Second Take

By Roger Russell

An exciting next installment from Roger Russell’s Double Take series.

When exiled into a hostile and toxic part of space the seven close friends must learn about survival, and remember not to forget the human spirit that brings us all together. From the beginning as they plan their relocation to the final moments when opposing camps learn to come together again this story goes from one challenging situation after another. In any setting human nature remains the same and they meet difficult moments as any of us might if we were in their place.

New planets, new technologies, and old grudges can be a lethal mix. Can these brave souls survive and learn to be better people for it? And will their enemies allow them the chance as they work towards those goals? This is a story about betrayals, triumphs, taking chances against steep odds. Loyalties both good and bad. Once you start, you won’t want to miss a moment!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493167265

Roger Russell

Born in 1947 in Eldoret, Kenya Roger attended school in Bournemouth, UK and St David's College in Johannesburg, SA. Roger Russell fell into a long drop toilet when he was three years old, out of a car when he was four. He went on to almost drown himself at six, cut through his left leg when he was seven and crush his right arm when he was nine. By the time he was eleven he had spent over a year in hospital and had been the recipient of many hundreds of stitches. He was banned from playing soccer or rugby and could not run to save his life. He started in the mines at nineteen and lost his finger in an accident before a month had passed. He joined the U/G Rescue team and was gassed, trapped and lost underground within the space of a single year. Roger married in 1968 and is the father of four children by his first wife, Sharon, to whom he was happily married for twenty five years before she died of cancer in 1993. He has since remarried and lives with Cynthia on a 30 foot motor cruiser in Hermitage Marina near St Ives in the UK. They have one child, a boy named Gordon after Roger's father. In 1993, after the death of his wife, Roger walked from Beit Bridge on the Northern border of South Africa to Cape Town, a distance of 2000km. He slept alongside the road and walked alone and un-armed through one of the worst political times the country had ever seen. He saw then and has continued to see immense power in common people. In 1999 he walked right around South Africa to support a much maligned South African Police Services. He was mugged by a squatter camp gang, attacked by a policeman in a remote station in the Transkei and swept away in a flash flood in the Orange Free State. He has seen police barracks that were worse than some prison cells, met and spoken with criminals, saints and politicians. The British media called him a South African hero and Steve Tshwete, the South African Minister of Safety and Security at the time said he was truly a South African patriot. Roger has also walked in America on two occasions, promoting South Africa and cancer awareness to the people of California, Nevada, New Mexico and other states. Roger has written several books all of which he plans to publish with Smashwords in time.

Book preview

SECOND TAKE

Roger Russell

Copyright © 2014 by Roger Russell.

Library of Congress Control Number:            2014901461

ISBN:                  Hardcover                   978-1-4931-6725-8

                            Softcover                     978-1-4931-6724-1

                            eBook                          978-1-4931-6726-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 04/07/2014

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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CONTENTS

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

The cold reaches of space can be so deceiving.

Oh sure, there are countless millions of hot stars. Each a pinpoint of boiling energy. But in between all those hot spots there are cold wastes of empty frozen darkness. Most of it empty, but with bits of this and that sprinkled here and there all the same.

And if you had good charts you could take a ship anyplace safely. And if you didn’t?

Well, then you took your chances on what you would stumble over.

In this dark stretch there just happened to be an asteroid following a course set long ago.

In the covering darkness this asteroid looked so unremarkable. Drifting aimlessly along on this particular course in a section of empty, uninhabited space. Without any solar systems there were no natives to claim what was produced here. There were a few very distant stars in the neighborhood. But none close enough to give it light or warmth. None within reach for so long it had been eons since its surface had been warm or for their gravity to coax it into orbit. Not even a high elliptical orbit.

So, it belonged only to itself. This particular rock in space had a history as old as the cosmos, and as mysterious. Even if a ship was traveling nearby by chance, if they had secured from faster than light travel speeds, would probably have noticed nothing.

But on the surface, rotating with the slow spin on its uneven axis, had they looked closer, some closely clustered lights would have been noticeable. Barely, and only at the correct angles. And had they gone closer still to investigate, the most curious of things would begin to be noticed.

Of course it would catch them completely by surprise.

And that’s the way the complex on the surface, and the organization behind it, wanted things. Just a small rock nobody knew about in a place nobody cared about, with a small presence nobody would notice.

If the truth were known, and it was mostly theory of course, there was a history to this piece of rock in space. It had seen things no other located asteroid could brag about. The trajectory traced back through time would place it very near a black hole. Perhaps it had ricocheted around it and been traveling fast enough to escape the tremendous forces and gravity of that most destructive of space phenomena. The escape hadn’t so much changed it in visible ways, but in the very nature of the matter that had survived.

And the private corporation that stumbled onto it had found ways to take advantage of those miraculous changes.

But the asteroid was in effect, a bit of interstellar debris and ignored by all up to this point. In the dark and mostly unnoticed. Any traveler of space knows these things are common, if you happen to stumble onto them. That was the key, being the one who stumbled on them first and realizing what you had found.

And on this asteroid, even the very people living there often forgot how remarkable the place was where they lived.

ONE

Max stood with his hand on Chuck’s shoulder.

The two men were inside a well lit and comfortably heated quarters. The rooms were part of an apartment building of sorts in a school complex, tucked into a mining facility on a dark small asteroid. It had a bit of an industrial look at the landing pad. But inside the living quarters for the children and staff the look was entirely different. The air was fresh and warm, the lighting bright enough to easily see clearly. The furnishings were of high quality and well matching with accessories setting off the appointments. Art hung on the walls, original pieces for the most part. The two men were expensively dressed and appeared well fed. They looked to be comfortable and for the most part fairly well rested. The setting could have been idyllic, if not for the reason that they were here. Even in a dark frozen section of space.

There was anxiety written on their faces; but for reasons that were entirely outside the quality of their environment. Their station in life had its advantages, that was true enough. But they were facing the other side of their station in life. For most living in space, survival and essentials were a constant battle. But these men, and the other humans living on station with them were not average. Not in this place. The corporation that owned and managed this part of space did it quite well. Particularly this one small uncharted asteroid. And that had begun to make them targets.

It had all been so tragic. A young student had been murdered in cold blood. That’s why these two men were here, standing and looking out a window on this dark forbidding asteroid. To put it bluntly, they were inside the quarters of the victim, deciding if they should allow him to speak from the past. Constantine had died violently, assassinated. Of course it went without saying, he was way too young to die, let alone such a miserable death, shot by a coward hiding in the shadows. He had been murdered not for something he had done, nor anyone else had actually done. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Being the child of corporate leadership worked against him for once. And after the case had been solved and all the wheels of justice had spoken there was still some leftover business.

A murder never happens at a convenient time in the victim’s life. Things are left undone and unfinished. That was why these two men stood looking out this particular window. They hadn’t been the first to draw strength and resolve from this landscape. It did have a cold beauty of sorts. But it was the stars that made the view so captivating, just as it does any other place in deep space. The murder victim had appreciated that as well. That was the problem. Constantine had even enjoyed it enough to have gone a step farther. He had written pages in his journals and hidden them outside in the dark, beyond the protection of this window. It seemed to be the one place he could bare his tormented soul.

What he had written was a mystery. There was so much happening in his life at home, and at school as busy as he was. There was a lot of pressure on this particular teenager. And all that went into consideration as they decided what to do with the pages of writings. Constantine was a jagged memory of things that could go wrong; memories of someone that had ended badly before his time.

Max, the older man with gray sprinkled in his hair was doing everything he could to emotionally support the younger man. But some demons have to be faced alone. A worker was outside in a reflective mining suit moving slowly and carefully. Each step was studied and the foot prints in the dust examined as the two behind the atmospheric seals looked on. Lights shifted and bobbed as the worker moved and advanced.

The miner finally stopped at a particular large rock. He moved carefully around it, examining the ground for foot prints. Then finally satisfied this was as far as the trail went, the worker moved in closer to examine the rock itself. After some critical close up inspection he realized it had been lifted before. Taking it with both hands the miner strained and raised it. Then swiveling to one side the man placed the heavy rock back down onto the surface. In the shallow depression where it had sat was what he was looking for. It held a bundle of folded papers. The lighting from his helmet lit them up.

No doubt they would be fragile now from exposure, but they were intact and would be readable. If they were going to be read at all. But that wasn’t his decision. He was just here to safely collect them. For anyone searching to understand the murdered student these delicate pages were a treasure trove waiting to be retrieved.

Inside, the two men were facing that question. Max was a director and curious about everything that happened at his mining station. But Chuck at his side was the young student’s half brother. Even if Chuck and Constantine had never met, there was a connection that deserved to be respected. And more than that, Chuck had investigated and solved the murder. Did he want to understand the motives for what he had discovered when investigating Constantine? Those were answers that only Chuck could find within his heart. Was this even something he was searching for?

Chuck looked to Max with a question in his eyes. So Max spoke calmly and slowly to explain the background of the pages being recovered.

"We knew that Constantine would on occasion leave his quarters through this window, for about an hour at a time.

At first we didn’t know what was happening. Not until we heard from another caregiver. Tante happened to mention it in passing. She mentioned it to Gran when they were having tea that she saw him ‘writing’ out there. It bothered her, but she hadn’t thought to mention it right away. Tante has a way of staying busy with things.

Each family would send a caregiver for their children attending the school on station. Tante was one of the more well known nannies. She had a way of having the other care givers flocking to her for suggestions and common sense approaches to dealing with the children. It was commonly known by all, and for one Max was glad her charges had a few more years at school. She would be missed when her children grew up and she moved on.

The two men watched as the worker picked up the papers and put them carefully into a bag.

It wasn’t hard to imagine the thoughts swirling around in Chuck’s mind. What kinds of papers had Constantine buried? More importantly, had he intended them to be uncovered later? Just what had Constantine written down? That was a very real question. He was clearly an angry and troubled youth. What sort of privacy should be expected in a situation like this? If it wasn’t for their father and the emotional abuse Chuck suspected, he probably would have just burned the pages, respecting his brother’s privacy. But if these were a cry for justice? That was different. If they described what he had seen and heard his alcoholic father doing at work, then they deserved to be taken seriously.

As the investigator of Constantine’s murder he was the one person in a position to sort through them and decide. It was a job that Max was glad to pass off onto someone else. And he was relieved it was to the one person qualified to make the next decision.

Max almost held his breath as a sack full of papers was set beside the indentation that had covered them, and the rock returned to it.

Refocusing, he went on.

Alex checked with Mr. Bridges and the dates of the atmosphere purges matched dates of events at the school that Constantine was involved with.

We expect those will be his diary of sorts.

Max wanted to say more of course. The scenarios were endless but most revolved around the surly temper and angry outlook that Constantine had every year as predictably as a ticking clock.

His carefully guarded thoughts were probably something like,

I’m willing to bet you don’t have a clue what your brother was really like. You may have heard things from people, but this will probably show you a side of Constantine he never thought anyone would ever see.

But instead he merely carefully asked,

Are you sure you want to read them?

Their eyes met for a moment, then Chuck took a breath and looked back out the window. Max gave him a moment to think.

If anything will help you understand your brother these papers should do it.

Chuck nodded, understanding Max wanted his decision.

With a wave of the hand the worker picked up the papers and started back in towards them.

Max watched as Director Chuck Margolis swallowed then moved forward to lower the atmospheric shield enough to allow the worker back inside without venting the atmosphere.

The mine worker pushed through the field and stepped into the room. Setting the specimen bag down inside on the floor he adjusted the restraining field again to full power. Putting the glass into place and securing it into the framing he watched the seal indicator lights turn green again.

Then relaxing he pulled his head gear off and pulled off his gloves.

They were right where you expected them boss.

Picking them up again he handed them to Max and moved to leave the room.

Max held the bag, and then turned to face Chuck again

I’ll leave these with you.

Motioning around them at the quarters he added,

This might be as good a place as any to read them. Take your time, no one is waiting to use the room.

Chuck moved to the main living area and settled onto the sofa.

His hands shook a bit as he started on the first page he pulled from the sack. Then after he realized the ghosts here were nothing that any ordinary teenager might write, he sorted out the papers by date and began digging into them in earnest. Some were a diary about school events, but enough details were about their father that other investigators would need to check into some of the claims written in the pages he held. Even if Director Margolis no longer held voting shares he was still accountable for the kinds of things the letters described. As the compound grew quiet for the night and lights were turned off, one stayed lit long after everyone else had retired.

Days blended into each other and people left Chuck alone. He seemed to need space and didn’t go out of his way either way. But long hours went into the notes he was taking and the report he was writing. Using the comp links he double checked figures from Constantine’s home space station to verify what was written. Step by step he sorted the angry feelings, and the rebellious teen from the corruption and abuse.

Finally enough time had gone by and the only family Chuck had nearby broke his isolation. A willowy young woman swept into his quarters. Liz had a habit of stopping by and making sure Chuck’s quarters were neat and tidy. She brought more this time, since he hadn’t been going out much; food, cleaners and a hug for her big brother.

Her time on the station was about over, but she worried about Chuck. She didn’t want to push or make him defensive. And if she hovered over him it would be irritating, she understood that. But all the same she moved around cleaning and organizing. The papers at the table where he worked were left undisturbed, but there was enough other stuff to keep her busy for a while. Cleaning from room to room and then making sure there was food and clean laundry she finally wrapped up her chores.

The smells from the kitchen finally brought Chuck to the dining room and the two had a quiet but companionable meal together. Liz watched, and was reassured that Chuck was doing all right. Obviously he was taking things seriously but there weren’t any signs he was overwhelmed. She felt better about his frame of mind; they finished the meal and both rose to go their own ways.

Liz put the last of the dishes away from supper and was wiping down the counters.

She stopped and turned towards Chuck as she leaned against the counter. As his assistant in several previous cases, she knew his thinking and the style he used to compile evidence. And he was following true to form in this one.

Chuck sat at the table with two piles.

One was on the edge of the table above the trash can at his right side and the other was on his left side, spread out on the table.

Piece by piece he went through the evidence and decided what would be included in the official report, and what would be safely discarded. Some things simply had no relevance. Like the report of two children holding hands unsupervised the night of the murder. He smiled as he wadded that paper up and tossed it into the waste basket. The surprise discovery of an extra Mendelson on station held no important part of this report. It did need to be mentioned, but both children were living full and content lives in spite of it. In fact after the board meeting the previous week at the school, it would be anti-climactic. The directors and shareholders were all aware of it, and might only access his report for the specifics of the affair. So, he had to tell their story instead of just reporting on facts. It was a subtle but important difference that sat heavily on Chuck’s shoulders.

Liz was perceptive enough to know something was bothering him. Her voice broke the silence.

What was it like?

He knew instinctively what she was talking about. His father was not just a philanderer, but incompetent. The other shareholders had finally decided to replace him, and as his new heir, Chuck had been thrown into the limelight. It had separated them as nothing else had until then. He was taken from Liz’s and his own social status and elevated to one of the most rarified positions in this quadrant of space. There were only fifty shareholders controlling so many aspects of human existence. Now Chuck was one of them. Not only was it unexpected, but she wasn’t sure if it was wanted. So, the question was asking far more than the words themselves asked.

Chuck took his time and answered carefully.

They are more pragmatic than I expected. They are slightly more or less human about things than you’d expect. And never when you see it coming.

Reaching for another piece of paper, he included it into the notes on the case. Pausing a moment, he glanced over at her.

Pavel said to finish this report and by then he’d have an idea what they’re going to want me to do. That’s it. No follow up, no recriminations. These directors don’t like being second guessed, so they’re not going to do that with the Mendelsons.

Liz knew there was that kind of understanding among the investigators. So it kind of made sense to her, even if they practiced it on totally different levels. Walking up behind Chuck she leaned over to see what he was reading and used her hand to smooth his hair just a bit. With a bitter sweet smile she sighed and moved back to the kitchen. She hung up a towel and went to get her things together.

The guests to the asteroid had left for the most part. She still was surprised by how many were shareholders, and retired shareholders still acting as directors. They had all shown up to deal with the issues Chuck had uncovered. They all had made themselves at home and all the clutter that implied waited for her to put it to rights. She still had a lot of things to clean and put to rights in the directors quarters. And now that everyone was gone it was finally possible for her to do that.

Well, I’m sure you’ll do just fine big brother.

With all her supplies at the door she went back one last time to Chuck. He rose and gave her a hug then watched as she headed out the door.

The truth of the matter was Chuck wasn’t sure he could tell Liz what it was like. How could you explain what it was like being asked to wait in the small hallway Just in case they have questions and then end up being voted into the position of shareholder to replace the man you never knew was your real father? He had suddenly been thrust into being one of the fifty most powerful people in this quadrant in space. Liz had seen their father as well, drunk and all. And while she had that rude awakening as to her parentage, she hadn’t been pushed into replacing her father at anything.

She still might meet him and get to know him without posing a threat to his status and position. That was a luxury Chuck could now never have.

His emotions were still really confused. It might sound fun to someone not understanding the responsibilities that went with the position. But Chuck knew better than that. And every time he dealt with any director it became even more clear just how much they took on.

He had glanced over to the diplomas, and certification forms he had for both Alexes. That’s when he realized even if Mr. Bridges had certified him, there was still the one year internship to serve. Until that was completed he was not officially an acting director. There was no getting around it. With a feeling of dread Chuck realized just how frightened that made him.

The Mendelson twins had carefully set up their internships so that no posting might be a sort of retaliation for their secret. There was a lot of territory in space managed by the corporation, and a lot of unpleasant and dangerous things they could dump on him, if they wanted him to fail. And he didn’t have the family looking out for him like Alexander had when his existence became discovered.

There were so many unknowns, so many challenges Chuck didn’t even know where to start. But he realized he didn’t need to. Not right now anyhow. Chuck realized it was a nightmare to face on another day. If he was going to survive Chuck would need to learn that pragmatism he had seen in action. There was work to do, and he had everything he needed to get it done. Leaning forward with comp pad in hand he went to work completing his report. One mess at a time was much easier to deal with.

There would be an end to the information, and the story he had to tell. So, it was back to the stack of evidence on the table. Most of the story had been told, most of the facts laid out in charts. Reviewing and making sure it was polished enough to present was going to be time consuming, and he welcomed the distraction the work presented.

Liz let herself out, and the quiet of the night settled in around the compound.

Any large business has multiple divisions. Some are more important than others. And often, the important ones go unnoticed. And that was the case as a very quiet and reserved man entered a regularly scheduled shuttle and without any fanfare or demands made his way to his seat in the central main passenger compartment. As he sat and settled in for the flight it didn’t take him long to get organized, since he traveled so light.

He sat alone, with only his personal computer at his side, and his comp pad tucked into a pocket.

The other passengers didn’t know who he was or have a clue that the sleek new computer on his lap was three generations beyond state of the art in current available electronics.

They merely saw an older rumpled man with longish hair that needed cutting and nice clothes that looked as if he had been wearing them for a long while. With travel, that was easy to do. So he pretty much just blended into the group that had boarded before the shuttle left the space station.

They wouldn’t have much to wonder about him or why he was so important not just to the corporation that ran the shuttle, but to them as well. But he was, and his division was the center of action for recent advances. Just the day before they had verified his advanced technical research facility had just scored a huge goal. They had probably made the most important single discovery that could make it faster and easier to open up the lower spiral for development. True, the lower spirals were as yet undeveloped. But there was potential in that area of space. Potential that Sampson Rawlings expected to be heavily involved with.

It’s hard to imagine the implications to those words. The Rawlings Institute had contracts with dozens of technical entities and there was staff to deal with that mundane side of business. But Director Rawlings thrived on figuring out the unknown and making it commonplace. And the new target of his attention was the new frontier; the lower spiral.

Director Rawlings lived in the inner spiral. It was where anyone who was anyone lived by choice. More settled, more secure, close to the major hubs his division dealt with. People seemed to move with more grace and assurance. The outer spiral was newer, rougher around the edges. New equipment started here in the inner spiral then worked its way outward. And so far that had worked well enough. Everyone understood why, that was where things had started at the beginning of the corporate charter. Some considered it a bit over reaching, but mankind came from old earth. Then with all the audacity that only terran humans could brazen out they had decided their world wasn’t enough. They had flung themselves into the vast echoes of space and started making their mark. That spiral of stars closest to them was gradually then consistently referred to as the inner spiral. As if the stars cared where this little group of upstarts had originated.

But the name from earth’s point of view was accurate and it stuck.

Director Rawlings, the first one of his line, was his grandfather. Sampson Rawlings had told him all the stories about how the governments on earth were in power to control and limit. That mankind had grown to the point where it simply couldn’t tolerate those limits and started reaching beyond those petty little small minded tyrants. That inferred that the directors were neither small minded, nor tyrants as they ran their thriving version of trade in space.

He could still remember sitting on his grandfather’s knee and hearing the old man speak with lots of charm and a figurative twinkle in his eye,

You can’t limit the human desire to reach for more.

Of course more was an easy word to define with a touch of flexibility, however the situation warrants. From an extra serving of dessert, to a faster shuttle on the way to your next appointment.

His gramps was one of the original 50 shareholders. He was the first director of the ‘Rawlings" Institute. His father, Hans Rawlings, didn’t have much interest in how or why things worked the way they did. But he had a talent of making them available to the people who needed them to work that way and made a fortune for the foundling corporation and made a lot of the expansion possible. Expansion that made the earth desperate to either steal their success or destroy it. That was when they had moved the corporate headquarters from the habitat in a lunar orbit to one farther out and began mining the asteroid belts. That was a huge risk, but the ores in space had different qualities and abilities. That made them valuable, once their advantages were understood. From that stepping off point they had developed faster, and better ship drives. Those new technologies had opened up the stars.

The first ten planets had been the origins of the current corporation.

Of course they had been pushed to take settlers and start human colonies.

But Sampson Rawlings and the Mendelsons along with the other families had started looking ahead and setting down guidelines.

"We only take employees, and only if the native population welcomes

them."

The understood flip side was, If we fire you, you go home.

Keeping the natives happy and willing to trade was the goal of the corporation. If the petty little dictators from earth wanted to build ships and colonize, they could do it with their own funding. And based on their own stagnant sciences. Small groups were hired and relocated to strategic places and the corporate business grew. Volume increased as they located and developed local resources, all with the blessings of those natives they depended on for labor and trade agreements. The historical tales made it sound so idyllic. There were moments of crisis and tension, it would be lying to pretend that there wasn’t. But news of those events never seemed to make it back to old earth.

Space engineering was slightly different than planet side engineering. And old earth was losing its abilities, while the corporation was losing its welcome back home. That shifted its recruiting to the lunar colony and the fledgling Mars colony in exchange for trade agreements. Whether they liked the trade group or not, the colonies needed those supplies.

His grandfather was always sad when he mentioned those agreements. It was the sad way of saying good-bye to their mother earth, the world that bore them. But the stars beckoned and the hearty group of shareholders had worked too hard to turn back.

Some natives demanded certain local treasures were still off limits. But thinking long term meant just that. The time would come when they would be allowed to develop those things, or not. But in the meantime there were profits to be had with what indigenous people did want to trade for.

The galactic spiral closest to the Sol was charted and trade had been carefully built up. The corporation flourished and the next generation had started to become complacent. That’s when the older directors rallied together and expanded to the next spiral of the stars. He had been a small child when the push had begun. But even now they were still exploring and charting the spiral he now hoped to call home some day. When he finally retired there was a small planet not far from Tirelius. The weather there agreed with him, and the water did his aching joints a lot of good. But even as he had people designing and building a retirement complex he could enjoy, his heart was still here, at work.

Nobody that wasn’t an important somebody knew where the Rawlings Institute was located. The necessary folks did of course, his workers and family. If you wanted to ship something to the institute you just wrote the name on the package and the system would route it eventually. Suspicious packages were normally handled at another world to avoid espionage.

But frankly? They simply hadn’t had anyone that could bring to bear any force of consequence. Not for a long time. That seemed to be changing now, with terrorist attacks on different worlds.

But, the nice thing about the system of directorships is that he didn’t need to worry about it. The corporation had directors in charge of that, with their experts for those challenges. Director Rawlings could focus on the work he loved best.

There was still work to do. Now, with the lower spiral opening up there was all sorts of work! They would no doubt have missteps. But that didn’t bother him so much. It still did his heart good to remember some of the victories. And they still came with surprising regularity. And now he had steered his team to one huge leap that would help generations ahead of him. The scene had been so rewarding. It had happened just a couple of days before and was as clear to him as yesterday.

Director Rawlings had just traveled to the chambers of the board and hand delivered a recorded message explaining the details, and he was now going back to his office. The board could find the best ways to take advantage of the discovery, his place was assured because of it.

In Rawlings’ mind, his sprawling complex was the pride of the corporation. The reality was that Director Sampson Rawlings II was probably right.

The director really was doing a great job and everyone in two quadrants of space benefited from it. Soon that would be three quadrants.

The advanced technology center was the hub of any new applied sciences. There were several divisions of course. From medical to agriculture, to advanced energy systems. That was the one that made enough to fund the others.

So many planets simply were starved for cheap reliable energy. Not the host planet of course, but the less developed ones often signed trade agreements with the corporation simply in the quest for the hungry people and those that needed to power their economies.

And there were several energy generation systems Director Rawlings offered for sale. For a reasonable price of course. Another director in marketing handled the details and yet another handled the manufacturing end of things.

And that was a good front for the things Rawlings really wanted to busy himself with. Research on space itself. Not many people knew about the research on computation and astrophysics.

Within days, if the board released the information, that was the one that would be earning their accolades. At least with the pilots who would fly the new route and the ship builders that could make more targeted payload vessels. Who would have thought that mapping the stars and finding the best routes between them would be so important? Director Rawlings had.

Of course faster than light ships could adjust course easily. But the new hush hush gravitic drives were another matter. Oh sure they could lock onto any star and use its gravity well at any distance. But other factors made that complicated. The forward momentum for one had to be dealt with, so instead of the course being straight lines it tended to end up being a series of arches as it swung around one star after another.

It was possible, but it made the computing necessities of the gravitic ship’s astrophysics projections and course plots amazingly demanding. Straight one star jumps were so much easier on both the systems and the ships that held them. The stresses as they swung around a gravity well were enough to tear things lose, things that really needed not to slide around.

And with the new long range supply ships for the lower spiral, it was critical they have a single star jump. That’s what the celebration had been about.

His staff had found it. The inhabited planet on a quiet corner of the outer spiral with existing negotiated rights to place a space station that had a single star jump clear to the target area. And it was a single star jump away from both the Mendelson Shipyard and the New Madrid shipping facility for cargo and freight. Better yet, the natives were willing to expand the corporate presence in their space. It seems overtures had been made in the past, but hadn’t really been pursued.

The new course location seemed too good to be true. And the Board was determined to make sure it stayed that way.

Director Rawlings had already signed off on a new fusion reactor for the Canatra 3 capital. Free of charge, unless they wanted to pay for the installation itself. That was for the director of development to worry about. The board had been clear on its wishes in the matter. If anything was paid for, the price would be heavily discounted. Just enough for the planet to keep their dignity and not feel beholden to the outsiders.

The planet was to be treated with kid gloves. The softest of kid gloves.

He thought back to the night the team had broken the news. Even as the celebration raged around him, still something bothered the director. Quietly he had pulled aside the lead cartographer.

Do we have a backup route, just in case?

That was typical Director Rawlings. Always making sure. His father had taught him that, and it had served him well all these years.

The moment he handed the data cubes to the board speaker was probably going to be the high point of his career. All the other advances would have been all right, and he would have clearly been a success. But to find a way to open up a new section of space? How many humans could make that claim? Not many. Then get to be the director in charge of the advances possible with new materials discovered there? That was going to be another achievement beyond the mere profits involved.

The thoughts were not average thoughts. But for an observer on that shuttle the face was the face of a normal business traveler weary and hoping to be home. Sitting pretty much by himself, since the window seat was empty, the Director opened a screen and began to run some computations.

After leaving the board speaker’s office, he had made one other stop. Having a new charted route was nice, but you needed ships to ply that route to make it valuable. So, it was a side trip to the two noteworthy shipyard directors. They had been given the information and the challenges had been laid out. The meeting with both Directors Mendelson and Garrett had been revealing. They were just as good at their trades as he was with his. Both had laid out issues to deal with and suggested specifications to make the long range trip technically possible.

He was sure his people could get the designs done in days with this information. Maddox had the large yards for long range craft, and the Mendelson yards had the practical information on gravitic drive. Between the two, and his advanced design, it would be done on time.

The key was the differing stresses that the gravitic drive placed on the ships. It literally pulled them at up to five gravities, and would maintain that acceleration for days on end to the destination they had in mind. Personnel would need a small bubble of artificial gravity to survive, and the cargo would need to be secured enough not to come loose and damage the inside hull plating.

And more than that, the acceleration had to be attached to the center of gravity for the ship as it stayed pointed at the target star. Otherwise the extra mass on one side would begin to pull the hull in that direction and it would lose its lock and be adrift. There were so many new variables that simply weren’t an issue with regular faster than light ships.

A single star jump was necessary, that much was obvious. If they had a long thin craft with an alloy backbone they could attach all loads to it in layered rings, balanced as necessary. They wouldn’t really even need much of an outer hull along the flank, but they would need a way for the flight crew to either remotely control the braking engine or have access for them to travel to the braking pod at the rear.

His fingers flew over the pad, sketching his ideas. It would look like a two headed worm, for lack of a better word for it. The new metal alloy from the lower spiral would be necessary for the stress that the spine would need to handle, but the metallurgists would find a way to solve that. And if they made it hollow with rungs as if for a ladder, the pilots could go from end to end without being exposed to space. It would be much cheaper to seal and have atmosphere in that small enclosed space, along with routing any vital wiring or components.

It could have donut shaped loads locked into place along the spine like rings, each fitting against the next at predetermined points. Maneuvering thrusters would over stress the spine, with that much mass. So, it would have to be met and unloaded in space where it stopped.

They could probably put a gravitic drive on a couple of tugs, and have them sent to the lower spiral to be waiting. The exiles needed space tugs for building the space stations anyhow.

The hours whirred by as he was lost in his own world.

His first assistant sat discretely across the aisle from him watching the mind sort and put solutions into place. Director Rawlings may have inherited his position as shareholder, but Rawlings had earned the respect of everyone he worked with.

And eventually he took a break as the flight attendant offered him his lunch. The ills of the interstellar community could wait at least long enough for him to eat a sandwich. In spite of their influence and talents, even corporate directors were still human.

The dark asteroid Chuck was living on was more than just a mine. What it was exactly could get rather complicated. It really was a mine, an actively worked mine with ore being exported regularly. And while that rare ore was valuable, the asteroid was important for more than just that product.

In corporate space, by necessity security had become a more prominent issue of late. Attacks and bombings had been unheard of until recently. But now they were in the news a couple of times every year. With the corporate space being so spread out, it hadn’t seemed to have effected very much among the common citizenry. But the attacks were targeted towards upper level corporate employees and their children. So, having the children tucked away at the last place anyone could look for them solved a lot of concerns. That is where the small asteroid came into the picture.

The uncharted asteroid wandered on a strange unpredictable elliptical orbit, and decisions made on its use were becoming rather more flexible. Recently the board met within its confines so it did far more than also doubling only as a school. The director in charge had been generous, never dreaming how much use the facility would generate. The couple, Max and Myrella Mendelson had spared no expense thinking of the school children. Desks, books, a school yard with trees to climb in. All that was useful when the school children were present. The corporation had to maintain the containment field over the yard with the trees and lawns. So, they might as well get some use out of it during the non school periods. At the moment the facility was being used for something entirely different than anyone might have planned. It was no bunch of dewy eyed innocent youngsters sitting in the class room as the summer recess sped by. Just yards away from the scene with the buried notes were the seven convicted of the murder. The killing had happened in the school yard, and the trial happened here in the main reception hall with the entire management of the corporation sitting in as judge and jury. Chuck and Max had looked out onto the dark nightscape knowing how close they were, and knowing the seven would pay for their involvement in that death.

Those inside the school hunched over comp pads and lists. They had a sentence handed to them, and they were chafing to earn redemption. One project, one report at a time to show they could be trusted. If they were to succeed in the lower spiral it would take a lot of hard work. Even for these seven adults. They were known for being high achievers, perhaps developing the lower spiral would help them realize even they had limits. They all understood their exile would be punishment for Constantine’s death. More than that it was a chance for them. They could earn their way back into society, in time. And with a lot of work that would not just benefit them, but the entire corporation. And they had agreed to it all the same. As they had decided, ten years could go by quickly when you’re working hard. Since it was summer break it was a convenient time to allow them to plan that return to grace. And that was exactly what they were doing.

The school complex was eerily silent during summer break. Like most abandoned school facilities they seem to live and breathe with the children that had filled them. Now, there was no sound of children filling the complex. No laughter in the grass filled courtyard. No children climbing or swinging in the trees while adults pretended to act horrified. The silent buildings designed for the students and their staff stood nearly empty. The hushed atmosphere was a rare break in the controlled chaos, and it would be ending quickly enough once the semester started.

Of course in space the environmental control still had to be working perfectly. The hushed hum of air vents and life support was muted in the background. It didn’t quite mask the voices within the main classroom however. And that was bothering the one hold over from the school year. Mr. Bridges, the headmaster and principal, had work and planning to do during this off time and was not used to his domain being usurped like this. Of course he knew there was no stopping it. So with the best graces possible he bowed to the inevitable. But he didn’t have to like it. This morning as the group sat in the main class room he was as far away as possible.

Mr. Bridges sat in his private office with the door firmly closed. His notes and class planners were on the desk in front of him. But it was hard for the headmaster to concentrate. Even just knowing they were there was enough. And he had plenty to keep busy.

The other teachers were gone on vacation. That’s the way the headmaster wanted it. He could ignore the social pressures and take each student’s needs and schedule both supplies and how to use them. The shuttles would be coming and going with regularity. Having deliveries made wasn’t much of an issue. But things had to be purchased and delivered to the only space dock that was allowed to deliver to the school. That only added a couple of days lag time in delivery times, usually. To make matters even worse the corporate board had accepted political students and he had to add that to the complex mixture. He understood better than anyone that these children weren’t just kids trying to pass entrance exams to further education or training programs. These children would be running the corporation and needed specialized care. And that took complete concentration which those people in his class room were disrupting.

With a sigh he put his pen down and laid his head on his hands in resignation. There was nothing to do about it. When the children were present and school was in full swing he ruled with a velvet fist. But this was different. And when the corporate board wanted to use resources they had paid for and built, no one questioned them.

All the same, it rankled that he was hiding in his office while strangers sat talking in his class room. There was planning and thinking necessary. Messages to new families and reminders to returning families that were coming and going as the details of housing and other issues were settled.

As headmaster and principal it was busy work that made the summer fly by all the more quickly. And Mr. Bridges did want to stay busy. It was easier than thinking about all that had happened in the last year.

The first death at the complex. The murder ate at him still. And then of course the arrival of all the corporate directors and the decisions they had made.

He had heard rumors about some of it. But the bulletins he had received from the education director didn’t touch on much. The director was busy enough and everything was business as usual.

The fifty shareholders that ran the corporation kept information close on dirty laundry. Not that he suspected they needed to clean house very often, thankfully.

For all the control Mr. Bridges counted on, he understood the limits. The school here in this dark part of space was important. With the advent of political students he hoped there would be some screening done at the school, but that hadn’t happened. He didn’t even get to choose which ones were invited. Higher people for more important reasons compiled the list of children he would educate.

So the corporate business was outside his area of expertise. He normally stayed informed at least about his little world. That meant the larger political maneuverings were beyond his little realm here. For once he was kind of glad he didn’t need to know more than he did. The tiny part he had played had been brutal enough.

That’s why he straightened up and went back to work. His focus would remain firmly on the students. They would need to know how to chart their way in that world. Directors not only kept up to date on events but had to shape them.

When you have that much responsibility on your shoulders it took more than a level head. It took training, experience, and determination knowing what possible rewards might bring.

As the one in charge of the school he had always worked to give the children that background and the intelligence to understand what was at stake. Glancing over the roster of the children for the next year, he had to smile with approval. But the smile died as he heard muted voices in the main class room.

The convicts were scheming and planning. And he would breathe a big sigh of relief when they were finally gone.

He was essentially correct. The gang of seven was in the main class area deep into their preparations.

The white board was covered with notes and writing. Note books, pens and other supplies were scattered about on the desks pulled into a semi circle near the front of the class room, just to the side of the large teacher’s desk.

But the seven weren’t alone. The corporate board had a representative present, and the first assistant working for another to speak on her behalf. Of course the seven sat together, side by side as they had since their early school days. They hadn’t gone to school here on this asteroid. They were before its time. If they had, things might have been so different.

No, they went to one of the two old schools that weren’t as nice. And the abuse the teacher had dealt out had driven them to the calculated attitudes they had developed. But there was no excuse for the circumstances that brought them here.

Gabrielle Collier-Stone had been director of public relations, and might be again someday if they pulled off this project. Now, she was director of trade and relations for the lower spiral.

Her brother, Dorian, sat next to her, making notes with a look of concentration on his face. They resembled each other of course. Firm chins, fair coloring, and the violet colored eyes. But more than that, they had the same assured bearing. Gabrielle’s husband wasn’t here for another couple of weeks; he was winding down their family estates and other responsibilities.

On the other side of Dorian was Farrell Sachs, and two small petite women, Wendy Hamlin and Erin Madsen. They had always positioned themselves in the center of the group, since the days at school when it gave them more protection from the teacher and the bullies he encouraged. Brett Hamlin, Wendy’s brother, sat close to Erin; the body language showed slightly closer than necessary. His protective nature was always ready to defend her, and she knew she could count on it. And then Monroe Stoner sat on the other end watching the others as they went over details.

Maddox had a marker in his hand and was looking to make sure everything that needed to be covered had been covered. The first assistant to development and infrastructure investment picked up papers from the printer and passed them out.

Projections are that the space station can be set up in eighteen shuttle trips if the Garrett Shipyard can adapt the drive units to their designs.

Gabrielle usually spoke for the group. But this time she glanced over to Erin.

As a previous inter-director facilitator she was used to seeing two different spheres of influence and finding a way of making them realize their common agendas. In normal times she was usually busy coordinating the needs of one division with the possible solutions another might make possible. And they would need her skills at pulling things together in the lower spiral. That was why she was going to