Chapter 14: Design

February 28, 2033 AD, Esrange Space Center, Kiruna, Sweden, Earth

She fidgeted with her papers, trying to delay the inevitable.

Their backgrounds were, in some ways, very similar, hers and Dr. Angermeyer’s. Their fields of expertise were of course very different, but they were both scientists, and yet the German climatologist had taken to her new role as an administrator with an ease Dr. Kravchenko could only envy. For the Ukrainian rocket scientist, the computers and the workbenches of her laboratory were where she was most at home, not here among politicians and diplomats.

Still, sacrifices had to be made.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” she eventually said. There. That was how Dr. Angermeyer used to start these kinds of meetings, wasn’t it?

“I’m glad all six of you are still here today,” she continued nervously.

That brought a slight chuckle from several of the delegates. Not a laugh of mockery, but rather one of comradeship. Perhaps, she thought, she could actually do this.

Yesterday’s discussions had been intense and—on Dr. Angermeyer’s insistence—blunt, and for a while Dr. Kravchenko had feared one or more of the prospective signatories would change their minds and leave, but when evening came and it was time for the signing ceremony, all six had been present. Taken together, that meant more than half the world’s population were now signatories to the Solar Charter.

It was better than she had dared to wish for. She just hoped it would be enough.

“Our meeting yesterday focused mostly on the structural and administrative side of the project. Today we will start discussing the first phase of the technical development needed for the evacuation project. I know that, with the exception of Dr. Mlima, none of you have a background in engineering, so this will just be a high-level overview that you can take back to the technical experts in your delegations and discuss further with them tonight.

“First, I would like to talk about the ground infrastructure we will be needing, specifically the launch complexes we will either have to repurpose or build from scratch.

“For the European Union, India, and the United States, this is simple—we will continue to use Kourou, Sriharikota, and Cape Canaveral. But the remaining three blocs do not have preexisting launch facilities at viable latitudes. Mrs. Yoshinaga, could you please elaborate on how the East Asian Concord plans to handle this?”

The soft voice of the delegate from Japan filled the room. “Of course. Thank you, Dr. Kravchenko. The EAC has negotiated rights to share the European and African launch sites, as our existing sites at Goheung and Tanegashima are too far from the equator for this project. We briefly considered building an entirely new launch complex in Biak, Indonesia, but the logistics of that were determined to be an inefficient use of our resources, which would render our twenty-year plan inviable.”

“Dr. Mlima, could you tell us a little about the African Union’s launch plans?”

The distinguished Kenyan stood up from his chair at the table, removed his glasses, and placed them on top of the graying hair on his head.

“The African Union was already in the process of planning our spaceport in Malindi, on the coast of the Indian Ocean, when our partners in the EAC contacted us. Together, we will be able to accelerate the infrastructure buildup of our launch complex there. We expect to have to invoke Section 5 of the Charter to gain access to equipment and experts from the other signatories as well, to make sure we get up and running as smoothly and quickly as possible. Until then, our primary contribution to the Charter will be in the form of manpower and natural resources such as lithium, gold, aluminum, and uranium.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mlima,” Dr. Kravchenko said, nodding at the African statesman. “We will now move on to the topic of—”

“I’m sorry,” the Kenyan representative said, cutting off the Chief Designer. “My apologies, ma’am, but I have a question about the launch sites first.”

She smiled and tried to do her best impression of Dr. Angermeyer. “No need to apologize, Doctor. The floor is open.”

“For reasons of orbital inclination and to best utilize the Earth’s rotation to accelerate the launch vehicles, all our launch complexes are located near the equator.”

Dr. Mlima gestured with his hand to indicate the space center outside the conference room they were in. “That is why this facility will not be used for launches, but instead will serve as one of our control centers for the operation.”

He paused for a moment.

“However, being situated near the equator also means they are all in the region first and most severely affected by the deteriorating climate. There is an inherent conflict there. What is our plan for handling that?”

It wasn’t an easy question to answer, but Dr. Kravchenko was glad the African representative had brought it up.

“The first thing we need to remember is that although we do expect the environmental collapse near the equator to eventually become total, it is not going to happen overnight. The same is true for the refugee situation.

“And second, for a billion people in this region to continue living their normal lives while the climate collapses around them is not the same as having only a couple hundred thousand working there. We can’t provide water, shelter, and air conditioning for the billions, but we can do that for the thousands. As the equatorial regions begin to empty under the refugee-sharing agreement, we should still be able to staff our launch sites.

“But you are correct, Dr. Mlima. Sooner or later the climate will begin to affect our launches, which are notoriously weather dependent. At that point, we will have to start prioritizing, because we cannot afford to stop sending people and material into space. Cargo vehicles will have to be launched even in undesirable conditions, while crewed launches will get priority for slots when there is a lull in the weather. And the conditions for our workforce will indeed become difficult near the end. That is something we will have to learn to live with.

“With that, I would like to touch briefly on the launch vehicles themselves. As of yesterday’s signing of the Charter, all technologies relevant to the project now belong to the public domain. For India, this point is trivial, since their heavy-lift vehicles are state-owned, but for the European Union and the United States, this means Arianespace, Blue Origin, SpaceX, and ULA are now legally obliged to license, at no cost, their designs to every signatory of the Solar Charter.”

Mr. Radford stirred in his chair. “You realize, Dr. Kravchenko, that means the value of those companies is now in free fall? It will be the end of them. And without an economic incentive to innovate, the industry will soon stagnate.”

The Ukrainian rocket engineer thought for a moment, trying to come up with an answer to the American’s objection, when Dr. Angermeyer interrupted.

“Let me reply to that, Dr. Kravchenko. First of all, allow me to point out that the purpose of the Solar Charter is not to save Bezos or Musk. I could honestly care less if their companies fall today or in twenty years, because fall, they will. What I do care about is the technical excellence of their launch systems, and Section 3 of the Charter guarantees that every signatory gets access to these designs. I trust the U.S. government will see to that?”

The American representative squirmed a little, but relented under the German scientist’s intense gaze. “Of course, ma’am. I was merely pointing out the economic consequences of this clause.”

“Understood, Mr. Radford. Your government is, of course, free to buy their intellectual property if you prefer that over nationalization. That is your choice. All that matters to me is that, in the end, the designs will be distributed freely.

“And second, I would argue that it is not companies that innovate. Corporations merely provide the money to allow the scientists and engineers they employ to do that. But as of now, only people—not money—are important. In the present situation, I guarantee the extraordinarily talented engineers your space corporations employ will find plenty of positions where they can continue to innovate, even if their former employers go bankrupt.”

Dr. Kravchenko nodded her silent thanks to her colleague. Talking about engineering with the Solar Charter delegates was bad enough. When the conversation turned to politics, she felt completely out of her depth.

“Thank you, Dr. Angermeyer,” she said, steering the discussion back to the technical presentation. “We will now move on to the orbital construction. I will not touch on the infrastructure needed on the moon or on Mars today, as that is not needed at the start of the project, but construction of the orbital shipyards in LEO must begin immediately. In fact, ladies and gentlemen, I want to stress this again: with the liquidation clause of the Solar Charter, we have what practically amounts to an unlimited budget for this project, but that is just in monetary terms. We can not allow all those euros to make us complacent. Our real budget is time, and that is very limited.

“That means two things. First, any decision we make that increases the cost but also increases the efficiency of the project is still the right one. And second, we have to be smart about how we use our time. Please remember that.

“Let me explain how that applies to the orbital shipyards. We have something of a conundrum there, where manufacturing the ships will compete for resources with shipyard construction, yet once we have the shipyards up and running, they will make the shipbuilding itself faster. The problem is that we do not want to wait for the shipyards before we start building the transfer vehicles, because waiting means losing too much time.

“The solution is to do both simultaneously, but also to be smart about it. First, each signatory bloc will begin building their first ships using the classic orbital construction techniques we have inherited from the ISS, that is, a combination of EVA and remotely operated robotic arms. Working like that is slow and very costly. Just tightening a bolt requires a forty-step plan and an engineering committee.”

Once again, the room filled with friendly laughter. Perhaps her statement about the bolt had been a tad exaggerated, she thought, but still, it hadn’t been far from the truth. Dr. Kravchenko felt like she was starting to relax, despite the setting.

“Simultaneously, we will pool our resources to build the shipyards and our very first dry dock,” she continued once the chuckles had ceased. “The dry docks will be supported by orbital habitats, engineering bays, power modules, life support, and storage modules. Again, this is mostly space station heritage tech that we will scale up to fit our needs. But the real star of the show is the dry dock itself. Essentially, it’s a pressurized cylinder, not that different from the hull of the Mars transfer vehicles themselves. Similar in length but slightly wider, so the ship can fit inside.

“The big advantage is that once the dry dock is up and running, our engineers can work inside it without spacesuits. It will still be in microgravity, of course, but now they can tighten that bolt in minutes instead of hours. Also, by saving our workers from having to climb in and out of spacesuits every time they start or end a shift, they’ll be significantly more efficient. Not to mention happier, I think, since they now can go to the bathroom whenever they need to. All in all, once the first dry dock is up and running, future construction will be significantly more efficient. But building that first dry dock will take time, which is why we will start assembling ships in parallel in the old-fashioned way, too.

“Now, you may think that once the first dry dock is complete, we will use it to start cranking out ships. But no, that is not the most efficient option. Instead, the first dry dock will build the parts for a second. Then we have two, which will build two more, and so on, until we have eight operational shipyards. With six signatories, that means we now have one each, and two to spare.

“This is the point where we start using them for building ships. That means we can manufacture six vehicles in parallel, one for each signatory, while the two remaining dry docks keep cranking out even more dry docks.

“The basic idea is to construct an exponential number of both dry docks and Mars transfer vehicles. Now, remember that the Mars vehicles are reusable. They will go back and forth between low Earth orbit and Phobos for the duration of the evacuation project. That means not only that the number of ships we build each year rises exponentially, but also that the number of ships in operation each year rises by that exponential factor. My apologies for all the exponents, but that is kind of the point here—we will be stacking them on top of each other.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we will get between one and ten million people to Mars within twenty years.”

Author's Note

The story you're reading is one of many set in the Lords of the Stars universe I've been creating over the past 30 years, where familiar characters and places reappear, and new favorites await discovery. Check out my profile to explore more stories from this universe.

While Scorched Earth is entirely standalone and can be read without any prior knowledge, I think you'll also enjoy Wonders From Beyond the Sky, Time for Memories and Choices of Steel, all of which are standalone sequels to this story.

Visit the official Lords of the Stars blog for more information about this hard sci-fi universe: https://lordsofthestars.wordpress.com

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