Delta-v, page 15
They all stood on a stone ledge next to a cliff face. The sand-colored stone extended down to a scree field, which sloped away into the Atlantic. Waves crashed against the rocks below.
A company coordinator stood in their path. He was flanked by camp staff holding radios. Tighe and his fellow candidates all wore helmets, harnesses, and rock-climbing shoes.
The coordinator pointed to a series of narrow ledges and handholds running along the rock wall for a distance of 50 meters or so. “In this exercise you must traverse the cliff face to reach my colleagues on the far side. Whether you use the safety rope is up to you.”
The candidates turned to spot two staffers standing on a similar stony outcrop beyond the cliff. Then all the candidates gazed down at the nearly 100-meter sheer drop onto a jumble of rocks.
Kelly spoke first. “Who wouldn’t use the safety rope?”
The coordinator answered, “Candidates who want a much higher score in this exercise.”
“A higher score—for being reckless?”
Berggren piped in, “That’s outrageous.”
Tighe studied the wall. “Atle’s right. On an expedition you’d only free- climb in an emergency.”
The coordinator was stone-faced. “This isn’t an expedition. It’s a test. What you decide to do is up to you.”
Kelly spat on the ground. “And how many candidates will be dismissed as a result of this ‘test’?”
Murmured agreement from the other candidates.
Standing at the edge of the cliff, Abarca said, “Tómalo con soda. This isn’t that dangerous.”
The others turned to her.
She pointed. “The cliff face leans slightly inland. Those handholds and ledges have been cleared of debris. They look solid.”
“They look solid? Are you mad?”
Abarca said to Kelly, “If this was a rock climbing wall at the gym, would you really slip off that?”
“But ’tisn’t a wall at the gym, is it, Isabel? Fall from that without a rope and you’ll die.”
“If you think you’ll fall, then use the rope.”
“I’ll use the rope—on you.”
The others studied the traverse.
Berggren approached the coordinator. “Will low-scoring candidates be dismissed after this exercise?”
Kelly gestured to the group. “Notice they only brought six of us up here. They know if they tried this with a big group, there’d be a bloody mutiny.”
Berggren called out, “We should all refuse—in protest.”
Tighe noticed an octocopter drone hovering not far off the coast, watching them with a dozen camera eyes. He also noticed bodycams—no doubt with microphones—on the coordinators’ shirtfronts.
The coordinator remained expressionless. “Either use the safety rope or don’t. But refusal to traverse the cliff will result in immediate dismissal.”
Kelly crossed her arms. “The rules of this exercise are illegal.”
Berggren stepped between them. “If someone dies traversing without a rope, your employer will get sued blind. You’ll be out of a job.”
Tighe immediately thought of the Accidental Death and Dismemberment rider to their contract.
The coordinator seemed unmoved. “No one is forcing anyone to climb without a rope. It’s your choice.”
Kelly jabbed her finger in his face. “You’re penalizing us for using the rope.”
Berggren joined her. “Which makes it a de facto condition of employment.”
The coordinator shrugged. “There’s no guarantee of employment even if you climb without the rope.”
Abarca called out, “We could already have been across by now.”
Berggren frowned at her. “You’re not seriously considering free-climbing this, Isabel?”
“Any expedition in deep space will be a lot more dangerous than this cliff.” She looked at the others. “I’d rather go there with people able to cope with danger.”
Kelly threw up her hands. “As if that asteroid expedition is really going to happen!”
Lomidze, the wildcatter, shook his head. “Alyson is right. I’m not willing to risk dying just for a chance to train in low Earth orbit.”
Abarca rubbed volcanic dust between her palms. “I have no intention of dying. I want to go to space, and this traverse doesn’t seem that difficult an obstacle. Not to me.”
“Because you’re a bloody mountain climber.”
“This doesn’t require skill—just nerve.”
Berggren stepped in. “Isabel, don’t do this. If everyone uses the safety rope, then it will render their scoring scheme moot. There’s less than a week left. We all need to stick together.”
Abarca’s face remained impassive. “There aren’t enough slots for us all. Right now, you and I are competing. And I intend to be selected for training.”
“That’s incredibly selfish. You know that, right?”
“I know that some people are suited for this and others are not.”
“So you’ll just do this arbitrary and dangerous thing to prove your obedience to the company?”
She got in his face. “It’s not arbitrary. A willingness to face actual danger is a relevant filter.”
Kelly groaned. “So it’s a ‘filter,’ is it?”
Abarca pointed to the cliff. “Just keep one hand and one foot firmly placed at all times.”
“If you fall without a rope, you’ll die, Isabel.”
“Then I’d better not fall.”
Tighe had been studying the cliff face the entire time. “Isabel.”
She and the others turned to him.
“How proficient do I need to be to safely cross this without a rope?”
“No proficiency at all. Like I said, if this traverse was five feet off the ground, no one here would give it a second thought.”
Kelly shouted, “But it’s not 5 feet off the ground!”
Tighe cinched his helmet and walked toward the edge.
Berggren intercepted him. “Not you, too, J.T. If anyone should call bullshit, I’d think it would be you.”
“This doesn’t look that dangerous.”
Lazzari shook her head. “You’re letting the company abuse you.”
“And you’re betraying the rest of us.”
Chindarkar suddenly stepped forward.
Berggren groaned. “You, too, now? If we all stick together—”
Chindarkar tightened her helmet strap. “Isabel’s right. This is a test of nerve, and if I ever want to go into deep space for real, then I need to prove to myself that I have courage—otherwise, I’m a danger to everyone else.”
“Have you all gone mad?” Kelly searched their faces. “I, for one, refuse to go—safety rope or no.” She pointed at the coordinator. “I’ll take you bastards to court.”
“That is your right.” The coordinator looked to Berggren.
Berggren sighed. “I’ll use the safety rope.”
Then to Lazzari.
She nodded. “The rope, please.”
Kelly threw up her hands. “Brilliant! For all your talk, you still give in.”
The coordinator pointed last to Lomidze.
The Russian said, “I agree with Alyson. I refuse to participate.”
“Suit yourself.”
Berggren and Lazzari stood glumly as camp staff clipped safety ropes to their harnesses. The safety lines hung from bolts at the top of the cliff, where more coordinators gave the thumbs-up.
Without a rope Abarca moved to the edge of the cliff and extended her right foot onto a narrow ledge.
Several of the candidates sucked in their breath.
She looked ahead and then back at Tighe and Chindarkar. “Stay focused and you will make it. But if you have any doubts, use the rope.”
Tighe and Chindarkar exchanged appraising looks, then watched Abarca edge forward and then step onto the next ledge, finding another handhold. She moved with a catlike grace and calm assurance.
Far below her a sooty tern glided along on the wind.
Chindarkar gestured for Tighe to go next.
“Thanks a lot.” Tighe took several calming breaths and then stepped out onto the first narrow ledge, grabbing for the same handhold Abarca had. It was indeed solid. He glanced down and was rewarded with the sense of heightened reality he knew so well. Below him was death. Ahead was life. Nothing else mattered.
Tighe followed Abarca’s steps along the cliff face as she carefully traversed from narrow ledge to narrow ledge. His every thought was on the present. Only once did he glance behind to offer reassurance as he saw Chindarkar prepare for her own first step. “You can trust the handholds, Priya.”
“Good.” She took a steadying breath—then stepped out. Her toe found the ledge, and she sighed in relief as she moved safely onto it.
Abarca shouted from several ledges ahead. “Keep your body tight to the wall! Remain focused!”
Back on the outcrop, camp staff led Berggren’s rope line to the edge. Roped in, Berggren nonetheless looked nervous as he waited for Chindarkar to advance along the cliff face.
Tighe focused on the physical act of climbing. With each forward move and each successful reach, he felt his confidence increase. Viewed objectively, this was a simple exercise. The height was only an issue if he fell—and if he took care, he would not fall. Thus, the height was irrelevant.
Kelly and Lomidze watched, horrified, as the others went on without them.
Tighe stole a look ahead at Abarca planning her next move. She momentarily glanced back at him and flashed the first grin he’d ever seen from her. It made him grin, too. She was in her element.
Soon Abarca stepped onto the wide stone outcropping on the far side. Camp staff there made way for her, speaking into their radios.
“Ascan 2-4-7 secure.”
She turned and gave Tighe the thumbs-up.
He refocused and crossed the remaining three ledges. Soon he, too, stepped across the gap and onto the rock outcropping.
“Ascan 3-6-3 secure.”
Abarca smiled and to his surprise hugged him, slapping him on the back. “Way to go, J.T.”
“You were right. It wasn’t that hard.”
Abarca turned to the remaining climbers. Chindarkar, Berggren, and Lazzari were making progress.
Chindarkar concentrated on her next move.
Tighe recognized the tense stance of Berggren on the rock face. He’d seen it before from reluctant cavers on a difficult pitch.
Chindarkar continued to make determined moves across the cliff face. Within a minute she closed the gap and stepped onto the outcropping alongside Abarca and Tighe.
The nearby coordinator spoke into his radio. “Ascan 4-1-2 secure.”
Abarca grabbed her in a hug.
Chindarkar laughed. “I can’t believe I just did a free-climb.”
“You did great.”
They all now watched Berggren move with extra care across the cliff face, occasionally swatting the safety rope out of his way. Coordinators at the summit were careful to reel in any slack. Lazzari often loomed behind him, clearly impatient with the slow pace.
Finally, Berggren pulled himself onto the rocky outcropping and came alongside Abarca, Tighe, and Chindarkar. Lazzari did so almost immediately afterward. They held on to their red safety ropes and looked behind them at the cliff face they’d just crossed.
Abarca observed, “I see neither of you fell.”
Berggren said nothing. Lazzari stared at the cliff and just shook her head as she unclipped and walked away.
A voice came over the radio. “Exercise complete.”
CHAPTER 14
Green Mountain
MARCH 14, 2033
James Tighe strolled across a manicured lawn surrounded on three sides by lush jungle, a mash-up of plants from around the world: ficus trees, Bermuda cedars, pandanus, stands of bamboo, banana trees, eucalyptus, Norfolk Island pines. There were also guava, jacaranda, mango, gorse, sedges, coffee plants—and those were just the plants Tighe recognized.
The western edge of the lawn opened to a broad view of Ascension Island from on high, with a brilliant sunset over the Atlantic. Behind him stood a well-maintained, whitewashed stone cottage with windows and doors framed in varnished wood. A sign at the farm entrance marked this as Green Mountain, part of a British garrison built in the 1840s, and the highest point on Ascension.
Strands of white lights hung in nearby trees. Forty newly minted asteroid-mining trainees spread out across the lawn in small groups, chatting, laughing, and dancing as classic hip-hop music played over speakers. The trainees wore new cobalt-blue utility jumpsuits with Polestar company patches on their arms and logos on their backs, along with the designation “Trainee” and their surnames stitched in gold thread on the front pocket.
They had finally graduated from a number to a name.
Tighe held six plastic flutes of champagne, stems between his fingers, as he sidestepped a small land crab that wielded a paper cocktail umbrella, apparently seized from an earlier human tormentor. He approached Abarca, Morra, Jin, Chindarkar, Adisa, Yakovlev, Clarke, and Dahl, standing near a low garden wall, and passed the flutes around. “Drink up. I don’t think there’ll be an open bar in Antarctica.”
Clarke raised her glass in a toast. “To those who didn’t make the cut.”
Voices all around: “Hear! Hear!” They bumped plastic flutes together.
Yak added, “They have my thanks.”
The others laughed, then drank.
Almost immediately Morra raised his glass again. “And here’s to our reward: six months of darkness in the coldest place on Earth.”
The group groaned and bumped flutes with considerably less enthusiasm. They drank again.
Clarke said, “On the bright side, our odds of getting into space are now almost fifty-fifty.”
“We should enjoy the sun while we can.” Morra pointed toward the sunset. “Look . . .”
The view beyond the edge of the lawn was gorgeous as the sun blazed reddish orange over the Atlantic.
Chindarkar said, “It’s beautiful up here.” Her gaze wandered to the surrounding trees. “I’m surprised how green it is. The terrain around the DAC looks like Mars.”
Adisa moved alongside. “In the cottage there is a coffee table book. It says that Ascension was barren stone just four centuries ago—so desolate the sailors who discovered it did not come ashore.”
Clarke nodded to herself. “That makes sense. The rock here is only a million years old, and it’s a thousand kilometers from anywhere.”
Adisa gestured to the trees. “The first British garrison seeded this mountain with plants from around their empire.”
Jin Han seemed intrigued. “So they terraformed the island.”
Yak said, “We must do the same in space, yes?”
“By ‘we’ you mean the Russians?” Eric Reyes, the former US Air Force test pilot, joined their group. He was holding a glass of bourbon and looked a bit glassy-eyed.
Yak nodded. “Da, Russians. Americans. Everyone.”
Morra pointed. “Where’d you get a proper drink?”
“There’s a real bar inside.”
Morra headed off. “Be right back.”
Reyes looked to Yak and then to Jin. “So how are we going to deal with this?”
Yak and Jin exchanged puzzled looks.
Jin replied, “Deal with what?”
“Authoritarian nations like China and Russia expanding into space.”
The group groaned. “Whoa, whoa . . .”
Reyes held up his hand. “It’s a fair question.”
Yak glowered. “Russian Federation is democracy, Eric.”
“Oh, right. You just happen to keep electing the same leader over and over.”
“Better than leaders you have been coming up with.”
“Is that right?”
Jin observed, “Perhaps you’ve had enough to drink, Eric.”
“Why, because I’m willing to ask what everyone else won’t?” Reyes approached Jin. “Do you guys plan on expanding authoritarianism into space?”
“Will you expand American imperialism into space?”
Tighe stepped between them. “Look, we’re not here as nations. Catalyst is a private company. And tonight is a celebration. Let’s not argue.”
“It’s a valid question, J.T. This is going to come up at some point. Let’s not wait until we’re up in space—let’s have it out right here and now. These guys don’t believe in human liberty or democracy.”
Yak laughed. “Human liberty. Please . . .”
Dahl tugged on Reyes’s arm. “C’mon, Eric. Don’t ruin tonight.”
“She is right.” Jin looked calm as he said, “Besides, America is not a democracy—it is an oligarchy.”
The group again shouted, “Whoa, whoa!”
Reyes wore an unnerving smile. “Fuck you.”
Jin continued. “And oligarchy is an improvement because democracy is an inferior form of government.”
The group grew quiet. Dahl turned to face Jin with a look of disappointment.
Reyes held out his hand. “There you go! Just beneath the surface.”
Tighe narrowed his eyes. “Han, do you really believe that?”
Jin looked around. “Corporations are not democratic, and yet they rule every aspect of American life. If democracy is so important, why is this the case?”
Tighe sighed. “Because democracy is always a work in progress. That’s why.”
“Half of your countrymen live in poverty. Meanwhile, Chinese leadership has brought great prosperity to its people.”
Morra returned to the group holding a glass of bourbon. “You think that prosperity would have happened without the West, Han? China just had cheaper labor.”
