The Next Continent (51 page)

AFTER HER FATHER
left, Tae lay limply in bed. In a few moments, her situation of a week ago had been altered in ways she could never have imagined.

When Sohya had pointed out that everything she was doing was for approval from someone she thought she hated, she'd plunged into a deep depression. She hadn't been willing to admit she could act so illogically. But finally she had admitted it and had fought her way through the depression. That led to a reconciliation with her father. It pained her to think how shallow she'd been. Doubtless there were more discoveries like this waiting for her, things she was sure she understood about herself but did not.

It was Sohya who had seen clearly into her confused heart. He understood her better than she did herself. Yet what did she know about him? For eight years he'd given her support whenever she needed it. Yet in all the time she'd known him, had she ever really tried to
know
him? She could only remember shrugging off what he'd said or disagreeing with him. She'd never initiated a frank discussion about anything, yet he'd never given up on her. For the first time, Tae felt a genuine yearning to see him—to be with him and start a new friendship.

She touched his speed dial on her wearcom. No answer. She called Gotoba. Because Sohya had not been able to do a proper handoff to the second team before returning, he'd already left with them for another stint on the moon. He would not be back for at least three months.

“Sohya…”

She heaved a dejected sigh. A tear ran down her cheek and fell on the pillow.

[4]

REKIA WAS ABOUT
to enter Sixth Continent's offices in Akasaka when the door opened and a couple in their forties emerged, gazing fondly at each another. She stepped aside and watched them go.

Inside, she found Dorothy filing documents. The couple had signed a contract. Even in this era, Japanese didn't feel comfortable entering into agreements without affixing their personal seal to a paper document.

“How many is that?”

“One hundred and eighty-nine. They said they hadn't been able to afford a proper wedding when they were young and wanted to do it right. About half our customers are like them. It makes sense. It's not exactly cheap.”

“Make sure you put that in box C-2 before you forget. I don't want to tell one of our couples that we lost their contract during the move.”

“I'd gotten rather fond of this place, I must say.” Dorothy looked round the office, sighed, and filed the folder of documents in a box. Sixth Continent was moving into bigger offices at ELE's Tokyo branch.

ELE was giving them more than just office space. It had positioned Sixth Continent as a major company venture and was contributing significant funding and staff. The credit rating agencies had issued new opinions, ranking Sixth Continent's debt even higher than before Tae had collapsed. The attitude of the banks was starting to change. Those assets on the moon were beginning to look very safe after all.

“Dorothy, we've got some bad news. Adam 20 was hit by a lightning strike just after launch. It didn't reach the correct orbit, so Gotenba gave the autodestruct command. Fortunately the problem wasn't due to a malfunction.”

“Ryuichi said something like this would happen sooner or later. Let's check the computer.”

Dorothy sat down at her laptop and launched the risk simulation. Hundreds of red and blue icons rose out of a black background. Reika watched intently as a red icon, representing the negative effects of a failed launch, linked to all the other icons. Apparently the accident would impact the entire project. But nothing happened; the other icons seemed hardly affected.

“See? That's the benefit of full disclosure. Sixth Continent has carried out forty launches. Our warnings about an impending failure have had their effect. The accuracy of the prediction is almost a plus. Good.”

“How can it be good? The rocket and payload were worth two billion.” Reika sighed.

“Don't worry so much. The payload was insured. ELE is backing us again. Every time there's a failure, the designers go to work and the safety margin improves. We need more failures if you ask me.”

“Dorothy, you can't be serious!”

“Now if we can just have a crash with Eve, it will help publicize our launch escape system…Oh my.” A new icon had appeared on the screen. It was yellow.

“What's that?” said Reika.

“A wild card. Positive or negative? I don't know. Gotenba is updating the simulation all the time. This is something new.”

“I want to know what it is!”

“All right, don't get impatient.” Dorothy clicked on the icon. A video opened in a small window. The image was jerky, taken by a handheld camera. It showed a black sky and a circle of light traveling across a sparkling surface. There was no sound.

“It's from the crater,” said Dorothy. The video showed two space-suited figures. One was pointing to what appeared to be a home brew metal detector. A crude wand or antenna extended from a small box. The astronaut was bringing the antenna close to the surface and raising it again. The camera zoomed in on the box. A small LCD screen with digital readout was affixed to the box with suit-repair tape. The data changed with the distance from the box to the ground. The two women watched the changing numbers, mystified.

The video was replaced by a mixture of text and mathematical formulas. Dorothy scrutinized it for a moment and leaned back in her chair. “Physics and higher mathematics are not my specialty. What is this, I wonder?”

“It looks like they're picking up radio emissions from under the permafrost in Eden Crater. Or maybe it's radioactivity, like a uranium deposit.”

“Whatever it is, the impact on Sixth Continent is unknown.” On the screen, the video was playing back in a loop. They watched as the readout changed with the distance from the surface.

BOOK III
FINAL SHAKEDOWN,
2036–2037

CHAPTER 8

ARCHITECTURE, OPERATIONS MANAGEMENT, AND ADDITIONAL CONSTRUCTION

[1]

THE DAWN KNIFED
through the gap in the distant mountain range. The two-week lunar day had begun.

The sun did not rise; it moved sideways. The triple array of solar panels at the western edge of the base were first to receive its light. The sparkling panels extended for hundreds of meters, like a castle's first line of defense.

Next to emerge from darkness were the arched roofs of the three habitat wings—single-story white structures with small windows that housed Sixth Continent's guests and the base crew. The design was not only optimized for pressure containment, it contributed to the aesthetics of the buildings. A repeating band of inverted semicircles fashioned from ice—a decorative Lombard corbel table—wrapped the building where the roof and walls met. The decoration was created with a numerically controlled sprayer program, the brainchild of one of Gotoba's architectural designers.

Then sunlight slowly unveiled the massive bulk of the Great Hall. The habitats extended from the hall on an east/west axis, like transepts. This was Sixth Continent's largest building, its footprint as large as the habitat wings combined. It housed a banquet room for thirty, a kitchen, a bridal room, and most of the base's sports and entertainment facilities.

East of the Great Hall stood the cathedral, topped with a twenty-meter spire. Soft light fell on the altar through a stained glass window in the arched end wall of the chancel. The mood was more solemn than lavish.

Gotoba's designers had taken full advantage of architectural forms dictated by the environment—simple shapes, arched roofs, few windows—and created an echo of the Romanesque style. The beautiful cathedral, a pinnacle of science and technology optimized for the lunar environment, embodied the beauty of a grand building of the Middle Ages. To the cathedral spire the architects had added echoes of the Gothic, the style that succeeded the Romanesque. Form followed function: the tower concealed a gravity-fed water tank With enough pressure to service the entire base. The weight of the spire reinforced the high-ceilinged cathedral by bearing down on the roof.

A week later, as sun and Earth drew closer on the horizon, the entire complex was bathed in sunlight. East of the cathedral was SELS, the Sealed Environment Life Support module. Air, water, electrical power, heat, ventilation, and waste disposal were all produced and controlled here. Drawing on the experience of Kunlun Base, conduits for water, oxygen, and other life-support elements were carefully encased in spaces between the blocks that formed the walls of the buildings, concealing the conduits and guaranteeing their structural integrity. Maintenance was performed by robots that scuttled through the conduits. Bidirectional loop circulation ensured that vital life support would be maintained even with temporary blockages.

Where it could be carried out efficiently, waste was recycled. Unrecycled waste was not discarded in the open, as at Kunlun. It was compressed and neatly stored in trenches. This waste contained elements not available on the moon, and the day would come when they could be recovered.

East of SELS was Xiwangmu 6, the cement production sector, and the collection area for permafrost from the bulk shooter. The equipment in this area would eventually be moved or dismantled. For now, it was concealed by a wall of blocks that protected the base from regolith contamination from Liberty Island.

The spaceport was situated at the eastern edge of the base. Once the port was completed, the Turtles were lined up nearby, like aircraft beside a helipad. The port was a graded site three hundred meters across. Its array of red and blue landing lights were a dazzling beacon for arriving visitors.

The base was divided into distinct zones, with each in functional relation to its neighbor. Preventing regolith contamination was an absolute priority, so the spaceport and permafrost collection areas were far from the Great Hall. Between these areas and the main building was the SELS module, which did not need careful shielding from contamination. The living quarters were located away from sectors where accidents might occur.

Finally, at the greatest possible distance from potential accidents and contamination were the solar arrays. The arrays were the only part of the base visible from the habitat windows. Beyond them, in the daytime, stretched the white lunar surface. During the lunar night, Earth's blue and white globe floated on the horizon against a background of stars.

Sixth Continent's layout had another purpose as well: to create a sense of excitement in arriving visitors.

“
IT'S BEAUTIFUL
…”

Tae looked down at the gleaming lights of the spaceport rising to meet them. The descent module's engine fired again, easing the spacecraft onto the landing pad. After a few minutes the side hatch opened. The six passengers moved through an air lock into a pressurized compartment without the need for space suits. Once they were safely aboard, the container lowered itself to its chassis, and the robot shuttle set off for the Great Hall.

Scenery flowed by the shuttle windows—first the screening wall, with construction equipment visible through gaps, then SELS, and finally the cathedral and the Great Hall. The views changed smoothly from barren and industrial to elegant and timeless. As they approached the facade of the cathedral, Tae and the other passengers gasped with amazement. It was covered with a majestic mural depicting the Garden of Eden.

This gradual change of aspect and psychological impact from the spaceport to the Great Hall had been Tae's concept, but she was struck with emotion as she experienced it for the first time. She also felt a twinge of fear.

“So, Ms. Toenji—what do you think?” A journalist named Sumoto thrust a pen mic toward her. The camera in his sunglasses showed a beautiful young woman sitting across the shuttle aisle, looking out the window. Tae tucked her hair behind an ear but kept her eyes on the scenery.

“I'm grateful. None of this would've been possible without the support of so many people. It's been a long road.”

“Construction has taken four years longer than you originally planned. How do you feel now that it's almost finished?”

“Happier than words can say.”

The reporter was hoping for something meatier. He leaned forward, held the mic closer. “You seem a little nervous. Can you tell me about that?”

“Careful, Mr. Sumoto.” The reporter glanced at the old man next to him just as the shuttle jerked sharply and stopped. Before the reporter could brace himself, he pitched forward and landed facedown in Tae's lap.

“I've never had a man in my lap before,” said Tae with a laugh. Sumoto began apologizing profusely.

“Did you forget the prelaunch briefing? It's hard to keep your balance in this weak gravity.” The old man smiled and helped the reporter up. Sumoto scratched his head with embarrassment, muttered something about “first off the boat,” and headed for the exit.