Leaving Earth Vol. 1 (Leaving Earth Omnibus) Read online

  USSMC tended to concentrate on the science and technology research aspects of the projects when speaking to the media and in its financial reports. It also liked to discuss in depth the challenges presented by supply, re-use, recycle, and waste concerns of a lunar base, space platforms and stations.

  Grum gave up. More coffee, then find something to do which involved being away from screens.

  The second run of the accelerator, under Grum's paternal gaze, was every bit as much of a success as the first. That gave the team two good sized amounts of antimatter contained in separate magnetic 'bottles'.

  The trick now would be to combine yields without destroying a sizeable chunk of the facility. That feat, however, was not in the project's remit. Success achieved, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology Anti Matter Production project would become defunct. All that was left for Grum and Stewart to do was supervise the dismantling of their experiment, turn over the collider keys to another project, write up the paper, and publish.

  And find new jobs.

  As lead researchers on a high-profile project like MITAMP they would have little problem getting the final paper published in a high impact-factor journal. In turn, they should be able to translate that into good jobs on other well-funded projects. Eventually.

  The call from Steve Branch was a surprise. He phoned Grum's office and suggested an after-work drink to discuss a possible exciting project.

  'You know what it's going to be, don't you?' said Stewart, as he punched the hang-up button on the spiderphone.

  'Tell me anyway.'

  'As we're the people who most intimately know their technology they're going to want us to hang up our academic hats and go to work for USSMC. Making sure their new site is up to snuff and then managing it until we forget how to be researchers!'

  'Probably.' Grum shrugged.

  Stewart looked at his friend quizzically. 'I know you're in your thirties, now, but like... Did something happen to you chemically? Or are you seriously considering that idea?'

  Grum sipped his coffee and failed to respond.

  'You are, aren't you?'

  'Look,' said Grum, after a further pause. 'We're young for top-flight researchers. We could easily run their facility for a few years, still produce at least one or two papers a year, make some steady cash and come out of it still as young-ish, top-flight researchers. Especially you.'

  'But, don't you think that you'll get bored just managing the facility without any proper research to do?'

  'Stewart, mate, it's a brand new facility. So brand new it's not even finished, yet. There's months of beam alignment analysis, et cetera, before we even get to the work. There's no way on this planet that it'll be perfected immediately and then there's the re-combination problem to work on. Do you really think that there'll be no research involved? If anything the research workload might be too much with the administration that'll be involved too.'

  'I hadn't thought about just how new it all is. I suppose it won't hurt to hear him out… But USSMC, man?'

  'We haven't heard the deal, yet, and so what if it's USSMC? It's just another corporation with a research arm. If we can't handle it we're not half the team I think we are.'

  Stewart gave Grum a grin, and Grum grinned back.

  'Sleep on it. As you said, it can't hurt to hear him out,' said Grum.

  'Fair enough. Now, more coffee, then back to the structural analysis section of this damned paper?'

  'Good call on both counts.'

  Chapter 3

  GRUM entered their usual bar with Stewart a half-step behind, paused, and looked around. Yes, Steve Branch was already there. With drinks.

  'Well. First test, then. Let's see what the drinks are,' murmured Grum over his shoulder to Stew.

  They headed towards the table where Steve sat, waiting.

  Grum waved a hand at the glasses as he sat down, leaving it outstretched in Steve's direction. 'Thanks for these. What have we got?' He could already tell that the ales were the right colours, at least.

  Steve shook Grum's hand and then Stew's before answering. 'I'm not really au fait with ales, so I went with the barstaff's advice. You,' Steve pointed at the lighter of the two beers, 'have a golden ale, I'm told, and you, Stewart, well… That was trickier.' Steve now pointed at the darker ale. 'They said you prefer porters, but there were none on. The choice was either a middle-strength stout or a strong mild. That seemed like a bit of a contradiction. I guessed that as it was still early evening, it would be safer to go with the stout.'

  Grum watched Steve throughout the explanation. The guy seemed both understandably perplexed and genuinely anxious that he had done the right thing. Grum was not of a mind to exacerbate that anxiety, so he just picked up his glass, tipped it briefly to Steve and took a mouthful. Not bad.

  'Good choice, thanks,' said Stewart, following Grum's lead.

  Steve Branch visibly relaxed. 'Great! Glad they're OK.'

  'Now,' said Grum,' you wanted to talk to us about an exciting project?'

  'Down to business. I can do that. As you no doubt know, USSMC are building an AM production plant. MITAMP was by way of a proof of concept, though we were already confident enough a couple of years ago to start building the site.'

  'You know I wasn't kidding when I said about the timescales and the chances of re-combination working,' said Stew.

  Steve held up his hand in acquiescence. 'I know. The plant at Nevada is not meant to do re-combination straight away. It will be designed to increase yields based on the results from MITAMP, which USSMC believes will be viable for use in energy generation. It will still be the world's first dedicated antimatter production site, and that is significant.'

  'It sounds like you don't need us, then,' said Grum, as Stew took a thoughtful drink. 'You have the MITAMP results.'

  'If we simply wanted to replicate MITAMP, then, no, probably not. We do, though, still want to increase the yields per run, and work towards a re-combination technology. Just not for the launch of the Nevada site.'

  'So we'd be extending the research on yield enhancement and the currently-mythical re-combination tech. OK. I can see that,' said Grum. 'How long would the projects run?'

  Steve paused. 'That's not quite it. As you rightly said, you're not strictly needed for the current build-out, but you do know the science better than anyone right now. USSMC feels that it would be in our best interests if you were to take over the build-out and stay on to run the facility. As well as the new research you identified, of course.'

  'There's only two of us, assuming we were both to agree to be employed by USSMC,' said Stewart.

  Steve actually laughed at that. 'There is already a staff there for the build-out and you would find that any reasonable staffing levels would not be denied.'

  Grum flicked a glance at Stew who was thinking and drinking, but not about to contribute again. 'So, we would run the Nevada site, do some real research and hire as many quality people as we need to bring the facility up to a viable production level. That's a pretty hefty deal, there. Where's the catch?'

  'There is none. USSMC recognises the unique contribution that you two could make, right now. It is simply a fortunate confluence. I, personally, think that if you didn't make any truly outrageous demands you could probably get whatever you wanted, within reason.'

  'Salary,' said Stewart.

  Steve named a figure. 'That would be for the Division Head, of course. It would then be up to that person to decide on the remuneration for the rest of his staff, subject to agreement by the VP.'

  'Ahhhh…' Grum's tone held a note of suspicion.

  'Like I said, so long as it isn't outrageous, it'll probably be approved. USSMC's CEO and Chairman is fully behind this endeavour.'

  That was probably enough information for now, Grum felt. It would need some serious thinking about before he could formulate any pertinent questions. He picked up the remainder of his beer and took a long swallow.

  Stew apparently was finished, as well. 'Th
anks, Steve. It was good to talk about this. I know that I will need to digest this, and Grum probably will as well.'

  'When shall we three meet again?' asked Steve.

  'Give us some time to absorb this,' said Stew.

  'We'll call you, Steve. Not being dismissive — I just don't want to give you a firm date,' said Grum.

  'Fair enough. You have my number. Feel free to use it if you have any questions or need clarification.' Steve left with another handshake each.

  Grum was unsure about what to do next. The meeting was over and he had the feeling that this should mean that they should head home, but equally he did not particularly want to leave. Stew's lack of motion suggested a similar conflict, there. 'I suggest another beer.'

  'Um, yeah. OK. Sure.'

  'While we think about things.'

  Stew roused from his internal reflections to give a sheepish grin. 'Yeah. Sorry. I wasn't expecting to be tempted.'

  'Hold that thought, mate. I'll grab the beers.'

  Despite that initial opening, by the time that Grum returned with the drinks, Stew was pensive again. As he was no more in the mood to start spilling his thoughts than Stew obviously was, Grum just handed over the glass and sat down.

  It was possibly the most awkward beer they had ever shared. Neither of them speaking, despite the elephant in the room, and neither apparently willing to decide to go.

  Eventually they came to the end of their glasses.

  'I'll get a cab,' said Grum.

  Stew refocused from whatever middle distance he had been staring into and blinked. 'Yeah. Good idea. Early night, I think.'

  'Agreed.'

  They were back in the apartment building and Grum had his foot on the top step of the stairs down to his floor when Stewart called out behind him.

  'Grum!'

  Grum turned. 'Yes?'

  'You going to do it?'

  'I don't know. I need to know more. Find out what else is out there.'

  'Me too. See you tomorrow.'

  'Ouais. A demain.'

  Chapter 4

  DISMANTLING the project's experimental apparatus around the collider assembly was mostly tedious. Considering how much it had all cost, there was no practical way of re-using any of it.

  As the senior researchers, their job in this phase was largely one of signing off work when kit was returned and making sure that the specific safety restrictions for the equipment were being followed. Given the calibre of the engineering team, though, it really came down to a couple of signatures per hour, each.

  Normally, Grum would take this time to start outlining the final paper which would wrap up this phase of the research. This time, however, he was job hunting. For the time being he was looking to see if there were any tempting academic research programs, and he was coming up empty. Several days of hunting down past papers by lead researchers attached to the new projects, and checking on the publishing credentials of faculties who were mooting brand new projects had, so far, been disappointing.

  Stew was already in the pub when Grum arrived. They had seen little of each other over the last week and Grum could already see that Stew was peering into his drink, morosely.

  He got himself a drink and went over to join Stew. 'Pool table's free.'

  'What? Oh. Wotcha, mate.' Stew's smile came quickly enough to his face, despite how he had appeared. 'That actually sounds good. What's the count so far?'

  'Seventy-four, sixty-three to you. As if you didn't remember.' Grum grimaced.

  'Best of one-hundred and forty-nine it is, then,' said Stew, in automatic response.

  It had become a tradition, or an old charter, or something. They continued playing and whoever was in the lead would simply increment the best-of count. Stew was enjoying the largest lead that either of them had been able to get over the other. Rather than carry their cues around all the time, they tended just to use the sharpened broomsticks which most pubs and bars made available, if they had a table.

  Given the near-cashless environment around the university, flipping a coin for the break was not all that common. Stew, though, kept a UK nineteen ninety-four fifty pence coin on his person just for this purpose.

  Grum lost the toss and Stew broke.

  'So… Have you been job hunting, too?' asked Grum as Stew stood up from the break and two balls fell.

  'Yep.' Stew bent for his next shot and Grum waited. The shot missed. 'Over to you. Did you find anything?'

  'Not so's you'd notice,' said Grum as he lined up his shot. 'Nothing exciting.' He potted a ball. 'Nothing fresh.' Pot. 'And nothing which competes on the money front.' This time he missed.

  'I found the same.'

  They both paused as Grum stood up from the table.

  'So. Not academia, then,' said Grum.

  'But are USSMC really the best game in town?' asked Stew.

  'Why don't we find out?'

  Stew grinned, returned to the table, and proceeded to clear it.

  Initially, Grum restricted his search to commercial and industrial companies in the US, but the kind of level and salary that Steve Branch had been talking about cropped up very rarely. It was very nearly as limited as the academic arena.

  He could not devote as much time to the search as he had, though, because the decommission of their experiment was almost complete. More time was spent actually having to supervise the final stages, sign more things, and start properly writing up the paper.

  That meant Stew was around more, but they — had by mutual unspoken agreement — conducted their job hunts separately. Stew had not been forthcoming about the details of his search, even in the pub, so they tended to limit themselves to a couple of drinks, maybe some pool, and then back to the apartments.

  Grum felt that it was probably time to share updates, and the best way to do that was during a meal. It was his turn, anyway, and they were due a celebratory meal at the end of the decommission.

  'Now that's done with, I'll shout the meal,' said Grum as they dropped off the keys to the collider access.

  'Where?'

  'I'll cook. It's my turn.'

  Stew looked a little doubtful. 'Your steaks…'

  'Aren't as good as yours, I know, but my lasagne…'

  'Is to die for. Yep, done. When?'

  'Doesn't take long to do and I've got everything at home. I always have everything for lasagne at home.'

  'True. OK, all good.'

  'Are we done here?' Grum looked around, theatrically.

  'Well… Technically, we have another couple of hours writing up scheduled.'

  'Screw it. It's Friday. I'm done.'

  Stew laughed. 'Fair enough. Pub?'

  'Pub, beer, pool, a haul from Kelso's, lasagne, and some sci-fi.'

  'So long as you don't try and cook the lasagne drunk. I remember the last time you tried that…'

  'I'll get the lasagne on before I start on the Kelso brews.'

  'Done and done, then. Lay on, MacDuff!'

  During a break from pool, Grum thought it was time to start the conversation. They had both had a couple of beers, relaxed a bit, and if the intention was actually to get drunk tonight then saving the whole of the conversation until later could be counter-productive. 'Come on, then,' he said. 'Table: cards on; beating around the bush: none of. What have you found?'

  Stew shrugged. 'About what you did, I'd guess. Right now, no other company in the US beats USSMC for breadth of research and output. Few even compare. Those which do… Well, let's just say I didn't see any figures which matched what Steve Branch was talking about.'

  'Ouais. I did find a couple of the major international players who had some interesting programmes, but none with positions of our seniority. There were a lot of really cool looking research programmes if you're in materials science, astro-engineering, or artificial intelligence, but nothing in our field.'

  'I haven't looked everywhere, yet, though.'

  'No. I haven't either. The pool is evaporating fast, though.'

  'Yeah. Mo
re beer?'

  'More beer. Ooo, crap. I'd better ping Justin and let him know we're picking up a couple of gallons otherwise he'll be miffed.'

  'Good plan.'

  'The thing is… The actual thing is… Wazzat?' Grum interrupted himself, his pint half way to his lips, the contents sloshing.

  True to his word, Grum had not started on the Kelso ale until the lasagne was in the oven, and only one pint until the meal was over. The sci-fi highlights binge was now in full swing. The rules for episode choice were simple: avoid double episodes if possible, one episode per season, and episodes to be watched in chronological order within a franchise.

  Stew had started out about a pint ahead, but Grum was determinedly catching up.

  'He said it: ego indeo navo locus. Pause it, willya?'

  Grum dug the Thing For The TV from between the sofa cushions and paused the show.

  They had started with a wild-west/space-opera mashup, moved on to a biogenetic/identity exploration series, and now they were on a long-running military space opera they had only ever seen as re-runs. The odds were looking fairly good that it was going to end up as a weekend marathon. It had got to the point where they were having to pick two episodes per season, in some cases, because they couldn't agree.

  'OK. I'm back. Go!' Stew flopped down into the sofa and scooped up his pint.

  'Wha' was I sayin'? Oh, yeah. The thing. I don't know why I'm looking any more.'

  'Whaddya mean? For what?'

  'For a different job! I mean. 'Sgetting to the point where I'm looking jus' cuz I de-,' Grum belched, '-cided to look. I mean. I know that it's the best money. I know it's r'search I wanna do. But I'm looking anyways. Just in case. 'Sdaft.'

  'Nah. Def'nitely the right thing to do. Gotta be sure, right?'

  'Well, yeah, but tha' only goes so far, dunnit? Balance of evidence, innit? Everythin' we found so far says that there ain't no better jobs to be had. Right?'

  'If'n you don't keep lookin' you might miss somethin' im-por-tant!'