “I'm just saying, Kingsley, when you face adversity, you seem to take drastic action, perhaps overreaction when it is not called for.”

  “Fortune favors the bold,” K replies.

  “Prison is full of bold thinkers too.”

  “This is just Hammersmith talking, she's telling you things, trying keep me on a leash so I don't screw up her precious bottom line.”

  “Have you ever failed at anything Kingsley? Name for me something at which you failed, and how you dealt with it.”

  “Nothing comes to mind.”

  “You've never failed at anything? How about women, what's your love life like?”

  “I'm working on that,” K replies.

  “You've never been married, no kids, is that where you saw yourself at this age?”

  “I got a girl, I'm working on it,” K replies.

  “Working on it?”

  “Yeah, working on it,” K says.

  “What about your friends?”

  “What about them?” K asks.

  “What happened with Dexter?”

  “He wasn't my friend.”

  “I don't believe you.”

  “Obviously with what happened, he wasn't really a friend.”

  “I know Dexter, and I've heard you talk about Dexter before, he seemed like your closest friend.”

  “Guess you were wrong too,” K replies.

  “Kingsley, these sessions don't do much good if you don't talk to me. If I tell Hammersmith that you weren't being cooperative, she'll just send you to another therapist. You know how those insurance companies are sticklers for red tape.” Kingsley sighs.

  “So tell me, what's going on in your love life.”

  “I...screwed it up. Kinda.”

  “How?”

  “Come on doc, I came in here feeling good and you're just bumming me out.”

  “How did you screw it up?”

  “Don't worry he said, it'll be perfectly safe he said,” Caroline says sarcastically from the front seat of Kingsley's T-38 Talon, a two-seater jet.

  “Take the stick,” K says from the back seat.

  “No!”

  “Come on, just try it, it's fun,” K says.

  “Not right now,” Caroline says nervously, wanting to cover her eyes. Kingsley isn't taking her on some leisurely cruise. No. He's flying through the Grand Canyon, turning and burning through the meandering course of the ancient river, going totally horizontal and pulling three G's.

  “Hey, you want to be an astronaut, you gotta do some flight training,” K says matter-of-factly as he levels the plane off, heading straight toward the wall of the canyon a few miles ahead. “My hands are off the controls,” K says. “This turn is all you.”

  “No it's not!” Caroline shouts, craning her neck to look at K over her shoulder. “Seriously K, take the stick!”

  “No can do, Duchess, this is on you, nothing like a deadline to motivate people
. I'd say you got about thirty seconds to find your wings.”

  “Kingsley! I don't know how to fly!”

  “And this is how you learn, throw you in the deep end,” K replies.

  “No, that's how you drown!”

  “Come on, it's easy, it'll be just like Beggar's Canyon back home.”

  “What!?”

  “Fine, look at it this way, you can either take the stick and try to make the turn, or we can become embedded into the paleolithic fossil record on the side of the canyon. Your call. I'd say about fifteen seconds now.” The canyon wall approaches the cockpit at 300 mph.

  “Kingsley, this isn't funny,” Caroline says gravely.

  “Ten seconds,” K replies.

  “Kingsley!”

  “Seven, six.”

  “Just take the stick Kingsley,” Caroline says, defiantly throwing both of her hands in the air. “See, I won't do it.”

  “Four, three,” K says, chuckling.

  “Kingsley!” Caroline screeches. The canyon wall screams toward her at half the speed of sound. They blow past the point where they could safely turn and bank into the next curve of the canyon. Out the canopy they only see a rock wall. Caroline screams, covering her eyes, bracing for impact.

  K pulls back on the stick, climbing out of the canyon and clearing the lip of the rock wall by a mere fifty feet. Caroline waits a moment, no impact, just the sound of the engines purring behind them, the rush of air, and K's signature “heh,” not quite a laugh, not quite a chuckle.

  “That's not funny!” Caroline shouts.

  “You know it is,” K says. “Come on, alright, here, no canyon, open skies, just take the stick now.”

  “I don't want to fly anymore,” Caroline says.

  “You've got an ejection seat.”

  “K, come on, don't make me fly,” Caroline insists.

  “Fine, then we'll do some loops.”

  “What?!”

  They land at McCarran airport in Las Vegas and park in Kingsley's hangar. They exit the T-38 Talon. Caroline kisses the concrete floor, so happy to be home on terra firma.

  “Oh sure, you'll go down on the hangar, but not on-” Caroline glares at K before he finishes the sentence.

  “So you scared her?”

  “No, that's not how I screwed it up,” K says.

  “The way you told that story it sounded like she hates you.”

  “She's gone flying with me a bunch more times, she had fun, even if she was scared. If you aren't nervous or scared, you're not having fun. I mean, nobody has fun just driving a car at the speed limit in the lines. You gotta push the envelope. Nobody has fun just following the rules. That's like spending a night in playing scrabble and drinking milk.”

  “Well if you want a woman to feel safe with you, maybe playing chicken with a canyon isn't the best way to get her to trust you.”

  “Come on Mr. Psychology, you know about misattribution of arousal, don't ya?” K asks.

  “Yeah, are you saying you scare women on purpose because it tricks them into thinking they like you?”

  “I'm really something, huh?” K asks.

  “So that was a story about how awesome you are, is that what you're telling me?”

  “Wouldn't any story about me fit that description?”

  “We're supposed to be talking about how you blew it with her.”

  “Well, I'm getting to that if you'd stop interrupting.”

  “I'm all ears.”

  “So, after taking her on a leisurely Grand Canyon tour, we went out for dinner, back to my Vegas penthouse, where I busted out the space Champagne.”

  “Space Champagne?”

  “Yeah, I sent up a bunch of cases of Champagne on a test flight of the Eagle 1.”

  “What does that do to it?”

  “It's Champagne that's been in space, it's just...awesome.”

  “What is the point of this story exactly?”

  “I'm trying to tell you how I landed this girl in the first place. I mean, I never have trouble getting girls. They're never a challenge, they just want me because I'm-”

  “So cool?”

  “Yeah. Or rich, or suave, or fun, or funny, or a genius, you know.”

  “Genius playboy billionaire philanthropist?”

  “So you saw that bio-pic about me?” K asks.

  “Actually I just saw The Avengers.”

  “I didn't care much for The Avengers, I mean, a flying aircraft carrier? What does that accomplish exactly? They do know the future will be all about drones and stuff, right, not these big fat targets filled with thousands of people that can be brought down by a couple well placed grenades, I mean, what was even the point of that thing?”

  “Kingsley. Back to the girl.”

  “Right. So, I've never had a girl be this hard to get. I won the Grand Prix of Monaco just to get a peck on the cheek. I spent twenty million to be on the same Virgin Galactic flight with her. I showed her my flying skills, took her to the Vegas penthouse, space Champagne, and yet...nothing. I was starting to think that she was just playing me. Like she enjoyed being chased, and didn't really want to date...kinda like the chick version of me, where I like the chase, but not the relationship. So I'd been chasing her for like two years, and finally made some progress, gone on dates, but still, hadn't closed the deal. Then she drops this on me.”

  “It's aged with time-dilation,” Kingsley says, clinking Champagne glasses with Caroline in the Vegas penthouse.

  “But you don't want to age Champagne,” Caroline says.

  “Why not?”

  “It loses the carbonation,” Caroline replies.

  “Well it's just a joke anyway, the amount of time dilation is like a fraction of a second,” K replies, putting his arm around her.

  “How does that work?” Caroline asks.

  “What?”

  “Time-dilation,” Caroline says.

  “I didn't bring you here to teach you about relativity,” K says, kissing her long glorious neck.

  “Then why did you bring me here,” Caroline says slyly.

  “I think you know why,” Kingsley whispers in her ear.

  “No but really, explain time-dilation to me,” Caroline says, scooting away and sipping her Champagne, stifling a smirk.

  “You love playing hard to get,” K says.

  “What makes you say that,” Caroline asks innocently. K shakes his head. “Come on, explain relativity to me.”

  “You just love trying to screw up my plans. Interrupt the romantic moment to make me drone on and on about Einstein, so you can smirk and enjoy being in the driver's seat.”

  “I can't just go along with your schemes,” Caroline replies. “Come on, I want to know, explain time-dilation.”

  K squints at her. “We're always moving at the speed of light. If you're sitting perfectly still in physical space, then you're traveling in time, into the future at the speed of light. The faster you travel in physical space, the slower you travel forward into time. As you approach the physical speed of light, time nearly stops. If you were to actually reach the speed of light, time would stop. So when we go up in space and travel fast in physical space, we go forward in time a bit slower.”

  “So then it's not aged, it's fresher because of time-dilation,” Caroline says.

  “Right! I knew there was a reason I used Champagne. This way it's like a quarter second fresher than other bottles from this batch.” There's a pause. Eyes on each other, doing the flirting. K moves in for a kiss, but she gives him the cheek.

  “You can't go straight from time-dilation to kissing,” Caroline says through a smile.

  “You are the devil,” K says.

  “You really want me?” Caroline asks, coy.

  “I don't know,” K says.

  “Obviously you do,” Caroline says.

  “Is this some weird power thing? You don't play hard-to-get. You're on a whole other level. This is like Helen-of-Troy hard to get.”

  “Tell me you want me,”
Caroline says.

  “I want you,” K says.

  “Oh come on, say it like you mean it.”

  “I want you,” K says in the most serious romantic voice he can muster. She smirks. “You really love this power trip stuff.”

  “Do you love me?” Caroline asks.

  “What?”

  “Tell me you love me,” Caroline says.

  K looks her over, trying to figure her out.

  “No,” K says.

  “Why not?”

  “I'm not going to say I love you. We're not even dating, this is more like hunting a unicorn.”

  “Tell me you love me, and I'll let my defenses down,” Caroline says.

  Kingsley looks at her smirk, her relaxed posture. “No,” K says. “I won't say it.”

  “That's the right answer,” Caroline says, smiling. She kisses Kingsley on the cheek.

  “What the hell is this?” K asks, laughing.

  “Shh,” Caroline kisses him.

  Kingsley sits up in bed. Caroline lays beside him, eyes closed but awake.

  “What the hell was all of that, tell me you love me stuff?” K asks. This is the first time he's ever really seen Caroline just being herself, her guard down.

  “When every guy on the planet will do anything to get you, you'll learn a thing or two about figuring out their real intentions.”

  “Yeah, I hear that,” K says. “It's interesting how different our approaches are to the same problem.”

  “Why, what's your method?”

  “I talk about rockets and electric cars and fusion power and Mars and when their eyes glaze over, I know they just want me for my money and don't care about that shit. Though...”

  “Though what?”

  “I was doing an interview with Popular Mechanics, which is a pretty big misnomer, but this woman writer told me that we actually went on a date at Stanford. I vaguely remember it, but she said that the first thing I said to her when we sat down for dinner was, 'so how much time do you spend thinking about electric cars,' so that wasn't a great date.”

  “So you've just always been a nerd, now you just flaunt it to see if they like the nerd.”