Delta-v, page 9
“I was an associate at Pritzer & Wallace in Geneva for a year, Deputy Director. I’ve still got friends there, but nobody could tell me what’s holding up this permit application—otherwise, I would not have bothered you.”
The deputy director looked to him with a bit more interest. “If I call David Wallace, he won’t tell me you were sacked?”
“No, Deputy Director. I was on a career track, but I left to—”
“Start your own firm. They must still be angry with you.”
“They’ll give me a good reference. Wallace is firm but fair.”
“Hmm. Young people—always starting companies.” He sipped his coffee again. “Next time mention you were at P&W from the outset. It means you’re not a complete moron.” He glanced over at the sheaf of papers in Rochat’s hand. “You say your client is Lunargistics, LLC?”
Relieved, he said, “Yes, Deputy Director. You can have this copy. If I could get a response in writing—anything I can bring back to my client to state what’s delayed the application.”
Gagneux waved off the documents. “I don’t need a copy, Counselor.”
Rochat’s hope sank. He offered the forms again. “Just to make sure you look up the correct firm. The application number is right here.” He pointed.
“I don’t need to look up the status of your client’s application—because I already know why it’s been delayed.”
“You know . . . already?” Rochat paused momentarily in midstep. His client was barely a blip in the multibillion-dollar commercial space services industry. The fact that the deputy director knew their name off the top of his head was not a good sign.
Rochat raced to catch up alongside Gagneux again. “I . . . may I ask what then is the reason for the delay, Deputy Director?”
The bureaucrat stopped and eyed the young attorney as he sipped his coffee. “If you are going to succeed in this business, son, remember that clients are a reflection of you. You need to do your due diligence.”
Due diligence was a luxury Rochat did not currently enjoy, but he nodded. “There’s a problem with Lunargistics?”
“Your ‘tiny’ client, Counselor, is not so tiny. Lunargistics has financial ties to a much larger organization, one that hired a dozen young attorneys—like yourself—to submit space permit applications for seemingly separate startup companies. However, our research revealed common links to shell companies in the Cayman Islands and Dubai, interlocking boards, and shared bank accounts.”
Shit. Rochat felt the ground crumbling beneath him.
“Lunargistics’ permit application has been flagged, along with the others, and sidelined pending further review. The Ministry of the Economy takes a dim view of misrepresentation. The entities behind this could be engaging in stock fraud or money laundering—with no intention to develop space industry. That could hurt the duchy’s reputation as a transparent and legal marketplace. Space is a very big place in which to launder money, and we want no part of that. Do you understand?”
“Yes, of course, Deputy Director.” Rochat was still trying to process the news. The question that kept coming back to him was, Why me? But then, this sort of thing happened during booms. That didn’t make the news any less bad.
“So the parent entity was larger than they revealed?”
“Capitalized in the billions. Privately held. The individual investors unknown.”
Rochat was dumbfounded, but then a thought occurred to him: The parent companies were capitalized in the billions.
“Deputy Director, I appreciate you informing me. Would it be possible for me to see the other company applications—so that I can cancel my contract for cause?”
The bureaucrat sighed, but he seemed to have taken pity on Rochat. Or perhaps he really did need the coffee. “Contact my office. Ask for Maurice. Tell him you are Lunargistics’ attorney of record. You can request a copy of the ministry’s findings report by filing a Form 914. It is public information—however, the filing is not free.”
“Yes.” He winced. “Do you know how much it is?”
“In the hundreds, I imagine. Ask Maurice.” They had reached the deputy director’s door. The man raised his cup. “Thank you for the coffee, Counselor. Let’s hope you learn something from this first mistake.”
“Thank you, Deputy Director. I will do just that, sir. I’ll phone Maurice.” Rochat produced his business card. “In case you ever need to contact me.”
The deputy director wrinkled his nose as he looked at the card. It showed the words “Sirius Legal Services” with a silver rocket plume powering the S skyward. “This isn’t Silicon Valley, Counselor. Get yourself an adult business card.” The deputy director entered the building.
“Yes, sir. Thank you again, Deputy Director.”
Rochat stood for several moments in the medieval cobblestone street. So his insignificant first client was bigger than he thought. Valued in the billions.
He might have a chance to turn this around yet.
CHAPTER 8
Potlatch
During the Cold War, the International Astronautical Congress—or IAC—had been one of the few forums where East and West could meet to discuss issues of the space race. Now the IAC was where everyone met to discuss everything about space.
As an emcee worked the conference audience, Erika Lisowski stood just offstage and focused on her phone screen, studying questions for the panel she was about to moderate. She noticed the edge of her phone quivering slightly and willed it to stop. Public speaking didn’t frighten her. Neither did the aerospace heavyweights who would sit on her panel. Instead, what worried Lisowski was that she was about to cross a line beyond which there might be no return.
There was no doubt that her panel would make news. No one had ever managed to get all six Space Titans on one stage before. It promised to be a good show, and as a result the audience was already beyond standing room. Her panel would also be simulcast live to the Internet. Millions were expected to tune in.
The trick would be getting the Titans to go beyond their carefully crafted PR-speak and into a bare-knuckle discussion about development of space. To have the debate that really needed to take place in public.
However, Lisowski had an ace up her sleeve—one that she hoped would come through for her when it really counted.
Five out of six of the Titans already stood impatiently nearby.
George Burkett had arrived with an entourage of assistants and suited security men wearing earpieces. Diminutive and slim, Burkett kept his head not just bald but polished. His intense demeanor was belied by a tendency to wear checkered shirts, jeans, and sneakers. Worth north of three hundred billion dollars, Burkett had become the richest man in the world by creating the world’s largest Internet logistics and cloud computing company.
Raymond Halser stood next to Burkett. In his seventies, with a prodigious belly, big hands, thick-framed eyeglasses, and Asimov-like muttonchop sideburns, Halser kept sighing and checking his enormous watch.
Next to him stood tanned, bearded British entrepreneur Thomas Morten in a gray plaid jacket—and Jack Macy, Burkett’s direct rival in the reusable rocket race. Macy wore a tailored suit, but without a tie. He had his own security detail and assistant entourage.
Asteroid-mining robotics entrepreneur Alan Goff rounded out the group, appearing generic enough to be mistaken for part of Macy’s security detail.
Stagehands worked to get the Titans miked up.
Burkett frowned. “Weren’t we supposed to be onstage by now, Erika? I have a tight schedule.”
Lisowski checked her watch—a timepiece hand-built by her grandfather, an aerospace engineer. It was one minute after they were scheduled to begin—but just then she heard a familiar voice.
“Lighten up, George. A true showman knows to let the audience wait.”
Everyone turned to see Nathan Joyce approaching, sipping on one of his own brands of nootropic energy drinks. He was dressed in a Clash concert T-shirt and ripped jeans. Joyce stood several inches taller than the others and had a casual swagger that immediately irritated the shit out of everyone.
Lisowski clamped back a relieved smile. “Nathan’s here. Wonderful. We can begin.”
The stagehands quickly miked up Joyce as Lisowski signaled the emcee, then placed her hands together. “Gentlemen, if you are ready . . .”
Suddenly there was a swell of applause, and Lisowski motioned for her guests to follow her onstage. Their emergence prompted even more rapturous applause, as the Titans waved to the assembled aerospace investors, executives, government officials, and academics. These six individuals could make humanity’s dreams come true—or so the room appeared to believe. Phone cameras flashed as people recorded this historic scene.
It took another minute to calm the room down and get the billionaires seated in their Danish-modern armchairs. Lisowski motioned for silence and eventually brought the room under control.
“I want to thank the International Astronautical Federation as well as NASA and ESA for making this exceptional panel possible. My name is Erika Lisowski, NASA program executive for emerging space. In that role, I’ve had the opportunity to get to know the world’s leaders in commercial space exploration, my esteemed guests today.”
Lisowski introduced each of the billionaires in turn, to varying levels of ovation—with Burkett and Macy garnering the lion’s share, as expected.
Joyce—whose recent crowdfunding scheme for asteroid mining was generally seen as undignified—received just a smattering of applause.
Introductions over, Lisowski took a deep breath and turned to her panel. “First question: George Burkett, back in 2017 astrophysicist Stephen Hawking warned that unless our species found a way to colonize another planet in the next century, humanity faced the real threat of extinction. He said, and I quote, ‘With climate change, overdue asteroid strikes, epidemics, and population growth, our own planet is increasingly precarious.’ In light of Dr. Hawking’s statement, do you feel there is sufficient urgency about investment in space exploration?”
If Burkett was irked by the question, he didn’t show it. Of all the billionaires here, Burkett had been investing in private space exploration for nearly three decades. He had a reputation as a methodical investor—which stood in stark contrast to Macy, who was already fidgeting in his chair, clearly itching to speak.
The audience chuckled at this.
Burkett ignored them as he pondered the question for several more moments. Finally he said, “Space exploration, more than just about any other investment I can think of, requires adherence to reason. No amount of passion gets you to space—physics and economics are what get you there.” He paused for applause. “We will only be able to make deep space viable for humanity when the math makes sense, and at the moment, we’re still working that problem.”
Macy fidgeted some more.
Lisowski turned to him. “Jack, you seem eager to respond to that.”
He gasped melodramatically to more laughter. “Yes. I don’t think there’s anywhere near enough urgency.”
That earned even more applause.
“I share Dr. Hawking’s goal to make humanity a multiplanet species. It’s why I’m all in when it comes to industries that will either help us colonize Mars or buy us the time to do so—by addressing climate change through electric cars and solar power, for example.”
Burkett calmly responded, “You’ve invested a fraction of what I have, Jack, and although you were first, Starion’s reusable launch systems are now more reliable and more cost-effective. Which means they’ll lift more payloads into space. Slow and steady wins the race.”
“I’m glad that we’re competing, George. The more the merrier, I say.”
The audience applauded once more.
Lisowski piped in, “That brings up a good point; there are now dozens of smaller space-launch startups in several countries. Jack, if satellite launch services become a low-margin business and Zenith’s profit margins slide, does that make your self-imposed goal of colonizing Mars more difficult? You’re already a decade behind your original timeline.”
The audience oohed at the challenge implied in Lisowski’s question.
“Not at all, Erika. If launch costs go down, my plan to settle Mars is more attainable, not less. Those reduced launch costs have complicated the situation far more for NASA and their SLS”—he pointed at Lisowski—“which is why I still have a chance to beat you guys there.”
The audience laughed and applauded.
Joyce shook his head. “What is it with you and colonizing Mars, Jack? It makes no damn sense.”
The audience was shocked into silence.
Macy actually turned his seat to glare at Joyce.
Joyce held up his hands. “Don’t get me wrong. Your innovations in reusable rockets helped launch this entire commercial space race. We’re all grateful, but that doesn’t mean we should colonize Mars.”
Macy replied immediately. “Stephen Hawking seemed to feel it was a worthy goal. I share his concern that humanity must become a multiplanet species or risk extinction.”
Joyce casually crossed his legs. “Now, why would you act like I don’t know that? I didn’t say we shouldn’t expand into the solar system. I asked you why you’re so fixated on Mars—in particular.”
Macy looked impatient. “Because Mars is close by, has a vast supply of resources, and it’s the most Earth-like destination. Nathan, I’m glad you’re on this stage with us, but everyone else here has been investing in commercial space for over a decade. Some of us for three decades. You’ve made a hodgepodge of very recent, modest investments—and one very optimistic fund-raising video.”
The audience laughed.
“That might get you on this stage, but it doesn’t make you an expert.”
Joyce waved it off. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it—”
“I’ve ‘talked about it’ all over the world. It’s not a secret why I want humanity to colonize Mars.”
“I think there are better options.”
The audience murmured.
Macy actually turned to Burkett, who for once just shook his head.
Halser leaned in. “What in the blazes are you on about, Nathan?”
Morten also frowned in confusion.
Joyce swiveled in his chair. “Why wouldn’t we build colony stations near Earth instead of settling Mars? In cislunar space. O’Neill cylinders or—”
Macy turned on Lisowski. “Erika, can we move on from this? Twenty-mile-long colony ships are a century or more in our future. The theme of this year’s conference is ‘What’s Next,’ not ‘What’s Next Century’—we should be talking about what’s happening in commercial space exploration.”
Joyce leaned forward. “Who says space colonies are a century in the future?”
“We eventually will have space colonies, Nathan, but Mars—”
Burkett interjected, “And the Moon.”
Macy nodded. “And, yes, the Moon, will provide humanity the resources we need to expand into space. We can’t just start out building 20-mile-long constructs in the vacuum of space. We need to begin on another planetary body.”
Lisowski asked, “Does that include asteroid mining, Jack?”
“No. Why would we go vast distances seeking tiny, isolated rocks that contain barely anything, only to expend lots of delta-v to get the material back to where we need it?”
Goff now leaned in. “No offense, Jack, but that’s not an accurate representation of the asteroid-mining business model. The return delta-v’s on NEA resources are—”
Macy shook his head. “Alan, you can’t obtain the tonnage of material that we can from Mars. The surface area of Mars is equal in size to all the continents of Earth.”
Halser said, “Sounds like you’re going to need lots of inflatable habitats.”
The audience laughed.
Macy chuckled, too. “Yes, we will, Ray.”
Halser turned to the audience. “See why I’m in the inflatable habitat business? No matter who wins . . .”
The audience laughed again, breaking the tension.
Joyce still focused on Macy. “Colonizing Mars is madness.”
The audience groaned.
Joyce looked out at the audience. “You heard me. I’m not a member of the Church of Mars.”
Macy now looked truly annoyed.
Joyce continued. “Sure, we need to visit Mars—and do research on Mars—but colonizing Mars is a trap.” He turned to Macy. “Jack, what do you propose to do about the fact that Mars only has a third of Earth’s gravity? How are you gonna change that?”
“We don’t know that that’s a significant problem.”
“We have some idea. The human body evolved over millions of years to function in one Earth gravity. Astronauts suffer health issues from just a few months in microgravity.” He peeled off the problems on his fingers. “Bone and muscle loss, eye damage—to say nothing of the viability of pregnancy in a low-gravity environment. You’re willing to send people all the way to Mars before we find out if that’s a problem? Why not build a station in cislunar space that can rotate to simulate various levels of gravity long-term before we send people to colonize Mars? Oh, but then, I guess if you did that, you’d be halfway to building a space colony, wouldn’t you?”
Burkett turned to Lisowski. “Will we be having any new questions from you, Erika?”
Lisowski nodded. “We will move on—but I imagine Jack wants to address Nathan’s gravity objection first.” Lisowski looked out at the audience questioningly. “Right? Is everyone interested in hearing Jack’s answer?”
The audience applauded their encouragement.
Macy sighed. “One-third gravity isn’t the same as microgravity, Nathan, and it will make construction of habitats and greenhouses that much easier.”
