Aardvarks to Planet X (book 1 of the hexology in seven parts)
Chapter 2: Aardvarks to Planet X

I first heard it through the screams of hysterical laughter,“Aardvarks to planet x”. It was coming from a roped off area of an exclusive nightclub, Why I was there is not important, a chance mistake on the guest list, I took it and glad I did. It meant I was there right from the start.

Let me explain, a group of very rich wiz kids were whooping it up and loudly out bragging each other. “I can build a bridge across the Atlantic.” “So I could tunnel strait through the earth.” Each getting louder, then James Conrich the wealthiest wiz kid of them all yelled “Aardvarks to planet x.” The others looked bemused “Waa” slurred one, “talk sense” another. “Well” Conrich reconsidered his statement blinking, “I could make a sky lift to take animals with no ill effects of g force and lower them back on say, the Moon, smooth as you like.” The others just sat and stared, then a babble of “can’t be done”, “impossible”, and “just the booze talking.”

Incensed by this obvious objection to his claim, he looked at the group with a withering gaze, stood ramrod strait and intoned. “Gentlemen within the year I will do as I have said, and a million bucks says I will.” Then he just sat back down and eye balled each in turn. Jerry, a squat chap put out his hand and laughed. “Your on, I could do with a few new yachts.” They shook hands and then with the ball now rolling, each of the others shook James hand firmly, pledging to honour the bet. That was how I first learnt about the most ambitious project man had embarked on in the history of the world.

A few weeks later I was flicking through the positions available in the Daily Planet. I like to keep an eye out for a better opportunity, although my job at the university chemistry department paid enough, the work seemed too much of a treadmill. I wanted cutting edge, and I just had safe. Just then an advert caught my eye, James Conrich is seeking fresh ideas in the chemical industry. If you can cut it at the edge of engineering, he wants to see you. There was a phone number, which I immediately dialed. The automated voice began after a couple of rings. “Please state name and university or company attached to.” I reeled off the required information, then nonplussed I went to work.

By mid morning I was engrossed in a tricky problem with covalent bonds between amino acids, when a knock came at my laboratory door. A man in a grey suit was waiting outside, and he asked if I were Doctor Henry Mallow. “Yes I am.” Then would I spare some time to have a chat with Mr. Conrich? Startled, I assented and grabbed my coat, and locking up the lab followed him down the hall. He led me to a plain car, one of the new Electro 3000′s that Conrich’s factories churn out by the million. Sat in the back, I was driven across town to an impressive office building, and was soon zooming up to the fifteenth floor. My temporary chauffer led me to a closed door and knocked. “Please wait here” he intoned, and departed back down again.

The door flew open and my hand was being shaken with vigor, as James Conrich warmly welcomed me in. He was like a Walt Disney of engineering from what I had read. “Doctor Mallow, a pleasure to meet you, sit down.” He indicated a luxurious white sofa, which I was soon ensconced on, as he paced up and down telling me what a fine fellow I was. Read my history and knew I was just the man for a job he had in mind. “Have a drink” and he thrust a glass of juice in my hand. I sipped it, while he explained how he had got the car industry all turned round, with his popularizing the electric car. “The thing is to see the whole picture” he stared at me with those warm blue eyes, I agreed and on he went. When he got resistance he just plain fought it, fire with fire.

“They said my cars were too quiet, they’d sneak up on pedestrians.” So he got a team to recreate a muscle car feel. “All that noise and vibration, electronically recreated in one of my zero emission cars.” They said the power stations supplying the electricity still burned good old oil. So he looked to the wide-open spaces, bought up plain desert cheep, and installed vast arrays of solar panels. His were the best, based on infrared antenna to collect the power. “Just heat” he laughed. “You know Tesla was on to it way back then, wanted to transmit power through the air. Well some genius got to thinking with that set up I wouldn’t need to send it, just get it free. Spent a lifetime and got nowhere, then I came along and bought the patient. Great deal but I saw him right, wouldn’t do a man down for not reaching the finishing line.” Then he put a team on it and got the final pieces in the jigsaw.

“So free fuel for my cars and no need to send expensive delivery trucks to the middle of nowhere. I could build my refilling stations anywhere, so you never got stuck between two towns out of gas. Not too good every ware though, some places don’t get enough sun, but the south made up for that, and we even installed our collectors where people were just letting heat float off into the air.”

He paused for a moment remembering where he was. “I broke the hold those oil barons had, but they’ve still got industry and the domestic market for now.” He winked “but I’m not here to rattle on about me, as I said before, read your achievements and thought that’s our man.” I interrupted him “is it for your plan to build a sky lift?” That stopped him in his tracks like a freight train, suddenly looking like he was x-raying me.

“How do you know about that, if Jerry’s got to you to scupper my bet.” I cut across him, keen to allay his fears. “No Mr. Conrich sir, I happened by chance to be in the Roxy’s ghost the night you made your claim, aardvarks to planet x” and smiled weakly. Then just like a passing hawk he beamed again. “Good man, but don’t go all formal on me Mr. Conrich was my father, James or J.C. if your into that wiz kid chat. We’re all equal here, if you’ve got an idea just come out and say it that’s what feeds the world, some bosses think the world revolves around them”, and off he went again with the passion I always saw in him.

“Some time ago the powers that be, thought our world was at the center of the universe, then science proved them wrong. But current big band theory says that the spark which set all this going”, he waved his hands as if to embrace the world “didn’t happen in one place. Like spots on the surface of a balloon that expanded, so every ware is the center of the universe. Which I suppose makes those old guys right, except everywhere else is the center too.” He paused to recollect his thoughts, “the thing I’m getting at is everyone is at the center of the universe, and every idea we have is just as valid. So do you want to sail on my ship to a bright future?”

I nodded my assent “yes Mr. Con.” and I stopped myself leaning forward to grasp his hand firmly, “James, I would love to.” He beamed, as he stood there fully charged, like an athlete after a good work out. I felt invigorated too, he had a way of charging your vigor with his presence. Conrich turned to the intercom on his desk. “Miss Jones can you arrange for Doctor Mallow to have a leave of absence from his university post. A generous donation to the deans pet project.”

He turned to me and asked if tomorrow was good. I had little to pack and nodded in assent, next he scribbled a figure on a note pad and passed it over. “Will this plus benefits suffice?” It was ten times what I was earning. “Gladly” I replied and with a curt nod he beamed. “I don’t like to talk money, but if a man’s worth anything I’ll let him know, so it’s settled. Henry is waiting to return you to your home, or if you need anything from your lab?” I shook my head, “then I’ll see you tomorrow. We’re moving the nerve center of my operations out to the project ground zero, so to speak.” I was soon home packing what scant effects I might need. Mostly it was reference books.

The next day dawned and I pinched my self in case it was all a dream, but no, there were my cases packed and ready for the off. The bell rang and Henry ushered me into a large car. “For your things” he replied to my enquiring look. Soon packed we set off towards the airport. I had expected to be taken to a private lounge, but after assuring me my bags would be taken care of, my driver directed me through the main doors.

Conrich was standing inside just chatting to a group of suited men, when he saw me he walked over and clapped me on the back. “Glad to see you Henry” he said as he led me across the terminal. “When I fly I like to use the same planes all my customers use, no private jets.” He indicated the check in desks, one of which read fly Rich air. “I don’t need a better slogan than that, it sells itself, of course my planes do have that extra twist.” He had pioneered the single wing design, effectively the whole plane being one wing, it still used aviation fuel but the design dropped the liter per kilo of the load. True there were no window seats, but with the micro cameras installed all round the outside, every seat could be a window seat. “Of course I wanted every seat to be the same. All first class, but the number crunchers showed me their figures, and folks just don’t equate one class with first class, just no class”, he sighed.

So the planes still had that exclusive area reserved for those who had, while those who had not were content with thinking they had a bargain. “The thing is first class service costs a lot less than the price difference, but that’s human nature for you”, he looked glum. Then in an instant he was back to normal. “When I fly I like a party, a captain of industry must be in control of his ship, but for a short while at least I can hand over the wheel to the pilot, can’t do much else really.”

We had reached the desk where a well-dressed lady was haranguing the check in clerk. “I don’t want another flight, I’m lady Fits Milton and I want a first class seat on this flight.” The check in clerk was trying to politely explain that a special party had booked the whole of first class, as Conrich strode up to the desk. “My dear lady Fits Milton I’m afraid I’m the cause of your distress, I would be honored if you would join me and my party on our journey.” He turned to the clerk who was much relieved, and asked him to check the lady’s bags, no charge. “She’s my guest.” She proffered her hand, and he took it.

“My thanks Mr. Conrich, and call me Cynthia, it seems rank does have it’s privileges. If I hadn’t needed a first class seat I wouldn’t be getting a free lift as it were, and from such a gracious host.” Conrich smiled. “Exactly, and now if you will accompany my friend Henry to the first class lounge. I’m sure my associates will welcome you into our happy throng.“I turned to follow, but she was already striding off, her sunglasses now blocking out the world, and a pink hand case rattling behind.

As I quickly followed intending to catch up, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Conrich instructing the check in clerk. The clerk was beaming as he nodded. By the time I caught up, Cynthia was surrounded by the group from the lobby. They were politely laughing at her comments. Just then the announcement came over the Tannoy. “Flight RA376 to Benson Arizona is now boarding”, as Conrich came through the double doors.“If you will accompany me lady and gentlemen, I cordially invite you to my cocktail party on the wing.”

We were soon ushered through security, and passing down the flexible corridor connecting the terminal to our jet. Every now and then I got a glimpse through a window of the huge triangle, gleaming white and emblazoned with Rich air at strategic points. The first class cabin with wide spaces between the seats looked more like a club, with a finishing touch of a small portable bar at one end. A myriad of coloured bottles were strapped to the back wall, and an inscrutable looking bartender stood at attention. We took our seats and I saw the bar tender did too. Then amid polite chat we were soon up in the air. With the seat belt sign off I made my excuses and headed for the lavatory at the back of the room.

Refreshed I stepped out, and heard the muffled tones of our pilot coming through a door that led to standard class. Conrich had his way with that. No economy class, pride should cost nothing. “And I would also like to extend a welcome from Mr. Corich, owner of Rich air. He cordially invites you to a free trip on him, vouchers for air miles are being handed out to the value of this flight. Once more enjoy your time with Rich air.” Cheers were breaking out as the general level of babble rose. This side of the door all this went unnoticed as I returned to my seat. I noticed lady Fits Milton displaying enough jewelry to pay the air miles now being dished out.

I turned to Conrich but he had stood and was now addressing the company as a whole. “May I introduce you eminent men and lady”, nod to Cynthia “to our guest speaker Sam Wellerby, a professor no less.” He paused for effect “of mixology. What Sam doesn’t know about the chemistry of the cocktail is not worth knowing. So without further ado I invite each in turn to have a chat with the professor, and he will instruct you in the ways of liquid refreshment.” At his urging Cynthia went up, and soon after a brief chat, was sipping a bright blue drink in a tall glass. “I saw him put it in, but darn if I can taste the booze.” Conrich grinned “just because you can’t taste it, don’t make there any less sass in your sarsaparilla.” In turn we all met the professor and were pleasantly surprised with the mixture he proffered us.

Just then the co-pilot came up to Conrich and saluted. “The captain wanted you to know your greetings are returned”, and with that enigmatic message turned to go. But Conrich stopped him. “Stay awhile, I’m sure captain Wilco can keep an eye on the autopilot for a while. Have a chat with the professor and I’m sure he can rustle you up a virgin to your taste.” So with a non-alcoholic drink in hand Bill the co-pilot took a seat. “Well I think it’s time for a game” our host piped up, directing us all to some panels that came free from the wall. Under Conrich’s directions we used them to assemble a table, attached to four of the middle seats that folded down for the occasion. Then he produced a box about two and a half feet by one and a half, and a couple of inches thick. On the front embossed across a map of the world, was the word Risk.

“This, my esteemed guests is my solution to mutually assured destruction, or at least it was at the tender age of thirteen.” He unpacked the board and pieces, which turned out to be mildly magnetic, thus sticking to the table top just enough to keep them there, but not hinder play. Then he explained the rules. “I figured back in my youth, that if any would be dictator could conquer the world on here, he would have no need to do it for real, leading to a lot less blood shed.

In fact a few years back I heard a rumor that the five permanent UN defense committee nations, were trying to suppress the game in the Dark Continent. So I got a whole bunch of these printed in Somali, wrapped each in bubble film then loaded up one of those cargo planes. You know the ones with the fold down backs.” He took a sip of his drink, “then I got it to fly all over that country just dropping them out. I heard it’s a national past time now.” One fellow snorted, and smiling kindly Conrich continued. “Well I heard unwanted activities in that area had dropped considerably. Better than Kaufman’s plan to feed Vegemite to the Middle East, to counter the vitamin deficiency he claimed was getting them all riled up.” At that we all laughed, and so the game began.

“Todays game is to complete your mission on the card you’ve just drawn. Makes it more fun not to know if you’re helping an opponent, with a cunning advance through Europe.” As the game progressed he maneuvered his troops with the skill of a general. He was magnanimous in his defeats and apologetic in victory. Always encouraging to his fellow players, and never broke a pact.

I glanced over at the barman; the slow stream of drinks got replenished according to the wants of his charges. He seemed to keep a close eye on the group, as if judging the needs of each and so mixing his drinks accordingly. No one fell into an over exuberant state, or succumbed to sleep, all just enjoyed that extended moment in time. A lesser man might have suspected Conrich of a manipulation of the group to his ends, but I knew in my heart that he would never be a party to such base actions, and his relaxed nature was as chemically induced as our own. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Finally with a storm through Australia, he turned his card over to reveal his mission complete, and every one congratulated him with genuine affection. The co-pilot rose. “I should see how captain Wilco is getting on, he’ll need to stretch his legs I bet.” He extracted a device like an inhaler from his pocket, and blew in to it. The top turned green, he nodding at the group, and headed off to the cabin. “A little device I had made up for our pilots” Conrich explained, at the enquiring looks from the group. “Instant breathalyzers have been about for some time, so we added a few features and to cut a long story short. If any intoxicating substance gets into one of my pilots, we know strait away, great for safety. The other airlines snapped it up. It would look bad on them otherwise.”

“We tried it for cars but civil liberties stopped that one, you can’t stop a drunk from getting in front of the wheel, it’s his right. Still when we finally get self-driving cars they won’t have an excuse and numbers will prove how deadly some people can be. But I see from the on screen flight progress we will be landing soon, so I think we best tidy our room up.” So we all proceeded to disassemble the table, pack the game away and return the chairs to the upright. Soon you would have never known it was nothing but a first class section.

The captain came over the Tannoy. “Ladies and gentlemen we will be shortly arriving at Benson municipal airport, we hope you had a pleasant flight to day.” We disembarked shortly, and thanking Conrich for the lovely time, lady Fits Milton left our group, unaware she had been let off a considerably smaller percentage of her wealth than the rest of the passengers. “The publicity costs of all that good will, pays for itself many times over”, quipped the great engineer, as we headed for the exit.

Free of the airport we were met by two large four by four cars. “One for the opposition?” I inclined my head to Conrich. He smiled, “Bigger batteries for bigger cars, the technology is always advancing. They’re just the same as what’s in your phone, only scaled up. We just trickle our profits down to the latest license holders, too many competitors to worry about R an D.” I got in the back one with three of our group, while Conrich took the lead with the balance of our party.

We nodded our acknowledgements, feeling the fatigue of the plane journey. Then over the Tannoy Conrich’s ever boisterous tone rang. “We’ll be some time to reach our destination, so relax and get to know one another. Tomorrow’s the first day of a new era.” Whether Wellerby had underestimated my capacity, or I was just naturally quicker off the mark, I made my introductions first. “I’m Doctor Henry Mallow, specializing in chemistry, materials will be my contribution I suppose.”

I looked to my left at the small sandy haired fellow. A head shorter than the rest of us he piped up, “Frank Lloyd, architect. I was between projects and out of the blue got this invitation. When Mr. Conrich said he was building the tallest structure ever, I jumped at it. Some buildings are beautiful enough to be a pin up, but everyone remembers the tallest. It will be the pinnacle my career.”

The next guy, who would have looked more at home in an epic adventure through the jungle, was Archibald Stanton, a meteorologist. “Going to need a guide from the bottom to the top, Conrich told me.” My final companion for this trip was a giant of a man. “Boris Kopanric, ex Russian federal space agency and aeronautics expert. When we get to the top I’ll see you O.K.” Boris added, grinning his wide smile.

We spent the rest of the time swapping anecdotes, until the car pulled up to a halt at our new home, for the near future at least. Each of us was led to his own neat bungalow with bedroom, and study room kitted out with all the necessities. “Spartan but homely, once you get your knick-knacks installed”, my guide informed me as he bid good night.

I slept the sleep of the innocent, and awoke next morning to the gentle glow of the sun on my brow. Looking about I found my luggage ready for unpacking in the study room, and opening what I took for a large wardrobe, found a toilet, sink and compact shower. After I had made myself presentable and spread a few things about, a knock at the door brought me back to the now. I opened it to find Conrich in shorts and a tee shirt beaming at me. “Sleep well? That Sam sure can mix his drinks, I’ve got him on permanent staff. Let’s take a stroll to the canteen for a bite to eat, most important meal of the day.”

As we sauntered through this small town of prefabricated bungalows, he gave me the low down on the set up. The whole site was for the workers making the ground level section of the project, and until that was constructed we engineers of the tower would stay here too. “Makes sense to keep it all together”, so all the laboratories were here as well. Of course the construction crews could bring their families. So some bungalows were a fair size bigger. When that part was finished they could either have the building shipped to where they wanted.

“Part of their contract” he laughed. “Or they would go to folks in trailer parks, along with the school and medical center we’ve got here.” The homes were essentially self-contained. The water for washing was recycled in a distillery run off solar power, and the other waste was converted to compost, as part of the toilet in the house. Then a team took that to a local farmer in exchange for food he had grown. “I don’t intend to be here long enough to use the stuff myself.” The same with the water waste going to the distillery and clean water delivered back.

“No pipes, see?” he tapped the ground with his toe. “What about heat and light?” I asked. He informed me the roof was two sets of I.R. solar panels, one for the sun the other on the ceiling with a reflector in between, to catch anything getting by. This powered L.E.D. lighting and an under floor heating or cooling system. “Like a fridge, and as a boost when it’s running, the heat rising to the ceiling can be collected by the I.R. panels to keep the batteries charged.” With insulation below that, and other collectors buried in the walls, the place supplied more than enough for the occupants needs.

We had passed out of the mass of houses, and were approaching a number of large huts clearly marked as canteens. Off to my left I noticed the monumental construction work. A set of three lakes was being built on different levels. “Hydro electric?” I asked. “Quite the opposite” came the reply, “but we’ll get to that after breakfast” and he motioned me through the door.

The canteen was like a fast food restaurant, with bucket seats fixed to tables, and a long counter of serving stations. There was a wide range of dishes displayed above, enough to fulfill any taste or dietary requirements. The food seemed to be served on rigid plastic plates or bowls, with cups or mugs of the same material. “A variety of melamine, virtually unbreakable and it can be sterilized in a section of the distillery”, he explained. “Metal cutlery of course, can’t improve on that.” “Any one make some hooch at the distillery?” I jokingly enquired; he just laughed then informed me the process was too hot, any booze would blow sky high. “Kills them bugs dead, but the water processed there gets an extra blast of U.V. just to make sure.”

The bulk of the food being of catering proportions was delivered in reusable containers strait from the manufacturers. “Any jigging about with the packaging process we stump up for, but we save on the delivery costs.” The trucks that drop off the sterilized and sealed containers, then pick up the newly filled ones. “Except we don’t have a high delivery bill, as our trucks get charged here on site, or for longer trips fill up at one of my fuel stations on the company account.”

He gave me a card, “here’s your I.D.” It had my name, photo and a chip embedded in it. “You can run up your food bill on it, but don’t worry. The whole operation runs so cheaply that even the local all you can eat can’t compete.” The stock levels were calculated for maximum efficiency, and any kitchen waste got traded to a local farmer. Next he directed me to a computer screen. “Touch screen menu, anything you can’t find on the usual bill of fare just order here. Only thing is our picker team hygienically transfers it to a reusable package, and then they recycle the original. That’s why there are so few litter bins needed here.”

We ordered breakfast and sat in an empty booth. “I’m glad of the company, but being head honcho don’t you need to be moving people about?” I enquired. Tucking into a waffle he informed me he had people to do the every day stuff, he was more like a bee flying from flower to flower, collecting the pollen to fulfill his plans. “I wouldn’t describe you as a humble worker bee” I laughed at his analogy. “You haven’t seen me in a stunt plane”, came the jovial answer. “And those little wonders of engineering could sure show me a thing or two about flying.” With that we proceeded to plow through the rest of the meal. Placing our finished trays of empties in a receptacle, he motioned to the I.D. card he had given me. “Now don’t lose that or you’ll not get into our next port of call.” Then he led me out of the canteen and over to one of the largest buildings on the site.

On the way I looked out on the vast expanse of arid desert. “You sure picked a nice spot for this picnic.” Laughing at my quip he informed me, “I rent it off the military, ex test land”, and at an enquiring look from me Conrich continued. “Oh don’t worry, no munitions have ever been fired round here, and I had my own team search every inch with Geiger counters, not one peg was hammered home until it got a clean bill of health. Got a good deal, a thousand year lease in return for concession on satellite launches, strictly communications. I don’t want anything dangerous in my lift, plus they threw in security to boot. The perimeter is still under military guard. You didn’t see it last night because I’d vouched for you a few miles ahead. But any would be saboteur, beware.”

We had come to a sliding door next to which read a sign, “If you picked it up drop it here”. There was a bin underneath. The sign continued, “bugs travel in all forms.” At my enquiring look, Conrich informed me that human nature, made it so tempting for someone who finds a memory stick or disc lying around, to try it on the works computer. “Someone once knocked out a nuclear plant with that trick, so don’t be tempted.” He held his I.D. card up to the plate by the door. It allowed him through but closed for me. I repeated the action and was soon in between the outer door and another inside, this opened once the one behind me was sealed, and we both stood before a desk.

On the other side of the desk stood an impressive looking security guard. “Good morning James” my host greeted him. “Good morning James “the guard replied with a rye grin. Then he proceeded round the desk to pat Conrich down followed by me. “If you had a bag he would have to search it, but most of your work will probably stay in here. Just any notes you make in the wee hours of the night, due to inspiration. And any phone you have won’t work in here due to the shielding. We have an intercom system for internal calls, and anything patched in from the outside is monitored.For content and any digital signal possibly attached. Same with the internet, security is tight as the stakes are so high.” He thanked the other James and we proceeded in.

Next Conrich led me into an office set up with a display board that depicted the tower. “Now Henry we can get down to business. You are the most vital link in my chain and here’s why.” He proceeded to explain his great project. The lift consisted of a geostationary satellite from which hung a tube. “It’s made of links for flexibility and tapered on the outside, thick at the top for the pressure difference.” The bottom was linked to the earth at the site we were now constructing; the whole structure will have a series of grooves twisting all the way up, like a barbers pole. “Frank Lloyd put us on to that one.”

“The actual principle we’re using is from way back, when trains were being invented. Some guy had the bright idea of pushing the trains along pipes where the rails were, using compressed air.” He paused, “back in those days materials weren’t up to the job, and too much air got out to be of use. But what we’re doing is putting the train, or lift inside the tube and raising it by pumping air in underneath. It’s all safe from just dropping, because if it goes too fast brakes push out into the wall, and bring the car to a halt.”

Conrich indicated his plan in depiction form. He pointed to the three lakes one of which, the middle one looked like a bit like a Gasometer but below a lake. I pointed this this out. “Yes with a normal one as the gas is pumped in, the top raises up and then the weight of the top presses down, to produce gas pressure for the home. With this the water on top produces the pressure. When the sluices from the top let the water into the middle. The pressure rises and so does the car. When the sluice gates from the middle to bottom lakes open, that lake drains dropping the pressure and the car descends.”

“The water is constantly being pumped from the bottom lake, to the top one by solar powered pumps. Add to that locking devices and valves, plus a whole bunch of air pumps to re-pressurize the air sack under the middle lake if there is a leak. But the car would be stopped if that happened and as I said before, catastrophic failure makes the car lock in place. Which it does at the top and bottom anyway.” He paused to re-evaluate the diagram. “The top of the tube has a grate, so it’s open to space but will stop the car if all else fails.”

Taking a sip of juice he pressed on. “Now forces, The Human or Aardvark” he smirked. “Can’t stand much more than two gee’s. That’s twice the gravity exerted by just standing still on earth, without feeling discomfort. Of course people can put on special suits to resist it, but they’re not very practical for Aardvarks, so we’ll forget that plan. Seeing that it’s about thirty six thousand kilometers to geostationary orbit. At two gee, not forgetting you need to start slowing down at the mid point. It takes about sixty minutes compared to eight and a half on a rocket. It’s only forty minutes on the way down, due to the countering effect of negative gravity. If we load it with no passengers, speeds can be increased further.

“But if you take the time a Shuttle would take to turn around for another flight. A month, to the ten minutes we’d take to disembark and reload passengers and cargo. The cargo being in a sealed box, which is pushed out on rollers by the next box being pushed in. Then there’s the cost, a Shuttle is millions of dollars a flight. Ours is all run off sun light.” At this point I couldn’t help quipping. “So there is such a thing as a free launch.” That tickled Conrich and after we’d both calmed down he continued.

“Right construction, can’t build the tower up. It would topple before it got half way, so the only way is down. A space station will be the top terminus, and also where we build from. But I’m getting ahead of my self, can’t have a whole bunch of rings swinging like an elephants trunk. So first we drop a load of ropes in a circle and tether them to the base, but even that will cause two problems. First the weight would pull the station down. So we have to counter balance the effect by increasing it’s orbit with rockets. Like playing out a rope on a bucket your swinging round your head. The second is where you come in, because we don’t have any rope that can withstand the forces that will be exerted on it.” I saw the problem, and immediately different combinations of materials sprung to mind, each sorrowfully inadequate, so I just nodded.

“With that overcome, we then start producing the rings that are guided down the ropes for final tethering to the bottom terminus. Now if we used the same trick as we did with the ropes, we run in to problems. First we would need to extend the ropes more, which would take us way past the Moon. And secondly the extra strain on the ropes would be astronomical. So what we do is counter balance the rings going down and getting more pull from the earth, with more mass on the space station. Remember it’s beyond a stable orbit now, so if it’s done right the increase strain on the rope should be minimal. The extra mass will be material being use to make the rings, which will be constantly delivered. There will also be material to expand the space station beyond it’s basic structure. As long as the masses balance out it’ll be O.K.”

“When the bottom ring is attached to terminus ground zero, it will be secured to bed rock and add to the strength of the ropes. The rings will be sealed together with a flexible membrane, and as it’s open at the top there’ll be a vacuum inside it above the car, so several tons of air is removed from the equation. The air underneath only has to cope with the weight of the cargo and the car itself.”

“So it comes to this, I need you to come up with something we can make in space, that will hold up to the stresses my engineers will be working out. Of course it will be a bit of a feed back process, depending on the weight of the material you can come up with. So think lite Henry and hopefully we’ll get a light bulb moment.” Then Conrich led me out of the office and further down the corridor, to a door marked materials laboratory head technician Dr. Henry Mallow. “Come meet the team” he beamed, as he motioned me inside.

The door opened on to an Aladdin’s cave of equipment that far outstripped my own laboratory back at the university. I could see no expense had been spared to help me on my quest. “Let me introduce doctor Susan Hopson.” I shook hands with the dark haired woman beaming back at me, who I could best describe as very neat. “Pleased to meet you Henry, I’ve read most of your papers in Chemistry Tomorrow, very informative.” Susan turned back to the experiment she was conducting, while Conrich introduced me to Mitch Perry and Ron Wiseman. “Best lab tech’s in the business.” After that I allowed my colleagues to acquaint me with the equipment, while Conrich had a call on the intercom phone. Finally I had a good working knowledge of my available resources. Conrich bid me good bye for now, as he wanted to catch up with Frank.

“I assume we’ll be investigating the properties of carbon fiber compounds Doctor,” stated Susan. “Please Henry. We’re all friends here.” She nodded, “of course Henry, I’ve taken the liberty of mixing a few compounds, but we only set up this morning. We’re just getting the ball rolling.” Thus we began to discuss our plan of action while running through the mornings work. By noon we had made headway, but nowhere near our target strength, it would take time. I just hopped not too much for Conrich to win his bet.

Days stretched into weeks and try as we might, Doctor Hopson and myself couldn’t get a compound strong enough. We’d been through the periodic table from Aluminum to zinc, various isotopes and were on to every combination of the elements. Conrich dropped by from time to time with words of encouragement. “Don’t forget how many ways Edison learnt how not to make a light bulb, before he hit on the right combination.” Still we couldn’t find that elusive step that would lead to our goal.

Every day I watched the construction of the lakes, and ground terminus as they took form. Always mindful that on completion they would be left to stand, waiting for my team’s efforts to bear fruit, and so months rolled by. I asked Conrich once if I was really the man for the job, he just gave me that X ray stare of his and said. “I have a knack of backing the right horse, always have done. So I know you’re destined to pass the post. You’ve just got to jump a lot of fences.” “But what about the bet?” I lamented.

“Son don’t worry about a few million. This project is on the Trillion Dollar scale. The way I see it that night in the Roxy’s ghost club was just a brainstorm. You need to cut loose and dream sometimes. When the years up we can have a big show about the money, but I bet the next minute the guys will pass it on to a good cause. Good for P.R. and we all get a big dose of publicity. It’s just the way things go, big things smooth their own way like a glacier. Besides Kennedy took eight years to just organize a day trip, our little ferry service is for good.”

A bit startled by this revelation, but with a weight metaphorically off my back I thanked him, but why hadn’t he mentioned this before? “I do like my thorough breeds to at least think I’ve a whip, even if I never intend to use it. I’ve an idea, how would you and Susan like to take a little trip with me. Sort of a mental shake down?” So leaving me wondering what he had in mind he bounded off.

The next day with a list of further experiments left for Ron and Mitch to carry out. Susan and myself sat in the back of a four by four, heading for the airport. Conrich was going to meet us at our destination. “Do they have a secure line to us in case of a break through?” I asked my companion as the thought popped into my head. “Don’t worry, Conrich assured me we’d know about any important updates, or I wouldn’t have come.” So we relaxed, chatting about anything but work for the first time in months.

The plane ride was uneventful, and when we touched down in Orlando Florida a car was waiting for us. The driver bid us inside and placed an envelope in my hand. Sat next to Susan I opened it and read the message. Henry and Susan, I’m sorry I can’t be here to greet you, but other work calls. I thought you might like a day where dreams are made. You deserve a rest, but not too much. So blow off steam on me, your friend James.

Attached to the bottom were tickets for entry to the Disney world parks MGM Studios and Magic Kingdom. I shared confused looks with Susan who reflected, “never been there myself, how about you?” “No but it should be interesting.” I looked down and noticed a P.T.O. at the bottom, turning the sheet over I read on. I particularly like; The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, Rock n’ Rollercoaster and Muppet Vision at MGM Studios. Where as I can never visit The Magic Kingdom without at least one ride on The Barn Stormer, It’s a Small World, Splash mountain, Big Thunder Mountain Rail Road, finished off with a trip to Space Mountain. Enjoy the day and I hope to be there with you guys tomorrow.

Susan looked up from the sheet in my hands. “It looks like we’re in for a fun day.” Then we browsed through the park brochures, which were stuck out of a pocket behind the drivers seat. Soon we were stood outside the entrance of MGM Studios, our driver bidding us good-bye until later. “My phone number is on this card”, he informed us as he turned to go. We shrugged our shoulders in unison and went to enjoy the day.

Working our way round the theme park we were soon giggling with pure enjoyment. We went on the roller coaster twice and The Tower of Terror five times in a row, as the queues were so short. Susan’s pen which she kept on a chain round her neck, would float up as we plummeted down in the tower, making the souvenir photo taken on it seem like she had a spook trying to write with it. With the morning approaching it’s end, we finally flopped down in an all you can eat diner and replenished our empty bellies.

After that rest stop I got out the Magic Kingdom brochure. “Shall we take Conriches second pill?” I asked. “Lead on McMallow” Susan laughed back. We soon found a free coach to our next port of call. “All these roller coasters sure put you through some gee forces”, I pointed out to Susan as we got off Space Mountain for the second time.

By now we’d done the park and crossed of all the rides on Conrich’s list. Hungry again I called our driver for what to do next. He suggested a bite at The Earl of Sandwich in Downtown Disney. “It’s run by the current Earl,” he informed us from the drivers seat. We took his advice, and after a stroll around the shops to let our meal go down, he whisked us off to a hotel in the Disney complex. Having checked in I bid good night to my college, who was billeted next door to me, and settled down for a well-earned sleep.

The next morning I awoke to a knock on the door, accompanied by the muffled tone of Susan calling out. “Wake up sleepy head, lets get a swim in before breakfast.” The sun stung my eyes as I pulled back the curtain. There stood the doctor in her new swimsuit and a beach towel. We could hardly resist splashing out on a new wardrobe last night; after all we had little to spend our considerable earnings on back at the lab. So with bulging bags we had become walking adverts for the Disney Corporation. The pool was in the shape of a grand piano, making the swimming of lengths impossible. So we splashed about and had soon worked up an appetite. Returning to my room I readied for the day ahead, whatever that may hold.

Joining Susan again we discovered a dinning area, and filled up on a hearty breakfast. Our driver approached the table. He asked if when we had finished our meal, we could pack up and meet him in the lobby for today’s itinerary. Then he left us another brochure. “Kennedy Space Center”, I read out to Susan looking at it. After we’d packed our bags and checked out, we were shown to our car, and settled down for the journey.

“I wonder” postulated Susan. “If Conrich is giving us this break as a set of new experiences. I read about a psychologist in Denmark, who was doing a study on the effects of challenging one’s perception with new experiences, and our ability to be creative.” I laughingly replied, “It does sound like him, perhaps when we get back we will find some new way of looking at the problem.” We continued to speculate as our car ate the miles up, and soon we were stood in the Kennerdy Space Center car park. “See you later Bill,” I bid farewell to our driver, but correcting me with a knowing smile he replied. “I’m done now, but Mr. Conrich has another driver organized for you.” And with that he drove off.

Bemused we entered the park and headed strait for the Shuttle Launch Experience, keen to emulate yesterdays thrill rides. As we approached it I looked at the map where quite clearly the Space Shuttle Explorer should be sat in our path, but the low building blocking our way to the ride could never hold such a large craft. We asked the guide stood outside, who looked at us as if we were hicks strait from the hills.

“I’m sorry sir, but unless you’ve been living in a cave, you’ve surly heard of Mr. Conrich?” We nodded our assent. He continued “and about the sky tower?” Yes we agreed again. “Then surly you know he’s renting the whole fleet off NASA, recommissioned the lot. He’s even building two more, The Spirit of Endurance and The Spirit of Challenger. I remember his speech, their spirits shall rise again.” He wiped a tear from his eye and continued. “He’s even got the International space Station on board, says he can build a newer bigger one once the sky lift’s in action. But why not stop in at the sky lift attraction for a full view of the project.” Then he motioned us inside the building.

We were amazed by the facsimile of ground zero, complete with a model of the sky lift stretching up to the ceiling, where there hung the terminus combined with the international space center. There were mini shuttles enroute to their destination suspended by wire. As I took in the areal view of what was being done, and what was awaiting our piece to the jigsaw, I got a guilty feeling and turning my head to Susan, saw she must be in the same dilemma. “Let’s go to the ride,” I said, and we both slunk out.

The Shuttle Launch Experience was not a roller coaster, but what it lacked in gee forces it made up for in sheer noise and vibration. “I wonder if Conrich’s muscle cars got dreamt up here”, I proposed to Susan as we left now invigorated again. “Let’s go see an astronaut” Susan suggested, and like school children on an exciting trip we strode off.

There wasn’t much of a queue before the elderly gent in a cap and baseball jacket, but next to him stood. “James” I bellowed with joy, and bounding over I shook his hand. “Great to see you two crazy kids, why don’t you say hello to lieutenant Bradway.” He indicated the ex astronaut who beamed up at us. “So you must be Henry and Susan.” Extending both his hands and rising, we took them and at the same time replied. “So glad to shake the hand of a real astronaut.” Winking at Conrich he continued, “we’ll see who’s shaking who’s hand”, and sat again.

After this brief chat, we let the queue formed behind us through as Conrich drew us aside. “I’m just visiting to see how the operations going. I knew you’d be here so couldn’t resist offering you a lift to the tour site”, so off we went. In the car Conrich explained how he was renting the shuttle fleet to build the top end of the lift. “The money gets written off as a tax loss so NASA gets it’s appropriation by the back door so to speak.”

So enlightened, I reiterated, “Which is why the shuttle fleet is back in action.” A twinkle appeared in his eye. “Well that and I don’t like to see a good idea go to waste, not that they’ll be needed after the sky lifts been built. But I might have other plans for them, it’s like when they grounded Concord, saddest day in aviation advancement. To take away supersonic travel for the masses, but her protectors; pilots and enthusiasts wouldn’t let her go, just up and bought the service. That’s the spirit.”

By now we had pulled up at another building labeled International Space Center Building, where he let us out. “Take the tour and don’t forget to wave at our friend”, he uttered as we were left standing by the entrance. Working our way round the exhibits we learned how compact life in space must be. “Everything in its place” approved Susan, and then we proceeded to the observation room, where we could look down on the engineers who constructed new chambers for the ISS.

With a vested interest in the work now it had been sequestered onto our project we took a great attention to the activities. Just then Susan grabbed my arm and pointed. “Look there’s Boris” and we both waved and tapped the glass. The team below looked up, and recognizing us Boris waved his gigantic arms to beckon us down with a grin on his face. Then he turned to an assistant who sped off, soon the same man approached us and we were bidden down to the factory floor.

Suitably attired in the white coveralls we approached our friend. “Hello Boris, what brings you here?” “These guys don’t know cosmo-naut”, he winked at a college who laughed at this familiar joke. “So I’m here to speed the job up. I’ve already got shuttle turn around down to three weeks, and combined with the extra launch site in California we have a weekly delivery, weather permitting up there.” He pointed through the ceiling, “going to need it when you pull your finger out.” He grinned warmly not noticing both Susan’s and my own grimaces of embarrassment.

“Anyway I’m up to my elbows on space station building, so shouldn’t you two be suiting up? You’ve only got four hours” We stood there oblivious to his meaning, until he realized we were unacquainted with the facts. “Hasn’t Conrich told you? He’s got you down for the big roller coaster, thirty six million meters strait up.” And as we stood there in shock of this unexpected news, he explained how Conrich had arranged for us to visit the ISS. For a taste of where our part of the job fitted in.

Whether Susan was still in shock or some form of denial, she seemed to ride over this news, and asked Boris for directions to where we were supposed to be. For my part I felt the day had turned an unreal corner, but no scarier than the trip so far. We were escorted to a van that took us to meet our captain and his team.

“Colonel Chuck C. Peterson at your service” he greeted us. The all action figure of a man indicated his crew. “And here is Tony, Bob, Mary, Sam and Lionel. So Boris finally let you in on it. Great guy, but he keeps saying I remind him of home.” Then he showed us through the procedures. “I’ll keep it simple as your essentially cargo.” Soon the time was gone, and we headed for the lift so few have had the honor to ride in.

Strapping in I lay back and thought of lunch, glad I’d been sparing on it. The count down began and soon the rumbling noise rose through me, so I could feel the engines become the general ambiance. Then with the final count of “one” my eyes were pressed into the back of my skull. I was subjected to more gravitational forces than the body should have to cope with; the time seemed to spread into an eternity of motion and forces beyond my control Then the eight and a half minutes the rational part of my mind knew had elapsed came, and all was at peace.

I looked round at Susan, and apart from slight signs of queasiness, she had the biggest grin I had seen on her face ever. Colonel Peterson turned to her and asked, “Did you prefer that to the simulation?” Gathering her senses she replied. “I think I prefer the simulation, but this does yield better results.” Unclipping her belt she floated to a view port. I noticed her neck chain pen now free of gravity too, and recalled the Tower of Terror.

Was the Disney trip Conrich’s idea of astronaut training? Then I recalled the month before getting such a thorough examination from the site medical officer. “Mr. Conrich doesn’t want anyone off for too long. It’s my job to keep you at the work face” was all he replied to my complaints. Snapping back to the present, I realized the colonel was addressing me. “I said how does it feel to be the last of the few to leave Earth sat on top of a bomb?” “Glad I’m free of it”, I mumbled. He turned smiling to guide the craft towards our destination, while I sat back to enjoy the ride.

After docking Susan and I were met by base commander Enric. He had been appointed from the ISS side. With him was Ralf Burbon one of our engineers; he had taken the first car on my trip to the ground site. They bid us hello, and invited us to watch the unloading of the shuttle cargo bay through a view port. The crane on the back of the Shuttle was carefully maneuvering a vast cage, which filled the whole cargo space. “It’s the basic infrastructure of the base to be added onto this”, Ralf informed us tapping the wall. “Even the cage unfolds to make more bits. The extra pods will be bolted in between for strength.” “I only wish we had this kind of construction before,” added Enric. “Not that I’m complaining, it hasn’t sprung a leak yet.” Then we all floated off to the meeting room.

“I see you’ve got your sea legs”, quipped Ralf as he admired how Susan was coping with zero gee. “I think a summer break surfing must have helped”, she replied blushing. I fumbled behind desperate to keep up. In the meeting pod we sat as it were, and listened to Ralf and Enric lecture in tandem on safety aspects, and then how the structure was progressing. “Of course the final design can’t be completed without your input. That’s why Mr. Conrich wanted you to get a feel for the situation”.

Susan took out her pen to jot a point down, but out of the end came a stream of ink. Panicking she put her hand out but over balanced and bounced harmlessly off the padded wall. Meanwhile the ink had formed into a spheroid. “Don’t worry”, assured Enric at the now righted doctor. “This gives me an opportunity for a little space magic.” He produced a small pouch which he squeezed producing a small jet of water, that itself soon coalesced into another spherical shape. This new ball was on a course for the ink sphere.

Then the two collided like planets, but instead of mixing in a swirl of blue and clear, the ink was enveloped by the water. Blinking the base commander exclaimed. “Well I wasn’t expecting that, is that ink in your pen?” “It’s oil based ink, I suppose if I spilt it on earth the ink would float on the water. Doctor?” Her last word was for me. For she had suddenly noticed my ridged look of concentration, I had it.

Quickly I explained my idea. “You remember how some of the elements we tried to mix with the carbon wouldn’t work. Well what if we could infuse them throughout the structure?” Susan completed my thought, “in the micro gravity environment.” This was it or at least I hoped it was. I turned to my hosts; “we need to get our lab up here.” No problem came the reply, and so Susan and I started to compile a list of equipment and materials.

We were supposed to stay a week and return on the next Shuttle, but now we were planning a longer stay. Mitch and Ron were sent the list, and they diligently shipped everything to the other launch site in California. We were back on track. Within the month we were beaming over a secure video link to Conrich back at ground zero.

“James let me introduce you to your new compound. The chemical name’s quite long, so we called it Mallomite for short.” I held up a sealed test tube that glowed faintly. “Not Radioactive?” Conrich enquired. “No it’s a form of non-bioluminescence, which my co conspirator has dubbed the Susan effect,” replied Doctor Hopson.

“And now for a magic trick”, I intoned as I placed the end of the tube in a hole, in the side of a small machine. I pressed a button and seconds later; I reached in to remove a small ring of material about six inches in diameter. “This little wonder can easily cope with the required stresses and is light as a feather, figuratively speaking. We’ve run the numbers with Ralph and he’s ecstatic.” “Well if he’s O.K. with it that’ll do me”, beamed Conrich. “So now you’ve been locked up until you’ve paid the piper, I suppose I’ll have to release you kids.” Then bidding Farwell he signed off.

Three days later with our prototype safely stowed in the hold, we took the Spirit of Challenger back to Earth ready to start constructing the full size machine. Back in Conrich’s office I filled him in on the device. Susan was busy organizing materials. “The material itself is a mixture of carbon fiber doped like Silicon is in transistors, but with several elements and isotopes that wouldn’t mix well under gravity’s pull. These can be held in suspension in the micro gravity of space. As the silicon’s electrical properties are improved, so the mechanical properties of the carbon fibers are magnified many times over. The tests we’ve preformed show it’s endurance is almost unlimited, and of course the luminescence will make it glow faintly.” “like a beacon to humanities achievements” grinned Conrich.

“The process of solidifying is a sort of 3D printing. Conventional 3D printers build up the artifact in layers, so in one direction the tension properties would be useless. Our process is more akin to hologram printing. A conventional hologram produces little dots in a see through medium, so you get an image of the subject. Our machine takes a 3D image off a computer, and using a bank of lasers print the dots, where two lasers meet the material is fused solid. Our dots are joined dot to dot until the whole is complete.

Unused mixture is pumped out for the next batch, and the part is complete. The whole process takes little time so we can soon reach Earth, and as the Lasers can pass through the solid, and only effect the liquid when two meet, we can link each section like a Greek key, meaning they can’t come apart. The rope can be produced in the same way in a continuous process passing through a series of rollers and pulleys to keep the tension.”

Over the next few months I had to visit the station a couple of times purely in an advisory capacity. Susan kept her feet firmly on the ground, utilizing the video link for any information needed off her. “I’ll see you up there when the lift starts” she chuckled over the T.V. screen. It was on my second visit that I met Boris, and asked if he were advising on the construction work too. “No you see that structure over there.” I looked out and saw what I had taken to be another part of the station. “Second station for other sky lift”, I floated there in amazement. “we rocket it over to Moon, send down ground part by conventional rockets and build it dam quick.”

He explained how Conrich wanted to mine useful minerals on the Moon, in exchange for an equal mass of useless Earth rock. The gas for the Moon lift would be stored in banks of huge air tanks, which would eventually be replaced by CO2 as the Moon operation used it up. Then a hydroponic plant would continually recirculate the process. “All run off solar power again, there’s a lot of free surface for panels, but surly you knew. To get Aardvarks to planet X you need to leave planet Y and fly across. Y Earth X Moon yes.” “So we will still be using fuel to pass from the Earth to the Moon”, the thought reached my lips as it did my mind. “Yes but Moon rich in Tritium. Good source of Hydrogen 3, very fine fuel, enough to get us out there.” He pointed to the stars visible through the viewport.

In not too long a time the ropes were tethered, and so too the rings followed and tests were made. Finally the station was powered from Earth by cables run up in the structure of the tower. It shone out like a beacon atop the glowing tower beneath. The press was restricted to video link cameras in our control, as security was and always had to be so tight. Ralph was still up top, he said he preferred it there and Boris was on the moon, but the rest of my colleagues from the plane and Susan assembled for the inaugural run.

Mr. Conrich appeared and said, “just waiting for aunty.” I wondered who this mysterious relative was. Then to general gasps of amazement, a uniformed vet led out an Aardvark. Conrich explained that Anty was very fond of ants and termites, but for this trip he would be dinning on Peanut Butter. “He prefers it but couldn’t get it in the wild. Besides all those ants would play havoc with the space ship. For my part I have to give up a good drink, seems booze an space doesn’t mix either.”

The trip across to the Moon for all of us would include a special section for Anty and his keeper, on a rotating arm so they could relax in one gee. “The rest of us will have to float”, explained Conrich. Then we landed, and if we didn’t take an Aardvark to planet X, or at least the Moon. Then the T.V. cameras broadcasting round the world had to be wrong. As Conrich sat at a desk, with Anty crouched on it munching on a pot of Peanut Butter, and behind him a full-length view port of extra thick Plexiglas, showing the backdrop of our own satellite from ground level. He beamed out his ever-friendly smile.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.