The Stars are a Harsh Mistress
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Re: The Stars are a Harsh Mistress
Remember, your readers will put up with a LOT of implausibility as long as its well-written. I look forward to seeing more.
Stuart: The only problem is, I'm losing track of which universe I'm in.
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
Re: The Stars are a Harsh Mistress
When I read that line, I heard the words "how hard could it be?" Jeremy Clarkson's voice...guest wrote:In showing up the 'experts' as you say, they only need to come up with something more reliable, more cost effective, and more practical than the US aerospace industry.
There are hardly any excesses of the most crazed psychopath that cannot easily be duplicated by a normal kindly family man who just comes in to work every day and has a job to do.
-- (Terry Pratchett, Small Gods)
Replace "ginger" with "n*gger," and suddenly it become a lot less funny, doesn't it?
-- fgalkin
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-- (Terry Pratchett, Small Gods)
Replace "ginger" with "n*gger," and suddenly it become a lot less funny, doesn't it?
-- fgalkin
Like my writing? Tip me on Patreon
I Have A Blog
Re: The Stars are a Harsh Mistress
Sorry, i didn't mean my comment as bad as it sounded... I was commenting on the cliche, and hoping you pulled it off
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
Re: The Stars are a Harsh Mistress
tis alright.LadyTevar wrote:Sorry, i didn't mean my comment as bad as it sounded... I was commenting on the cliche, and hoping you pulled it off
What I'm going for here with this 'bunch of misfits' is not so much an attempt at some stereotypical underdog story, but rather a commentary on the tendency of the US aerospace industry to ridiculously overcomplicate things. I mean think about it, even though we're going on a half century since landing on the moon, we are somehow further from getting back there than we were during WWII. It took us less than a decade from when JFK promised that we would get there to when we actually got there. Yet somehow now it takes like twice as long for us to even be prepared to start to begin to try and get back to a place we've already been.
The idea behind these kids and that old guy isn't that they are somehow smarter or will have some incredible epiphone that will save the world. They don't need to come up with any new technologies, they don't need to even design something entirely from scratch. The one huge advantage that they have is that they don't have the vast resources that the guys at lockheed or McDonnel Douglas or Thiokol have, they won't have corporate bureaucrats who have it ingrained in their brains to use tax dollars as a personal piggy bank. These guys will actually be forced to turn out something that is incredibly cost effective, that is simple and practical and reliable.
Re: The Stars are a Harsh Mistress
Wakefield, West Yorkshire, England, United Kingdom
Spotting his cup of coffee starting to tip, Harold Cumberland reached over swiftly and caught it before any of its contents could spill out onto the papers below. He cursed himself quietly and moved the cup over to the other side of the table. The phone rang, he stacked a few sheets of paper on top of each other and then collected the various rolled up blueprints that were scattered across the table.
The phone rang again “alright alright, hold on” he said, annoyed. He reached over and picked up the phone “hello?” he asked expectantly.
“Harry? It’s Billie, do you have those sediment analysis documents for Caithness?”
It was Billie MacIntyre, chief executive to Covanburn Horace Construction. Harold bit his lip as he quickly grabbed the last couple needed documents from around his office “yes Billie, I’m getting the documents together as we speak” he said.
“Good, now hurry up and get your arse over here as soon as possible, we’ve only got two days left to submit our bid.”
Harold rolled his eyes “yes I know, it’s just been hectic over here, I’ll be over there within the hour” he hung up the phone and sighed. Although he was annoyed at how pushy Billie had been lately, he really couldn’t blame her, this spaceport in Scotland was probably the largest construction project in the UK since the Chunnel. Parliament had already approved a contract to expand the A836 into a full blown motorway just so that they could move people and materiel into the area more effectively.
Finally locating and collecting the last couple needed documents, he stuffed them into his briefcase along with his notebook computer. Then he tucked the rolled up blueprints under one arm and exited the office. As he turned to switch off the light in his office he surveyed the cluttered room, if all went well, he probably wouldn’t be seeing this room much more over the next year. He flipped the switch and exited.
Mid-Atlantic Regional Spaceport(MARS), Virginia, United States
Sally Ride sat at the back of the control room and watched the large flat screen display which showed the Minotaur V booster sitting on its launch pad outside. While the rocket itself was of particular interest; it was only the third launch of a Minotaur V, the real point of interest to Sally was the cargo that sat atop the vehicle.
Atop the five stage solid rocket booster out there on that launch pad was the first of what was to be a massive network of orbital communications satellites. Although the term “communications satellite” was probably not the most apt, rather it was more accurate to call it an orbital datacenter. Packed with tons of data processing and communications equipment, it was designed to act as a hub for radio communications, data transmissions, and cloud computing, not to mention a wide variety of other electronic communications.
It was planned that these new satellites would act as the basic framework for an entire space based “internet” of sorts. Each of these new datacenters were to act as the servers of this new network, facilitating communication between a whole slew of planned orbital facilities and spacecraft that were to simultaneously occupy the large swath of space in the earth-moon system.
As a matter of fact this was a red letter day in the history of human spaceflight. For not only was this launch the first of many to construct an entirely new communications network. It was also to be the first step in a long process which was to establish a massive permanent manned presence in space. While the final plan had not been entirely worked out, it was believed that as many as fifty thousand people would be living permanently off of the planet earth in the coming decades, and quite possibly a lot more.
“Excuse me madam administrator.”
Sally was drawn out of her thoughts by the voice of John Woolsey, her assistant “you can cut the ‘madam administrator’ baloney John, call me Sally; or if you must, you can call me Ms. Ride” she said. John was new, he had only gotten his position after her previous assistant Terri had gone off on maternity leave.
She turned to face him, he was holding onto a Touchpad “yes Sally, sorry” he said nervously.
She sighed silently “what do you have for me John?”
He handed her the Touchpad “it’s the latest news regarding the new heavy lift platform design competition” he explained.
She accepted the Touchpad and looked it over, it had an email open on its screen. The email was an announcement that two of the three amateur groups had pulled out of the competition due to dissolution. Apparently a number of key members of both groups had accepted lucrative positions in the Aerospace industry.
She was a bit disappointed, both of them had shown promise, one based out of Missouri made up of an amateur space enthusiast club seemed to be working on a dual platform approach, much like the now defunct Project Constellation, although their designs sounded a bit less ambitious and more practical.
The other one which was based out of Arizona had been working on what sounded like some form of SRB derived SSTO platform that was meant to handle both human flights and cargo flights on one single booster. She was a bit more skeptical about that one, but had been looking forward to seeing what they finally had come up with.
While she had to hand it to the big players in the industry; they had seemingly managed to buy off the amateur front runners quite effectively, she was a bit less excited about what they would finally put forward. She had heard that Lockheed was working on an X-33 derivative and that Boeing was going to put forward a rehashed version of the Ares V. Meanwhile the other half dozen competitors were working on something or other along a similar vein to either of those projects.
The human race was in dire peril and these firms could only think along the same lines that produced cost overruns, broken promises, and two tragic shuttle catastrophes. The human race needed better than that. Perhaps the Russians or Europeans would turn out something better.
She pondered the email before for a second then sighed “what was that other group working on? You know the one out of southern California?” she asked John.
He furrowed his brow for a second in thought “I believe they are the ones with the pressure-fed design” he said.
“Ah yes, the BDB.”
Sally handed him back the Touchpad, she was a bit skeptical that this group would make it, although they had some backing from Cal-State, they were little more than a handful of college students and a retired NASA engineer, hardly the makings of someone who could take on the giants of the aerospace industry.
Then again, the Wright brothers were just a couple bicycle repairmen from Ohio “thank you John” she said to him as he turned and walked away.
The pace of activity had picked up in the control room, the moment of truth was quickly approaching. After a couple minutes a countdown could be heard over the intercom speakers “TEN, NINE, EIGHT” although there was little risk of any accidents for this launch, she still felt herself brace in anticipation. The countdown was reaching an end “FOUR, THREE” she could see the engine on the booster had ignited, illuminating the scaffolding of the launch complex and causing a cloud of smoke to emanate from the bottom of the booster. Finally the countdown reached its conclusion “TWO, ONE, LIFTOFF” the booster slowly started to lift up off of the launch pad.
As she watched the spacecraft rise into the sky she thought of that small group in California it’s always fun to root for the underdog.
Spotting his cup of coffee starting to tip, Harold Cumberland reached over swiftly and caught it before any of its contents could spill out onto the papers below. He cursed himself quietly and moved the cup over to the other side of the table. The phone rang, he stacked a few sheets of paper on top of each other and then collected the various rolled up blueprints that were scattered across the table.
The phone rang again “alright alright, hold on” he said, annoyed. He reached over and picked up the phone “hello?” he asked expectantly.
“Harry? It’s Billie, do you have those sediment analysis documents for Caithness?”
It was Billie MacIntyre, chief executive to Covanburn Horace Construction. Harold bit his lip as he quickly grabbed the last couple needed documents from around his office “yes Billie, I’m getting the documents together as we speak” he said.
“Good, now hurry up and get your arse over here as soon as possible, we’ve only got two days left to submit our bid.”
Harold rolled his eyes “yes I know, it’s just been hectic over here, I’ll be over there within the hour” he hung up the phone and sighed. Although he was annoyed at how pushy Billie had been lately, he really couldn’t blame her, this spaceport in Scotland was probably the largest construction project in the UK since the Chunnel. Parliament had already approved a contract to expand the A836 into a full blown motorway just so that they could move people and materiel into the area more effectively.
Finally locating and collecting the last couple needed documents, he stuffed them into his briefcase along with his notebook computer. Then he tucked the rolled up blueprints under one arm and exited the office. As he turned to switch off the light in his office he surveyed the cluttered room, if all went well, he probably wouldn’t be seeing this room much more over the next year. He flipped the switch and exited.
Mid-Atlantic Regional Spaceport(MARS), Virginia, United States
Sally Ride sat at the back of the control room and watched the large flat screen display which showed the Minotaur V booster sitting on its launch pad outside. While the rocket itself was of particular interest; it was only the third launch of a Minotaur V, the real point of interest to Sally was the cargo that sat atop the vehicle.
Atop the five stage solid rocket booster out there on that launch pad was the first of what was to be a massive network of orbital communications satellites. Although the term “communications satellite” was probably not the most apt, rather it was more accurate to call it an orbital datacenter. Packed with tons of data processing and communications equipment, it was designed to act as a hub for radio communications, data transmissions, and cloud computing, not to mention a wide variety of other electronic communications.
It was planned that these new satellites would act as the basic framework for an entire space based “internet” of sorts. Each of these new datacenters were to act as the servers of this new network, facilitating communication between a whole slew of planned orbital facilities and spacecraft that were to simultaneously occupy the large swath of space in the earth-moon system.
As a matter of fact this was a red letter day in the history of human spaceflight. For not only was this launch the first of many to construct an entirely new communications network. It was also to be the first step in a long process which was to establish a massive permanent manned presence in space. While the final plan had not been entirely worked out, it was believed that as many as fifty thousand people would be living permanently off of the planet earth in the coming decades, and quite possibly a lot more.
“Excuse me madam administrator.”
Sally was drawn out of her thoughts by the voice of John Woolsey, her assistant “you can cut the ‘madam administrator’ baloney John, call me Sally; or if you must, you can call me Ms. Ride” she said. John was new, he had only gotten his position after her previous assistant Terri had gone off on maternity leave.
She turned to face him, he was holding onto a Touchpad “yes Sally, sorry” he said nervously.
She sighed silently “what do you have for me John?”
He handed her the Touchpad “it’s the latest news regarding the new heavy lift platform design competition” he explained.
She accepted the Touchpad and looked it over, it had an email open on its screen. The email was an announcement that two of the three amateur groups had pulled out of the competition due to dissolution. Apparently a number of key members of both groups had accepted lucrative positions in the Aerospace industry.
She was a bit disappointed, both of them had shown promise, one based out of Missouri made up of an amateur space enthusiast club seemed to be working on a dual platform approach, much like the now defunct Project Constellation, although their designs sounded a bit less ambitious and more practical.
The other one which was based out of Arizona had been working on what sounded like some form of SRB derived SSTO platform that was meant to handle both human flights and cargo flights on one single booster. She was a bit more skeptical about that one, but had been looking forward to seeing what they finally had come up with.
While she had to hand it to the big players in the industry; they had seemingly managed to buy off the amateur front runners quite effectively, she was a bit less excited about what they would finally put forward. She had heard that Lockheed was working on an X-33 derivative and that Boeing was going to put forward a rehashed version of the Ares V. Meanwhile the other half dozen competitors were working on something or other along a similar vein to either of those projects.
The human race was in dire peril and these firms could only think along the same lines that produced cost overruns, broken promises, and two tragic shuttle catastrophes. The human race needed better than that. Perhaps the Russians or Europeans would turn out something better.
She pondered the email before for a second then sighed “what was that other group working on? You know the one out of southern California?” she asked John.
He furrowed his brow for a second in thought “I believe they are the ones with the pressure-fed design” he said.
“Ah yes, the BDB.”
Sally handed him back the Touchpad, she was a bit skeptical that this group would make it, although they had some backing from Cal-State, they were little more than a handful of college students and a retired NASA engineer, hardly the makings of someone who could take on the giants of the aerospace industry.
Then again, the Wright brothers were just a couple bicycle repairmen from Ohio “thank you John” she said to him as he turned and walked away.
The pace of activity had picked up in the control room, the moment of truth was quickly approaching. After a couple minutes a countdown could be heard over the intercom speakers “TEN, NINE, EIGHT” although there was little risk of any accidents for this launch, she still felt herself brace in anticipation. The countdown was reaching an end “FOUR, THREE” she could see the engine on the booster had ignited, illuminating the scaffolding of the launch complex and causing a cloud of smoke to emanate from the bottom of the booster. Finally the countdown reached its conclusion “TWO, ONE, LIFTOFF” the booster slowly started to lift up off of the launch pad.
As she watched the spacecraft rise into the sky she thought of that small group in California it’s always fun to root for the underdog.
Re: The Stars are a Harsh Mistress
The International Space Station, Low Earth Orbit
Courtney Vance gripped the drill in one gloved hand, and with her other hand pressed a button on the side of the tool until the display gave her the desired torque reading. Satisfied that she was ready to proceed, she maneuvered the ungainly fitting bracket over to its desired position next to the coupling port on the Zvezda service module "alright, I'm about to secure the first fitting bracket now" she said.
Her earpiece crackled slightly "don't take too long now, we've only got about three months before the docking module is ready to be attached" came the voice of Michael Childress, the current expedition commander.
She grinned "alright, I'll make sure and hurry up" she said sarcastically. After about fifteen minutes, the first bracket had been successfully secured to the end of the module "okay, first bracket has been secured, moving on to the next one" she announced. These brackets were being added in preparation for the planned docking module for the new Construction Service Vehicle that was planned to arrive within the next year.
The vehicle itself was going to be a heavily modified Soyuz spacecraft that was to be used in the construction of the planned Gateway space station; a gargantuan orbital facility that was meant to act as a combination habitat, shipyard, and fuel depot. The Service Vehicle was to fill the role of both a transport for personnel to construct the station as well as a "crane" that was meant to assist in maneuvering the massive space station components.
While the Zvezda module had already been intended to be joined to a Russian built docking module, those plans had been scrapped years prior. However with the new initiative to begin massive scale orbital construction those plans had been revived in the form of a new larger docking module which was to also connect a newly planned fuel storage module which was meant to store a supply of propellant for the Service Vehicle.
"Roger that" came the response.
With one arm she carefully maneuvered herself along the side of the service module, her gloved hand gripping the outside surface of the space station. Meanwhile with her other, she pulled the tether attached to the bundle of additional brackets. Although their large size made them somewhat difficult to maneuver, their titanium composition ensured that they were lighter than they appeared. After reaching her destination she took a second to glance at the rest of the station, from her position she could view either side of the large orbital structure and it's expansive solar panels. No matter how many times she managed to get a look at it, she was still impressed by the large scale of the ISS, it represented a true modern marvel of engineering.
The new docking module was only just the beginning, five new modules were planned for the ISS, including the fuel module, an additional habitat meant to increase the station compliment to ten, a "tool shed" module for storage of spare parts and equipment, and an additional solar panel array meant to increase the station's power production capacity.
She finally returned to her work, it took her an additional hour and a half to finish attaching the fitting brackets, she reflexively moved her arm up to wipe the sweat from her brow, but stopped herself with a conscious effort. Turning herself around she surveyed the beautiful planet below "okay, the last bracket has been fastened to the service module, I'm coming on back" she announced.
"Sounds good Courtney, we'll get dinner out for you, tonight we've got beef stew and ice cream."
She turned back to face the space station and started pulling herself along the exterior, making her way back the way she came. She wanted to get back quickly and catch a good nights sleep, the next day was going to be a busy one.
The White House, Washington D.C., United States
Vice President Biden sat down at the head of the conference table "alright, let's get this meeting started" he said to the assembled group.
Nancy DeParle sat up in her chair "very well, this meeting of the National Space Council is being convened as the last such meeting to discuss our recommendation concerning Orbital Transportation System design competition" she explained.
Biden nodded in acknowledgment "alright, so from what I remember from our last meeting, we have three main final contenders here. Those would be the proposals from Boeing, Swame Aerospace, and that group out of Cal Poly Tech."
National Security Advisor Schwartz sighed audibly "I don't think that we really need to discuss the amateur design again, it's clear that they have no ability to even produce a working scale model prototype, much less put it into production" he said in a dismissive tone.
De Parle shook her head "as I have said before, the purpose of these meetings is to select the best overall design, not decide which party has the best ability to produce the final product, we're quite well aware what your feelings are on the issue of the proposed Goliath Booster" she countered.
OMB Director John Sexton sipped a cup of tea thoughtfully, he placed it down on the table in front of him "personally I'm quite impressed with their work, at the very least it is the most cost effective of the proposed designs, at a mere eighty to one hundred million per spacecraft, it would be a real bargain, not to mention that its modular design allows us to use the same lift platform for both cargo flights and personnel transport missions which would seriously reduce the production costs" he stated.
"I concur with John on this one, even ignoring its one-point-four million pound LEO lift capacity, the design is incredibly simple and robust, it makes the other designs look fragile by comparison. I especially like the personnel transport variant, they even added in Apollo derived escape capsules for the crew, I'd personally feel better about sending our guys up in one of those than either of the other two" it was Sally Ride this time.
DoT Secretary LaHood cleared his throat "yes yes, but I've been told that apparently the rockets of this size have certain stability issues with their combustion chambers, it took them seven years to overcome this problem with the Saturn V as I recall" he said, a tone of concern in his voice.
Dr. Holdren flipped through a stack of papers on the table in front of him, settling on one page in particular he studied it for a second "that may be true, but if you'll look at page seventeen of the information packet concerning their proposal, you'll see that they accounted for that by using ten rocket bells on each stage, this scales down the size of each combustion chamber far enough to ameliorate those problems.
"Is there any opinion here as far as the hybrid solid liquid platform proposed by Swame Aerospace?" asked De Parle.
Schwartz spoke up again "Well, I've already made my issues with the Swame proposal known, while it shows considerable promise, no one has any real experience with hybrid rockets, and we don't really have the privilege of being able to learn as we go, I'd prefer not to make the same mistakes we made with the shuttle by using a completely untested piece of hardware. That's a strong reason why I also oppose the Goliath."
The debate continued that way for the next two hours, finally Biden brought the group to heel "alright, while I would love nothing better than to devote considerably more time to pondering this decision, we don't have that option. Therefore I think that I am going to have to go to the president with what I gather is the overall consensus of the council."
Pomona, California, United States
"I'd like to propose a tossst... or rather a toast to the... er, to the Goliath" Tim stammered out drunkenly, he was clearly a lightweight, already tipsy after only two beers, he raised his mug up into the air clumsily.
Lauren grinned widely as she raised her own glass "here here!" she said cheerily. The rest of the group cheered in agreement as well, Joey and Trey chuckled as their glasses clanked together. Lauren glanced over at Dr. Kreton who sat alone, brooding over a half empty mug of beer. She got up and walked over to his table.
He looked up at her as she sat down across from him "well try not to get too excited now doctor, we only just managed to accomplish one of the momentous things in the history of human spaceflight" she said sarcastically.
He looked up at her "you think we really won do you?" he asked.
Lauren raised an eyebrow "of course, we won the competition, we beat the biggest and baddest players in the aerospace industry" she said.
He shook his head with a humorless grin "you know those other private groups? The ones who dropped out before the deadline?"
"Yeah, they got bought off with cushy jobs and fat paychecks."
"You didn't happen to notice a certain lack of those kinds of offers to us by any chance?"
She pondered her own drink for a moment "well, they just underestimated us, probably didn't even think that we would make the deadline, much less get picked" she said plainly.
Kreton chuckled at that "well that they certainly did. The thing is that they rarely make that kind of mistake twice, I expect every one of those sneaky bastards to come crawling out of the woodwork to sabotage this effort" he said ruefully.
Lauren jerked her head back in an expression of confused surprise "you can't be serious, this is the survival of the human race here, they wouldn't dare try anything funny like that."
The old man chuckled again "they wouldn't eh? You ever hear of the Bradley Fighting Vehicle?" he asked her.
She shook her head "some kind of tank?" she asked quizzically.
He nodded "something like that. Back in the sixties and seventies the Pentagon asked for an armored vehicle that could transport men into battle, and what the defense industry came up with to fill that need was the Bradley Fighting Vehicle. The damn thing took two decades and cost billions of dollars; in nineteen sixties and seventies dollars too."
"So how did it turn out?"
"It was a real piece of shit. Damned thing was the military equivalent of a pinto, hell, the pinto was probably safer to ride into combat. It would burst into flames at the drop of a hat, and might as well have had cardboard for armor."
"Did it get put into production?"
"Actually yes it did, luckily a handful of very ballsy folks managed to get its problems fixed before several hundred thousand American troops had the chance to find out how much of a piece of shit it really was."
"So it turned out okay in the end."
"Not for lack of trying; defense contractors, military officers and nearly everybody else related to the project fudged tests, destroyed evidence, and did everything in their power to make sure that it made it through to production, flaws be damned."
She took a sip from her own beer, she thought for a second "but why would they go through so much trouble for that, it sounds like they were deliberately trying to sabotage the military, what was their angle?"
He drained the last of his glass "money, promotions, a corner office at a defense contractor with a hot looking secretary. Pretty much the same reason why anyone screws over anyone else in life" he explained.
"They didn't care about all the lives of those soldiers who were going to be depending on that thing? What if there was a war?"
He laughed "funny how the big questions all go out the window whenever money or power figure into the equation" he said.
She finished her own beer, a thoughtful expression on her face "so just how are the big business types going to get us here?" she asked after a second.
"You're a smart girl, it shouldn't be too hard" he said flatly.
"ATK?"
He gave her a deep nod "Alliance Tech Systems; formerly Morton Thiokol, the same bastards who brought you the Challenger Disaster" he said ruefully.
She made a confused face "they're not going to build the prototype" she asked as much as she stated it.
He took a deep breath "oh, they're going to build it alright. They're going to build it and then ensure that the damn thing fails in the most spectacular way possible, I knew that's how it would turn out the second I heard that they got awarded the production contract."
Courtney Vance gripped the drill in one gloved hand, and with her other hand pressed a button on the side of the tool until the display gave her the desired torque reading. Satisfied that she was ready to proceed, she maneuvered the ungainly fitting bracket over to its desired position next to the coupling port on the Zvezda service module "alright, I'm about to secure the first fitting bracket now" she said.
Her earpiece crackled slightly "don't take too long now, we've only got about three months before the docking module is ready to be attached" came the voice of Michael Childress, the current expedition commander.
She grinned "alright, I'll make sure and hurry up" she said sarcastically. After about fifteen minutes, the first bracket had been successfully secured to the end of the module "okay, first bracket has been secured, moving on to the next one" she announced. These brackets were being added in preparation for the planned docking module for the new Construction Service Vehicle that was planned to arrive within the next year.
The vehicle itself was going to be a heavily modified Soyuz spacecraft that was to be used in the construction of the planned Gateway space station; a gargantuan orbital facility that was meant to act as a combination habitat, shipyard, and fuel depot. The Service Vehicle was to fill the role of both a transport for personnel to construct the station as well as a "crane" that was meant to assist in maneuvering the massive space station components.
While the Zvezda module had already been intended to be joined to a Russian built docking module, those plans had been scrapped years prior. However with the new initiative to begin massive scale orbital construction those plans had been revived in the form of a new larger docking module which was to also connect a newly planned fuel storage module which was meant to store a supply of propellant for the Service Vehicle.
"Roger that" came the response.
With one arm she carefully maneuvered herself along the side of the service module, her gloved hand gripping the outside surface of the space station. Meanwhile with her other, she pulled the tether attached to the bundle of additional brackets. Although their large size made them somewhat difficult to maneuver, their titanium composition ensured that they were lighter than they appeared. After reaching her destination she took a second to glance at the rest of the station, from her position she could view either side of the large orbital structure and it's expansive solar panels. No matter how many times she managed to get a look at it, she was still impressed by the large scale of the ISS, it represented a true modern marvel of engineering.
The new docking module was only just the beginning, five new modules were planned for the ISS, including the fuel module, an additional habitat meant to increase the station compliment to ten, a "tool shed" module for storage of spare parts and equipment, and an additional solar panel array meant to increase the station's power production capacity.
She finally returned to her work, it took her an additional hour and a half to finish attaching the fitting brackets, she reflexively moved her arm up to wipe the sweat from her brow, but stopped herself with a conscious effort. Turning herself around she surveyed the beautiful planet below "okay, the last bracket has been fastened to the service module, I'm coming on back" she announced.
"Sounds good Courtney, we'll get dinner out for you, tonight we've got beef stew and ice cream."
She turned back to face the space station and started pulling herself along the exterior, making her way back the way she came. She wanted to get back quickly and catch a good nights sleep, the next day was going to be a busy one.
The White House, Washington D.C., United States
Vice President Biden sat down at the head of the conference table "alright, let's get this meeting started" he said to the assembled group.
Nancy DeParle sat up in her chair "very well, this meeting of the National Space Council is being convened as the last such meeting to discuss our recommendation concerning Orbital Transportation System design competition" she explained.
Biden nodded in acknowledgment "alright, so from what I remember from our last meeting, we have three main final contenders here. Those would be the proposals from Boeing, Swame Aerospace, and that group out of Cal Poly Tech."
National Security Advisor Schwartz sighed audibly "I don't think that we really need to discuss the amateur design again, it's clear that they have no ability to even produce a working scale model prototype, much less put it into production" he said in a dismissive tone.
De Parle shook her head "as I have said before, the purpose of these meetings is to select the best overall design, not decide which party has the best ability to produce the final product, we're quite well aware what your feelings are on the issue of the proposed Goliath Booster" she countered.
OMB Director John Sexton sipped a cup of tea thoughtfully, he placed it down on the table in front of him "personally I'm quite impressed with their work, at the very least it is the most cost effective of the proposed designs, at a mere eighty to one hundred million per spacecraft, it would be a real bargain, not to mention that its modular design allows us to use the same lift platform for both cargo flights and personnel transport missions which would seriously reduce the production costs" he stated.
"I concur with John on this one, even ignoring its one-point-four million pound LEO lift capacity, the design is incredibly simple and robust, it makes the other designs look fragile by comparison. I especially like the personnel transport variant, they even added in Apollo derived escape capsules for the crew, I'd personally feel better about sending our guys up in one of those than either of the other two" it was Sally Ride this time.
DoT Secretary LaHood cleared his throat "yes yes, but I've been told that apparently the rockets of this size have certain stability issues with their combustion chambers, it took them seven years to overcome this problem with the Saturn V as I recall" he said, a tone of concern in his voice.
Dr. Holdren flipped through a stack of papers on the table in front of him, settling on one page in particular he studied it for a second "that may be true, but if you'll look at page seventeen of the information packet concerning their proposal, you'll see that they accounted for that by using ten rocket bells on each stage, this scales down the size of each combustion chamber far enough to ameliorate those problems.
"Is there any opinion here as far as the hybrid solid liquid platform proposed by Swame Aerospace?" asked De Parle.
Schwartz spoke up again "Well, I've already made my issues with the Swame proposal known, while it shows considerable promise, no one has any real experience with hybrid rockets, and we don't really have the privilege of being able to learn as we go, I'd prefer not to make the same mistakes we made with the shuttle by using a completely untested piece of hardware. That's a strong reason why I also oppose the Goliath."
The debate continued that way for the next two hours, finally Biden brought the group to heel "alright, while I would love nothing better than to devote considerably more time to pondering this decision, we don't have that option. Therefore I think that I am going to have to go to the president with what I gather is the overall consensus of the council."
Pomona, California, United States
"I'd like to propose a tossst... or rather a toast to the... er, to the Goliath" Tim stammered out drunkenly, he was clearly a lightweight, already tipsy after only two beers, he raised his mug up into the air clumsily.
Lauren grinned widely as she raised her own glass "here here!" she said cheerily. The rest of the group cheered in agreement as well, Joey and Trey chuckled as their glasses clanked together. Lauren glanced over at Dr. Kreton who sat alone, brooding over a half empty mug of beer. She got up and walked over to his table.
He looked up at her as she sat down across from him "well try not to get too excited now doctor, we only just managed to accomplish one of the momentous things in the history of human spaceflight" she said sarcastically.
He looked up at her "you think we really won do you?" he asked.
Lauren raised an eyebrow "of course, we won the competition, we beat the biggest and baddest players in the aerospace industry" she said.
He shook his head with a humorless grin "you know those other private groups? The ones who dropped out before the deadline?"
"Yeah, they got bought off with cushy jobs and fat paychecks."
"You didn't happen to notice a certain lack of those kinds of offers to us by any chance?"
She pondered her own drink for a moment "well, they just underestimated us, probably didn't even think that we would make the deadline, much less get picked" she said plainly.
Kreton chuckled at that "well that they certainly did. The thing is that they rarely make that kind of mistake twice, I expect every one of those sneaky bastards to come crawling out of the woodwork to sabotage this effort" he said ruefully.
Lauren jerked her head back in an expression of confused surprise "you can't be serious, this is the survival of the human race here, they wouldn't dare try anything funny like that."
The old man chuckled again "they wouldn't eh? You ever hear of the Bradley Fighting Vehicle?" he asked her.
She shook her head "some kind of tank?" she asked quizzically.
He nodded "something like that. Back in the sixties and seventies the Pentagon asked for an armored vehicle that could transport men into battle, and what the defense industry came up with to fill that need was the Bradley Fighting Vehicle. The damn thing took two decades and cost billions of dollars; in nineteen sixties and seventies dollars too."
"So how did it turn out?"
"It was a real piece of shit. Damned thing was the military equivalent of a pinto, hell, the pinto was probably safer to ride into combat. It would burst into flames at the drop of a hat, and might as well have had cardboard for armor."
"Did it get put into production?"
"Actually yes it did, luckily a handful of very ballsy folks managed to get its problems fixed before several hundred thousand American troops had the chance to find out how much of a piece of shit it really was."
"So it turned out okay in the end."
"Not for lack of trying; defense contractors, military officers and nearly everybody else related to the project fudged tests, destroyed evidence, and did everything in their power to make sure that it made it through to production, flaws be damned."
She took a sip from her own beer, she thought for a second "but why would they go through so much trouble for that, it sounds like they were deliberately trying to sabotage the military, what was their angle?"
He drained the last of his glass "money, promotions, a corner office at a defense contractor with a hot looking secretary. Pretty much the same reason why anyone screws over anyone else in life" he explained.
"They didn't care about all the lives of those soldiers who were going to be depending on that thing? What if there was a war?"
He laughed "funny how the big questions all go out the window whenever money or power figure into the equation" he said.
She finished her own beer, a thoughtful expression on her face "so just how are the big business types going to get us here?" she asked after a second.
"You're a smart girl, it shouldn't be too hard" he said flatly.
"ATK?"
He gave her a deep nod "Alliance Tech Systems; formerly Morton Thiokol, the same bastards who brought you the Challenger Disaster" he said ruefully.
She made a confused face "they're not going to build the prototype" she asked as much as she stated it.
He took a deep breath "oh, they're going to build it alright. They're going to build it and then ensure that the damn thing fails in the most spectacular way possible, I knew that's how it would turn out the second I heard that they got awarded the production contract."
Re: The Stars are a Harsh Mistress
Sorry for the delay, but the next update will be coming, I've just been sidetracked as I mentioned in my other story thread. Expect it some time next week.
Laters
Laters
Re: The Stars are a Harsh Mistress
Yeah... 'good guys' win, but the Evil Corp triumphs in the end.
Nicely written
Nicely written
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
Re: The Stars are a Harsh Mistress
Whooooooooopsie. When the Khan comes, there is a problem
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
Re: The Stars are a Harsh Mistress
finally, the next update:
-El Jefe’s, Juarez, Mexico
Derek Michaelson inhaled slowly, taking in the odor of his own half finished beverage in front of him as well as the faint odor of human urine, vomit and a half dozen other rather unpleasant aromas. Then he contemplated the drink in front of him, the rich amber liquid in the glass stared back at him silently.
After a few more seconds, he downed the rest of the contents of the glass, it was smooth and burned ever so slightly as it flowed down his throat. Then without much delay, he reached into his pocket to pay his tab, a hand shot out from beyond his field of view and placed a crisp and fresh fifty on the table "I'll handle your tab Mr. Michaelson" said the owner of the hand in a friendly tone that sounded as genuine as the worn out wood paneling on the walls of the bar.
Derek looked up at the source of the voice, it was a man in what looked in a rather stiff looking black suit, nothing too fancy, but not the cheapest set of threads either. He was clean shaven with scattered grey hairs peppering his otherwise dark hair. His wrist bore a moderately priced Omega, brushed silver finish, he practically had 'government agent' emblazoned across his chest. Maybe not somebody really high up in the chain of command, but probably middle management; a bag man by the looks of him.
The other man didn't wait to be greeted, he merely sat down across from Derek "allow me to introduce myself, the name is Jason Roderick" he said as he extended a hand across the table toward Derek.
Derek did not accept the proffered hand "just what does Uncle Sam want with me on this particular occasion?" he asked with not the most welcoming tone.
After waiting another second or two for Derek to extend his own hand, Mr. Roderick gave up and settled into his own seat "I see that you are a man who likes to get right down to the point, that's good. It'll be very useful for the job I'm going to offer you" he said casually.
Derek quietly chuckled "what makes you so sure that I'll accept this offer of employment anyway?" he said condescendingly.
The spook exposed his teeth in a rather unpleasant looking grin "well, I understand that you've been having a hard time finding decent employment ever since that unfortunate incident in Yemen. My employers are prepared to have your record with both Interpol and the DoJ cleaned up in exchange for successful completion of this assignment. There is also a significant financial compensation package being offered" he explained.
Derek sneered at the other man, his expression was vicious enough that even the stoic G-man flinched "that's rich, considering that it was the assholes from the Company who screwed the pooch in Yemen in the first place, you guys just used me and my team as the fall guys for your own fuckup" he said.
Roderick didn't say anything for a second, then "would you like to hear the job or not Mr. Michaelson?" he said in that same tone of false pleasantness.
To Derek the other man might as well have been insulting him with every other word, he really hated this guy’s bullshit tone. It sounded like what you'd expect from some asshole motivational speaker that companies sent their office workers to go see in the hopes of improving "team work" or some other bullshit like that.
He pondered for a second, and even half considered punching the guy square in the face, it would have certainly felt good, but he relented "what the fuck is the job?" he asked with contempt.
The other man placed his briefcase on the table and popped open the two latches with a pair of dull clicks "as you may know, the US government is involved in a large scale multinational effort to begin work on a series of space based projects. Pursuant to that, we will be in need of a considerable amount of natural resources in order to fuel this effort. As you are also quite well aware, many of these needed resources are currently only accessible through several... unstable, or unfriendly nations."
"Chief amongst these resource rich but less than easily accessible nations is Afghanistan, I believe that you have considerable experience there" he explained as he produced a rather thick manila folder which he slid across the table toward Derek. He continued "in that file you will find details on a number of contacts and other personnel which have already been hired for this operation, I believe that you have worked with most of them before."
Derek flipped through the folder, and while Roderick may have been a complete asshole, he at least had done his homework. There were at least a half dozen people included in that file who he had worked with on several prior occasions "this is all very nice, but I was given to understand that the current administration had gotten out of the nation building business. Besides, it's gonna take more than one to two dozen former black ops guys to fix that shithole, or is this president even more boneheaded than his predecessor?" Derek's expression had gone from pure contempt to one of mere derision.
The other man took a deep breath "this particular assignment is going to be a bit different from ones you may be used to from the past. You see, it is the view of this president that ensuring the stability of the country is of the utmost importance for the needs of the war effort. In other words, the gloves are to come off, way off" he said flatly.
Derek raised an eyebrow "I'm not sure the President realizes just what he is asking. If we do this the way you seem to want it to, things are going to get bloody, really bloody. It would make Yemen look like an unpaid littering fine" he said.
Roderick merely nodded his head casually "this administration understands what is entailed in such an undertaking. To that end, to all outward appearances, you will be working as a security consultant for the Somali government. There will be no reporters allowed within fifty kilometers of wherever you will be operating on any given day, and your pay checks will be coming from a private contractor, not the DoD. As far as anyone is concerned, this operation does not exist."
Both of Derek's eyebrows were raised in surprise at this point, he had not been expecting anything quite like this "this is all fine and good, but what exactly do we do when the next president takes office in a few months? Something like this does not have a tendency to last longer than the administration that started it" he said as he flipped through the file again.
Roderick nodded again "the next president will not know anything about this operation, and funding for it will be provided from a series of already established Cayman Islands accounts, we have guaranteed funding for at least a decade" he said. He paused for a second "in the bathroom underneath the flush tank of the toilet in the second stall will be taped an envelope, contained in that envelope will be a plane ticket to Cairo and twenty thousand dollars in non-sequential bills. Should you accept this employment offer, your flight will be in two weeks. Once there, you will meet up with the rest of your team before flying to Pakistan and then finally cross the border into Afghanistan. You and your team will be briefed on your area of operations and all of the other particulars along the way. You will meet with your handler upon arrival in Kabul."
The spook started to get back up from his seat "you don't need to say anything right now, all you need to do to accept the job is retrieve the envelope" he explained. Derek didn't say anything as the other man turned to walk away "good luck to you Mr. Michaelson, I will not be seeing you again after today, this will be our only meeting" he nodded as he walked away.
After waiting several moments, Derek picked himself up out of his chair and headed toward the men’s room, he suddenly felt the need to take a piss.
-Fox News Studio, New York City, United States
Sean Hannity sat behind his desk and smiled at the camera with a warm expression "good evening, and welcome back to the show, I'm your host Sean Hannity, and with me is Tea Party Presidential Candidate Michelle Bachmann. It's good to have you with us Congresswoman Bachmann" he said in a friendly tone.
The woman across from him smiled back with a slight twinkle in her eye "it's great to be here Sean" she said "and please, call me Michelle."
"Okay; Michelle, let's begin. My first question is in regards to the words of critics who say that your decision to launch a third party candidacy is only going to harm the chances of the GOP taking back the White House this November by splitting the conservative vote, what do you say to those criticisms?"
Bachmann looked at the camera, that same twinkle in here eye and a broad smile on her face "well Sean, I can understand some people feeling that way. However it must not be forgotten that the people sent a message to Washington last election when they voted Barack Obama back into office for a second term over Paul Ryan" she said. Sean Hannity opened his mouth to say something, but she raised her hands in a defensive motion "yes, I know many have said that the message was that the Republican party did not have the confidence of the American People, but I think that many of the so called 'experts' got it wrong. I believe that the message was that the American People are not convinced that there is a difference between these so called 'moderate republicans' and candidates on the other side of the aisle."
"This message is correct, if they are just going to vote for a 'moderate' they might as well just vote for a democrat, you know" she stopped abruptly.
Mr. Hannity waited for a second, expecting her to say something else, but nothing came out "um, well then, I guess it's fair to say that you are merely trying to stand up for what you believe in is that correct?" he asked.
"that's right Sean, I'm merely trying to take a stand for the average American person who is tired of these same cookie cutter candidates who only represent the special interests and not the people who put them in office. You know, I used to think that things could be changed from within the Republican Party, but I spent too many years getting ignored by the party elites. As much as they claim that they are trying to work for the American People, they are really just trying to work for themselves, and any time someone tries to stand up for what they really believe in, they get shut out."
"That's why I'm pursuing a third party candidacy, in the hopes that the American People will finally have the choice of a presidential candidate that speaks for them, and not for special interests" she said as she stared into the camera, almost out beyond it at a point somewhere far off in the distance, that same broad smile on her face.
Sean Hannity nodded deeply "that's very interesting Michelle, we'll go to a commercial break now, but when we come back; we'll discuss the issue of the Organization for Planetary Defense Alliance Charter treaty and what it means for the sovereignty of the United States and the risks it poses."
-The White House, Washington D.C. United States
Barack Obama stepped closer and grasped Dan Malloy's hand firmly "welcome to the White House Mr. President Elect" he said warmly.
Malloy returned the firm grasp "thank you Mr. President, it's an honor to be here" he responded.
The President gestured toward a pair of seats a couple feet away "please have a seat" he said as he beckoned to the other man. Malloy complied with a smile, when they were both seated; The President looked over at him "so how is your transition going?" he asked.
Dan shook his head "no complaints, your people have been incredibly accommodating, thank you" he replied.
Obama took a deep breath "that's good, how are Cathy and the kids taking the move?" he asked.
"They're doing well considering the hectic pace of things, and your family?"
"Michelle can't wait for us to get some real quality time with the girls" said the President. His smile faded suddenly "anyway, it's time we get down to the reason why I asked you here for this meeting" he said as his tone became more serious. Malloy raised his eyebrows in a quizzical look, the President continued "I trust that you have been keeping abreast of the progress on the Goliath" he said expectantly.
The President Elect nodded "yes indeed, although I think that the word 'progress' is a bit generous" he said.
Obama quietly guffawed at that "it would seem that your estimate of the situation is quite accurate. Old habits die hard in the aerospace industry it would seem" he said with a twinge of regret.
"Are you saying that ATK is intentionally delaying their work on the prototype?" asked Malloy, surprised.
"I wish it weren't true, but I've got reliable information that such is the case. I had a strong feeling that they would try something like this the second I read the contract" explained the President.
Malloy pursed his lips thoughtfully "a loophole?"
"Yes, in particular there's a clause in the contract that allows for redesigning aspects of the vehicle in the event of 'unforeseen complications' in the design. Certain trustworthy people at NASA that I've talked to seem convinced that they are going to string out the process with constant redesigns and modifications. By the time they finally produce something finished, it'll be a billion dollars over budget, five years late, and be half as capable as the original design."
The President chuckled joylessly, Malloy scratched his chin in thought "they can't seriously expect to get away with something so blatant. You're sure of this?"
President Obama looked him in the eye seriously "the shuttle was supposed to fly once a week. This game is old news to firms like ATK" he explained regretfully.
Malloy nodded deeply "I trust the reason why we're discussing it now is that you have something in mind to deal with this problem" he said.
The President nodded "you would be correct. Now, there are only two other people who know the full extent of what I'm about to tell you..."
**
About an hour later the President Elect sat there in silence, a look of both surprise and a bit of anger on his face. After a couple minutes of silence he finally started to speak "I don't like this one bit Mr. President, I set out to take this job to clean up Washington, but what you are suggesting goes against all of that. I haven't even been sworn in and you are already asking me to be party to the exact kind of think I promised to put an end to in this office" he eyed the other man warily.
Obama sighed deeply and nodded thoughtfully "I understand your apprehension, but these past eight years in this office have taught me that sometimes there are things that are more important than even our principals" he said regretfully.
Malloy raised an eyebrow "and just what would hat be?" he asked.
"The lives of more than six billion people."
-El Jefe’s, Juarez, Mexico
Derek Michaelson inhaled slowly, taking in the odor of his own half finished beverage in front of him as well as the faint odor of human urine, vomit and a half dozen other rather unpleasant aromas. Then he contemplated the drink in front of him, the rich amber liquid in the glass stared back at him silently.
After a few more seconds, he downed the rest of the contents of the glass, it was smooth and burned ever so slightly as it flowed down his throat. Then without much delay, he reached into his pocket to pay his tab, a hand shot out from beyond his field of view and placed a crisp and fresh fifty on the table "I'll handle your tab Mr. Michaelson" said the owner of the hand in a friendly tone that sounded as genuine as the worn out wood paneling on the walls of the bar.
Derek looked up at the source of the voice, it was a man in what looked in a rather stiff looking black suit, nothing too fancy, but not the cheapest set of threads either. He was clean shaven with scattered grey hairs peppering his otherwise dark hair. His wrist bore a moderately priced Omega, brushed silver finish, he practically had 'government agent' emblazoned across his chest. Maybe not somebody really high up in the chain of command, but probably middle management; a bag man by the looks of him.
The other man didn't wait to be greeted, he merely sat down across from Derek "allow me to introduce myself, the name is Jason Roderick" he said as he extended a hand across the table toward Derek.
Derek did not accept the proffered hand "just what does Uncle Sam want with me on this particular occasion?" he asked with not the most welcoming tone.
After waiting another second or two for Derek to extend his own hand, Mr. Roderick gave up and settled into his own seat "I see that you are a man who likes to get right down to the point, that's good. It'll be very useful for the job I'm going to offer you" he said casually.
Derek quietly chuckled "what makes you so sure that I'll accept this offer of employment anyway?" he said condescendingly.
The spook exposed his teeth in a rather unpleasant looking grin "well, I understand that you've been having a hard time finding decent employment ever since that unfortunate incident in Yemen. My employers are prepared to have your record with both Interpol and the DoJ cleaned up in exchange for successful completion of this assignment. There is also a significant financial compensation package being offered" he explained.
Derek sneered at the other man, his expression was vicious enough that even the stoic G-man flinched "that's rich, considering that it was the assholes from the Company who screwed the pooch in Yemen in the first place, you guys just used me and my team as the fall guys for your own fuckup" he said.
Roderick didn't say anything for a second, then "would you like to hear the job or not Mr. Michaelson?" he said in that same tone of false pleasantness.
To Derek the other man might as well have been insulting him with every other word, he really hated this guy’s bullshit tone. It sounded like what you'd expect from some asshole motivational speaker that companies sent their office workers to go see in the hopes of improving "team work" or some other bullshit like that.
He pondered for a second, and even half considered punching the guy square in the face, it would have certainly felt good, but he relented "what the fuck is the job?" he asked with contempt.
The other man placed his briefcase on the table and popped open the two latches with a pair of dull clicks "as you may know, the US government is involved in a large scale multinational effort to begin work on a series of space based projects. Pursuant to that, we will be in need of a considerable amount of natural resources in order to fuel this effort. As you are also quite well aware, many of these needed resources are currently only accessible through several... unstable, or unfriendly nations."
"Chief amongst these resource rich but less than easily accessible nations is Afghanistan, I believe that you have considerable experience there" he explained as he produced a rather thick manila folder which he slid across the table toward Derek. He continued "in that file you will find details on a number of contacts and other personnel which have already been hired for this operation, I believe that you have worked with most of them before."
Derek flipped through the folder, and while Roderick may have been a complete asshole, he at least had done his homework. There were at least a half dozen people included in that file who he had worked with on several prior occasions "this is all very nice, but I was given to understand that the current administration had gotten out of the nation building business. Besides, it's gonna take more than one to two dozen former black ops guys to fix that shithole, or is this president even more boneheaded than his predecessor?" Derek's expression had gone from pure contempt to one of mere derision.
The other man took a deep breath "this particular assignment is going to be a bit different from ones you may be used to from the past. You see, it is the view of this president that ensuring the stability of the country is of the utmost importance for the needs of the war effort. In other words, the gloves are to come off, way off" he said flatly.
Derek raised an eyebrow "I'm not sure the President realizes just what he is asking. If we do this the way you seem to want it to, things are going to get bloody, really bloody. It would make Yemen look like an unpaid littering fine" he said.
Roderick merely nodded his head casually "this administration understands what is entailed in such an undertaking. To that end, to all outward appearances, you will be working as a security consultant for the Somali government. There will be no reporters allowed within fifty kilometers of wherever you will be operating on any given day, and your pay checks will be coming from a private contractor, not the DoD. As far as anyone is concerned, this operation does not exist."
Both of Derek's eyebrows were raised in surprise at this point, he had not been expecting anything quite like this "this is all fine and good, but what exactly do we do when the next president takes office in a few months? Something like this does not have a tendency to last longer than the administration that started it" he said as he flipped through the file again.
Roderick nodded again "the next president will not know anything about this operation, and funding for it will be provided from a series of already established Cayman Islands accounts, we have guaranteed funding for at least a decade" he said. He paused for a second "in the bathroom underneath the flush tank of the toilet in the second stall will be taped an envelope, contained in that envelope will be a plane ticket to Cairo and twenty thousand dollars in non-sequential bills. Should you accept this employment offer, your flight will be in two weeks. Once there, you will meet up with the rest of your team before flying to Pakistan and then finally cross the border into Afghanistan. You and your team will be briefed on your area of operations and all of the other particulars along the way. You will meet with your handler upon arrival in Kabul."
The spook started to get back up from his seat "you don't need to say anything right now, all you need to do to accept the job is retrieve the envelope" he explained. Derek didn't say anything as the other man turned to walk away "good luck to you Mr. Michaelson, I will not be seeing you again after today, this will be our only meeting" he nodded as he walked away.
After waiting several moments, Derek picked himself up out of his chair and headed toward the men’s room, he suddenly felt the need to take a piss.
-Fox News Studio, New York City, United States
Sean Hannity sat behind his desk and smiled at the camera with a warm expression "good evening, and welcome back to the show, I'm your host Sean Hannity, and with me is Tea Party Presidential Candidate Michelle Bachmann. It's good to have you with us Congresswoman Bachmann" he said in a friendly tone.
The woman across from him smiled back with a slight twinkle in her eye "it's great to be here Sean" she said "and please, call me Michelle."
"Okay; Michelle, let's begin. My first question is in regards to the words of critics who say that your decision to launch a third party candidacy is only going to harm the chances of the GOP taking back the White House this November by splitting the conservative vote, what do you say to those criticisms?"
Bachmann looked at the camera, that same twinkle in here eye and a broad smile on her face "well Sean, I can understand some people feeling that way. However it must not be forgotten that the people sent a message to Washington last election when they voted Barack Obama back into office for a second term over Paul Ryan" she said. Sean Hannity opened his mouth to say something, but she raised her hands in a defensive motion "yes, I know many have said that the message was that the Republican party did not have the confidence of the American People, but I think that many of the so called 'experts' got it wrong. I believe that the message was that the American People are not convinced that there is a difference between these so called 'moderate republicans' and candidates on the other side of the aisle."
"This message is correct, if they are just going to vote for a 'moderate' they might as well just vote for a democrat, you know" she stopped abruptly.
Mr. Hannity waited for a second, expecting her to say something else, but nothing came out "um, well then, I guess it's fair to say that you are merely trying to stand up for what you believe in is that correct?" he asked.
"that's right Sean, I'm merely trying to take a stand for the average American person who is tired of these same cookie cutter candidates who only represent the special interests and not the people who put them in office. You know, I used to think that things could be changed from within the Republican Party, but I spent too many years getting ignored by the party elites. As much as they claim that they are trying to work for the American People, they are really just trying to work for themselves, and any time someone tries to stand up for what they really believe in, they get shut out."
"That's why I'm pursuing a third party candidacy, in the hopes that the American People will finally have the choice of a presidential candidate that speaks for them, and not for special interests" she said as she stared into the camera, almost out beyond it at a point somewhere far off in the distance, that same broad smile on her face.
Sean Hannity nodded deeply "that's very interesting Michelle, we'll go to a commercial break now, but when we come back; we'll discuss the issue of the Organization for Planetary Defense Alliance Charter treaty and what it means for the sovereignty of the United States and the risks it poses."
-The White House, Washington D.C. United States
Barack Obama stepped closer and grasped Dan Malloy's hand firmly "welcome to the White House Mr. President Elect" he said warmly.
Malloy returned the firm grasp "thank you Mr. President, it's an honor to be here" he responded.
The President gestured toward a pair of seats a couple feet away "please have a seat" he said as he beckoned to the other man. Malloy complied with a smile, when they were both seated; The President looked over at him "so how is your transition going?" he asked.
Dan shook his head "no complaints, your people have been incredibly accommodating, thank you" he replied.
Obama took a deep breath "that's good, how are Cathy and the kids taking the move?" he asked.
"They're doing well considering the hectic pace of things, and your family?"
"Michelle can't wait for us to get some real quality time with the girls" said the President. His smile faded suddenly "anyway, it's time we get down to the reason why I asked you here for this meeting" he said as his tone became more serious. Malloy raised his eyebrows in a quizzical look, the President continued "I trust that you have been keeping abreast of the progress on the Goliath" he said expectantly.
The President Elect nodded "yes indeed, although I think that the word 'progress' is a bit generous" he said.
Obama quietly guffawed at that "it would seem that your estimate of the situation is quite accurate. Old habits die hard in the aerospace industry it would seem" he said with a twinge of regret.
"Are you saying that ATK is intentionally delaying their work on the prototype?" asked Malloy, surprised.
"I wish it weren't true, but I've got reliable information that such is the case. I had a strong feeling that they would try something like this the second I read the contract" explained the President.
Malloy pursed his lips thoughtfully "a loophole?"
"Yes, in particular there's a clause in the contract that allows for redesigning aspects of the vehicle in the event of 'unforeseen complications' in the design. Certain trustworthy people at NASA that I've talked to seem convinced that they are going to string out the process with constant redesigns and modifications. By the time they finally produce something finished, it'll be a billion dollars over budget, five years late, and be half as capable as the original design."
The President chuckled joylessly, Malloy scratched his chin in thought "they can't seriously expect to get away with something so blatant. You're sure of this?"
President Obama looked him in the eye seriously "the shuttle was supposed to fly once a week. This game is old news to firms like ATK" he explained regretfully.
Malloy nodded deeply "I trust the reason why we're discussing it now is that you have something in mind to deal with this problem" he said.
The President nodded "you would be correct. Now, there are only two other people who know the full extent of what I'm about to tell you..."
**
About an hour later the President Elect sat there in silence, a look of both surprise and a bit of anger on his face. After a couple minutes of silence he finally started to speak "I don't like this one bit Mr. President, I set out to take this job to clean up Washington, but what you are suggesting goes against all of that. I haven't even been sworn in and you are already asking me to be party to the exact kind of think I promised to put an end to in this office" he eyed the other man warily.
Obama sighed deeply and nodded thoughtfully "I understand your apprehension, but these past eight years in this office have taught me that sometimes there are things that are more important than even our principals" he said regretfully.
Malloy raised an eyebrow "and just what would hat be?" he asked.
"The lives of more than six billion people."