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

  'The thing is… The actual thing is…' said Grum, finally making it back off the siding where his train of thought had diverted. 'Where we're lookin' now is even less likely than the places we started with! Eighty-twenny rule, mate. We've covered eighty p'cent of the market. If we wanna cover the other twenny, it'll take four times as much,' Grum paused to work out the sentence, 'time. Again.'

  'But… It's USSMC!'

  'So?'

  'So?' Stew mimicked. 'They're huge!'

  'Spendin' lots of money on science.'

  'An' it's all grand claims this, save the world that.'

  'Like any other huge company that claims to do no evil.'

  'An', an', oh I dunno. It just smells fishy to me.'

  'Because they asked for us?'

  'Maybe.'

  'We are pretty hot stuff, y'know. Well. I am.'

  'Sod off, tinkerbell. I guess. I dunno. Look! I missed the bit where he uses the jump cables to jerry-rig the power system to the thing. Can I rewind it? Where's the Thing?'

  Chapter 5

  STEW was one of those people, Grum noted once again in irritation, who do not generally get hangovers. Hangovers were not a major feature in his own life, either, but he still felt the muzzy head, sluggish responses, and lurking headache just waiting to pounce. Stew, though, apparently just had to have a quick shower and he looked like all he needed was a coffee to be ready for another bout.

  'Fry up?' asked Stew.

  Grum grunted, glaring at the mug in his hands, his elbows resting on the dining table. 'Coffee's still hot.'

  'Excellent!' Stew made a bee-line for the pot. 'How about if I cook breakfast?'

  Grum grunted again, but made no further response. He could hear Stew moving around the kitchen, opening and closing the fridge and various cupboards.

  'I know where everything is, and you have all the necessary,' said Stew.

  'Yeah. OK. Good plan.' It probably was, at that, mused Grum. Part of the hangover was dehydration, the lurking headache at least, and part was simple poisoning. That's what alcohol was, after all. A full fry up gave the body back some of everything it had used up fighting the damned stupid thing you were doing to it by feeding it alcohol.

  He glanced over to the screen where Richard Dean Anderson's face hung motionless in puzzled astonishment, as you do when one of your mates has just used telekinesis to take your MP-5 off you. 'We'll have to start that episode, again.'

  'Yeah. It's only about half-way, nowhere near finished.'

  'If you immediately know the candlelight is fire, the meal was over a long time ago.'

  'Haven't even finished plating up!'

  No more than a couple of minutes later, Stew brought a plate and the coffee pot in. He set the plate down in front of Grum and topped up the mug from the pot, then disappeared back into the kitchen. He re-appeared with his own breakfast plate, a mug, and a smaller plate stacked eight slices deep with buttered bread.

  Grum raised an eyebrow.

  'For butties. There's enough bacon and fried eggs for one or two each and any spare can be used to mop up,' said Stew. Grum nodded approval.

  Back on the sofa with fresh coffee, Grum had restarted the half-played episode. Although they both loved the show they were watching, they also knew it so well that they hardly needed to actually watch any more. Grum was thinking about the USSMC offer, and Stew was fiddling with his phone.

  Continuing the futile search, thought Grum. 'I know we kinda talked about it last night, mate, but in all seriousness: what's the point?'

  Stew sagged and looked up from his phone to the wall-screen, staring at it. 'I'm not sure, really. I think… It's not a well-formed thing. It's mainly a feeling that industrial research is kinda grubby, y'know? As if academic research is somehow more respectable. I know it's only a veneer, most of the money comes from industry in any case, but… Still.'

  'I think that was the source of my continuing to look, as well. But as you rightly identify, it's not real.'

  'I think it's also that I want to avoid the politicking and duplicity that I see in people like Branch.'

  'Ah. How long have you been doing pure research, again?'

  'Don't you remember my interview? This was my second post-doc post.'

  'We've both come up quickly through the ranks, but you must've noticed that funding requests and grant applications have to be, er, finessed? And as you take over more of the management side of research programmes — as you'll have to do, eventually — you will find all the politics you could wish for. Professorships are even worse for that.'

  'So, what you're telling me is that my biases are unfounded?'

  'I would suggest that you re-examine the source of the prejudice and decide for yourself,' said Grum.

  'Bull. You're confident in the answer. And that's why you're sold on USSMC, isn't it?'

  Grum nodded, slowly. 'Yes. I still want a helluva lot more information about the deal, but I've decided to at least move forward with getting it. Frankly, I doubt there's anything which will be significantly worse than any other research programme.'

  'And there's the money.'

  'The money and stability, yes.'

  'Damnitall. OK. Yes. I'm sold, too. I just wish it didn't feel like I'd sold out!'

  'Remember our financing discussion about MITAMP? It's just the veneer that we'll lose. The substance remains the same.'

  'Speaking of politics and duplicity, this is the one where the General gets blackmailed.'

  Difficulties resolved, both Grum and Stew sent emails to Steve Branch expressing interest in hearing further details of the offer USSMC were making with an agreement in principle subject to negotiation.

  Grum did not expect to hear back until Monday morning, so he did not bother to check his email notifications.

  They had paused between shows so Grum could make lunch: a ham and cheese salad, heavy on the greenery, with a light vinaigrette and some crackers, to balance up the morning's artery-clanging meal.

  'Er, Grum?' Stew called from the other room.

  Grum was just loading the trays. ''Sup?'

  'We've just had a response from that Steve Branch bloke.'

  'Already?' asked Grum, as he carried the first tray through and set it down on the coffee table in front of Stew. 'What's he say? Will they be sending some info, through?'

  'It's got a couple of attachments, mate. He's sent it to both of us…' Stew paused. 'Introduced the VP New Energy, who he's cc'd, and cc'd the HR department, too.' Stew raised his voice again as Grum rounded the corned into the kitchen to fetch his own tray.

  'What are the attachments?' asked Grum, coming back into the room and sitting down.

  'Contract, NDA, and… What looks like a public info document about Nevada. He says that if we send back the NDA straight away, he'll send over a bunch more info. Digital signatures and email acceptance are enough, he says.'

  'I'm gonna take a quick squizz over the NDA, but I'm probably doing at least that much,' said Grum. Stew nodded agreement.

  Almost in unison, they read through the NDA. It was just standard fair, as far as Grum could see. In his reply, though, he specifically limited his acceptance to the terms of the NDA, stating that this acceptance should not be construed as acceptance of any other contract or agreement in the original email. Just in case, he said as much to Stew, who pointedly showed him the email he was typing which contained very similar language.

  Within minutes of sending those emails, Grum got a notification of another email. This time from the VP, simply saying "PFA" and with a raft of attachments. It looked like a lot of information was being forwarded to them.

  The first thing Grum read was the contract of employment. He was fairly certain that Stew would be doing the same. Most of the wording and clauses seemed to be standard. The salary, though, was even higher than Steve Branch had indicated, not by much, but as that had already been high, it was significant. The other thing which Grum did not like was the clause about intellectual property and th
e ability to publish. In academia it was expected that you publish. As often as you could turn out a decent paper. This wording seemed to indicate that they would not be able to publish anything. That the company would publish via the press relations and marketing departments. That would have to be changed. Also the holiday entitlement was less than normal for academia.

  All of that, though, could be negotiated, Grum was sure. Everything else looked fine, to Grum's untrained eye.

  That eye also kept flicking back to the role. His title would be Assistant Vice President in charge of the Nevada Antimatter Facility. The signature line of the putative boss had been Vice President in charge of the New Energy Department, so he guessed it made sense. He was slightly worried, though, about what Stew had been offered and whether having Grum as his boss, again, would be a problem. He wasn't sure how to approach it in the friendly setting of his front room.

  'OK,' said Stew, 'my title is going to be Head of Research for the Nevada Antimatter Facility, and as I'm reporting to the AVP for same. I'm kinda hoping that you've been offered the AVP role and we're not both going to end up reporting to some numpty.'

  Grum couldn't help but grin and held out his hand. 'Meet the new boss…'

  Stew took the hand and shook it. '…Same as the old boss.'

  'What we need, is more beer. And an employment lawyer. Some of these clauses need looking at.'

  'Like publications?'

  'Mainly that one, yes.'

  'We're sitting here completely surrounded by no beer, though.'

  'I think that from geek marathon, this just became a celebration weekend. I plan to ask Justin to draw off a pair of his finest mini-pins to be delivered. I've never done that to him. I don't know how much it'll cost, and I really don't care.'

  Justin Kelso was clearly surprised and, under the guise of ensuring responsible drinking, demanded an explanation for this departure from the norm. Grum was forced to explain that he and Stew were likely to be taking new jobs in Nevada. As he said it, he realised that this was the first time he had voiced it aloud and he stumbled, giving Justin an opening.

  'My two best customers are running away to the other end of the country and you expect me to help you celebrate?!' Incredulity was etched in every syllable.

  'Um. Yeah, sorry. Or you could look on it as an opportunity to open up the long distance delivery plans?'

  Justin was silent for a second, indicating what he thought of that idea. 'I will draw your mini-pins, and ensure that they are delivered to you in excellent condition,' he said in surly acceptance.

  The line went dead.

  'Oops,' said Grum, turning to Stew who was perusing one of the other attachments to the email. 'I'm not sure Justin likes us any more…'

  Just over an hour later, there was a buzz from the security desk. Grum punched the button to open the channel.

  'Yes?' said Grum.

  'There's a delivery from Kelso's up here…' said the security guard, but another voice cut over him.

  'Tell that ungrateful wretch that the least he can do is drag his lazy backside up here and help me carry this lot down.'

  'I'll come up,' said Grum and hung up. He turned to Stew. 'Justin's brought the beers.'

  'Himself?'

  'Apparently. I'll put the door on the latch, come and help me collect the beer, I don't want to wind him up any more.'

  They trekked up stairs to the foyer and found Justin just setting down a pin alongside two mini-pins.

  Worse and worse, thought Grum. 'Um, Justin, at the risk of annoying you further, we didn't order…' Grum's sentence ran full-steam into Justin's scowl. And lost.

  Then the scowl broke and Justin started laughing. He cocked a finger, waving it between Grum and Stew as if undecided which to shoot first. 'Your faces! C'mon, help carry these. Beer is heavy. They need to be made lighter.' He picked up the pin that he had just put down.

  Grum did not want to argue, so he just picked up a mini-pin and motioned Stew to do the same with the other.

  Back in the apartment, they settled the beers and Grum closed the door properly.

  'So, come on, then. Out with it. What's this about. We really didn't order the extra beer, nor did we expect you to come with it!' said Grum.

  'It's like this: you've both been good customers for four years — and you for five, Grum. You said yesterday that you were geeking out, which I haven't done in ages, and today you tell me that you're leaving. Well. I decided to invite myself over and see if you were still geeking out, knowing as I do how these things go, and I would be a poor gate-crasher indeed if I didn't bring some compensation. So, here we have a pin of my masterbrew.'

  Grum digested this. He couldn't argue the logic. It was a little odd, but he had always got on with Justin and even gone out drinking with him a few times.

  'I've never seen that on your product list, Justin,' said Stew.

  'Nor will you. It is never sold, only gifted. It is my masterbrew, and I have decided that it should suit your palettes well enough that on this occasion, I would ask that you share in it.'

  'That's very generous, Justin,' said Grum. 'I for one would be glad to have you join this impromptu celebration and share ale with you.'

  Stew hastily nodded his assent, and went to fetch another pint glass from the kitchen. Justin smiled, appreciatively, when Stew returned and set a third dimple glass with the others.

  'So…' Justin turned to see the screen. 'Oh, that's the two-parter with the film crew isn't it? Where the doctor…'

  'Yep. Er, shall we open your brew, Justin?' asked Stew.

  'Here. I'll do it,' said Justin, taking over the makeshift bar. 'Any chance we could start that episode again?'

  'Sure,' said Grum, and zapped the screen with the Thing.

  Chapter 6

  THE negotiations were fairly swift and almost completely one-sided. Only token resistance was offered at any stage, except on the matter of publication.

  What it boiled down to was mindset. In the academic research arena your standing — and that of the university you were working at — were linked to publication. More papers in higher impact journals was directly proportional to better reputation and more money, no matter which level you measured it on. So publication was required. You got measured on it. It was part of your performance expectations, and if you had no teaching duties it could be very nearly your entire raison d'etre.

  Also, your personal career was not synonymous with your current employer's promotion path. They were separate beasts. Granted, if a university had an exciting, multi-year programme in your area of specialism then that would be something you would want to be there for and possibly work to keep going. But if your path and the university's focus were heading in different directions, then it was not at all frowned upon to move on. All things being reasonable, of course.

  For both these reasons, it made sense to keep publishing, as much as possible, work that was of the best quality you could produce. Universities would have review board for publications, but they were there to make sure you were not about to embarrass their reputation, not to withhold research.

  Not so with the business world.

  Business had not matured in the same way academia had, and indeed had become disconnected from its rather prosaic societal function, to the point where it could not remember — and certainly did not acknowledge — it. From the business point of view, businesses existed to make profit. That's what they were for. And in this mode of thought people should have been resources. Human Resources, in fact. However, despite protestations to the contrary, a "modern" business would tend to view people as owned assets rather than a currently available resource. Likewise, anything a worker produced was owned by the company — including publishable works.

  This ownership mindset — pervasive across the business world — led to a view that once you joined a company you should not look to leave, no matter what your personal aspirations might be. Likewise, on the rare occasion that anyone outside of a marketing department
was asked to produce a work for publication, it was owned by the company and the worker's name would not be needed.

  Overcoming this gulf in mindsets first required recognition and then acceptance of its existence. When Grum realised this, he set about trying to find out a way of getting round the problem.

  He and Stewart were coming from the academic position where if things did not work out, one or both would leave USSMC and go back to academic research, no hard feelings. This required a continuous publishing track record.

  USSMC was coming from the standard business perspective that what they were asking to do was publish trade secrets, besides if they were working for USSMC they didn't need to publish, did they? Unless they were planning to leave before they even joined…

  Grum's compromise was that they could publish at least one paper per year, but make sure it contained only references to technology already on the public roadmap. They would co-ordinate with the press office to make sure what the public knew about and when.

  This was reluctantly accepted, and — with that final hurdle successfully negotiated — contracts were signed and preparations for relocation began.

  Chapter 7

  BY Easter, the USSMC Nevada Antimatter Facility started taking on permanent staff to replace the contract engineers hired to build out the facility.

  Grum found himself further and further inundated with administrative matters. Supervising the final stages of construction and directing the science involved fell to Stewart.

  He was trying to find and interview the best thirty scientists and engineers to make up his core staff and a further eighty-or-so support staff comprising everything from make-weight SciEng types to cleaning and catering.

  It turned out that the catch of having as many staff as you want, was that you have a lot of staff to deal with. And the catch with being the boss of a brand new facility? You were the boss and it was a brand new facility. Who knew?