Third Spanish States
04-02-2009, 06:09
Outskirts of Francesc Ferrer
The weather was clear, with very few clouds covering the night sky the constellations of stars beyond. The landscape could fit for a painting. A pleasant pair of hilltops which inclined in an extremely smooth manner, with several rows of pine trees spread among bushes and grassland, however a large highway amidst them, with a MagLev rail just at its side, to which the hills seemed to have already been built to fit rather than carved later, served as a good reminder of how everything at sight didn't exist decades ago.
Everything was moved, built and engineered by the will of people who believed in a greater cause, an as powerful drive to the capability of creation as ambition, although perhaps both drove the people of the Confederacy to achieve all they have achieved. Their society, their territory, their economy, everything was more or less created from scratch.
"From scratch," affirmed an impatient researcher as he observed again the blueprints of the project he has just joined with distrust, letting a brief sigh indicate his frustration, "do you have any idea of how easy it is for trillions to be wasted in this project, or even worse, for a Kessler syndrome to happen because of this?"
"All the risks have been evaluated doctor Turillo," insisted a slender, patient old man, with his skin brittle of so many wrinkles he had, likely at his eighties, although completely lucid from his gestures and clear sentences, "but I understand your skepticism, and although it will be a pity to not have one of your talents joining the team, I will understand if you decide to leave. I know our goals aren't simple, but transcending limits never is. I still remember when I was a young boy, when I saw the first manned mission to the moon from TV, and how many people stared in disbelief, and many claimed it was not going to work. And it did."
"But here we are not talking about another manned flight to the moon," Insisted Turillo, as he fixated his eyes over the blueprints and their still somewhat fuzzy, detail-less schematics, for the project was only starting and much was yet to be defined, "we are talking about creating an entirely automated industrial infrastructure in outer space for whatever sake! Do you have any idea of how this could cost and become completely useless?"
The old man, still hoping to convince the young scientist, opened a drawer from one of the three tables in the room of the "drawing board", an electronic touchpad which could be directly linked to the data bases of the facility, and took an old copy of a pile of blueprints labeled Programa de Defensa Estrategica, sheets of papers explaining all the intricate details of the Confederacy anti-ballistic system, as he shrugged, making a particularly unforgettable facial expression with all his wrinkles:
"Many said the same about this project. And now, what happened? It was a success, although of course, like all systems, it is not a hundred percent perfect and, the best choice is of course to avoid resorting to nuclear weapons, but as projects with immediate use for the military tend to be given more lenience. See, most don't fancy the idea of being part of the first nation of the world to have a strategically and economically viable outer space military," he added with an "unique" grin, "in the next century, but if only thought at the short and medium term, we wouldn't even be living in a place like this, but still, we may have spatial heavy industries in the next three decades if it succeeds."
"And if it fails, doctor Pavlov?" Turillo insisted. The idea was just so much that some times he wondered if the Izistani aerospace corporations were the actual motors of this entire project, and have bought the old doctor into their interests. It was just, too much, but at least it did not involve blatantly ridiculous goals, or total pseudo-scientific gibberish like "discovering a form of faster-than-light travel" and the like.
"If it fails... let me see," Pavlov answered, giving a small pause for his old mind to focus, or perhaps as a sort of tic, and then he laughed, "if it fails I suppose I won't be given posthumous recognition by the first of our descendants who manage to colonize an inhabitable planet in another solar system, and that we will lag in the space race for some time."
Pondering on the particularly careless and well-humored manners of the old man, Turillo finally decided to give a try in this madness. Its rewards were too good. And as anarchists aren't immune to ego trips, the idea of making history was more prevalent in his mind than the risks of the project as he realized the bigger picture. Most didn't care about the outer space, probably busy with the conquest of the world for their imperialistic whims or for mere vanity, and from this lack of interest, few took the opportunity to advance.
ZMI was one of them, a particularly known nation in very far lands, beyond what is seen in the world map, and probably one of few who had an active stance on space exploration. Izistan, one of the nations behind the TURAtomic corporation, was the second, and besides them, their information basis only had a few references to an equally far away "Axis Nova". Although certainly lagging technologically in certain fields, as an extremely young nation would logically do, now this growing team had the chance to give the headstart, to take the first of many steps to make of the Confederacy known for its economic prowess both in and outside atmosphere. Placing the old SDP back in the drawer, Turillo finally answered, satisfied but still suspecting there was more to this project than what meets the eyes:
"I see, now these blueprints for an outer space fissionables enrichment facility is particularly interesting, and I suspect it is for more than just providing fuel to all the orbital facilities in the plan and for providing fuel to future fission-powered spacecrafts. After all, the Orbital Forces are funding this project, thus there must be a direct military application of this."
"Bomb pumped lasers, better orbital kinetic weapons and better space-based nuclear weapons than what we already have, and a stockpile of DUAs in L1 perhaps," Pavlov answered, clearly demonstrating he did not care to hide such information from the newest member of his team, "but building industrial infrastructure and viable fission power for orbital facilities and spacecrafts remains the priority of our project. Plus, with these steps taken, building infrastructure to extract Helium-3 from Moon once fusion power becomes viable won't be as costly or demanding in time."
"What will the international community think of this?" Turillo then asked, pondering on how what they were doing would mess with some heads, for if breaking every anti-proliferation orbital treaty wasn't enough, building space stations in Lagrange points to serve as nuclear weapon storage and launch facilities wouldcertainly make millions of voices scream and angrily beaten typewriters and keyboards spew heated statements from those to whom what the Confederacy was doing was none of their businesses.
"First: they are too busy slitting their throats to care," Pavlov immediately explained, continuing with his points to convince Turillo there was nothing to fear, "second: no pesky journalists annoyed us thus far. Third: this is not a public domain research and very few, trustworthy people know about it and fourth: they probably have bigger fishes to fry anyway, with all the lunacy that tends to happen around. So don't worry, we'll don fine and I assure I'll do my best to not let our team fail. Deal?" he then concluded, offering a handshake to the man.
Pondering on everything, from the risks of failure and ruining his career to the chances of making history, Turillo was particularly uncertain on which decision to make for a while. Specially as he considered how such advances could be used for less than humane purposes. And the fact he would help with the development of weapons of mass destruction as well.
As one cannot have his cake and eat it too, he accepted, shaking Pavlov's old hand, which barely kept up with his firmness and speed. However much was yet to be done, for the only prototypes of the project were sketchy schematics in an electronic drawing board at this moment. Eventually it would mature, and eventually the world would know as the space launches from the Confederacy would increase dramatically once, and should Project Rain succeed, from the confines of a secret laboratory which can only be accessed from underground rails or a carefully camouflaged trapdoor. One of many, where researches which were critical for the future of the Confederacy were performed, to avoid nuisances.
The weather was clear, with very few clouds covering the night sky the constellations of stars beyond. The landscape could fit for a painting. A pleasant pair of hilltops which inclined in an extremely smooth manner, with several rows of pine trees spread among bushes and grassland, however a large highway amidst them, with a MagLev rail just at its side, to which the hills seemed to have already been built to fit rather than carved later, served as a good reminder of how everything at sight didn't exist decades ago.
Everything was moved, built and engineered by the will of people who believed in a greater cause, an as powerful drive to the capability of creation as ambition, although perhaps both drove the people of the Confederacy to achieve all they have achieved. Their society, their territory, their economy, everything was more or less created from scratch.
"From scratch," affirmed an impatient researcher as he observed again the blueprints of the project he has just joined with distrust, letting a brief sigh indicate his frustration, "do you have any idea of how easy it is for trillions to be wasted in this project, or even worse, for a Kessler syndrome to happen because of this?"
"All the risks have been evaluated doctor Turillo," insisted a slender, patient old man, with his skin brittle of so many wrinkles he had, likely at his eighties, although completely lucid from his gestures and clear sentences, "but I understand your skepticism, and although it will be a pity to not have one of your talents joining the team, I will understand if you decide to leave. I know our goals aren't simple, but transcending limits never is. I still remember when I was a young boy, when I saw the first manned mission to the moon from TV, and how many people stared in disbelief, and many claimed it was not going to work. And it did."
"But here we are not talking about another manned flight to the moon," Insisted Turillo, as he fixated his eyes over the blueprints and their still somewhat fuzzy, detail-less schematics, for the project was only starting and much was yet to be defined, "we are talking about creating an entirely automated industrial infrastructure in outer space for whatever sake! Do you have any idea of how this could cost and become completely useless?"
The old man, still hoping to convince the young scientist, opened a drawer from one of the three tables in the room of the "drawing board", an electronic touchpad which could be directly linked to the data bases of the facility, and took an old copy of a pile of blueprints labeled Programa de Defensa Estrategica, sheets of papers explaining all the intricate details of the Confederacy anti-ballistic system, as he shrugged, making a particularly unforgettable facial expression with all his wrinkles:
"Many said the same about this project. And now, what happened? It was a success, although of course, like all systems, it is not a hundred percent perfect and, the best choice is of course to avoid resorting to nuclear weapons, but as projects with immediate use for the military tend to be given more lenience. See, most don't fancy the idea of being part of the first nation of the world to have a strategically and economically viable outer space military," he added with an "unique" grin, "in the next century, but if only thought at the short and medium term, we wouldn't even be living in a place like this, but still, we may have spatial heavy industries in the next three decades if it succeeds."
"And if it fails, doctor Pavlov?" Turillo insisted. The idea was just so much that some times he wondered if the Izistani aerospace corporations were the actual motors of this entire project, and have bought the old doctor into their interests. It was just, too much, but at least it did not involve blatantly ridiculous goals, or total pseudo-scientific gibberish like "discovering a form of faster-than-light travel" and the like.
"If it fails... let me see," Pavlov answered, giving a small pause for his old mind to focus, or perhaps as a sort of tic, and then he laughed, "if it fails I suppose I won't be given posthumous recognition by the first of our descendants who manage to colonize an inhabitable planet in another solar system, and that we will lag in the space race for some time."
Pondering on the particularly careless and well-humored manners of the old man, Turillo finally decided to give a try in this madness. Its rewards were too good. And as anarchists aren't immune to ego trips, the idea of making history was more prevalent in his mind than the risks of the project as he realized the bigger picture. Most didn't care about the outer space, probably busy with the conquest of the world for their imperialistic whims or for mere vanity, and from this lack of interest, few took the opportunity to advance.
ZMI was one of them, a particularly known nation in very far lands, beyond what is seen in the world map, and probably one of few who had an active stance on space exploration. Izistan, one of the nations behind the TURAtomic corporation, was the second, and besides them, their information basis only had a few references to an equally far away "Axis Nova". Although certainly lagging technologically in certain fields, as an extremely young nation would logically do, now this growing team had the chance to give the headstart, to take the first of many steps to make of the Confederacy known for its economic prowess both in and outside atmosphere. Placing the old SDP back in the drawer, Turillo finally answered, satisfied but still suspecting there was more to this project than what meets the eyes:
"I see, now these blueprints for an outer space fissionables enrichment facility is particularly interesting, and I suspect it is for more than just providing fuel to all the orbital facilities in the plan and for providing fuel to future fission-powered spacecrafts. After all, the Orbital Forces are funding this project, thus there must be a direct military application of this."
"Bomb pumped lasers, better orbital kinetic weapons and better space-based nuclear weapons than what we already have, and a stockpile of DUAs in L1 perhaps," Pavlov answered, clearly demonstrating he did not care to hide such information from the newest member of his team, "but building industrial infrastructure and viable fission power for orbital facilities and spacecrafts remains the priority of our project. Plus, with these steps taken, building infrastructure to extract Helium-3 from Moon once fusion power becomes viable won't be as costly or demanding in time."
"What will the international community think of this?" Turillo then asked, pondering on how what they were doing would mess with some heads, for if breaking every anti-proliferation orbital treaty wasn't enough, building space stations in Lagrange points to serve as nuclear weapon storage and launch facilities wouldcertainly make millions of voices scream and angrily beaten typewriters and keyboards spew heated statements from those to whom what the Confederacy was doing was none of their businesses.
"First: they are too busy slitting their throats to care," Pavlov immediately explained, continuing with his points to convince Turillo there was nothing to fear, "second: no pesky journalists annoyed us thus far. Third: this is not a public domain research and very few, trustworthy people know about it and fourth: they probably have bigger fishes to fry anyway, with all the lunacy that tends to happen around. So don't worry, we'll don fine and I assure I'll do my best to not let our team fail. Deal?" he then concluded, offering a handshake to the man.
Pondering on everything, from the risks of failure and ruining his career to the chances of making history, Turillo was particularly uncertain on which decision to make for a while. Specially as he considered how such advances could be used for less than humane purposes. And the fact he would help with the development of weapons of mass destruction as well.
As one cannot have his cake and eat it too, he accepted, shaking Pavlov's old hand, which barely kept up with his firmness and speed. However much was yet to be done, for the only prototypes of the project were sketchy schematics in an electronic drawing board at this moment. Eventually it would mature, and eventually the world would know as the space launches from the Confederacy would increase dramatically once, and should Project Rain succeed, from the confines of a secret laboratory which can only be accessed from underground rails or a carefully camouflaged trapdoor. One of many, where researches which were critical for the future of the Confederacy were performed, to avoid nuisances.