Kinsella (Kinsella Universe Book 1) (8 page)

“The one rational thing NASA has done in the last half of the last decade was to decide to service the Hubble Space Telescope with a shuttle mission.  They decided that supply missions to the ISS would fly on Russian cargo rockets... oh, and the once inexpensive Russian boosters are now significantly more expensive and the Russian government isn’t as nice as it once was.”

“So, two concepts.  The first is to develop a better way to take crew and light supplies to the ISS in the short term.  The second, a better way to haul physically large chunks of equipment and serious tonnages of supplies to the ISS, also in the short term.  And, as long as we’re at it, it wouldn’t hurt to have a capability with those vessels to go a little further than low earth orbit.  Safely, I might add.  The one further recommendation I have is personal: I recommend no vessel be built in this program whose name starts with the letter ‘C.’”

“And you’d like us to do what with these concepts, Professor?” Brian Taverner asked.

“Think of this as space junkyard wars, but with a larger budget.  I’d like a design using off-the-shelf components that can be easily and safely adapted to fly into orbit using Benko-Chang modified turbines.  Instead of triple redundancy on components, I’d like four or five.  Preferably at least two options functionally the same, but built along fundamentally different designs.”

“Budget?” asked one of the women.

“Well, like I said, the crew to orbit project is mine.  I’m willing to spend fifty million on the prototype.  After that, half that per unit.  Or less.  What you all do with the heavy-lifter design, that’s your affair.”

Stephanie looked around the room.  “I’m going to speak heresy now and you are free to agree or disagree as you will, but it’s something I hold to be true.  One of the worst things that happened to space science in this country was the “cost plus” contract that could be easily modified.  I realize such contracts are your bread and butter, but if you don’t have any restraint on spending... well, nothing restrains your spending.  It is not in your company’s best interest to adopt a thousand dollar solution when a million dollar solution works just as well.”

Someone else, the suit from the XA-4 tour, waved his hand and Stephanie recognized him.

“You have a very broad concept statement.  Let’s narrow it a bit.  Off-the-shelf parts you say; that’s fine.  Fuel?”

“The Benko-Chang effect requires a high speed turbine, with additional power inputs to produce the magnetic vortices.  The original mobile apparatus was self-contained, and Johnny Chang had no trouble generating sufficient current for the controls and the effect generation from the turbine itself, without interfering with the effect.  Thus, we can use anything that can make a turbine spin.  So far, we’ve used gas turbines because they are common and relatively inexpensive.  We used kerosene for fuel and added bottled oxygen for an oxidizer for operation outside the atmosphere.  The bottled oxygen was the biggest weight item on the lunar flight after the vehicle itself.”

“And where do you want to take off and land?”

“Any runway suitable for general aviation.  It was my thought to modify a general aviation airframe as a quick, short-term solution.”

There were indrawn breaths up and down the table.  Stephanie tried not to let her exasperation show.  “I envisage taking an existing airframe, changing the door to a shuttle docking adapter.  Engineering isn’t my field, but obviously the craft would also need modifications to the avionics, to all sorts of things.  That’s what engineers like you are for: to work out those things.

“How about return to flight?” the suit asked.

“What do you mean?” Stephanie replied.

“How long do you envision it taking one of these vehicles to recycle back to launch status, after it lands?”

“It’ll be a spacecraft,” Stephanie told him.  “I wouldn’t be comfortable, initially, just vacuuming the carpet, making sure the tray tables and seats are locked in the fully upright position and restocking the bar and pantry.  A lot of things would need to be checked at first, until we get a baseline on what’s happening.  A day or two, at least initially.  Eventually, a few hours.  Civil aviation standards would be good.”

“Payload?” the man persisted.

“A half dozen passengers, two crew.  Passenger carry-ons like the airlines do.  Perhaps another ton or two of light cargo.  This isn’t a heavy lift vehicle.  I’ll leave that to you folks.”

“Do you have fifty million dollars?” Brian Taverner asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do.  I’d say it’s been burning a hole in my wallet for some time now, except it doesn’t fit in my wallet.  I use an eighteen-wheeler as a piggy-bank.”

There was laughter around the table.

What happened then was what John Gilly had hoped for.  Three dozen of the country’s leading aerospace engineers got out their pens and pencils and started doodling on napkins, talking with each other, asking questions of Stephanie.  The napkins were replaced by laptops, white boards replaced table cloths and even more questions were asked.

Around six o’clock in the evening, it was Brian Taverner who called the meeting back to order.

“I must say, I never expected this degree of ah, call it, enterprising effort on a problem.  Isn’t it refreshing to work with someone who doesn’t care a rat’s patootie about mil spec?”

There was laughter around the room.  “Yeah, we’ve gotten a long way from our roots.  We’ve let the bean counters and the front office types drive things for entirely too long.  Tomorrow, you will all report here at seven in the morning for work on our own project.

“I’ve been thinking all afternoon if what Professor Kinsella suggested for us to tackle was the right sort of project.  You know what?  I’m going to need more time to decide what our best interest is.  But this I know: something like what Professor Kinsella suggested is bread and butter for the next steps we need to take.  We’ll get experience with the hardware, which is a good thing, but she’s right too, that it will be the experience of thinking without the prior ball and chain that will do us the most good in the long run.

“Anything we build to haul any significant mass to orbit at this point in time is going to be obsolete in a year.  We don’t want to spend much on it, but as a prototype, as a learning device, it’s a project worthy of being done, and needs to be done, and if we can keep it cheap, we still may make money!”

There were nods all around the table.

“One thing we didn’t ask, Professor, was the time frame you’re expecting for your project?”

“Oh, I’d like to have something flying in thirty days.  Like you, I don’t see it having a long shelf life, but the experience will do everyone a lot of good.”

“Well, my napkin-based calculation says that you’ve budgeted two to three times too much,” Brian told her.

“Like I said, this isn’t my field, and I agree with Captain Gilly: there’s nothing better than hitting up experts when you need expert advice!”

“Professor, could we impose upon you to return tomorrow?  We just want to bounce questions off you.  Granted, most of the basic stuff we got today, but you have what I would term a refreshing perspective on engineering.  Kind of the ultimate in pragmatism.”

Stephanie smiled.  “I watched and learned from Johnny Chang.  The young man doesn’t know diddly about theoretical physics, but he certainly knows a lot of practical things.  We were doing a final review of the Bug-to-the-Moon project, when someone wondered what the effect of vacuum was going to be on the tires.  We’d taken into account all of the instruments and controls; we never thought about the tires.

“We ended up slathering them with a very low vapor pressure silicon jelly.  As of yesterday afternoon, the left front tire, the only one we put telemetry on, has had a steady pressure increase, not a decrease.  It’s increased to the point where I’m afraid it’s going to blow out soon, but so far it has remained airtight.  The silicon jelly was Johnny’s idea.”

Chapter 5 — Washington

The aircraft that waited for them at Burbank airport on Saturday morning was a business jet with no special markings.

Trina Benko looked around the cabin, her baby in her arms.  “Stan?  What kind of airplane is this?”

Stan could only shrug.

Captain Gilly spoke up.  “This is a Gulfstream 550; this particular model seats ten, Mrs. Benko.”

“Stan never said what this is about; he said we’d won a free trip to Washington, DC.”

“That’s about it, Mrs. Benko,” John Gilly reassured her.  “Did Stan mention who he’s going to be meeting with Monday morning?”

“He said the President, but I thought he was kidding.”

“He’s not, Mrs. Benko.  Please, sit down.  You can hold your son if you want, but it would be safer if your son had his own seat.  There are plenty, you don’t have to worry.”

“It’s unsafe?” the woman said, suddenly nervous and unsure.

“No, it’s quite safe.  The President himself has flown in this particular aircraft several times.  So have I.”

She sat down, leaning close to talk to Stan.

Stephanie took one of the seats towards the rear of the aircraft, part of a group of four around a table.  She delved into her purse and pulled out a pack of cards.  She shuffled them quickly and looked around brightly.  “Anyone up for a little bridge to kill the time?”

Anna Sanchez grimaced, looking at Captain Gilly.  “She always wins, I don’t know why she even bothers to play with us.”

“Hope springs eternal,” David Louie said.  “Sure, why not?  Please, Prof, just don’t suggest we play for money!”

“Perhaps,” Stephanie told him, “I can entice you?”  She reached into a folio she pulled from her purse and handed him a piece of paper and then handed another to Anna as well.

“What’s this?” David asked.

“That’s an assignment to each of you of one percent of my patent royalty income on the Benko-Chang patent and any subsequent patents deriving there from.”

David looked at it and shrugged.

Anna, though, laughed.  “David, David!  It means for every billion dollars Professor Kinsella makes, she gives us ten million.  I can live with that!”

“I was talking to Marjorie Cavanaugh in the Rights office,” David said.  “She said that Professor Kinsella has set the price for licensing Benko-Chang technology very high.”

“Ten thousand dollars a turbine,” Stephanie agreed, nodding.  “Although I have to disagree with the characterization as to the cost of the license.”

Stephanie smiled at David.  “Did Ms. Cavanaugh report to you the number of license applications, to date?”

He shook his head.

Captain Gilly laughed.  “Let’s see.  You, Professor, have applied for sixteen, Lockheed two hundred.  The two of you, Mr. Louie, each made $2160 dollars yesterday, assuming you sign off on Professor Kinsella’s proffer.”

Anna Sanchez pulled a pen out of her purse, signed her copy and kited it back to Stephanie.  “Yowza!  Almost enough to buy books for next semester!”

The three Caltech alumni at the table chuckled.

David waved towards the front of the aircraft.  “Why do they act like morons?”

“I won’t speculate,” Professor Kinsella said.  “But some of the senior people in the department have told them that it won’t be worth anything.  Johnny Chang disagrees, but Stan Benko is... Stan Benko.”

For the next two hours they played rubber bridge, trading partners after each rubber.

It was, John Gilly thought, quite clear that if there was strategy involved with a hand, Stephanie Kinsella was on top of it.  Finally they started their approach to Andrews Air Force Base and Stephanie put the cards away.

Stephanie lagged behind the others as they climbed down the steps that had been wheeled up to the aircraft after they had stopped.

John Gilly grinned.  “I know when I’m in the doghouse.  It’s something you learn, being married.”

Stephanie passed him a quick smile.  “My parents taught me early.  Tell me, Captain, did you take anything away from Thursday and Friday?”

“That you were prepared, in spite of my efforts to surprise you.”

“It wasn’t much of a surprise,” Stephanie told him.  “Anything else?”

“You didn’t like the general idea, but then you steered things where you wanted and were okay with it.”

“I am, Captain, twenty-two years of age.  I’m not a little kid who needs to be dressed by her mommy.  You might not think I understand what it is I want to do, but I assure you that I’ve thought more about this than you have.  More than you, more than the President and more than all of the President’s men have thought about it.  More than all of you combined.

“It was that way yesterday, it’s that way today, it will be that way a week from now, a year from now and five years from now.  You and the President are big boys, it’s not my job to tell you how to button your shirts or tie your shoes.  I’m here to offer advice, to offer a plan.  I can’t make decisions for you; that’s your job.

“You will find I work well with others.  While I’m naturally bossy and anal, that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the issues.  You need to make sure the President knows that I understand what the world is like just as much as he does, because so far neither of you have impressed me very much.  That I’m here speaks well of the President.  What happened Thursday and Friday speaks to a juvenile delight in a meaningless surprise, a surprise that was guessable almost the instant you offered your mysterious invitation.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you did for me, because I do — but I’m not happy about the way you did it or some of your implicit assumptions behind it.  You know the project I want to manage.  It shouldn’t be hard to understand that I want a crew of the best engineers obtainable.  I have every intention of letting them do their jobs.  My project is going to need the services of some of the smartest technicians and support staff that exist.  I have every intention of letting them do their jobs.

“I may be young, Captain, but if you low ball me, if the President low balls me, that’s your problem.  At a certain point I’ll decide you’re clueless and take another route to achieve my goals.”

“I’m sorry, Stephanie.  It was a simple desire to see you grin and go, ‘Gosh wow!’”  He smiled at her.  “I was seduced by the dark side of the Force.”

“Well, let that happen again and I’ll tell your wife about how easy it is to seduce you.”

That resulted in a bark of laughter from Captain Gilly.

They went outside and joined the others, standing by the limo.

“Two things,” Captain Gilly told everyone, “tomorrow at ten, we have a special tour laid on for you, to take you around to see some of Washington’s sights.  Lunch is included.  It’s true you could go on your own, but, trust me, you won’t get better service than you will get as guests of the President!  At four, tomorrow afternoon, we’ll have a short meeting to make sure we’re all on the same page for Monday morning.

“While I can’t stop you from picking up the phone and calling a reporter or news organization, you have to understand that if we trace a leak back to you, and we would, then your participation goes to zero.  Not in dollar terms, but in terms of input.”

Stephanie spoke up.  “I’m being unfair here, speaking to Stan only, but I think the rest of you are smart enough to understand that I mean you as well.  If not, listen carefully.

“You can pick up the phone and call CNN or Fox.  You might, possibly, get as much as ten thousand dollars for your scoop.  They might just decide to extend that to a hundred grand, but I think if you’re relying on the generosity of a TV news network, you’re barking up the wrong tree.

“Still, it would be money in your pocket!”

She smiled at Stan.  “Except you would become persona non grata with the government.  You would get your per diem for this trip and that would be it.  You could probably make a few thousand dollars on the personal appearance circuit, maybe even ten or twenty thousand — and that would be it.  You’d be out of the loop, would never be let back in the loop, and you’d be professionally washed up.  No one wants to hire a leaker.

“Stick with us for a few days.  Then there will be talk shows and other guest appearances.  You’ll get to keep the money you earn for those... except the government will be on your side instead of sniping at you every way they can.”

Stan Benko looked at Professor Kinsella, a surly expression on his face.  “You’re trying to screw us.”

“Stan, the money was settled last week, remember?  You get a quarter of the patent royalties; Johnny gets a quarter.  Do you even know what your one day total is?”

“Pardon?”

“The first license applications were received yesterday.  If those licenses are granted, which Caltech would have to be insane not to grant them, how much did you make yesterday?”

“I have no idea.”

“Mr. Chang, how about you?  Do you know?” Stephanie asked.

“A half million dollars.  If the license applicants actually pay up.”

“Does your knowledge extend to who they are?”

“You and Lockheed.”

“Not noted welshers,” Stephanie said dryly.  “Just control yourself, people.  In a week, pretty much, you can say and do what you want.  After that you’ll be able to talk to anyone you want, say anything you want and take the money to the bank.”

“Stan,” Captain Gilly said levelly, “one thing.  I’m not an easy person to impress.  Unless you are a total fool you have to know that if Professor Kinsella wished, she could have been alone on this aircraft this weekend and you wouldn’t have known about it until later.  You were given free rein to write your paper, to file the patent.  The university was cognizant of your rights in regards to the license fees and did not cut into your share to recompense Professor Kinsella — they did it out of their portion.  They would have been entirely within their rights to have taken it from yours.

“I would advise you for the rest of the week to think very carefully before you speak, unless someone solicits your opinion directly.  And in that case, I would be very general and vague in my answers.”

“What are we doing here?” Johnny Chang asked.  “You said the President was interested in the patent.  I assume that’s because we put a VW on the moon.  Which means someone else could put something even larger up there — with a crew.”

“This isn’t the place to discuss it, Mr. Chang,” Captain Gilly told him.  “Please wait until tomorrow afternoon, and we can talk more about it then.”

“I notice everyone’s tiptoeing around the gorilla,” Anna Sanchez said quietly.

“Pardon?” Stan asked, obviously confused.

“It’s October 30, 2010.  Tomorrow is Halloween and two days after that are the off year elections.  How much of this is politics?”

Captain Gilly looked around.  No one else was close.  “In Washington, Miss Sanchez, when to take a pee break is a political decision.  Does the term ‘October Surprise’ ring any bells?”

Anna shook her head.

“Well, let’s just say that the favorite time for one party or the other to pull a political dirty trick on the other is the week before the election.

“The President really and truly believes that this is so big that it transcends politics.  Besides, his party is ahead in the polls and looks set to gain enough seats in the Senate to defeat a filibuster.  He has spent the bulk of the last week campaigning, as well as this weekend.  Monday he is going to confound quite a few pundits.  There will probably be a few late leaks Monday, but he expects the media to embargo them until after the election.

“So, yes.  There is going to be a huge gorilla sitting with us in the meeting Monday.  Better for everyone if you just ignore it.  Wednesday things will be different, so just be patient about that, too.”

Later that evening Anna found Stephanie in the one of the sitting rooms, her feet up on a table, staring at nothing in particular.  Anna smiled at the glass of iced tea sitting next to her mentor.  “Professor Kinsella, you said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Have a seat.  Would you like something to drink?”

Anna grinned.  “Saturday night is my one luxury.  I go out dancing.  In the course of the night I have one beer.  Sometimes if the company is good and I’m in the mood, two.”  The two women traded smiles.

“Anna, you are a wonderful student, keen, sharp, and bright.  There are a thousand adjectives that I could use to describe you.  Moreover, you’re easy to work with, you know how to supervise others and how get the best from them.”

Anna Sanchez grinned.  “Boss, I learned at the feet of a master.  Your management style consists of three things: you hire good people, you tell them what you want... and then you either fire them when they do something else or you give them attaboys and something else to do if they’ve done good.”

“It’s called hiring good people and letting them get on with the job,” Stephanie told her.  “So, Anna — tell me what are you going to do with your doctorate?”

“I have some ideas.  Not quite the same ones I had a few months ago, but close enough.  Once I have the doctorate I’m going to go long... instead of being someone’s flunkie, I’m going to get a teaching position and start working on grant proposals.  Eventually, I want to head up my own lab.”