gray hair.
The meal was a vegetarian delight. Alex had just spent almost six months in space where meat was rehydrated, tasteless, and expensive as hell. Then he was in Tokyo for the past two days, and there, buying meat meant taking out a short-term loan. Alex was dying for a steak, pork chops, pulgogi, hot dogs, any flesh.
“So, Alex,” McConnell said, bouncing his mustache around, “Kirsten says you work for Space Resources Incorporated.”
Alex nodded. “Yes.”
Kirsten, aware of McConnell’s political leanings, was afraid of the direction the conversation could take. She tried to deflect it. “Alex was just promoted to director.”
Dr. McConnell looked at Alex. “What does that mean?”
“I’ll be in charge of asteroids as they come in from the asteroid belt.”
Mrs. McConnell perked up. “Wouldn’t that be the ‘captain’?”
Alex shook his head. “No, traditionally it’s ‘director.’ When SRI first went to the belt to bring back asteroids, the rocks weren’t piloted; they were dropped. Chemical rockets were used to point the rock into the correct Hohmann orbit. Then the mass driver threw out ground up rock for about one thousandth of a gee—
“Excuse me,” Dr. McConnell interrupted, “a ‘gee’?”
Alex smiled. He was always surprised to find people who didn’t understand basic physics. “A gee is a unit of measure for acceleration, equal to the acceleration of gravity at the Earth’s surface. It’s about 9.8 meters per second per second or 32 feet per second per second.”
McConnell just looked at him and Alex knew he hadn’t understood; but he decided to just press on. “It took about six months to bring a rock in,” he continued. “And once it was moving there was little that could be done. Turn around and orbit insertion was accomplished using solid chemical rockets, and they were hard to control. Remember about ten years ago, something went wrong and a rock missed Earth? Rescuing the personnel and the loss of ore and equipment really cost SRI.”
Alex failed to notice the McConnells’ eyes were glazing over with incomprehension. Kirsten forgave him, knowing this was his life and first love.
“But now,” Alex continued, “we have a good, reliable constant acceleration drive, the Masuka drive, perfected. Masuka drives are placed to give yaw, pitch, and roll control—”
“Excuse me, what?” Mrs. McConnell asked.
“Yaw, pitch and roll.” Alex repeated. He held out his hand, palm down, fingers extended. He then moved his hand as if he were waving goodbye. “Pitch: movement of the nose of the craft up and down or the angle, ‘beta,’ of rotation around the y axis. And roll,” he twisted his hand at the elbow, “is rotation around the long axis, or x axis, measured by the angle ‘gamma.’ And yaw,” he set an empty glass on the table and spun it slowly on its side. “Yaw, which is rotation around the vertical, or z axis, measured by the angle ‘alpha.’”
Kirsten could tell he’d lost the McConnells again.
“Anyway,” Alex continued, “Masuka drives were added to supplement the mass driver. Now we can accelerate the whole trip at about one-sixth gee, cutting travel time down to about two weeks, depending on the orbit of the asteroid and where it is in relationship to Earth. We still have a few ships that can’t boost one sixth of a gee.
“Now the rock can be moved and navigated exactly as if it were a very large ship. That necessitated the addition of navigators, engineers, computers, gyros to maintain attitude, and everything a ship has. But they still call us directors.”
It took a moment for their hosts to wake up.
“How very interesting,” Mrs. McConnell finally said in a way that proved she was very uninterested.
Dr. McConnell took a long drag on his cigarette. “Do you support what SRI does, commercializing and polluting space?” he asked.
Alex frowned. “I don’t know how we’re polluting space. I’ll agree SRI is commercializing