by Peter Damon
“You want us to focus on the same areas and make the images public?” Michael nodded.
“Sure. Why not?” Jake asked, and looked around the table. “Doesn’t everyone have a right to know what’s really going on?”
Michael sighed. He could so easily agree with Jake. Only a month ago he’d been a journalist and his ten years experience cried out for an opportunity like the one being presented by Jake. Now, however, he was the dean of the Rolle College, sitting on a vehicle that owed its allegiance to Great Britain at a time when it needed that allegiance more than anything else in the world.
So Michael shook his head and patiently explained their predicament. “We are in far too a vulnerable position to make enemies of earth authorities, especially those who have, and continue, to support us. Indeed, we’ve just finished discussing how to increase their support. So as much as most of me wants to agree with you Jake, I can’t allow it at the moment.”
Michael continued around the room but Heather, Paul, Peter and Martin had nothing more to add. He thanked everyone and looked again at his notes, adding thoughts as they came to him and stopping as he realised Thomas, David and Leanne had come to a stop beside him.
“Just something to be aware of. Until that link through an Arctic based satellite becomes available, we have to remain within sight of Cambridge if we want to secure our communications,” one of the twins told him.
“Do we need secure communications?” Michael asked. “Are we likely to say anything that we don’t want others to know?”
“I suspect someone in the Cambridge University Administration Department is developing a list of entrants and attending students. Those names and addresses could become compromised if available over the air. Frankly, if my name is on it, I would prefer it to be here, physically on board the ARC, and let the admin staff in Cambridge gain access via a screen and a tight beam dish,” Leanne explained.
“OK, I’m fine with that. We can set it up in the corner of the control-room, can’t we?”
“The point, Michael, is that the ARC will need to change its orbit so as to stay above, or in sight of, Cambridge,” the twins patiently explained.
Michael nodded as an icon appeared on his tablet to alert him to an incoming call and he excused himself to answer it.
“Doctor Cannon. So good to hear from you,” he said to her as he answered her call. Leanne, David and Thomas wandered away talking softly to one another.
“Hello Mr Bennett. What’s the weather like?” she asked.
“Cold but dry with sun ever twenty minutes,” he told her. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to meet with you and the group who are down here and involved in your security and further development,” she told him. “We need to set up and formalise the support roles that you’re going to need, based down here on earth,” she explained.
July 13th.
Michael felt the subtle change in air pressure as the modified Range Rover tested the interior of the cabin for leaks prior to his departure from the ARC.
“We see you green on our boards,” Leanne told him through his ear-piece as the surge in pressure eased back to normal.
Michael rolled his shoulder blades, suddenly conscious of the small capsule the doctor had injected under his skin before allowing him to leave the ARC. He was grateful they couldn’t see his heart rate too, otherwise they would probably have stopped him from leaving, but that facility was only available to those wearing the faceplate.
“Air evacuation in progress,” an automated announcement said, a moment before a siren sounded in the bay and red lights flashed the danger of imminent air loss. Michael waited, thinking of the forthcoming meeting while the large doors opened and revealed the darkness of space beyond.
“Have a good trip,” Leanne told him in his ear.
Michael steered cautiously from the large mouth of the ship and was grateful for the instructions on the screen that guided a gentle turn around the hull to direct him towards earth and the small oddly-shaped island just off the body of Europe that was Great Britain, now coming up over the eastern horizon, perfectly placed for his descent.
Going to earth was more nerve-racking than leaving it, Michael found. Earth’s size and brightness had held an eye-capturing beauty when leaving it, but that size and brightness were daunting as he headed towards it. Earth was just so huge and overpowering, his craft so miniscule in comparison. He was reminded that American astronauts re-entered backwards, facing back towards space. He could relate to that.
The guidance system slowed him as he approached the higher point of the atmosphere, and continued to slow him the lower he got. He felt no movement, nor could see any discernible difference in his view. Were it not for his instruments, he would question whether he was moving at all.
Shortly, Michael began to hear the sound of the air rushing past the vehicle while, around him, the darkness of space began to glow with a slowly brightening blue, deepening in the very far distance the extended horizon afforded him.
His descent was to the north and east of the British mainland, off the route of most aircraft, and dropped down low over the North Sea to skim the waves before slowing right down to just 150 miles an hour to travel up the Thames Estuary. He felt very regal, sitting in the Range Rover as it drove past slow moving shipping, unaware of the surprise and shock of the crews as he swept past them, three metres above the choppy waters.
The Harbour Master’s office in Gravesend gave up trying to contact the strange craft travelling so rapidly up the Thames and contacted the Thames Marine Policing Unit for assistance, only to be told no action was needed, and to continue to monitor the craft but otherwise leave it be.
Reaching Greenwich, the Range Rover’s guidance system put Michael onto the slipway that the ARC had selected for him, and he slid to a halt in the car-park at its top to convert the car to normal operation before moving out onto the nearby street, the sat-nav system directing him towards the A2, en route to the Blackwall Tunnel.
Michael had scarcely driven 500 yards before the Automatic Number Plate Recognition system picked him up and alerted the South Eastern Traffic Command Centre based in Greenhithe, Kent. Within moments the details had been relayed to the police and security forces.
As Michael left the north end of Blackwall Tunnel, unmarked police cars moved to encircle him. Unaware of his escort, Michael continued along the A12, exiting at the Olympic Park slip-road to drive towards the 2012 Olympic Stadium, parking in the car-park of the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park Business Centre without once recognising any of the vehicles that had followed him.
He walked into the building and nodded to the receptionist before following the signs to the Sir Cole Room on the first floor. The others were already there while a waitress served refreshments. An older man, his goatee beard and well-groomed hair turning to silver, stood to extend his hand and Michael smiled as he took it.
“Sir Arthur. A pleasure to meet you at last,” Michael shook the man’s hand.
“Likewise, Mr Bennett. And congratulations on the success of your project. The Prime minister was very impressed,” the head of the British Intelligence told him with a soft chuckle. “You know my Man of course,” he stated.
Michael shook Stanley Charway’s hand, struck by how physically different the two men were, and yet so alike in their keen intelligence and drive. “Good to see you, Stanley,” he told the stooped man.
“Michael,” Stan acknowledged with a shy grin.
Michael moved across to take the hand of Dr Joanne Cannon, the Cambridge University Pro Vice Chancellor for International Strategy and that of Professor Derek Lovell, Pro Vice Chancellor for Education. Both had played key roles in the success of the ARC’s launch and he was glad to find that they would continue to assist in the further development of the new college.
“Shall we get started then?” Dr Cannon asked as Michael took the cup of tea he was offered and sat in the middle of the table. “Who would like to start?” she as
ked.
“If I may,” Michael asked, and took her nod as acceptance. “We’re far from able to look after ourselves up there, and even if we were able to, we would prefer not to.
“The world press is taking a great delight in putting all of the earth’s woes onto our shoulders and we’re very aware of having to stem that in some way. You may even be able to help us in that regard, but my main concern is our security, in particular to those of us who need to commute to earth to transact business,” he explained.
Sir Arthur nodded. As the head of British Intelligence, he was more aware than most of what steps the other nations were taking to obtain the secret to the ARC’s success. Now that the new energy was no longer the subject of such tight secrecy, corporations were beginning to get interested too, with aviation, oil & gas, and the automotive industries in the vanguard. Any one of whom would gladly pay over a billion dollars if it would grant them access to the energy source that could so easily move a 180,000 tonne container ship into space, and provide it with a gravitational field.
“We share your concern. If Britain is to make a profit from this development, it is in our interests to withhold it from everyone else for as long as possible. In that respect, we have already commenced implementing new security regimes across Cambridge and anything within a 20 mile radius. It will be similar to that used in London for the protection of Parliament, Number 10 and the Royal Family. Of course, it will be much larger, but we’re relatively satisfied that we can control the area.”
“We would suggest you use Cambridge Airport as your landing and take-off location,” Stanley told him. “There is a perimeter road to the south of the airport facility with a secure exit onto Airport Way, next to Taversham Village,” he explained. “Your movements shouldn’t cause a problem to the airport, as long as you move directly up or down.”
“The airport itself isn’t that large, but it has a small business reception area that the university has recently acquired in anticipation of your needs. We intend to upgrade it in order to provide a reception area exclusively for Rolle College, and one that reflects the elite status of the facility,” Professor Lovell explained.
“And what can we do about those chosen to reside on the ARC?” Michael asked of Sir Arthur.
“Yes; we need to not only verify that all personnel are what they seem, but having given them clearance, we need to ensure their families are safe too. I have asked Stanley to take on that role,” Sir Arthur explained.
Stan looked momentarily pained, which he had every right to do given the size of the task.
“I’m setting up a bureau in the Cambridge Police Station. We’ve begun to prepare a new and secure database of students, families and other links so that we can take appropriate steps to ensure the safety of everyone involved.
“For security, I would like to place the hardware on the ARC, and then use narrow band encrypted communication links between our offices and you,” he explained.
“That will mean changing our orbit to remain over the UK, at least until we set up a routing station over the Arctic, but that’s no problem,” Michael told them, making a note on his tablet. He was grateful to Leanne and the twins for having educated him, and it seemed a good idea to allow the British people to see the ARC up in space for a while anyway.
“Making sure the Howard twins are safe is the first priority,” Michael needlessly pointed out.
Stan was nodding. “Thankfully, from a security point of view, they have no living relatives, nor do they have any close or long-term friendships outside of those already on the ARC.”
“And you will vet all new entrants to the ARC?” Michael as much asked as proposed.
“I will,” Stan agreed.
“I don’t think you appreciate how many there are,” Professor Lovell warned. He studied his tablet for a few moments. “As at an hour ago, we had received 24,372 applications,” he told them.
Stanley looked so stricken that Michael had to laugh.
“Are those just the British applications?” Stan asked.
“We’ve made no attempt at segregation. We thought we’d leave that to those more qualified than we,” Professor Lovell explained.
“We’ve been having long discussions in the ARC on the subject of what disciplines we’d like to see on the ARC, either full or part,” Michael explained, holding a list towards Stanley. “Those are predominately various branches of mathematics, biology, social, developmental and experimental psychology, technology groups, the engineering and computing faculties, and of course the clinical medicine group.”
Stan took the list. “Not many then. I’ll begin reducing the number of applicants based on skills, as much as security.”
Michael nodded. “In addition, we’ll want to recruit particularly skilled people to beef up our management team. We’ll get the names, and you’ll have to check on their security,” he pointed out, and nodded as Stanley made more notes.
“And I assume we can impose upon you to festoon the outside of your ship with our experiments?” Doctor Cannon asked.
“You have no idea how many departments are clamouring to make use of your external hull on which to put boxes, cameras and telescopes,” Professor Lovell explained.
“You can, and as quickly as possible please Professor. We’re eager to be seen as beneficial to anyone or anything other than commerce,” Michael admitted. “The offer of hull-space for experiments will be made internationally, but clearly Cambridge will have a greater allocation of space.
“We can also lift and pitch experiments off to the other planets, although we will need certain assurances from the foreign universities before we land to pick up anything. In that respect, British universities will have a major advantage for us.”
“What of the more esoteric request, where more than just putting it on the hull or sending it off in a particular direction is needed. Can you entertain such requests?” the professor asked.
“You’ve had a few then,” Michael asked.
“More than a few,” Professor Lovell agreed. “And I’m advised that some of them have merit, while others are questionable.”
Michael considered. “Can I suggest we start a ‘Friends of Rolle College’ group among the universities? The body can elect among themselves which of those requests get forwarded to us for consideration. I’ll assign Jake Collier to review them and determine if we’re able to assist or not,” he suggested.
“Yes. Very good,” the professor agreed, making notes for later.
“Which brings us to the commercial side of the enterprise,” Dr Cannon noted.
“We have three areas of development,” Michael explained.
“In the immediate future, we can provide communication satellites at least four times as large as anything currently in space. We can also revolutionise mobile phone technology by providing interlinked LEO communication satellites to provide cheap international mobile phone usage without roaming charges.”
Sir Arthur nodded to himself. Mobile phone companies were about to find themselves priced out of the market. They wouldn’t go quietly. He made a note on his pad.
“However, we would be the wholesale provider, and seek a communications provider already in existence to sell to. We certainly don’t want to have to support millions of subscribers.
“Secondly, we want to provide a service to previous space-exploration nations by offering to remove their garbage. This is mainly spent fuel tanks, but could also be the odd dead satellite, and it’s mainly to help clean up low earth orbits so we can use them ourselves with less risk of collision. Though I have to say, if there is a collision, I’ll bet my shipping containers over any flimsy earth produced satellite any day,” he chuckled.
“And finally, early testing suggests we can travel as far away as the Asteroid Belt in a reasonable time. Apart from our desire to explore and discover, we believe we can return with significant volumes of raw metals, in particular, Rare Earth Elements.”
“And Britain would be
your preferred market?” Sir Arthur asked.
“We will want to sell centrally and have the earth-based organisation handle the distribution at market rates,” Michael responded.
“That would be ore, would it?” Professor Lovell queried.
“Quite frankly, professor, we’re not that certain. We know the metals are there, but we don’t know how best to extract them, or transport them down to earth.”
“Another field of expertise required by the college then,” Professor Lovell suggested.
“That helps us position ourselves in readiness for your services,” Dr Cannon grinned. “However, Cambridge University has been besieged with offers from businesses, foundations, Governments and private industries. It will take us a year to investigate all the offers we’ve received and determine which ones are honest and which ones are otherwise,” she admitted.
“Please ensure Stanley is made aware of those, Doctor. He can assist with your investigations. We have facilities well beyond yours to investigate individuals and companies,” Sir Arthur told her with a smile.
“I will, and I thank you for your assistance, it will be very helpful,” she agreed. “However, there was one suggestion that I believe we should develop sooner rather than later,” she told the meeting.
“One of the university’s business advisors suggested it to me, and it makes perfect sense. She suggested that, rather than look at the long list of products which manufacturers want our endorsement on, to give those manufacturers a list of our requirements, and let them expend the resource in trying to match it.”
“That sounds interesting. Some of our team are always complaining about the limitations of their tablets. We could certainly put a list together of what we believe would be the perfect solution, and see what the suppliers can come up with,” Michael agreed, taking down some more notes.
“If we extended the list to include the needs of our ground support group, then we begin to include items such as electric vehicles too; items people on earth can relate to far more easily,” Michael added.