The Impossible with Nothing at All

Ben Harrison could just see their experimental probe from a large viewing portal. It sat loaded in the Marco Polo’s induction catapult.

A sedate computer’s voice announced over the room’s intercom, “In – five – four – three – two – one, launch number 20560801C, the International University’s probe to the asteroid Amun, has been successfully injected into the proposed orbit. The next launch window is in One hour – mark.”

Ben confirmed the information the class had posted on one of the space station’s data screens. Amun was asteroid number 3554. Dr. Eugene M. Shoemaker discovered it in 1986. At about 2 kilometers in diameter, Amun was not that big, but it is what the asteroid was made of that interested everyone. It is a rare M – type, 91 percent Iron, 8.5 percent Nickel, 0.6 percent Cobalt, and the last 0.9 percent is a mixture of rare earths and metals. That makes Amun one huge chunk of primordial stainless steel.

Ben pulled out his Black box, a: personally programmed handheld voice-activated computer interface, phone, camera, internet, electronic assistant, map, e-mail or a hundred other things with the right app. Instead of a black box, most just called it a B box for short. The bandwidth indicator on Ben’s B box showed a significant increase in cost as the probes data streams surged in volume after the launch. Ben looked up at Doctor Frank Turner and frowned.

The injection force was just off his estimate. Ben was concerned how the slightly overweight teacher would respond. He knew the Professor for TEM-416 had done this many times. The class goals were to teach the concepts of Teleteaming and use of the automated production facility aboard the space station Marco Polo.

The young woman standing next to him was Susan Thompson. She was an expert in Teleteaming and working on her Master's degree. Ben and Sue were the class aids working for Dr. Turner with International University to facilitate this class. This was just one of the remote classes the University ran. The telecampus taught classes from the depths of the Oceans to the zenith of our reach into Space. Ben still could not believe how lucky he was to get this billet on the Marco Polo. He re-ran the equations, just to check for an error.

“That’s it! It will be about a day before the probe is far enough away to test the fusion engine,” the Professor said looking up from his B box a second.

On the group’s small devices scores of functions were being checked out on the probe. Ben cleared the data and tried again. Was the total weight wrong? Everything looked okay. The injection stress seemed just a little high. This was just one of the data streams on which the class would be busy for hours running diagnostics of some sort.

To test the engine there were two choices speed or load. This class had decided that, while speed brought fame, load paid more. If Dr. Shoemaker could have sold Amun, he would have got about 20 trillion U.S. dollars in his day.

As the group started to leave the room, a mob of five entered talking among themselves. They too had all attention on their B boxes.

“Good Morning, why Dr. Turner, you remember me, Dr. Shawn Greer,” a man from the group said looking up and extending his hand to the Professor. “We are here to launch our probe to Jupiter’s L-4 Trojans. We are going to find out why there are more L-4s than L-5s. You must have seen my article on the Moon Nursery. I intend to show the simultaneous collision of five planetoids caused the distribution of the Solar System’s moons in one shot.”

“Yes, I heard of your theory. It is not quite my cup of tea,” Dr. Turner said shaking Dr. Greer’s hand, “We are busy with our own probe. It is a class project.”

Dr. Greer asked, “You still kicking that old thing around?”

“Yes, we are, of course, you wouldn’t recognize it. It has been updated many times since you saw it last,” the Professor said.

Conveniently his B box let out a long beep and flashed a message only the Professor could see, “Not again. Look, I have a million things to do, and I’ll bet you do too. Perhaps we will meet during a meal sometime, and discuss it before you leave the Marco Polo. I hope your launch goes well.”

In the passageway outside the viewing room, the Professor said, “Now that is a bit out there. They will fund anything nowadays.”

“You must remember his thesis Dr. Turner,” Sue said, “If you run the orbits of the asteroids back far enough they form five planetoids in the belt between Mars and Jupiter.”

“Who cares about what happened 2 or 3 billion years ago,” Ben said as they walked to the classroom, “Doctor did you know that the probe was 372 kilos overweight.”

“Yes, I had a larger fuel tank and some more shielding added as a last minute design change exercise trying to keep this class busy. Everything is still well inside the operation parameters,” the Professor said.

“I had everything tweaked for a 10 g injection,” Ben said, “It was 10.24. It could have miss aligned the Electron Lens.”

“Are you saying you think the test will fail catastrophically Mr. Harrison,” the Professor asked as he stopped walking?

Ben said, “No sir, but the engine statistics are degraded somewhat.”

“Would you two knock it off?” Sue said as everybody started walking again, “We all know the engine does not work this is just an exercise for the class. They make a probe. The experimental engine fails, and they fire the recovery system. They tare it down and find out that you should not use too many experimental sub-systems when designing a remote probe. They graduate and become good system engineers. Then we teach the next group. Why make it harder than it is?”

The door scanned, recognized, and unlocked the vacant room for the legal occupants.

The Professor said, “Considering some classes never even get there probes actually built, let alone launched, this class has done very well. Ben, post your concerns to the class.”

In the back of the small room, a computer node was processing the data coming from their probe. Then it synchronized the data to everyone’s B boxes. The Professor sat down at his desk in front of the room and opened the link by pressing a soft button marked, “Do it!” on his B box’s small screen display.

The walls of the teleroom melted into the scene of an auditorium filled with many students at comfortable desks. The rapid transition of the view on the walls made Ben very stomach aware. He grabbed at the chair in front of the workstation to steady himself as he sat down. Sue, however, seemed unaffected. She tossed down a pile of printouts and sat down in one motion.

While doing a data transfer to the class, Dr. Turner looked up and said, “Okay Class we got your piece of junk injected into its orbit. Any questions?”

The Professor acknowledged a request for a question, and a young man with the name Paul on his desk said, “When can we test the engine?”

The Professor said, “Please class. Read the download. Don’t tie up the circuit with redundant questions.”

After a time, a voice said, “Dr. Turner it is Veronica if the probe fails how will that affect our grade?”

“Once more class, this project is to teach you how to produce a probe. This experience is to familiarize you with the robotic production facility on board the Marco Polo and the concepts necessary for teleteaming. When the members of this class get real jobs, producing real probes, the teams you are assigned to will keep you plenty busy working on subsystems. As to your Class project, when the experimental engine fails, you will have to notify Conclusion Fusion Corp. of the failure. Since I’m the supposed Head of the contracting Company, someone may just inform me. You’ll be expected to fire the recovery system on the probe and do a full post-mortem tear down. I’ll expect a complete description of the problems and the fixes in the class’s final 75-page group paper. That paper will count for 65 percent of your individual grade. I want to be able to see that each one of you has contributed to the group project, or I may mark down your individual grade.

Remember the odd-numbered questions at the end of module 11 are due on Friday. The Class project and your presentation are due in four weeks. If no one has anything real to add to the discussion? Then until tomorrow when we test the engine, class dismissed. Oh, and as usual, we will take personal questions, by schedule, all afternoon starting at 1300 Local Ship Time.”

Snapping off the link, Dr. Turner looked up and said, “Shall we eat?”

Suddenly the walls went gray. Going from huge to small made Ben feel queasy all over again.

“I have an appointment with the people publishing one of my articles in twenty minutes, remember?” Sue said, “I’ll be tied up all afternoon.”

“Yes, I remember, good luck,” the Professor said, “Ben, you’re looking a little green. Just relax, you’ll get used to it.”

Swallowing back the bile taste in his mouth Ben said, “I have to update the data from the injection overstress.”

“Come on Ben, give it up,” Sue picked up a few papers from her workstation, “Come and have Lunch with me. They’re paying!”

“No, that’s all right. The people running this project in the past have kept everything above board. All the changes to the engine stay inside the theoretical limits. All the functions are tweaked to the Nth degree. I feel obligated to keep up my end now.”

“But Ben, the engine is supposed to fail,” Sue said, “Men!”

Sue stormed out of the room leaving Ben looking at the Professor.

“Hey Ben, I’m out of here too. Eat something, it will make you feel better, Okay. I’ll be back at one for questions and answers this afternoon. Bye.”

The Professor left Ben alone at his workstation.

“This is so stupid. This is the last thing I want to be doing. Computer, update the probes database with the new data in file Post Launch,” Ben said.

“Processing file Post Launch,” the computer droned.

“This is going to take a few minutes,” Ben said, “Computer, open an audio connection to Space Subs.”

After a few seconds, another computer’s voice answered, “Space Subs, is this to go or delivery.”

“Delivery please, Professor Turner’s classroom. Bring me a grinder the way I like it, a bag of chips, and a large lemonade.”

“That comes to $64.86. Charge that to which account, Mr. Harrison?”

“Expense.”

The computer droned, “Password?”

“Authorization, pie are round.”

“Voice ID – confirmed. Thank you for choosing Space Subs.”

While Ben knew he was talking to a machine, it always left him with a strange feeling. He never could quite put his finger on what was missing. Having a machine thank him was strange. It just felt odd. How could a machine feel thanks? A few minutes later he heard the door chime. When Ben got up and opened the door, there was a bag sitting on the deck of the station. It had Space Subs printed on the side. There was nothing in sight in the long curved hallway. Not even a human to claim a tip. He knew a robot had brought the bag, so why the mystery delivery? Did the space station personnel have a desire to make the technology seem more like magic than the mundane daily life on the Earth?

“Thank You,” Ben said to the empty passageway.

He picked up his bag. While looking through he walked back to the still processing computer node. He could smell the Italian dressing on the fresh bread. He unwrapped the sub and took a big bite.

The computer droned, “Task, Post Launch, complete, is there a further operation, or is the database to be saved?”

Ben put down the sandwich, and with a mouth full, started to talk to the computer.

“Input garbled.” the computer droned, “Please redo from the last query. Task, Post Launch, complete, is there a further operation, or is the database to be saved?”

Swallowing the food in his mouth, Ben said, “I bet a real person would have understood me. Computer, re-calculate the operating functions and then save the new database. Post the results to the class on the net.”

“Re-calculating, storing and posting results to the class web page,” the computer droned.

Ben could never quite tell if the computer's voice was male or female. It was neutral in some twisted way. He knew with the heavy CPU load on the node monitoring the probe, this would take awhile. He finished his lunch and waited. Thousands of calculations flashed across the screens of the workstation. After about a half an hour, the system finished. The theoretical was still theoretical. There was no major damage to the engine. The extra G-force of the catapult had bent the feeds to the Electron Lens a little more than projected, but they were still within functional limits.

All structures were sound. All robotic systems checked out as good. The mining equipment was okay. The recovery system was fine. No major load shifts. The probe was a go.

When the Professor came back from lunch, Ben was dozing at his workstation in the back.

“Well Ben, will it explode,” the Professor asked somewhat loudly?

“Oh … um,” Ben said as he stretched. “It’s fine, Doctor.”

“Good. When I checked the schedule, about a fourth of the class is in the queue for questions. You start from the bottom, I will start at the top of the current list, and then we’ll split the stragglers. Computer, open a link to the first name on the appointment list for this afternoon.”

After a few seconds the Professor saw one of his student’s image projected on one side of the room, “Hello, Dr. Turner,” the name on his desk was Paul, “In the works cited section of our group paper, when using a real book as a reference and using the MLA format, do I list the address of the publisher?”

With that, the Professor started to answer his share of the questions, “No, just the name and the … ”

Ben said, “Computer, connect me to the last name on the appointment list for this afternoon.”

After a few seconds, the other wall was filled with the image of several people all seated at their desks.

On each desk was a big letter E above their names, “Hello this is Gene from the Group Es. We want to know just how we are to write up the theory side of how this engine is supposed to work. No one here understands it. How can we explain something that no one understands?”

“You have to be like the White Queen of Alice in Wonder Land. She could believe as many as six impossible things by lunch,” Ben said, “Look, stay with me, here we go. First, put both hands in front of you. Move the left hand, and say General, then move the right hand, and say Motors. We are talking about a motor, so you use your right hand. With the fingers of your hand, point your thumb up, your forefinger forward, and the next finger towards your left side. Each finger should be at 90 degrees from each other. Starting at the lowest finger and naming each finger say, Mary’s Fuzzy Cat, that means Motion, Flux, Current.

When a current is applied to a conductor, in this case, Hydrogen plasma, where the thumb points to the positive pole of the power source, and the forefinger points to the north pole of the magnetic field, there will be a motion of the conductor in the direction of the remaining finger. There are three plasma streams focused by the Electron Lens. At that point, the density of the plasma is high enough to fuse.

The last class found that there was not a high enough neutron flux for fusion to occur. One of this engine’s major modifications is the addition of a neutron source. It’s behind an iris to control the neutron flux at the point of fusion.

When the engine fails, and the post-mortem is done, all you need do is identify which of the conditions was not right for fusion. Such as, the neutron flux was not high enough, or the plasma density is still too low, whatever you want. As far as I’m concerned you can say it didn’t work because the Pope didn’t bless it. You had better prove it though. Stay theoretical that way they have to disprove your theory.

One class presented the theory that Oliphant’s carried Hydrogen atoms on their backs. Their case was that the Oliphant’s were stopping and looking at their reflection in the shiny surfaces of the control waveguides. They had all the shiny surfaces painted black, but you should make it believable, got it? If you need to, use a couple of graphics to use up your space in the paper.”

“This is Lee, the left hand is used for generators, except you supply the motion, and the thumb points to the positive pole of the voltage source, right?”

“Yeah, don’t confuse everybody. Stick with motors for now. Do generators on another project. Okay at least someone in your group seems to get it. Any other questions?”

After a few seconds, Ben said, “Good. I’m going to the next one in the queue.”

The rest of the afternoon for the two men was consumed by questions that ranged from the outright bazaar, to so esoteric as to make Job cry enough. By the end of the day, Ben’s brain was numb. The Professor, however, seemed to take it all in stride.

As the Professor and Ben left for the day, the Professor said, “See you tomorrow Ben. I’d go with you to a Rec room, but my daughter is having a teleparty tonight. I’m expected to attend.”

“That‘s Okay. I‘ve got a few technical downloads I’ve wanted to view. Enjoy the time with your family. See you tomorrow. Good-bye.”

In the morning when Ben returned to the classroom Sue was already working at her station.

“You missed a good feed,” Sue said.

Ben said, “Did it go well?”

The Professor entered the small teleroom as Sue said, “Yes, I’ll tell you about it later. Good morning Professor.”

“Good morning. Are we ready to bring the probe back home,” the Professor said?

“Yes, Sir,” Ben said as he rushed to sit down.

“Good, then let’s get the show on the road,” With a press of a button the Professor opened the class link, “Is everybody ready to test the engine?”

Ben grabbed the workstation for a second when both walls abruptly filled with the images of all the people in the class. A mumble of voices seemed to say yes.

“Any ‘No-Gos’,” the Professor asked?

That question was answered with silence.

“Mr. Harrison, start the sequence to test the engine.”

“Computer, execute main engine fire,” Ben said, “Authorization code, Pi R squared.”

“Executing main engine fire,” the computer droned.

After about twenty seconds the computer announced, “The engine failed to ignite.”

“Well class what do we do now,” the Professor asked?

A furry of waving hands and a din of voices fought for attention.

“One at a time, please,” the Professor said.

“This is Paul. I say we inform Conclusion Fusion Corporation and await their request to fire the recovery system.”

“Okay, there is a motion to inform Conclusion Fusion Corporation of the failure. Does someone have a second?

“Second,” a couple of voices said from the class.

“Okay, if there are no other motions …,” the Professor asked?

“No wait, this is Lee, can we try a couple of fixes before we give up?”

The Professor said, “Sure, you can try anything, as long as you do not destroy the probe. There is a lot of expensive hardware on that thing, and the University wants it back in one piece. What is your suggestion, Lee?”

“What would happen if we gave the plasma a little kick? You know just to start it all off.”

“Come on Lee,” someone said from the class, “We have other things we could be doing. I say inform Conclusion Fusion Corp. and fire the recovery system, then we can cut out for the rest of the class.”

That was followed by a few sounds of agreement.

“Lee is correct. You should try something. If this was a real probe, and it failed, you cannot imagine the chaos that would be happening right now,” the Professor said, “How do you purpose we kick the plasma, Lee?”

“I don’t know – pulse it somehow.”

“Mr. Harrison,” the Professor asked, “do you know how to pulse the plasma,”?

Ben said, “We could change the bias on the Electron Lens from a static DC level to a pulse with a duty cycle that averaged the computer projected bias voltage.”

“How long will that take,” came a groan from the class?

“Make it so,” the Professor said ignoring the protest.

Several minutes later, Ben looked up from his workstation, and said, “Okay I’m ready.”

“Do it,” the Professor said.

“Computer, execute main engine fire using the modified sequence file Second Try,” Ben stated, “Authorization, Force times Distance.”

“Executing main engine fire with modified sequence file Second Try,” the computer droned.

After about twenty seconds, the computer announced, “The engine failed to ignite.”

“No, No, No,” Lee said, “You didn’t kick it, the pulse is not high enough. Kick the plasma dude.”

A voice from the class said, “Would you just shut up!”

“Ben,” the Professor said, “give the plasma a real good kick. When a team is linked, you must not grouse about the effort. If you don’t have anything positive to add, leave your comments out.”

“You want me to kick the plasma, no problem,” after a minute or so more Ben said, “I’m ready. Computer, execute main engine fire using the modified sequence file Third Try. Authorization, Rise over Run.”

“Executing main engine fire with modified sequence file Third Try,” the computer droned.

After about twenty seconds, the computer announced, “Engine ignition, confirmed. The probe is on the projected course. All operating parameters are nominal.”

The Professor slumped back in his chair. Sue sat there with her mouth agape. Ben was transfixed by the readings from the probe.

The only sound was Lee saying, “Cool beans.”

“What happened,” someone soon asked?

A classmate said, “It worked stupid!”

Someone else said, “What do we do now?”

“This is Veronica if the probe works, and we can’t do a post-mortem tear down, do we fail that portion of the project?”

Ben’s mind was grasping at anything to figure out what had happened. He kept comeing back to the same thing. No matter how he tried to measure it, the number came up 6563 Angstroms. That was the wavelength of the photon emitted by the fusion of Hydrogen into Helium.

After a few seconds, Sue closed her mouth and said, “No, I guess you inform Conclusion Fusion Corp. and ask for payment. I mean that’s what you would do in real life when the contract is filled.”

“This is real life!” Ben said, “They are going to blow a power coupling when they find out how many assets we have on that probe. Some of them are only checked out only for the week. We’ll have to pay for them.”

Suddenly the Professor spoke up, “Class you are to talk to no one until after I brief the University Chancellor, understand. Class dismissed.”

The Professor snapped off the link. With that, it was just the three of them in the small teleroom. He said, “We are in a heap of trouble. I figure we have about a half an hour before the class finishes telling all their friends. You two stay right here. Computer, connect me to Dr. Pam Chase.”

After what seemed like forever, a voice answered and said, “I’m not in the office right now, or cannot take your call. Please, leave a message, and I will get back to you as soon as I can.” Then there was a beep.

“Hey Pam, this is Frank. We have a strange little problem with the experimental probe from class TEM-416. I need you to get back to me ASAP. It is somewhat important. Thank you,” The Professor said, and then terminated the call.

“I don’t want to believe any of this is happening, what do you think we should do now,” the Professor said?

Sue said, “You two do remember the goals of this mission? Oh yes, you two were busy that day, and I taught. Let me fill you in on what the class decided to do.

When the probe gets to Amun, it is going to use the blast from the fusion engine to peel up an ionized stream of material from the asteroid. Then using an ionic mass separator, it is going to refine the metal into pure interlocking blocks of each element. When it has processed about a 30th of the asteroid, a billion tons or so, it’s bringing the metals back here to be re-processed. Do you know what this is going to do to the Metals Market?”

“That is outlandish,” the Professor said, “That would be the largest lot of metal ever brought on the market at one time. This can’t work.”

“And the Engine was never to work either,” Ben said, “But, from the readings, I’m getting it’s up to the task. Who owns this thing? I figure that the probe could bring back as much as 500 billion dollars in metals. Do you know how much gold and platinum we are talking about?”

“What about the rights to a working fusion engine,” Sue said?

“This is impossible,” the Professor said.

Sue leaned forward, “Conclusion Fusion Corp. is real, we are the officers. I had us incorporated on the space station as a contracting company, remember? We all had to sign about twenty pages of legal mumbo-jumbo. It was the only way the robotic facility would accept the order to work on the probes. There had to be a real account.

Remember when I first took over this job. No one at the University would help me. They said no one else had a problem. I didn’t know what to do. Therefore, I had to use a real-fake corporation. All of our contracts are legal and binding.”

Ben asked, “Doesn’t that violate our contract with the University not to use their assets for personal profit?”

“Well, yes and no. In order for the system to recognize our requests as valid, we became independent contractors in a real company. All of our services are part of an agreement with the University through Conclusion Fusion Corp. This way all liability to operate is covered under the business insurance pool. The insurance companies carry us for free. They feel it is cheaper to fund education than to pay for failures. Technically the only obligation is to return the University’s equipment in working order and teaching the class. Conclusion Fusion Corp. owns it all.”

Suddenly the computer's voice cuts in, “Dr. Turner you have a call from Dr. Chase.”

Frank connected the link and her image was projected on one wall, “Hello? Pam.”

“Hey, Frank, I’m sorry it took so long to get back with you, what’s up.”

“Well…” the Professor said.

“You didn’t blow up another probe, did you, Frank,” Pam asked from her desk?

“No! Nothing like that. Everything is working fine.”

“Well then, what’s up? I’m very busy,” Pam said.

“The probe is working,” the Professor said, “The engine fired.”

“The recovery system failed, and it is going to crash into something very expensive,” Pam said?

“Not that engine, the fusion engine, the probe is on course and headed for Amun,” the Professor said.

“What fusion engine,” Pam asked, “And what is an Amun?”

“The experimental fusion engine on the probe and Amun is an asteroid,” the Professor said.

“Do I understand you have a working fusion engine, and why are you taking it to an asteroid?”

“The class project, by using current teleteaming techniques, is to take a contract that produces and launches an experimental probe. Then the class recovers it and does a post-mortem. At the end of the class, they are to do a presentation and turn in a paper on the experience.”

“Okay, I still don’t get it. What has all this to do with a fusion engine and Amun,” Pam said?

“The engine on the probe is just an exercise. No one expected it to work.” the Professor said to his boss, “The probe has been used by thousands of students. Each class analyzed the failures and input design changes as a part of the class.”

“The University has a working fusion engine, and you sent it to an asteroid? Everyone is going to want to see this thing. We’ll need a package to present for the press release. We will all be famous,” Pam said.

“Dr. Chase, it’s gone to mine Amun,” the Professor said.

“So, it is going to be a long time before the probe returns with samples,” Pam said.

“Not samples, Current mission parameters included returning a full load of refined metal. Unfortunately, this engine far exceeds the capabilities of an ordinary chemical rocket. It can carry a very large load. If the journey were longer, it would have shattered all interplanetary speed records. It is currently in a low fuel use trajectory. It should arrive at the asteroid in about 47 hours or so. Amun is solid metal. The use of grinders and lasers has not been able to break off a big enough piece to make it profitable to mine in the past. The probe is going to use the energy from the fusion flame of the engine to ionize the some of the asteroid. The thought was to peel up thin layers of raw metal, and process it into pure elements.”

“Just how much metal are we talking about,” Dr. Chase asked?

“Current mission parameters use a figure of about a billion tons of metal. This metal is made of primordial stainless steel. Mixed in with the 200 billion dollars of iron and nickel is another 150 billion of gold, platinum, and other rare earths. Plus, the 150 billion in Cobalt. The class did the math, I’ll look it up later. More importantly, at the current prices, it could fetch as much as half a trillion dollars.”

“You can’t drop a half trillion dollars of metal on the market, the prices will collapse. There will be a riot on the futures market when this gets out,” Pam said, “I can see the headlines now, International University Collapses Metals Market. Gold Now Worthless.”

“The University does not own the probe,” Sue said, “Remember how I begged you to help me set up the accounts. I had to set up a real corporation to get a real probe made for a real class, the University has no rights to the probe or any of its contents!”

The Professor shot a cross look at Sue to shut up.

“What.” Dr. Chase said as she sat up her hand slapped the desk.

“Yeah, Pam Ah – I haven’t looked at all the paperwork. I’m sure we can straighten this all out,” the Professor said, “We may have the college lawyers look at this mess so we can see exactly what is up.”

Pam disappeared from sight as she slumped back into her large chair.

After a few seconds, the Professor said, “Pam – Pam are you still there?”

“Blast it all the way to Pluto!” Pam said this time her fist hit the desk as she sat up, “I’ll get back with you. Stay available Frank!”

The wall went back to grey after the link was disconnected, the Professor said, “That went well, we should all be fired by this afternoon.”

“The board of Conclusion Fusion Corp. needs to meet now,” Sue said, “There are all three members of the board present. I call the meeting to order. Computer record all minutes of this meeting and put them in a date encoded file name called 560802. What is the first item?”

“Secure the patents on the fusion engine,” Ben said.

“That should be easy, we have the prints and descriptions from the previous classes,” Sue said, “We can charge the filing fees to Conclusion Fusion Corp. for now.”

“Wait, we still work for the University,” the Professor said.

“No you were right, they will end up terminating our contracts for sure,” Ben said, “If we don’t work fast, they will try to take everything from us. What do you think Dr. Chase and her lawyers are trying to do right now? Sue is right too, we must act now or go down in history as the biggest boobs of all time.”

“I don’t like it,” Dr. Turner said, “I feel like I’m stabbing a friend in the back.”

“Look if this all goes down right,” Ben said, “We’ll give the University a big fat donation.”

"Okay,” Dr. Turner said.

“Someone needs to check and see just what all these real fake contracts oblige us to do,” Sue said, “As to the members of the class, their contract for payment is just a hundredth of a percent of the total load sell value.”

“That could be 50 million dollars,” Ben said, “If the market will hold to the price.”

“This is outrageous. What about the Metals Market,” the Professor asked?

“Good thinking Doctor, we can buy futures that the prices are going to crash,” Ben said, “How much in funds do we have?”

“That’s not what I was talking about,” Dr. Turner said.

“We have no real cash,” Sue said. “We’ll have to use a margin call for our best bet to make some money on this event. Dr. Turner, it was your idea you research that thought. We all have something to do, I’ll check back with you two in an hour or so.”

Both Ben and Sue started working madly at their workstations. The Professor sat in his chair awhile mumbling something about that’s not what I meant and then started doing some research.

After about 45 minutes, Ben looked up, and said, “That is all I can do for now. I had to supply prints of the engine for the patent. Plus, I’m having the production facility make another engine from the prints on file. It should be ready in about 15 hours or so. Other than that, the data file has been submitted to the government. All the fees are charged to Conclusion Fusion Corp. Now we wait.”

Sue said, “I think as far as the University is concerned when the class ends then everything is done. Therefore, we issue everybody a grade and end the class. We will still have to pay the members of the class based on load sell. Professor?”

“I think you’re all out of your minds. There are still many problems to solve before we can get the metal here. First off, if we can peel up some of the asteroids with the fusion engine, what molecular weight metal do you get?”

Sue said, “What are you talking about Professor?”

“The alpha particles formed by the fusion engine are not very stable. Nucleotides subjected to such an environment could become unstable, also.”

“What does that mean,” Sue said?

“Some of the metal may become radioactive,” Ben said.

The Professor looked to his assistants, “As to what to do with the metals, the only real answer is we keep it.”

“Have you gone mad?” Sue crossed her arms and leaned back into her chair, “Where are you going to keep a billion tons of metal, under your bed?”

The Professor said, “We keep it with the rest. Instead of mining a portion of Amun, we set up shop, so to speak. We go ahead, and let the robotic mining operation run just long enough to prove the technology. Then, we bring back the probe and enough in assets to set up the corporation. Finally, we send a major operation to Amun to produce on demand iron and nickel. The rest of the rare earths and metals would have to be milked off as we processed Amun. This way Amun is like our vault. For the most part, our assets are safe and in storage.”

A computer’s voice droned, “Dr. Turner you have a call from Dr. Chase.”

The Professor opened the call by saying, “Hi Pam. What’s up?”

“You know what’s up,” the Chancellor said, “From what I have learned, your contract is not that unusual. There are quite a few instances where the University contracts classroom facilitators in remote locations. The lawyers have assured me all is quite legal. Although, I feel it is best, given the situation, if your contracts with us are terminated. This way, the University is protected from any action that would be - unfavorable to our position. I hope you understand, Frank. I’m putting out a request to fill your jobs now.

However, and more importantly, we would expect a generous donation. Am I getting through to you Frank?”

“You want a pay off to stay off our backs,” the Professor said.

“That is a very nasty way to put it, Frank. I thought we were better friends than that. I prefer to think of it as compensation for use of the facilities.”

“How much compensation are we talking about,” Sue said?

Dr. Chase shuffled some of the files on her desk, “Well I been thinking, you being a new corporation and all, you probably do not have an official charity. I think if you gave us the percentage that a corporation with your resources normally donated to its very favorite cause. In addition, you do that for say, your first five years of operation. We would feel, shall we say, grateful.”

“A number Pam,” Frank said.

Pam said, “You want a number, 30 percent, and we stay friendly.”

Ben and Sue both gasped.

Frank said, “That’s ludicrous money. We’ll give you the same cut as the class gets, and you can take me off your social calendar.

Pam said, “27 percent and you can still come to my parties, and tell everybody how rich you are.”

Frank said, “5 shares and that is a load of money.”

Pam said, “Come on Frank. You’ll have to give away some of this money. 25 percent would make you feel good inside.”

Frank said, “I’m feeling pretty cold Pam, 10 shares, and I have to talk this over with the board.”

Pam said, “That is not close Frank. Why don’t you talk it over? You check and see what percentage a corporation with your assets normally donates. Then, you can check back with me. On the other hand, I guess we could let the lawyers have a go at it, but that would tie everything up in a court battle. Of course, that could take a very long time.”

Frank said, “There are no corporations with as much in assets as we have, anything we give would be a record amount of money, and you know it!”

“Talk it over Frank, I’m sure eventually you will see it my way,” with that, Pam terminated the call.

The Professor said, “She didn’t give me time to tell her we are thinking of changing the current mission parameters.”

Ben said, “It is starting. Everyone is going to want a piece of our pie.”

“As I remember up to a couple hours ago, there was no pie. Plus, it is still a very long way from being here,” the Professor said, “Funny how in one instant everything is different. I was just arguing over an amount of money that I can’t even imagine how much it really is worth. I could never spend the amount of money we are talking about and yet, I was not going to give up one thin dime I did not have too. I felt like she was trying to steal it from me.”

“Get used to it,” Sue said, “If we can pull this thing off, we could be the richest people in the solar system.”

“And that is still a mighty big if,” Ben said, “Let’s not get too carried away with this. There is still the engine. Right now, that is our prime asset. The fusion engine alone could provide enough in profits to run this company forever.”

“It’s the impossible with nothing at all,” Sue said.

“What are you talking about,” Ben asked?

“You know that saying. It goes something like, we the indifferent, commanded by the uninformed, have toiled for so long with so little. We are now capable of doing the impossible with nothing at all.”

The Professor said, “The impossible is just one of those boundaries. Once what was impossible occurs, there is chaos as everybody tries to sort out what has happened. Yet, within the chaos, is Opportunity. Opportunity seldom knocks at the door. It is more like a rogue comet coming at you from the depths of space. If you are lucky, you see it coming. Soon it’s here, and you are swept up in it. If you miss it, it's gone. I could not plan to be here in my life now. I thought I would teach a while, and then have a nice quiet retirement. Write some papers or a few books maybe. Now, I feel like I’m on that comet, hurtling into the unknown future. All the goals that I was working toward are no longer applicable. There might have been people who would have seized this opportunity differently, but we are the ones thrust into the situation. When the dust settles, we shall see what we have. Until then, we hang on to everything we can grab, and hope for the best.”

“So, is that our new company’s goal, to do the impossible,” Ben said.

“Very funny Ben,” Sue leaned back, put her hands on her head, and looked up, “Our goal is to hang on to everything we can grab.”

“No, our goal never really changed,” the Professor said, “It is the same for everybody, to provide the best future for ourselves we possibly can.”

“There is a phone call for Conclusion Fusion Corporation,” the computer droned, “How should it be routed?”

“Computer, who is the call from,” Sue asked as she sat forward?

“Amalgamated News Network reporter, Jack Spicier,” the computer droned.

“How could they of found out so soon,” Ben said?

“Computer, tell Mr. Spicer that a press release is coming soon.

Until then, we have no comment,” the Professor said, “Any other calls of this nature are to be given the same message.”

“Yes sir,” the computer droned.

Ben said, “And just what are we going to say?”

“I don’t want to believe any of this is happening,” the Professor said.

Ben turned to his workstation, “We need to open up the class website, but first we change the current mission parameters to collect samples using the fusion engine. We can’t let on how much the engine is capable of processing, yet. Let them try to make some sense out of the screwy reading from the probe we recorded while the engine was running. I’m still not sure what exactly is happening in the engine myself, but this should keep them busy for a while.”

Sue said, “I’m updating the web page now to read just the engine stats and the orbital data. I’m putting up as many numbers and data streams as I can think of doing. You know stuff like the Oliphant–Hydrogen hostility factor, and – oh, here’s a good one, the Elvis Ratio. I’ll put up the last class’s description of how the theory on the engine works. That ought to confuse them pretty good. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, “Let me change the reading from the Electron Lens to read the average DC level. No one need know we are pulsing the plasma. There is no need to let them in on all our tricks.”

The Professor said, “No, wait. We’ll have to repost the web page on a commercial site under Conclusion Fusion Corp.”

“Great, now we’ll need some sort of official corporation web page,” Ben said, “I’ll put something together. It should take about an hour if you help me, Sue.”

The Professor said, “Okay, keep it conservative. Don’t make it to flashy. Oh yes, one more thing. Computer, phone somebody who can get us a bottle of champagne.”

After a few seconds, another computer’s voice droned, “Lettuce Liquor, how may we help you?”

Everybody laughed, and then the Professor said, “Send us your best bottle of champagne.”

A day later back in her office on Earth, Dr. Pam Chase was quite pleased with herself. As she sat back in her big leather chair, she smiled. If Frank Turner and crew were careful, they could become one of the richest space corporations in history. Moreover, International University would be on the receiving end of one of the largest donations ever. Her place at the University would be assured for a very long time. While she was still somewhat mad that the lawyers could not see a way to get the rights to the engine, she knew that Frank would feel obligated to the University and eventually make the big fat donation.

“Dr. Chase there is a very important phone call from The Technocrat’s Review,” the computer droned.

“Computer, I’m not taking any calls unless they are on my A-list. I don’t care how important they say it is. Tell them we have no comment. Tell them to contact Conclusion Fusion Corp. Tell them as far as we know the President is Dr. Frank Turner on the Marco Polo. Then get them to go away. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” the computer droned.

There had been a steady stream of phone calls starting the day before, and not let up since then. Pam looked at the list of items in the awaiting action folder on her computer. There were 41 items. Another one was added to the list as she watched. She had to get back to work. Yet, every time she would pause for a second, she thought about all that money to spend. New office buildings – and the Chancellors office would be grand.

“Focus Pam,” she said aloud, “Computer, open the first item in my awaiting action folder.

A man by his desk appeared on her tellewall and said, “I’m Dr. Scott Kincaid, the new instructor for TEM-416. I’m awaiting approval for my new course that replaces Dr. Turner’s course. There is a new rule that you have to approve all upper-level coursework, so here it is. Look over the attached documents at your leisure. The class project will still be to produce an experimental probe. Then, tare it down. All while using approved Teleteaming techniques. Also, the class is to be familiarized with the use of the automated facilities on board the Marco Polo. For the probe’s experiment, I’m thinking that the class will test a fake time machine.”

“Computer stop.” Dr. Chase sat up in her chair, “Connect me to Dr. Kincaid. I’ve had enough real fake stuff. That class can test recovery systems, design escape pods or something safe like that.”