Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1) (12 page)

“Askel, we
don’t have time for that.  If we started right now, how long would this
take?”

Askel shook
her head gently in thought.  “Six months, eight.  If the engines were
ready, which they aren’t.”

“If I gave
you everything you needed, if we went at this day and night, could we do it in
six months?”

Silence.

“Maybe. 
But the engines -”

Rawls cut her
off.  “I’m reading the test data right now.  It all looks good to
me.  These engines are ready, aren’t they?  Really?”

“I’d like to
do further tests.  We’re doing very advanced stuff here and I’d like to
proceed with an abundance of caution.”

“Can you
think of a better test than putting them in working spacecraft?”

“Lewis,
I .
 . .” 
Askel’s
voice trailed off.

“We can do
this, can’t we?  And you said six months?  That’s great.  I’ll
let the secretary of defence know.”

Askel was
already reluctantly thinking of the problems ahead.  “I’ll need more
money.  And I want it in writing that you’re proceeding over my
objections.”  Her mind was racing now.  “And we’ll need more
production drones and an orbital laser lathe.”

“You’ve got
it, Askel.  It’s all billable.  The client wants it and they want it
fast.”

“The
client?  The USAN?  Why do they want to send the carriers to Mars?”

“They have
their reasons.  It’s political, as far as I can tell.  If you ask me
it’s a huge fuss over nothing, but they’re asking for it and they’re going to
pay for it, so I say let’s give it to them.  Customer’s always right, eh?”

“How much are
we going to bill them for this?”

“Shitloads.”

“Do I get a
bonus?”

“Write your
own cheque, Askel.  Uncle Sam’s paying.”

Askel Lund,
twenty-eight, pulled her chair up to her desk and prepared to
concentrate.  She sat in front of her terminal and grim-facedly set
to work.  She pulled files on the carriers; designs, redesigns and
construction records.  She pulled the project management data, where she
could compare the plans for the builds, including projected milestones, against
actual milestones.  She looked at all the delays, their reasons and
impacts.  She hunted for short cuts; safety inspections that could be sped
up; systems that could be worked in parallel.  She maximised man and drone
power to the point beyond which they would get in each other’s way, which cut
the time for some crucial tasks by as much as fifty percent.

She looked at
the engines.  Rawls had been right; they had been tested to exhaustion and
Lund, ever thorough, had been delaying the sign off to make further tweaks and
tests.  Rawls had been right, too, in that the ultimate test would be to
set the engines in spacecraft and put them to work.  The engines were
currently housed in a test facility in Winfrith, Dorset.  They would have
to be prepared for transport - five days - and
then shipped by special
lorries
 - need
to organise that - to the spaceport at Foulness Island near
Southend in Essex. 

Lund was
making lists as she went.  There was a whole load of things that would
have to be organised to make this thing move fast.  Rawls would need to
organise an HLV or two to get the engines into orbit.  There were various
tools and drones that would have to be in position against specific
dates.  There were work schedules and a huge shopping list of necessary
supplies.  Lund hammered away at the task without stopping, like a
machine.  The more she worked the clearer the whole project became in her
mind, and she could see it as a reality.  Initially, it had seemed
something of a pipe dream but as she worked the numbers came clearer into view,
and it did indeed seem like a plausible thing.  A few hours later and in
Askel’s
mind it was not only plausible, or possible, it was
going to happen.  Lund was gripped by the project.  Every problem
solved, every hour saved, every unnecessary system discarded was like a huge
victory in service of the ultimate goal; to make this thing happen as
soon - or even sooner - than she said she
would.  Rawls may baulk at some of the prices on her shopping list, but
fast was never going to be cheap.  And anyway, the bills would be passed
on to the client with a twenty percent mark-up.

It was two
hours after midnight when Lund finished.  She had generated or copied,
modified and amended a vast amount of documents and schematics by then. 
She kicked her chair back as she spoke to the terminal.  “Check all of the
documents I’ve produced in the last twelve hours.  Check them for
spelling, grammar, logical consistency.  Check them with the highest grade
AI for logic, and produce a report for any inconsistencies.  Also,
generate a report suggesting any improvements.  Priorities are speed and
efficiency.  Let me know when you’re done.”

“Yes, Ms
Lund,” the terminal replied.

Askel rose
from her desk and walked to the window.  It was dark outside but looking
up and to the west she could see what looked like a bright, slightly orange
star.

Rawls picked
Askel up early next morning.  She had slept soundly and dreamlessly after
finishing her work.  The terminal had found a few minor inconsistencies
and had made some very useful suggestions.  She had quickly worked these
into her documentation over breakfast and then showered.  Her hair was
still wet when Rawls
commed
through to tell her he
was waiting downstairs.  She buzzed him up.

“Good
morning,” said Rawls.  “How’s it going?”

“It’s going
great,” said Askel, closing the door behind her.

“Everything’s
looking good?”

“I went
through everything yesterday.  I’ve got a full report, I just sent you a
copy.”

“I saw. 
I haven’t had chance to look at it yet.  We’ve got something to take to
the secretary, though?”

“Yes, we
have.  It’s all doable, provided they’re willing to pick up the bill.”

“That’s
great, Askel.  I knew you could do it.  Can you get it down to four
months?”

“It’s down to
three.  And of course, as I’m sure you’re aware, there’s a massive bonus
with the NFJs.”

“I thought
so,” Rawls grinned.  “The poor defence secretary.  She’s just a dumb
civilian.  I bet she hasn’t even thought about launch windows, which is a
shame.  She won’t realise what an incredible thing it is that we will be
providing to her.  But maybe for the best.  If she had known, she
might never have come to us in the first place.”

Askel looked
out of the window as London slid by.  “I wish they were going into a
civilian transport.  Rather than this.”

“In the
fullness of time, Askel.  This is a major coup for us.  This will be
a news story around the world.  You can’t buy publicity like that. 
The whole world will be watching our ships, our engines.”

Askel shook
her head.  “This is a hell of a job, Lewis.  This only comes off if
everything goes exactly to plan.”

“I know. 
That’s why I want you to oversee it
personally. 
Lead designer and project manager.  How’s that sound?”

Askel turned
away from the window.  It sounded good and terrifying.  “It sounds
great.  When do I start?”

“You already
have.”

They pulled
into the Ministry of Defence local HQ at Whitehall, London and drove through
the security checks down into the underground car park.  They were
escorted under military guard to the lifts, and were then whisked up to one of
the higher floors.  As the lift doors opened they were greeted by a huge
bear of a man.  He thrust a paw in their direction, beaming
brightly.  “General Terrence Cain, just call me Terry.  Great to meet
you, Mr Rawls, and you must be Ms Lund.  Very excited to meet you, come this
way.  The teleconference will start in just over ten minutes.  If
there’s anything you need just let me know.”

They nodded
their ‘thank
yous
’ and, after the handshaking and
pleasantries, followed General Cain down a series of corridors until they came
to a room labelled ‘Conference Room A’.  There were two armed soldiers
guarding either side of the door.  They snapped to attention and saluted
General Cain as he approached.  Cain returned the salute as automatically
as he put one foot in front of the other when he walked.  He held the door
open and Rawls and Lund entered.

The room was
large and low-lit with no windows.  It was air conditioned cool and
there was bottled water and glasses on the large table that dominated the
room.  The far wall was blank white.  That was where the images would
be shown when the teleconference started, Askel guessed.

“Please, take
a seat,” said Cain.  “We should have the feed from Dallas up in the next
few minutes.”  He seemed genuinely excited, like he had never done this
sort of thing before.  Maybe he hadn’t.

Lund and
Rawls took seats at the far end of the table near the screening wall. 
They sat on opposite sides.  Cain took up a seat one down from Rawls.

“This line is
fully secure, is it?” asked Lund.

“Oh, yes,”
replied Cain.  “Military grade.  Literally.  We’re sorry we
couldn’t do this over standard coms; the secretary requested the highest levels
of security.”

“Can you
patch my comdev in?  There are some files I’ll need to show.”

“Yes,” said
Cain.  “Can you just pass it here?”  He took the comdev and held it
under his own, slid his fingers about the screen and handed it back.

“It’s
Conference Room A, Screen 1,” he said.

“Thank you,”
said Lund.  She fiddled with her comdev, her brow furrowed.  Rawls
seemed relaxed.  He took a bottle of water and poured himself a
glass.  He took a few sips.  He might have been sipping a G&T in
some Mediterranean resort for all the stress he displayed.

“Ah!” said
Cain as the screen flickered to life.  The head and shoulders of a woman
appeared, three metres high, filling the screen.  “Hello, London,” she
said in a southern drawl.

“This is
London,” said Cain.

“Hi,
there.  I have the secretary of defence here for you, we’ll be
patching
her through in just a few moments.”

“Very
good.”  Cain winked at Askel.

The screen
cut to a conference room similar to the one they were seated in.  The
resolution was extremely high, and the three dimensional effect made it appear
almost as an extension of the room they were in.  Audrey Andrews was
seated to the front and side of a similar conference table.  About her
were five or six senior staffers and assistants.  A young, suited man was
half leant over saying something to Andrews.  She seemed to thank him as
he left, walking across the screen and out of shot.  Andrews looked at
them.  “Hello, Lewis.  I see you have General Cain there.”

“Hello, Ms
Andrews!” said Cain.

“And this
must be Askel Lund.”

“Good
morning, Secretary,” said Askel.

Andrews cut
straight to it.  “Ms Lund, Lewis has assured me that Helios can refit our
two orbiting carriers, with engines and other necessary equipment such that we
can transport them to Mars, within six months.  Is that reasonable, in
your opinion?”

Askel glanced
at Rawls.  “I’ve looked at the figures and have come up with a preliminary
plan.  The plan is dependent on many factors - I’m sending
you all the documentation now - but if we get all those in
place I think we can deliver the modifications in three months.”

“
Three
months
!?”

Askel beamed,
just a little.  “Yes, I think so.  As mentioned, that would depend on
many things.  We would need some assistance cutting through some red tape
and it would not be cheap.  I mean, it would not be cheap anyway, but to
do it quickly and safely will require a big financial commitment.”

Andrews looked
invigorated.  “But in three months’ time we could set our two carriers off
to Mars, if we had the will and the money to do it?”

“That’s
correct.  And that’s only possible with NFJ engines.”

“I’m sorry,
what’s only possible with these engines?”

“There are a
number of papers in the tranche of documents I’ve sent over explaining it in
detail, but with these engines we don’t have to wait for a launch window. 
As you know, with conventional chemical engines we can only launch about once
every two years, during a very specific launch window.”  Andrews
nodded.  “That is because the cost, in terms of weight of fuel, is too
high at any other time.  When the orbits of Earth and Mars are at just the
right relative positions we can jump off the Earth, which is already moving
around the Sun at about 108,000km/h, and accelerate up to a speed where we can
travel to Mars within six months.  We’re limited in how fast we can go by
two factors.  One is the weight of necessary chemical fuel and the other is
our speed at arrival.  If we’re going too fast the gravity of Mars won’t
be strong enough to catch us when we get there.  For every kilo of fuel we
need to accelerate we need the same amount to brake at the other end. 
With conventional fuels the cost is just too high.  To go fast
and
stop
at the other end, or rather slow down to the speed necessary for orbital
capture, the fuel tanks would have to be enormous - far beyond
what is practical.”