NFI: New Frontiers, Incorporated: Book 2, the New Frontiers Series

by Jack L Knapp

  #

  “Shit, course change. Target is increasing speed. They’ve seen us.”

  “Understood, break radio silence and report to Home Base. Advise Boat One.”

  “Break radio silence, chief?”

  “That’s what I said, knucklehead. They already know we’re here!”

  “Aye, aye, master chief.”

  The wind had been from aft before; now, as the boat increased speed, it changed, coming from the port quarter. The boat porpoised, taking the waves at an angle.

  “Who would have thought that old ship had this much speed! What’s her knot reading, cox?”

  “We’ve got the legs on her, master chief. She’s probably doing twelve knots right now, maybe a little faster. We’ll be up to her in about half an hour, if you want to join your men.”

  “Tired of my questions, cox?”

  “No, master chief. I can run this boat with one hand tied behind me.”

  “I’ve heard that said about you, cox. That you drive like you were using your other hand for something more interesting.”

  The master chief chuckled. The coxswain did not. Some exchanges you just weren’t going to win.

  Sven glanced at the radar screen. There were now two distinct returns, so Iskandar had been right. Two other shadows appeared and vanished among the wave return. Could those be the pirate boats? If so, they were damned close! Sven checked, but the impeller controls were against the stop. Apparently his attempt to lift the bow hadn’t worked. Maybe he could get more speed by returning the gimbals to their previous setting. He carefully twisted the control, then looked out the bridge windows. Were the boats in sight?

  Tesla’s bow eased down. Ahead, a rogue wave, slightly higher than its fellows, pitched up in front of the bow. Tesla slammed into it, shuddering, water cascading over the bow. Sven staggered, then gripped the armrests of his chair. Tesla eased upward, seawater flooding into the scuppers. For a moment, all was as before.

  A faint vibration shook the deck. Bridge windows rattled. Sven had time for a brief concern.

  #

  “Shit, master chief! Look at the objective!”

  “What the hell...?”

  The chief hadn’t intended it to be a question, but the coxswain replied. “She broke in two, master chief. That’s the aft portion, the bow is gone. She’s going...”

  The open hold gaped amidships, the sea poured in. The old ship swayed to port, then rolled to starboard. For a moment it appeared she could survive even this indignity. Then, tiredly, Tesla gave up the fight. The remnant sank by the stern, the open middle rising for a moment, escaping air bubbling as the wreckage sank.

  “Radio Home Base. Look for survivors.”

  “Aye, aye, master chief. You won’t find any. She went down too fast.”

  “We have to look, cox. Work out a search pattern with Boat One. I’ll tell my guys to keep a sharp lookout.”

  But the boats found no survivors, not even bodies. Whatever had been there, the sea had taken. Sven’s body was never found. In the best traditions of the sea, he had gone down with his ship.

  Twelve kilometers away, two lifeboats chugged on, unknowing.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Frenchy found Chuck having breakfast with Lina the following morning.

  “I spoke to Will. He’s willing to contact Australian officials, but he pointed out that he’s not really a company official. He was, but let’s be honest, he can’t handle space operations, because he’s not willing to go into space. We talked it over. I’ve decided to retire, effective immediately. I’ve named Will chairman of the board.”

  Chuck glanced at Lina, surprised. “Did you know of this?”

  “No, but I’m not surprised.” She hesitated. “Dad, you’ve spent a lot of time with us. You’re no longer making those trips to the mainland. It’s not like you, giving up.”

  “I didn’t exactly give up, Lina. I did something I needed to do.”

  Chuck had watched the exchange. He asked, “Frenchy, did those trips have anything to do with Sol?”

  “You’re pretty shrewd, Chuck. I had nothing to do with his suicide. Yeah, I outmaneuvered him. I bought up enough stock to force him out, then sold out. Whatever remaining stock he held dropped in value, almost overnight. He used finance against me, I just repaid him.”

  Frenchy sipped his coffee, looking out over the manicured grounds. “I don’t really have a goal, now. That’s one reason I’m willing to step back. Will’s a minority stockholder, we hold a clear majority of the shares, but by holding the CoB title the Australians will respect him. It will make things a lot easier when he talks business.”

  “I thought you might have had something to do with Sol’s getting the boot. I can’t say I’m sorry. Accidental overdose or not, he did it to himself. Anyway, where did you have in mind for a base, assuming the Australians go for the idea?”

  “We had that Russian problem because they were close enough to put pressure on Rovaniemi Base. They’re still there, so we may have to move the assembly operation too; the Russians crossed the border once, they can do it again. We might want to move a substantial amount of our heavy manufacturing to South Korea. Think about it, and if you think it’s worth looking into, have someone take a hard look at the problem. We should be ready, not be forced to react. As for Australia, the largest cities are around the coast. I think there’s only one city of any size in the interior, which makes matters easier. There’s a desert in the middle, not much commercial activity at all, and the outback is mostly grazing. A large base located somewhere around the area where Western Australia, the Northern Territories, and South Australia meet would take care of our needs. It’s not set in stone, won’t be until we work out the details, but it appears like there’s plenty of suitable land. And we can afford it.”

  Chuck nodded. “We can. I’ll talk to Will. He can point out how well Finland and Iceland have done financially, Japan too. They were worried when we first started working together, but not now. Roughly two thirds of their spent fuel rods have been removed, and their balance of payments is healthy. The Koreans might like to get in on that.”

  #

  Chuck had barely returned to his Iceland office when Martha telephoned. After the customary greetings, she told him the reason for her call.

  “We’ve lost contact with Tesla, Chuck. We got a short message, not clear. As best we can figure, she was attacked by pirates. I know, it sounds ridiculous, pirates in that part of the ocean, but that word was clear. I asked the Swiss representatives to help, but we’re not really a Swiss corporation and it didn’t happen here. They’re sympathetic, but not interested.”

  “I’m not surprised. We don’t really have a presence in that part of the world, do we? Where was she the last time she reported in?”

  “The report didn’t include coordinates, none that we could hear. She was in the Caribbean at noon, heading north, and extrapolating from her last position using her reported speed, she would have been off the eastern side of Puerto Rico.”

  “And nothing since. Tell you what, have someone take that extrapolated position. Then input her speed and time from then to now, use that as the radius, and draw a circle. The area can be searched from the air, and I’ve got just the thing to do it. Even if pirates captured her, we might be able to do something. We just have to find her.”

  “I understand. I’ll get back to you in half an hour, Chuck.” Martha broke the connection. Chuck pushed the intercom. He could have used Adelheid here...maybe she would be willing to transfer? But all the secretaries were efficient, just different.

  “Contact my pilot and tell him to call me. Have Lina prepared for flight as soon as possible. Three crew, pilot, copilot, observer. I’ll have coordinates by the time they’re ready. They’re to search for a ship.”

  “Yes, Chuck.”

  The search turned up nothing. The weather had cleared, the seas were moderate, but there was no sign of Tesla. Chuck fretted, then went back to work. There wa
s nothing he could do.

  #

  Mark knocked and waited. The president didn’t answer, so he continued to wait. Finally, there was a response; the president opened the door to the oval office and told Mark to come in.

  “I was in the washroom. You’ve got the material I asked for?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “On paper this time? Okay, help yourself to coffee while I take a look at it.”

  Mark drank a cup of coffee and waited. The president didn’t acknowledge his existence as he skimmed the thick stack of documents. Mark used the presidential washroom, then poured another cup of coffee. Finally, the president looked up and rubbed his eyes.

  “That’s a lot of material, but it’s not complete. Did you look at this?”

  “Yes, Mister President.”

  “Why does it say ‘estimated’? With all the high-powered accountants working for us, surely they can do better.”

  “I asked, Mister President. I was concerned the report might not be what you wanted, but...can I give you a verbal briefing? You have half an hour open, if you’re willing to use it for this.”

  “Go ahead. I’m not happy about this. You tell them after you leave here. I expect results, not goddamned guesses!”

  “Yes, Mister President. We’ve been over the organization of the company and in general terms, it hasn’t changed. One thing that may, or may not, be significant. Fuqua has retired. He’s still a consultant, but takes no part in the day to day operation of the company. Sneyd is still in charge. Crane took Fuqua’s place as chairman of the board, but his ownership percentage has not increased. Sneyd and his wife hold the power.”

  “Go on.”

  “NFI’s net worth can only be estimated. They have business relationships with a number of nations. Some of those we know about, but probably not all. They may be paid in cash, but they also have a habit of bartering.”

  The president interrupted. “Bartering? Explain this.”

  “The Chinese pay them in yuan, but also in commodities. NFI transports their goods and people to space. We believe they have a base on the moon now, apparently a large one. NASA launched a reconnaissance flight that circled the moon a number of times. It took detailed images, so we know there’s a large base and a tiny one. One of NFI’s ships was parked by the small one, so we conclude they haven’t bothered to put substantial assets up there. NASA doesn’t find that surprising, considering the difficulties. The Chinese, however, have wanted this for a long time, so we think they took the opportunity to have NFI set up their base instead of doing it themselves.”

  Mark paused and flipped through the stack of paper, looking for the page he wanted.

  “China is testing a new heavy-lift rocket. Our best guess is that they’ll use it to supply their base, now that it’s built. NFI apparently doesn’t need one. There are three large dome-shaped covers, but the satellite got a partial look at what’s underneath. One appears to be empty, the other is storage for shipping containers. We think they’re using the containers to haul cargo for the Chinese base. We couldn’t see what was beneath the third one, the view was blocked by the other two.”

  “The Chinese have a base on the moon, and we don’t.” The president’s voice was soft. Mark looked at him in alarm; often he took this tone when he became enraged. But there were no other signs, so Mark continued.

  “That’s one example of bartering. They needed rare earth elements, we do too, but the Chinese claim they can’t provide what we want. We conclude that NFI is getting all of China’s production that’s surplus to their domestic needs.”

  The president nodded, so Mark continued.

  “NFI has an ongoing contract with Japan. Apparently some of it involves currency, but NFI is also buying small modular reactors. They’re using the same model we are, but they get a discounted price. Some of that is because they discount Japanese flights, the rest is because they’re part owner of the company that produces the SMRs.”

  “Mark, when we buy those reactors we’re paying NFI?”

  “Yes Mister President. The sum is considerable, so even after Japan collects their share, NFI benefits. The payment is in dollars, which creates a different problem.”

  “I’ll be goddamned! They’re strangling us, and we’re paying them to do it! Mark, give me the bottom line. How much is NFI worth?”

  “Upwards of a trillion dollars, Mister President. That’s the low estimate.”

  “A trillion? How the hell...what’s the middle estimate?”

  “Seven and a half trillion, Mister President. Some think they’re worth twelve trillion.”

  “Unbelievable. That’s almost our own gross national product! Mark, have we tried to work with them?”

  “Not from the executive branch, Mister President. A Congressional delegation spoke to them, but it appears they got nowhere. The last official contact we had was before they shut down their North American operation. The Defense Department was interested in buying some of their products, but nothing came of it. NFI refused to sell. There have been no further contacts.”

  “Maybe it’s time I got involved. Directly, I mean. Congress...they have their own aims, and a man like Sneyd wouldn’t be impressed. Suppose I called Sneyd directly. He was in the Army, wasn’t he? Would he listen to me?”

  “Marines, Mister President. I don’t know. Our last contact was through Fuqua, but that isn’t likely to be of much help now.”

  “There’s only one way to find out. Set it up, Mark. I’ll talk to Sneyd when the comm center gets him on the line.”

  The president laid the papers down. “You mentioned something the last time we talked about NFI. You said there was a rumor we might be able to use? Have you followed up on that?”

  “I have, Mister President. Nothing came of it.”

  “Unfortunate. Okay, let the comm center know. You stand by, I might need you.”

  “Yes, Mister President.” Mark walked out, carefully closing the door.

  The secretary looked up, expectantly; sometimes Mark had information she found useful. But not this time; “Get me a line to the comm center. The boss wants to make a phone call.”

  The secretary took the information. Mark sat down and waited as she discussed the call with the officer on duty. Mark’s attention wandered; he caught snippets of the conversation, ‘headquarters’ and ‘private secretaries’, then ‘Australia’. That caught his attention, but finally a call went out to Zurich. Mark and the secretary looked at each other; it had taken too long, and the president often showed his displeasure when that happened. Other calls were made. If anyone knew where Chuck Sneyd was, they weren’t willing to say, not even to the White House communications officer. Finally the secretary’s phone rang. She listened to the call for a moment, wide eyed. She then wrote a short message on a memo pad, tore off the sheet, and handed it to Mark.

  “You tell him. I’m not going to. He’s not gonna be happy!”

  Mark shrugged and picked up the paper. “He’s not happy a lot, lately.” Sighing, he knocked on the door and waited to be summoned.

  “I have an answer, Mister President.”

  “Well, go ahead. Is Sneyd on the line?”

  “No, sir. We were unable to get through to Sneyd. We did talk to someone at their headquarters, a Martha Simms. She’s an executive vice president of the company.”

  “And she couldn’t tell you where Sneyd is? That’s ridiculous!”

  “She...ah, called his private secretary. One of them, he has several. She told the on-duty communications officer that they were all quite busy just now, Sneyd included.”

  “Did they tell him the president of the United States was calling?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “Mister President...” Mark hesitated, then decided there was no use waiting. “He said he was busy, and that you should try calling him later.”

  “Thank you, Mark. And thank the comm center crew, please.”

  Mark nodded
, and left. He almost made it out the door before he heard something smash against the wall.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The Puerto Rican officials had been suspicious. Pirates, off their coast? Tesla’s crew had been held for twenty four hours while their story was checked. Eventually, lacking evidence of any crime other than their irregular entry, the men were released. Most had little money, so even arranging an international call to NFI had taken time. Even after the call went through, Susilo had a difficult time with the company’s bureaucracy. His thick accent didn’t help matters. Insistence that they worked for the company as sailors on a ship named Tesla worked its way up the chain, eventually reaching Martha. She notified Chuck and arranged for the crew to be fed and housed until transport could be arranged. The mention of NFI worked magic. By the end of the second day, no longer broke, the crew booked tickets to Zurich. They also visited a department store and bought new clothes, hoping to avoid attention during the flight.

  That turned out to be a dismal failure. Clothing suitable for a summer day in Puerto Rico, while colorful and comfortable, attracted stares from people waiting in the airport. Asians in the styles favored by Hispanics were viewed askance, and with a certain amount of suspicion. This continued when they deplaned; none had a passport. But a representative of NFI was there to explain their plight, and finally they met Martha. Chuck was also there virtually, thanks to a videoconference call. Later, after the men had been taken to a hotel where they would stay while their future was sorted out, Chuck conferred with Martha.

  “I don’t like it. We have no idea what happened, and by now anyone could have the impellers.”

  Martha nodded, then said, “Maybe, but there’s been no ransom demand. Could Sven have managed to get away?”

  “I don’t see how. It was an old ship, on her way to be junked, and only half the impellers worked.”

  Martha leaned back and picked up a pen, toying with it. “Two ships, two boats. That doesn’t sound like pirates, at least not the kind of simple pirates we’ve seen before. They can’t afford that level of investment, not when they’re trying to capture one small ship. How much could Tesla bring them? An old ship, on its last legs...Chuck, something’s fishy.”