Beyond Earth

I had that dream again. The one where I stood on an empty stretch of land that went on for miles. It was made entirely of sand. A rock formation stood alone in the distance. It somehow seemed to beckon him to come to it.

I walk toward it as if though I am in some sort of hypnotic state. As I get closer, I could see an opening.

I walk through it, and everything goes dark. But then a light appears and I find myself walking toward it. Then suddenly I fall.

It feels like I am falling forever, until a bright light flashes.

Then I wake up.

The

Plan

Prologue

1.

The board meeting was the same as all the other board meetings. We need to work on such and such, raise market value, improve this and that, and whatever. Blah blah blah He wondered how much of his hair turned silver during these meetings.

Except when it came to Galactic Missions. That was his baby. The one where he convinced all the others at the country club to put there money where their mouth was and make a wild gamble. Hell, they could get together start ten companies like Galactic Missions, and they all could fail, and still there wealth would be unaffected.

Johnathon Wexler III leaned forward when the lead engineer, Jiro Tanaka finished his report. The robots, he said, are tested and ready to go.

The time it would take to get to Mars would be six to seven months. That is going by current fuel estimates.

Wexler sighed.

Ok Jiro-san, thank you.

2.

Wexler was a dreamer, a tinkerer, everything a first born to an oil magnate shouldn’t be. He was interested in exploration, science, and what was beyond the horizon, not digging for black sludge in the ground. His father, The Second, would always set him on what he perceived to be the right course whenever his son tried to veer off it. He was forced to act the part of an heir, and put that junk out of his head. Sure he let his son explore; safari in Africa, backpack across Europe, and climb K2.

That was when Wexler was a young man though, he was older now. The Second was long gone. Now, he could do wanted, so he convinced his rich friends to form a partnership called Galactic Missions. A project whose sole task was to build robots to land on asteroids and potentially other planets and set up mining operations so they could look for new resources.

How could a bunch of middle aged billionaires pull this off? By buying the best and brightest minds to put it together.

Building the robots would be easy; getting them to their destination would be a different story.

Wexler was in his office, sipping his morning coffee, and going over the Wall Street Journal, until his phone rang and broke his concentration. He set the cup down and flipped the speaker button.

This is Wexler.

His secretary Donna responded Mr. Shuler is confirming your lunch meeting at the Olson Club today.

Thanks Donna.

Your welcome. Oh, I found a scientific trade article you might find interesting and put it on your desk.

Thanks.

He sighed. He really hated going to the Olson Club. That whole place reeked of superficiality. The people who had memberships there might as well have been made of plastic, as they had the same personality and charisma. Going to meet William Shuler and listen to him talk would be as stimulating as watching paint dry. All well Wexler thought, he had plenty of time to come up with an excuse not to go.

Wexler put the journal down. He had to get his jacket on and get ready to go. He decided to check out what Donna gave him ride over there, as he had a personal driver and could read it then. It was scientific so there had to be something interesting in it. She wouldn’t give him something uninteresting.

He looked at the piece as he walked to the door, right away the headline hooked him. MIT student has breakthrough in hydro fusion technology.

He stopped to read it.

From the first sentence on he was hooked.

As he read, his excitement couldn’t contain itself so he read it again to make sure it was all there.

Finally he put it down and dialed his phone.

Yes sir? Donna asked.

Donna, call Mr. Shuler, give him my sincerest apologies but I must cancel for today. I know it’s very short notice.

Yes sir, is everything alright?

It’s better than alright. After Mr. Shuler, I need you to get MIT on the horn; I need to schedule a meeting with them. Specifically… He looked at the paper. A Mr. Kenneth Hayabashi.

3.

Ken Hayabashi would be more comfortable in a lab or other educational setting. Going over the results of the last lab was his hobby.

His pet project was using a harnessing a different form of cold fusion. The ultimate cleanest form of energy. Something of which had been the dream of so many others before it turned to heartbreak.

Now though, he was standing in front of eyes that judged him. He had been told that out in the real world beyond the sanctuary of MIT, the private sector was punctual and expected results. Everything had to be in bullet points.

The people before him, clad in their ridiculously overpriced clothes stared at him as though he was under a microscope. Mainly they were waiting for the part where he said how much this thing would cost and how it would make a profit. The only one who seemed to be really interested was Wexler.

So Wexler said, I did some research, and I found that a nuclear powered generator could get a spacecraft to Mars in about two weeks.

Hayabashi cleared his throat. Public speaking wasn’t his strongest suit, and it was weaker at this moment in this room. Well sir, uh… my main mean is um…safety. There is a… um strong possibility a nuclear reactor could leak on Earth, the results would be catastrophic. Also, the radiation emitted would contaminate any human crew if this were to be used to fuel a human shuttle. Also, well, um…I don’t believe it would be a good idea to put a nuclear reactor inside a vehicle that requires a jet propulsion system, which..well they do have a probability to explode.

Wexler nodded. You got a good point.

Thank you. But yes, in my module…um… it does not use the element Tritium, which is…..um…is radioactive. It uses Hydrogen and Deuterium to power it-.

Another crusader for Earth rights sighed an executive.

Wexler ignored him. Alright Mr. Hayabashi, I reviewed your results and I like what I see. But don’t take my word for it, I’m not a scientist, so I brought in some other whiz kids to review your results and they all signed off on it.

Uh, thank you.

How would you like to make your theory a reality?

I would like to…yes.

Wexler smiled. Well then you just won the lottery. A couple of my buddies and me made a up a group to send robots into space. Perhaps you heard of it?

Hayabashi Yes.

"Good. Because for our robots to go into space, we need fuel, and we’re looking outside the box for something besides petroleum

Yes sir, so I understand. You want to use it fuel a spaceship to travel to space…

Not just space. I’m talking the Moon, Mars, and beyond. Look, whatever you made at MIT I’m doubling it, your working for me now. I want you to meet up with the tech boys downstairs. See about cooking this thing up today. Right now.

He got up. That was the cue for everyone else too. Hayabashi just stood there.

Listen, you met my secretary Donna right?

Uh…um…yes

Anything you need, tell her and she’ll take care of you.

Um thanks

If you want to thank me. Build that thing.

Wexler left. That was his business strategy, hit ‘em hard so they can’t say no. He learned that courtesy of The Second.

Hayabashi of course, didn’t know how to collect himself as everyone filed out.

Wexler walked into the elevator with his fellow executives. One, a younger fellow named Jim Engels, spoke up, as his want usually did.

So we got him huh?

For half price Jim, never let people know their actual worth

Engels chuckled What now?

Wexler replied I need to get my robots a ride out into space

Build a rocket ship? The logistics of that are overwhelming. You need to clear out space for a production facility, which means zoning permits and paying property taxes. Then you need to buy the equipment. That means sales taxes. Then you have to hire people to install said equipment. Then you have to hire a workforce. That means payroll taxes and payroll. Then-

Or I could just partner up with someone who is already to go.

Who?

The Kraut.

Hans Baumer?

Yep.

The elevator door opened and Wexler walked out.

2.

Hans Baumer was attired in a thick leather jacket. Yet he still felt cold. He was outside on the balcony outside his office, where it was cold and raining sure, but some day’s he always felt cold.

He was leaning on the railing, just under the veranda so he didn’t get wet. Casually taking drags off his Turkish cigarette. He looked out beyond, not at anything in particular.

It had been two days since he was home. The byproduct of being a workaholic. Always being at the office or the factory floor to see how things were doing. Making sure everyone and everything was ok. The end result was a smooth running operation with two broken marriages with four kids he had to schedule time to see.

He sighed. Did he shower today? Probably not. Even though he had a shower room installed in his office. He should take one. Go home. See the kids. Suzy, the youngest, had a piano recital this weekend. Have to make sure I go.

He felt as blue as the weather. He had just read the news. A new fusion generator had been bought by his rival Galactic Missions. He scoffed at their business plan. Send robots to outer space? They didn’t have the means to get them there and now they buying some half baked fuel source relying on fusion energy. What fools.

Solar Discoveries was his baby. It was a private venture he funded himself. His own private fleet of spacecraft. It was all funded from his beginnings in software, creating websites. One in particular, made him a fortune. But he wanted more, and looked to the stars for inspiration. He started small, launching communication satellites. Then it was small pods, then full on shuttles, first running supplies to the space station, before finally making a test run going around the moon. None were manned of course. A small team of technicians ran everything from a control room. That would change soon though, they would eventually have to send some daredevil’s up to man the fly the damned things. Land on the moon again? Yeah, why not? Beyond that though….

His train of thought was interrupted by his secretary Fay.

Sir, a Mr. Wexler is on the phone for you?

His competition? He didn’t know what to make of Wexler fellow, but he at least beat Wexler into space. While Hans’s team was making several trips to space, Wexler’s little toys were sitting in storage.

He stubbed his cigarette and flicked it away and went inside.

Thanks Fay

He picked up the phone.

This is Hans

On the other end was that husky voice.

Baumer, how are you?

Fine Wexler, yourself?

"I’m well; say have you read the trades lately?’

Yes.

I got a hot potato here Baumer; this could be a game changer.

Congratulations

Hear me out, I know we’re both bidding on the same NASA contract. But this is something we both could use. Right now your negotiating a new contract with Big Oil because you’ll need a new fuel source to power your birds. I need to get my robots a ride into space. I say lets talk deal.

I’m listening.

Why don’t you come up this weekend and we can discuss forming a merger? Let’s meet face to face. Talk it out over steak. You got anything going on?

No.

Alright, see you then

Alright.

Hans hung up. Now he really had to shower. And get Suzy a condolence present.

3.

Hans showed up at the Wexler mansion in much better shape then he was at his office. Hair trimmed, face clean shaven, and more alert. He had to be.

He arrived early, was greeted by one of the maids, and was told to make himself at home, by which he did by loitering in the living room,

After several minutes, he heard that husky voice from the hallway.

Baumer! How the hell are you?

He turned to Wexler.

Fine Wexler

Good, good. Well what are you doing in here? The food is out there.

Okay

Hans started after Wexler, who noticed the bottle in Hans’s hands.

What’cha got there?

Chateau Briand. I heard it was your favorite.

Wexler laughed. You heard right.

During the course of the meal, they made small talk about different things. Finally, after dessert, Wexler got down to business.

So, Hans, we come from different backgrounds, but we have a common goal. Exploring different worlds. We are dreamers sure, but for once, we are dreamers with the ability to make our dreams come true.

Hans listened.

"I’m talking about taking the next step beyond earth. There are no more unexplored places here anymore. No faraway land to reach, or new world to discover beyond the horizon. Only space is left.

Hans said You don‘t have to sell me Wexler. I‘m there too.

Exactly! Rather than compete, lets join forces. We’re the only serious ones doing this. The only other company doing something like this is Virgin, and all their doing is making people shill out 100 grand for a two minute ride at the top of the world. With this fusion technology I have, we can use it to fuel your birds to take them farther than anyone has dared. My robots can do more than dig for rocks, they can set up bases. Bases for humans on different planets. My only limitation is I don’t have a way to get up there. Yours is the fuel source you use. I say let‘s put aside our difference‘s and overcome our limitations. Let‘s build something that can go further than anyone has.

Hans said nothing. He stuck his hand out.

Wexler shook it.

Within a few short days, a deal