Critical Mass: A Novel Page 3

  “You don’t get to decide that.”

  The pinched-faced man slid a piece of paper across the table to her. “Dr. Lisowski, the Justice Department is prepared to offer immunity from prosecution—providing you cooperate with investigators and reveal everything you know about the Konstantin spacecraft, its crew, how it was financed, and the people who built it—as well as detailed information on the resources returned to lunar orbit. Providing that you hold back nothing from us, you can still avoid prison.”

  Lisowski raised an eyebrow. “Immunity from prosecution. How very generous of you.” She pulled the piece of paper toward her and studied it. “And here I am without an attorney.”

  “This isn’t a negotiation.”

  The woman said, “You will, of course, be demoted—down from GS-15 Step 5 to GS-14 Step 1—from an executive to a program manager, and because you abused your authority, you will report to the new program executive for emerging space. Likewise, the existence of the resources returned by the asteroid miners as well as the existence of the Konstantin itself has been classified on national security grounds—a secrecy you will maintain or be in breach of this agreement.”

  Lisowski perused the document. “So the government is building yet another cylinder of excellence and locking this up.”

  The woman added, “Sign that document, Erika, and you can put your legal and professional troubles behind you. Start to rebuild your career.”

  Lisowski looked up. “Why not ask for my resignation?”

  “There are many within NASA who respect your family’s Apollo lineage. No one wants to tarnish your family’s or the agency’s good name.”

  “Then I’ll give you the answer my grandfather would have . . .” She slid the paper back. “Go to hell. I will never sign this.”

  There was a tense silence.

  An older man at the end of the table, who had yet to speak, said, “You will accept the demotion and keep your knowledge of the Konstantin secret or face dismissal, arrest, and prosecution. In case you hadn’t noticed, we are in a geopolitical and astropolitical struggle against a rival power.”

  Lisowski turned to him. She didn’t recognize the man—but neither did she recognize anyone else here. Defense? Intelligence? Executive branch? It was impossible to know. But he was clearly the one in charge. “You brought me here because you don’t want 5,000 tons of strategic resources in deep space to fall into the hands of the Chinese.”

  The man shot back, “We brought you here, Dr. Lisowski, because your extracurricular activities have gone far enough—and we both know it’s 11,000 tons that the Konstantin has returned, not 5,000.”

  She tried not to blink.

  “We don’t need your cooperation or the cooperation of your asteroid miners to obtain those resources. The United States has had full situational awareness in cislunar space for over a decade. The orbital elements of those robotic tugs is already known to us, and regardless of what you do, or do not do, they will be secured for the United States before the Chinese government can seize them. The only question is whether you want to go to prison.”

  She continued to stare. “You think confiscating those resources helps you?”

  “The professed doctrine of the CCP is to surpass the United States as the dominant space power by 2045—and they’re well on their way to doing just that. These resources in lunar orbit change the equation.”

  Lisowski resolved to press the issue. “So the US takes possession of the resources—then what?”

  One of the men in military uniform answered. “They’ll be used to establish a strategic propellant and minerals reserve for multi-orbit logistics—to counter potential Chinese aggression in deep space.”

  Lisowski didn’t relent. “A reserve? Keeping those resources out of the hands of the CCP isn’t the goal. Using them is the goal. Those resources need to be employed as a stepping-stone to obtain more resources—for all humanity. And damned soon. They should be used to unify the people of Earth in building a complete cislunar industrial infrastructure. To provide global leadership to combat climate change. For access to limitless, sustainable clean energy. They shouldn’t be hoarded for some what-if scenario that ultimately leads to doom. Dying last isn’t a vision for the future.”

  “Dr. Lisowski—”

  “What the world needs is a frontier—one capable of absorbing the creative ambitions of this next generation. Capable of delivering new resources and energy without increasing conflict or environmental damage. Capable of delivering prosperity to the entire globe. Space is that frontier, and if you want a space culture that is friendly to democracy, commerce, and international rule of law, then you must establish it yourself—and you must establish it first.”

  The panelists exchanged looks.

  The older man leaned forward. “And you feel better qualified than us to accomplish that?”

  “No, not me. Let the asteroid miners take charge of those resources in lunar orbit.”

  He scowled. “You want us to turn over a critical strategic asset to a handful of reckless adventurers—only one of whom is American?”

  “Those ‘reckless adventurers’ are responsible for obtaining the resources in the first place. And their backgrounds are a benefit, not a drawback. It helps deflect worldwide opposition to a purely American or Chinese push into deep space.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Bootstrapping an entire off-world economy.”

  They again exchanged looks.

  “Those thousands of tons of asteroid resources at the top of Earth’s gravity well can provide the seed from which a Second Age of Exploration can grow. With it we can establish the first international commodities exchange in space, giving the democracies of the world major-league soft power we don’t want held over us. It could lead to the establishment of a space bond market—and liquidity for massive space infrastructural projects. Which is exactly what’s needed to save civilization here on Earth. And saving human civilization is how we remain indispensable. We cannot bomb our way to security in the twenty-first century. Instead, we must build—and in new domains.”

  “The CCP will not just sit idly by while all this happens.”

  “That’s fine. Free people have a natural advantage on frontiers. Authoritarian subjects wait for permission, but free people take action and innovate. They can rapidly expand human presence in cislunar space—before totalitarian powers seize the L-points and hold them against us.”

  The older man seemed unmoved. “You exaggerate the power of free markets in space, Doctor. Our billionaire Space Titans haven’t been able to make the economics work. Jack Macy’s and George Burkette’s reusable rockets wouldn’t even be profitable without billions in government subsidies, and I don’t see Macy colonizing Mars yet, despite all his talk.”

  Lisowski countered. “Reusable rockets were never going to lift millions of tons into orbit—not without doing massive damage to the environment. Think about what it’s going to take to truly establish ourselves in deep space . . .” She counted off on her fingers. “In-space manufacturing, viable long-term habitats, in situ resource extraction and energy collection, reliable radiation shielding, debris mitigation. Individually, each of these technologies has only a limited commercial payoff, but by going for the whole enchilada at once, Nathan Joyce made a massive leap possible. All we need is the courage to capitalize on the opportunity he gave us.”

  The entire panel looked to the older man.

  He glowered at her.

  She waded into the silence. “Chaos is expanding here on Earth. There are renewed calls for border walls to hold back millions of climate refugees. There are budget shortfalls. Unstable markets. Social division. Serious poverty is growing here in the US. You will not be able to secure the political will here in Washington to do what must be done in space. It will seem too remote and disconnected from politicians’ constituenci
es. These asteroid miners do have the will. They’re the ones who mined these resources in deep space. Let them take action.”

  The older man at the end of the table said, “And if these asteroid miners of yours fail, we will have lost a critical strategic advantage.”

  She remained focused. “I will do everything in my power to make sure they do not fail.”

  One of the other panelists observed, “She’s done pretty well so far, sir.”

  Another added, “At no cost to the taxpayers.”

  The older man pondered this. “Let’s not forget that one of these surviving asteroid miners is a Chinese national. In fact, he’s linked directly to CCP leadership.”

  One of the panelists opened a file. “Captain Jin Hua Han, former fighter pilot and taikonaut, age forty-two. Son of multibillionaire industrialist Jin Longwei. He was dismissed from the CNSA as psychologically unfit—deemed ‘disrespectful of authority and prone to excessive risk-taking.’ ”

  One of the military officers said, “He flew the hell out of that return vehicle, sir.”

  The older man said, “What about his father? The man’s a senior party member.”

  “They’re estranged, with no known financial ties.”

  “And the other two asteroid miners?”

  The panelist flipped to another page. “James Tighe—American, also forty-two. He was an itinerant cave diver prior to the Konstantin expedition. No college. Juvenile criminal record. No employment history to speak of. A video of him went viral on the Internet some years back—some sort of cave rescue. But that’s about it.”

  “Hmph. And the woman?”

  “Priya Chindarkar—Indian national, age forty. Roboticist. Formally disowned by her family back in Mumbai.”

  “What for?”

  “Refusing an arranged marriage. Got herself a full scholarship to the University of Colorado. Then a doctorate in robotics from the Indian Institute of Technology. Worked for the Indian Space Research Organisation designing planetary rovers before joining the Konstantin expedition.”

  “And what have these three been doing since they returned to Earth? Where are they now?”

  “In the EU, sir—Luxembourg City. We have them under surveillance. The Chinese and Russians are surveilling them as well, most likely in hopes of obtaining the orbital elements of those asteroid resources. With the help of their attorney, the miners have rebooted Nathan Joyce’s old company, Catalyst Corporation, and they’re trying to raise private capital to return to orbit.”

  “Then let’s buy them out—before the Chinese do.”

  “The miners are only selling a small stake—for liquidity to return to orbit and, we suspect, to attempt rescue of two crewmates they left behind at Ryugu.”

  “How does rescuing their friends accomplish any of the things you described, Dr. Lisowski?”

  She answered immediately. “Because those refined asteroid resources were placed at the very edge of Earth’s gravity well—in a lunar distant retrograde orbit. That means the miners will need to build their rescue ship out there, and in order to do that, they’ll need to establish industrial infrastructure in deep space—human habitats, power generation, machinery. And they’ll need to do it fast because Ryugu’s next close approach to Earth occurs in just four years’ time.”

  The older man stared. “These crewmates they left behind—do we know if they’re still alive?”

  The military officer said, “No, sir. All communications with the Konstantin have been lost.”

  “What nationality were they?”

  The panelist again flipped through the file. “Isabel Abarca, the flight surgeon, is a well-known Argentinian mountain climber, by now age forty-four. She’s famous for climbing all the highest mountains in the world, Alpine style.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means without fixed ropes or supplementary oxygen.”

  “Presumably she’s relaxed her oxygen prohibition out in space.”

  Slight chuckles among the panel.

  “The other crew member, Adedayo Adisa, is a twenty-something satellite hacker from Nigeria. Part of an orbital ransomware gang based in the slums of Lagos.”

  “An adrenaline junkie and a satellite thief—these are the sort of people our miners want to rescue, and yet you expect us to rely on them, Doctor?” The older man turned back to the panelist. “And who are the miners raising capital from? Burkette? Macy?”

  “Not from the Space Titans, no. Mostly eco-venture funds. Tech investors. No ties to criminal organizations or sovereign capital.”

  “And these investors are aware of the asteroid resources in lunar orbit?”

  “Yes. Word of the Konstantin expedition has gotten out to certain aerospace circles. That’s how they’re raising capital.”

  The woman who first interviewed Lisowski asked, “Who else knows what these miners have accomplished in space? Anyone in media?”

  “There are rumors circulating. It won’t be long before the knowledge goes public—whether or not Dr. Lisowski here maintains secrecy.”

  The older man at the end of the table shook his head. “That won’t do. We can’t have these asteroid miners becoming heroes. Heroes are too difficult to control.”

  “Video will eventually get out. We’ll never contain the secret.”

  “We don’t have to.” One of the officials who had yet to speak, a man in his thirties, leaned forward. “Excuse me, sir, but Nathan Joyce deliberately projected a P. T. Barnum–like persona to deflect serious scrutiny. In short: no one really believed he was capable of this, and the public still believes he was a con artist. We can work with that. The asteroid miners’ past association with Joyce should make it easy to convince the public that they’re just grifters trying to defraud investors. We can mount a psyops campaign to discredit them so the general public believes they never went to Ryugu. Even if they have video evidence, that proves nothing nowadays.”

  Lisowski was appalled. “But these miners have made history. Why would you do that?”

  The old man turned to her. “So they must rely on us to return to orbit.” He glanced toward the other man. “Do it. I want there to be no doubt in the public’s mind that these asteroid miners are con artists. We can’t have them becoming heroes. Not until we’re certain they’re our heroes.”

  Lisowski felt rage building, but she tamped down her anger. Too much was at stake to allow personal feelings to intrude. Especially since she was so very close to success.

  The old man scanned the panelists. “We need to have a sit-down with these three surviving miners—to make certain they know what’s expected of them, and under what terms we’ll permit them to return to space.” He looked at Lisowski. “You’re in contact with their attorney, Doctor—this Lukas Rochat fellow?”

  Lisowski replied, “Yes, he was Nathan Joyce’s protégé. He’s now CEO of the new Catalyst Corporation.”

  “Have him arrange a meeting.”

  “I can schedule a videoconference with the asteroid miners.”

  “No. I want nothing recorded or transmitted.” He tapped the table for emphasis. “An in-person meeting only. Here in the US. In a SCIF.”

  Lisowski frowned. “I can’t promise they’ll go for that. Jin Han is former PLA air force. He won’t be able to enter the US easily. Not in the current political climate.”

  The older man was undeterred. “We’ll grant a special-purpose visa, and we won’t stamp his passport.” He regarded Lisowski for a moment. “Do you think you can arrange such an in-person meeting with our asteroid miners, Doctor?”

  Lisowski nodded. “I can try.”

  “If you want to stay out of prison, you’ll do more than try.”

  Lisowski picked up the plea agreement from the table. “For that, I’ll require my old position and authority to operate as I did before.” She met his gaze.
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  After a moment, the old man sighed. “Very well. Just get it done.”

  With that, she crumpled the plea agreement into a ball and tossed it toward the man in the charcoal suit. Lisowski then grabbed her things, and turned for the door.

  CHAPTER 2

  Prognosis

  AUGUST 10, 2038

  James Tighe sat in a medical examination room, drumming his fingers impatiently. Ever since he had returned from space, he felt as though the entire solar system was one big ticking clock and he was behind schedule.

  Looking around, he suddenly had a memory of Isabel Abarca’s medical bay on the asteroid mining ship Konstantin. That was so much more compact than this examination room. So dense with equipment. He recalled the distinctive smell and sounds of the Konstantin and powerful emotions returned.

  She and Adedayo Adisa were now stranded, alone, tens of millions of kilometers—soon to be hundreds of millions of kilometers—from Earth until the asteroid Ryugu orbited around again. No matter what anyone did, their rescue could not occur sooner, and yet, innumerable obstacles would have to be overcome well before then if there was to be any chance of rendezvousing with the asteroid. Would they even be alive by the time Tighe and his partners could reach them? Were they alive even now?

  That question was more than he could grapple with at the moment. So instead he stood and looked out the window at the skyline of Luxembourg City, where Lukas Rochat had set up their company. The entire commercial space industry seemed to have offices here in Luxembourg for legal reasons. Or political reasons. Or tax reasons. Tighe couldn’t recall which. Maybe all of them. Catalyst support staff had leased him a sterile corporate apartment a few blocks from their headquarters, and for the first time in his life he suddenly had a real mailing address. Tighe had spent so many years on caving expeditions and later in deep space that he hardly knew how to exist like a normal person. Instead, he was restless to reequip and get back into space. How to achieve that was the question.

  A gentle knock came at the door, and a doctor in a lab coat entered—a bespectacled, clean-cut Caucasian man. He clutched a folder under his arm and nodded in greeting. “Good afternoon, Mr. Teeg.” He spoke English with a slight French accent.