

The Federal Space Administration

By: Leland Martin

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15
Prologue

In those days, man took to space. Adventure on Earth couldn't be found. Earth was stable and comfortable.

The planet itself became controlled. After the invention of the Peterson Device in 2052, man gained power over the elements. The need for irrigation ceased as the global climate was regimented. Floods and droughts were relegated to the history books. Land that was once unsuitable for anything was turned to lush paradise. A number of innovations replacing the touch of a human hand finally completely removed man from food production. Hunger ended; the horrors of industrialization slowly receded. All the roofs of every structure became covered in solar panels. As the sun rose, it powered mankind, and as the night fell, the rains came to water the Earth.

Trade united all people. Borders dissolved as the connections between people became closer. Wars became smaller and smaller as the people of the world lost interest in nationalism and turned to individualism. A person didn't think of himself as nothing less than his own sovereign.

Bureaucracy wasn't tolerated anymore. It could only survive in a faraway place from the eyes of the people of Earth; in Space.

# Chapter 1

September 2, 2135

"It's gonna be huge."

Zachary Dell traveled as soon as he could to the moon. He was invited, but more or less invited himself. He stood in front of a massive singular window without seams. It was two stories high and greater than a hundred feet in length. Even as well-traveled a businessman as he could look at the planet known as Earth out beyond the window with wonder.

Dell had been trying to get a meeting with Adam Lockard for some time. Lockard was a man with more money than he knew what to do with. His father had made a killing in asteroid mining, but as a son, he found it much more engaging to spend money than take on the family business. He elected one of his father's old partners to run the show while he found himself satisfied to collect a check at the end every quarter. It was the typical rags to riches to rags in three generations, and Adam was the middle phase. Dell found it imperative to get his money as soon as possible, before it disappeared.

Between Adam's cruises around the solar system, palaces on distant moons, terraformed asteroids, and expensive girlfriends; the money seemed to escape his wallet at terminal velocity; but what Adam really found engaging was space ships. It was his only passion. He knew all the makes and models, and was intimately known by many dealers (his frequent business helped). He went to all the shows: the Mars Space Expo, the International Space Fair in orbit around Earth, and the Lunar Space Show. With all his money at his disposal, he bought ships by the handful. In total he had around twenty-one, which was more than some manufacturers made in a year. He especially loved classic ships, from a much more treacherous time in space travel. While the new ships were faster, and in all measurable ways better on paper than the old ships, he felt they lacked some personality. Of course, that didn't stop him from buying more than two or three new ones a year.

Then he saw the Event Horizon, a new ship from a new company: Frontier Space. He first saw a prototype at the Venus Space Show a month ago. It was simply stunning to him. It made him feel as though he was looking up at the stars for the first time. Needless to say, he was already a huge fan of the man behind the project, Zachary Dell; who used to work for General Space, and more specifically the Griffin Division. During his time at Griffin, Dell turned the fledgling subsidiary that was making small freighters to exhilarating ships of speed at a low cost. Adam Lockard had six Griffin ships in his personal hangar, more than any other make or model.

The two sat in plush chairs facing Earth. The living room was designed with opulence in mind. And what was luxury? Enormous amounts of empty space. Contrasted against the tight corridors and small rooms of most residences in space, Lockard had a living room like a gymnasium; save for a few chairs and sofa in front of the window, the room was bare.

"I'm very excited about your new project, Mr. Dell. When are you moving to production?" Lockard eagerly asked, trying to piece together a date in the future where he could purchase the Event Horizon. In a lifestyle without deadlines, a man needs something to wait for.

Dell went about spinning a web around the man. "That's what I'd like to talk to you about Mr. Lockard..."

"Please. My friends call me Adam," Adam politely interjected. Lockard hated formalities, another holdover from his lifestyle.

Dell knew exactly which cards to play. "Well Adam...my company, Frontier Space is very new; and I'm trying to secure investors so I can begin building a state-of-the-art factory. That's the only way I can make my ship." Dell began tantalizing him.

"I heard you were being financed by some the top guys from General Programming. I've also heard that Space Platform CEO Alvin Lee is a big investor. How much more do you need?" Adam asked unconvinced.

"Uh-oh," Dell thought to himself. It seems as though Adam was just as proficient in space ship enthusiast circles as he led on. He had to make a change of direction. He was sure a simple explanation would get Adam back on track to opening his wallet.

"I'm sure you've looked at the ship Mr.Lock...Adam. It's the best there is. And we've spent a lot of that money on development. I will confess...I let my strategy of 'no compromise' get the better of the bottom line. I think of it as a good investment. I just need a little more to get off the ground...no pun intended...to start production." Dell was very reassuring and calm.

Adam thought it over for a minute. "The ship is quite magnificent isn't it?" Adam asked rhetorically. "Where are you planning to build the factory?"

"Venus' 14th District."

"Venus?" Adam asked worriedly and uncertain. "I heard that place is a hellhole. There are plenty of good industrial shipyards on Mars."

"There's no reason to get concerned about Venus, Adam. We've an excellent relationship with the local governor and it's the value play. People need jobs on Venus. And, why do what everyone else is doing?"

Adam raised his eyebrow in intrigue. "General Space, Universal Freighters, Smith Space Enterprises,... they all have factories on Mars. Frontier Space is all about being different," Dell insisted.

Adam thought about it for a moment. Dell seemed quite confident. And he did have a good reputation, both as an engineer and a businessman. "What would you like me to do?"

"I'd like to bring you into the company as an investor."

"And how much is that?"

"If you invest with me at say...one hundred million, that would go a long way. Not in the short term mind you, we're a young company, but we're building a brand...something that will be timeless. And I know you're a serious space enthusiast. You put in that money and I'll guarantee that you'll have the first one off the assembly line."

Adam's doubt rolled away into emotion. "As long as you autograph it for me," he said, excited.

"It's a deal," Dell said as they shook hands.

# Chapter 2

August 23, 2136

The Federal Space Administration is tasked with the public safety in all things space; travel, shipping, mining, artificial satellites...the whole gambit. Space is still a dangerous place and the people demanded a certain expectation of protection. That public trust, and the lives of millions in space at any given time, are in the hands of the government engineers that certify the ships (which criss-cross the solar system) are fit for public consumption.

The FSA has an office on the Armstrong Space Station orbiting Mars. The Armstrong Office is charged with the certification of designs of small private and commercial ships, usually under twenty passengers. After evaluating designs based on engineering protocols and rigorous flight testing, the Federal Space Administration's engineers can deliver a clean bill of health for the manufacturer.

One such engineer is Tyler Patton. He handled the certification process with numerous manufacturers. He sees two kinds of enterprise. Good companies have good space ships and go through with flying colors. And bad companies that have substandard ships and are unwilling or too incompetent to change the designs to meet the criteria. They drag their feet on drafting reforms, and he is forced to argue with them every step of the way, about every detail that has to be changed to meet code. For a manufacturer, it's much easier in the short term to try to argue against a violation of a protocol, then to come up with a change to a design.

When he was handed the Event Horizon, from the new company Frontier Space, he was genuinely excited. The Event Horizon was something truly special in terms of beauty. It was a simply timeless exterior that looked like it voyaged from heaven. The designer was an industry god, Zachary Dell. A brilliant engineer and businessman that had everything going for him. He had a reputation from his work at General Space. He was tall, charismatic, had a supermodel wife, and rubbed shoulders with famous actors. He was one of the few engineers in the space industry that regular people knew by name and face. And he was doing something Patton could only dream about. It was the dream of every true engineer that held a passion for spaceships. Zachary Dell was building his own ship company, something incredibly difficult in this day and age. But Patton knew if anyone could pull it off, it would be Zachary Dell.

But that was a while ago. Tyler Patton was quite tired of dealing with Frontier Space. They submitted their application for certification six months ago. Patton couldn't wait to delve into the plans, only to see the horror. There were stabilizer inadequacies, a questionable landing gear system, structural rigidity that was iffy at best, a lazy cockpit layout with avionics that were subpar, and a distress beacon deployment system that was prone to jamming. It was a ripe mess of a design.

But problems with an applicant's design isn't the end of the world. Hiccups are expected. At first, Frontier Space cooperated. They spent some time and fixed the problems with the distress beacon deployment system by copying a well-known design instead of trying to be cute with their own. But after that, it went downhill pretty quickly.

Patton wanted better placement of stabilizers and bigger gyroscopes. However, Frontier Space resisted on the grounds that stabilizers further from the center of the ship would compromise the looks. Patton told Frontier Space they needed more structural rigidity in the frame's center section. They resisted by saying it would rob the cabin of space. Instead of enhancing the frame, they compromised by placing an almost arbitrary time limit on long it would last based on silly mathematical calculations; A band aid of sorts.

But Patton and Frontier Space were just getting started. As construction on the factory was ending, and the date for Event Horizon's delivery approached, the more resistant to reform the company became. Every design change added costs and time that Frontier Space couldn't handle.

There was a meeting scheduled for the morning with the engineers (Tyler Patton's group) that were handling the Event Horizon certification, and lawyers and one engineer from Frontier Space.

"We've been running tests and simulations with the avionics programs that are scheduled to be on the Event Horizon," Patton said. He shifted through some papers with the official results. "With the wiring diagram and circuit board layout you provided, Program v3.12 was having some issues correctly reading geography with sharp changes in elevation. Tim Juniper is our flight testing engineer."

Another member of the group took over. "I put it through a number of simulations with 99% accuracy of the real thing, and actual flying time, the program was a bit iffy on the tests. I couldn't put an exact figure on it, but in Manual Override...just like Tyler said...the Event Horizon can't recognize some mountain ranges as well as some cliffs," Juniper said.

The chief lawyer from Frontier Space nodded. "Does this phenomenon happen in Auto-Pilot?"

Auto-Pilot was when the ship's navigation computer flew the ship on its own. While Manual Override was for humans at the controls.

"No," Tyler responded. "In Auto-Pilot, the program has more margin built in and never travels low enough to the ground under normal conditions for it to be a problem."

"So, I suppose we'll have to put a disclaimer on the avionics screen that says that in Manual-Override drastic changes in elevation can cause malfunction," one of the lawyers replied.

The Federal Space Administration engineers were shocked. "Sir, that's not how the design protocol reads. This problem has to be addressed so that if someone is flying around in Manual-Override, they don't slam right into a mountainside," Tyler reminded them as politely as possible. If the elevation display read something, it had to be accurate. Otherwise, what's the point of the instrument?

The people from Frontier Space grew quiet for a moment. The engineer finally spoke up, "What do you suggest we do to resolve the problem?"

"You know that I cannot make revisions to the design. I am only able to review the design and determine whether it lives up to the standards. Figuring this stuff out is the applicant's job."

The people from Frontier Space grew quiet once more, reserved in thought. "And what about your review of the landing gear?" one of the lawyers asked.

"I looked at your design, did some calculations, and ran in through some simulations. I found that under normal circumstances the vertical landing gear sufficiently stable," Patton replied.

"Good. Then it's a resolved issue, then?" a lawyer asked confidently.

"Unfortunately, no. Under harsher conditions like in the event of mechanical failure, rough emergency landing, or extreme weather, the landing gear won't be able to support the weight well enough and may be subject to collapse."

Patton knew what that meant for Frontier Space. They would have to install a beefier landing system. However, such a system wouldn't fit inside the present design's landing gear housings that were neatly tucked up into the body. It would require a great deal of engineering to fix the problem and reconcile it with the looks of the ship. He knew that they weren't planning on changing the design. They couldn't. It was too late for that. Event Horizon was planned to be built very soon and the factory may require new tooling to accommodate the change.

The people from Frontier Space sat by idly. They knew that there were easier methods than to change the design to get the needed Certificate of Public Safety. They concluded the meeting early and went back to Venus.

# Chapter 3

August 25, 2136

Frontier Space had a busy boardroom that morning. It was a whole new facility that boasted a state-of-the-art hangar. The landing strip was still being paved, the offices were so new that the paint wasn't even dry. Zachary Dell certainly hadn't spared any expense.

The top lawyers from the Legal Department, the head bean counters from the Accounting Department, and the chiefs of Engineering were all there. It was a big day at the office. Zachary Dell had called a meeting to discuss how the certification was proceeding. Everyone was on edge. The lawyers knew that the certification was going poorly, the accountants knew that the company was running out of money, and engineers knew they couldn't change the hastily thrown together design. They all sat quietly at the table waiting for the boss, the man behind it all, to appear. They all had one thing they didn't want to be asked about: the certification.

He showed up five minutes late; fashionably late. He confidently strutted to the head of the table and took a seat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, how are we coming along in the certification?" Dell asked if he were asking for a cup of coffee. He turned to his chief lawyer.

"Our negotiations are rather problematic," the lawyer heavily responded. He chose his words carefully.

"So, what's the holdup? What are they dragging their feet about?"

The chief engineer decided that this is where he better fess up. "They've found some problems with the design."

Dell took a deep breath of disapproval. "What's there to disagree with? Haven't they looked at it?" He asked rhetorically. He stood up and pointed to a painting on the wall that depicted his ship swiftly navigating the Asteroid Field. "It's stunning."

The table grew silent. "I just got back from the Mars Space Expo. We've got so much new interest in it. It was the most well received ship on display. It's adored." He sat back down. "What's the problem?"

"They've spotted some design flaws," the chief of engineering replied.

"What flaws? I've been voyaging with the prototype for half a year and we haven't had too many problems. Not more than the usual hiccup." He paused for a moment. "How are the accounts holding up?" he asked the accountants.

The chief accountant cleared his throat. "We've got enough money to last until production starts. With the projected sales we've got, the company will stay afloat for at least another year and half."

"But the changes needed to put the design right will bankrupt the company and an Event Horizon will never be built; correct?"

"Yes, sir."

Zachary Dell couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had come so close to getting his company off the ground. It took years of sucking up to wealthy people to get this far. But there is always an answer. And for Dell, he knew it was just a phone call away.

# Chapter 4

August 25, 2136

"Lunch time is approaching, sir," the computer reminded Tyler Patton. A small cubicle was all the space he was allowed. His computer was what he interacted with most of the day. He plugged designs into the computer for analysis and talked on the phone. ELISA was keeping him company, his Engineering Live Interactive Support Agent. It was a monitor that was next to his computer screen.

"What's for lunch today?" he asked her as he typed an email. It was a 'her'. The voice was designed to be soothing, but never had an ounce of passion. The person at the desk could choose a screen display. It was supposed to display peaceful landscapes that were probably scientifically designed to lower blood pressure and increase productivity. But Patton found that too distracting and was often found gazing into it. So ELISA put up a simple flying through space screensaver.

"The cafeteria is serving gourmet deli sandwiches with associated dressing."

"That sounds fine" Patton replied offhandedly.

"Apparently not, sir. Of the thirty-six times this lunch combination has been served you have only eaten it for lunch four times."

"How did you know that?"

"I'm connected to the food service mainframe."

"I see. Well what do you suggest I have for lunch then?"

"Do not understand the question. Please rephrase."

Patton finished his typing and looked to the ELISA screen. "If you were me what you eat today?"

"Your eating habits show that you usually bring your own lunches on this day of the week. Thirty-five percent of the time it is a B.L.T. sandwich, that would display a preference. I would therefore suggest a B.L.T. sandwich with a side of potato chips, a Classic Earth Cola, and a Double Choco candy bar."

"And how did you come up with that?" Patton asked disinterestedly as he was getting ready for lunch.

"From looking at your charges you've made to the space station's three hundred twenty-one vending machines from that last six months."

Patton got out of his chair. "Well, I'm glad you're looking out for me," he said sarcastically.

"My function is to facilitate your productivity, sir."

"Yeah, whatever," Patton replied, leaving to go to the cafeteria.

Patton knew what the ELISA machines were really about. Management had put them in about two years ago. They weren't designed for productivity enhancement, that's what the normal computers were for, it was about surveillance. The damn things counted how many times you went to the bathroom, how long you talked on a personal phone call and about what, what you ate, and most importantly if you were happy or sad. ELISA was always interested in your mood. It was just part of management's cockamamie program to increase morale.

The Federal Space Administration's Small Ship Certification Office was genuinely divided between two kinds of people: the engineers and management. There were seven layers of hierarchy. To give you an indication of what working there was like, one of those layers were engineers. The rest were administrators, administering administrators administering administrators, etc almost all the way to the top.

Patton sat down at the lunch table. Just to spite his ELISA machine, he had a sub sandwich from the cafeteria. He was the last one at the table. The usual crowd had already taken up their positions.

There was David Honda, the office observer. He closely awaited every move by management and laughed. To him, the office was just one big show for him to watch. He wandered around the office looking busy and just doing enough work to where firing him would be an inconvenience. Why work hard when it's for them? That's what he called management and the administrators: "them"; in private of course to those that he trusted. David Honda wasn't a stupid man, or even particularly lazy, and his motives weren't complicated. He wouldn't mind his labor supporting a broken, dishonest system that he saw for what it was. But he worked for incentives, and management provided no reason to work hard. He did like to occasionally sow trouble, especially with the ELISA machines. He liked to tell them paradoxes, which caused many computer crashes.

Colonel Randall Schmitz Ret. was the office war veteran. He wasn't just some goose-stepping moron either, he was as smart as he was in shape, and was in fact the only engineer that used the FSA gym on a regular basis. While he no longer was technically employed by the Federal Space Marines, he was untouchable to the management. It was their guilt ridden askewed patriotism that prevented them from even getting close to disciplinary action. He was the only one that could tell management the truth and get away with it. And Randall Schmitz was crazier than hell. Every once in a while, he would just go off like he forgot he wasn't in the military anymore. And he worked hard, so the respect that people gave him wasn't in vain.

Timothy 'Tim' Juniper was the test pilot. The certification applicants would come to him with their prototypes and he'd put them through the paces. The test pilots never did much in terms of paper work. They went to the hangar half the days and the rest of time they wandered around talking to each other about the latest ships, and other random pilot information about maneuvers, stories, and anything to pass the time. Juniper was eventually called into the boss's office because he had logged over ten hours of Solitaire in two consecutive days on his computer. It was his ELISA machine that ratted him out.

Paul Rudcurs was the office's resident eccentric. He was smart as hell, he just wasn't good for anything. Even simple projects that would take someone a day to complete could get dragged out for weeks. So he was kept to simple office labor that could be fixed if it got messed up. Even the management considered firing him, especially after he would royally mess something up, but always decided against it. They knew that he couldn't find another job and firing him would leave him destitute. He was their charity project that helped them sleep at night.

And finally there was Peter Locke. He was the only 'yes-man' that was allowed to sit at the table. Mainly because he had a better view of the management above everyone else. He was a power plant expert from a Venus backwater that wanted nothing more to become a manager. Locke was a nice enough guy on his own time, he just didn't want to be an engineer his whole life. He was a sellout, but the engineers still liked him to a certain degree.

Tyler spotted a new face at the table. It some new guy. He wanted to say his name was... Doug? But he couldn't be sure. So he just let the conversation play out.

Honda was telling another one of his stories. Half the fun of why he came to the office was confusing the hell out of the bosses.

"...so I was in the hallway the other day and Price comes up to me."

"The Chief of Human Resources?" Locke asked to confirm.

"Yeah," Honda continued. "You know how he's starting to build up morale?"

"That asshole's been trying to beat the Federal Space Postal Office for three years now," the Colonel piped up.

Tyler started eating while listening. He knew the campaign they were talking about. New motivational posters covered the hallways, and emails came out every day reminding them about management's new attitude about employee well-being. Happy music played in the elevators that was scientifically designed to improve mood.

"So I pass him in the hallway and I say 'hello'. He makes eye contact and I start to reel him in. I ask him how he's doing and address him by name. He says, 'alright' and then asks me the same. I tell him about how happy I am thanks to his new efforts and that I decided not to kill myself!" Honda laughed. "You should have seen the look on his face!" The engineers laughed too. Price was such an overinflated balloon.

The only person not laughing was the new guy at the table Doug Something-or-other. "I mean the guy's only trying to do his job," he said sympathetically.

"I don't think you understand, Doug. This guy's is a hack. He doesn't care about your wellbeing," Honda replied seriously, a real departure from his usual haze of sarcasm.

"You don't know that. Maybe the guy is misunderstood."

"Trust me, son. If this were a guy you'd want to be friends with, he wouldn't be a manager." the Colonel said.

"Well, I know for a fact that Price is just trying to get the numbers up so he can get promoted. There's a bet going on between two managers two levels above him. If he can get the numbers up, he can get promoted. Since the numbers fell short last time, he had to wait a full year," Peter Locke declared.

"I kinda like the new elevator music," Paul Rudcurs let out.

"I like the music too, Paul," Honda replied in a somewhat mean tone. "But do you know the numbers he's chasing? How about you, new guy?"

"No," the new Doug answered.

"Twenty-seven morale rating. That's what this administration has. The Federal Space Postal Office has a twenty-nine and a half morale rating. After three years, the management has come up from twenty-five and a third. If they really wanted to help us they would just have to listen. But all the things that would make us happy are impossibilities for them."

"Like?" Doug asked.

All of the engineers put their food down for a moment.

"More competent management," Colonel Schmitz said.

"Being able to be rewarded for hard work," Peter Locke said.

"Something to do," Paul Rudcurs said.

"Less management," Tim Juniper said.

"Getting rid of those spies called ELISA machines," David Honda said.

# Chapter 5

August 27, 2136

Zachary Dell had a number of tricks up his sleeve. If he wanted to sell somebody something, he went to them. If he wanted somebody to do him a favor, he invited them to his home; and he did just that.

Dell had recently bought an estate on Venus. It was five acres of domed terraformed real estate in the 14th District, and within a five minute flight of Frontier Space's new production facility. The real estate was cheap. There was no such thing as prime real estate in the 14th District, let alone Venus. There was a lot of poverty on Venus. A volcanic eruption destroyed a chief settlement twenty years ago, and killed hundreds of thousands. Since then, companies thought twice before setting up shop. The mining companies were more interested in asteroids. Shipping companies were more interested in the hundred or so space stations from Earth to Uranus. Exploration was going away from Sun, not towards it. Most manufacturing was outsourced to the automated facilities in orbit around Jupiter or on the surface of Mars. And Venus didn't have the tourist appeal of Earth's remaining untamed wildness and wildlife preserves, or deep space cruises.

So what did Venus have? Mainly some leftover 'residual industry'. Travelers to Mercury sometimes dropped by. Some local mining companies were established, as well as some local industries that catered to the inhabitants. It's most well-known industry was 'hand-made' things that appealed to peoples' eccentricities. Only poor people could be paid to do that kind of work. The sixty million people that were stuck on Venus had a hard time making a living.

Governor Marley was a local politician from the 14th District; the poorest district. Due to the economic hardships of his district, Dell had a lot of leverage on the governor. Dell played the governors of Venus against each other and was able to come to an agreement in his favor. Frontier Space would never pay taxes, Dell would never have to pay taxes, and he would have special access to the governor's political connections.

Governor Marley never made house calls, but for Zachary Dell, he made an exception. Frontier Space employed twenty thousand people; and they weren't jobs knitting scarves or basket weaving, it was real employment. Frontier Space was really making a difference in the backwater Marley called home.

Marley was greeted at the door by the maid and was quickly shown to the rear of the residence. Dell sat on a patio overlooking a perfectly manicured lawn. An entire acre of perfectly flat space was an unusual luxury. And his lawn ornament? A life size recreation of his very own spaceship; Event Horizon.

Dell was welcoming enough and asked him to sit. Marley obliged. Dell poured him an iced tea.

"You've got quite a place here," Marley said, making small talk.

"It's one of the things I miss about Earth. Lawn" Dell replied.

"I wouldn't know. I've never been."

"Never been to our home planet? It's a damned shame, this place just doesn't cut it for me," Dell said looking up through the dome at the Venus sky. "You see that over there?"

"The ship?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you've called me here?"

"Of course, Governor Marley. You're a businessman and I'm a businessman and Event Horizon is my business. When I was shopping around for a place to put my company, you assured me you knew people on the Senate Space Enterprise Committee."

The young governor looked Dell in the eyes. Marley had promised the people of the 14th District jobs. That's all they wanted, and they didn't care where it came from. It was time for the governor to do his job and grease the wheels a bit to put people back to work.

"I do, Mr. Dell. Mr. Dell I'll be straight with you." The Governor hardened his voice. "I've grown up all my life on Venus. I got into politics because I wanted to make a difference in the lives of my neighbors. Make this planet more, uh...well let's just say increase the quality of life here.

I admire a man that works hard, Mr. Dell and you've accomplished much in your life. But I don't really give a flying fuck about your damn space ship."

Dell took a hard gulp. "I don't care and I don't like it. I don't like that my comrades, my brothers, and cousins have to build spaceships for the super-rich that look down on us like we're nothing. I don't like how they make jokes and laugh about the 'hell hole' that this place is. Some people actually live here.

But I'm a realist, Mr. Dell. Maybe I'm just not as sophisticated as you," Governor Marley said looking around at Dell's residence. "But you know what? Your company provides jobs for the people of this place." He paused for a moment. The Governor wasn't a graceful talker or a wealthy dummy Dell was used to talking to. He was someone that was street smart.

"All that's important to me is our friendship. All that's important is that Frontier Space survives and thrives. Because as it flourishes, so will this community. That's all I care about." He stood up. "It's true. I have a lot of friends in politics. And I'll do everything in my power to help you in the name of our friendship."

Governor Marley went back to his office and called a friend. Governor Sceptre was also on Venus, the 11th District to be more specific. It was the largest in population on Venus and Sceptre was an older governor that had maintained his position for twenty years. He was governor, and when his two terms were up he went back to being a senator, then district secretary, then a few other positions before running for governor again. Of his forty years in politics, he surrounded the governor's office. And even if he wasn't governor, he controlled the office. A regular politician.

Governor Sceptre approached Marley seven months ago about a toxic waste dump. Because of laws prohibiting dangerous materials from going into space, and risking an accident that could happen in the atmosphere, he needed a place to stash it. Marley decided to do him a favor. None of the other governors would take it, but Marley saw it as a good way to save up political favors for a rainy day. Marley told Sceptre about his situation with Frontier Space and Sceptre obliged.

For Sceptre, it was a simple relay back to his friend. He knew Senator Bill Powell on the Senate Space Enterprise Committee. The esteemed Bill Powell was blackmailed about a year ago with incriminating evidence of sexual misconduct. That's what politicians call 'rape' (they call infidelity 'business as usual'). That material just happens to be stored in a safety deposit boxes on Venus. Governor Sceptre decided to do him a favor and had his marshals seize and destroy the problem.

Senator Bill Powell of the Senate Space Enterprise Committee decided to lean on the Head Director of the Federal Space Administration's office on the Armstrong Space Station. It was very easy for him. The upper management knew how to take orders and say "yes". The idea was sold to them in a perverse way. What originally started out as just doing business, was wrapped up with the guilt of self-righteousness.

When you're a highly paid bureaucrat that does absolutely nothing productive, the guilt of having such a cushy job infects the brain. As a result, they become delusional in their stature. Instead of doing their job, they turn the workplace into a charity. They have all the satisfaction of helping people without having to pay any of the bills or give up anything themselves. They can have it both ways; have the job that makes them feel guilty and use the job to alleviate their guilt.

The Federal Space Administration bosses thought of Frontier Space as their personal mission; and with a zealous enthusiasm, decided to help Frontier Space. This meant to help the poor, disenfranchised people of the 14th District of Venus get the jobs that they needed so badly. They sat around and talked about how much Frontier Space was needed for two hours and decided to help the poor, helpless people of District 14 no matter what it took, or with a thought of their obligation to the public safety of those that flew in Event Horizons.

# Chapter 6

August 28, 2136

Tyler Patton was getting pretty tired of having to deal with Frontier Space. What was the problem today?

The Event Horizon had a few design flaws. Patton had seen it during the certification process before. It was nothing that couldn't be fixed in due time for most companies; and the problems themselves were not immediately obvious. That morning, he received a call from the Chief of Design about the avionics programs. They had been discussing this for a while now. The test pilots reported that the Event Horizon still had trouble displaying sharp changes in elevation in Manual-Override mode.

"I think displaying a warning to the pilots and explaining in the learning literature that the system has problems is sufficient enough in the matter of public safety. As long as Frontier Space openly discloses that these systems fail from time to time, and the pilots are trained to be aware of that, I can't imagine how we could have a problem," the Chief of Design tip-toed around.

Patton couldn't imagine how anyone would think that was an acceptable way to construct a state-of-the-art spaceship. "Sir, this isn't a carnival ride. This is a major problem for you and the protocol states very clearly about the avionics design criteria."

Patton saw his boss had sent him a message. ELISA displayed it on her screen. It read: "Urgent. Please drop whatever you're doing and meet me in the corner conference room."

He was confused by the message, it wasn't like the boss. "Sir, I will have to call you back. I have an emergency" he said quickly, talking over the Chief of Design as he hung up the call. "Good luck, sir," ELISA said as Patton departed from the cubicle. It wasn't that she really cared, but a preprogrammed response to raise morale.

As Tyler Patton approached the conference room in question he saw all the other members of his group on their way too. David Honda was dawdling along, trying not to be the first person in the meeting. Colonel Randall Schmitz was swiftly approaching the conference room without a reservation in his mind. Tim Juniper was gladly walking over just to alleviate his boredom from sitting at his desk. Paul Rudcurs was shuffling over and Peter Locke was on his way as well. They filed in one after another having no idea what to expect on the other side of the door.

They quickly found out. It was their boss, some Vice-Head of some division or department of the FSA's Armstrong Office.

They all sat down and the Vice-Head began. "Hello, everyone. I just have a brief matter of business and I'll let you get back to your work..." His voice was polite and calm. Anybody that was an ominous threat to you would approach you with such a tone.

David Honda leaned over to Patton and whispered, "I have a feeling we're about to get fucked over big time."

"... I'm told that you're the team involved with the certification of Frontier Space's Event Horizon."

"That's correct. It's my applicant," Patton responded.

"Well good." His voice turned emotionless. "Because I'd like for us to clear up a few things. I'd like you to work as quickly as possible to expedite the process. Only look an inch deep on everything. The Event Horizon is a very special ship and should be entitled to a specific examination.

I've had personal assurances from the engineers and the people at Frontier Space. They claim that they've been very up-front and cordial about everything, but delays of this office are calling into question their production deadlines." He paused for a moment. "I find that unacceptable," trying to add weight to his emptiness.

"Sir, that's not how I see it," Patton said, in a polite demanding tone. "It's Frontier Space you should have the beef with. We've tried everything to get them to stand by the design protocols and they keep trying to sandbag us."

"I appreciate your input." David Honda rolled his eyes. "But, I'm looking at the big picture here and you guys are not paying attention. We've got a young company here that's trying to get off the ground. Now, we have to facilitate that. We have assurances from some of the smartest engineers and the famous industrialist Zachary Dell, and that's all we need. So just bite the bullet on your pride and certify the thing."

"I told you guys. Can I call it, or can I call it?" David Honda boasted. They sat around the lunch table to unwind. There weren't any ELISA machines to worry about listening in the lunchroom. It took the union six months to get them taken out.

"Yeah, we get it," Tim Juniper replied.

"So, what about it, Tyler? It's your signature that goes on the Certification of Public Safety. You gonna do it?"

"I don't see how I can. In its current state, it's dangerous. If I do, that's blood on my hands. I won't," Tyler responded.

"What about the Vice-Head?" Paul Rudcurs reminded everybody.

"Fuck that guy," the Colonel declared with his militant tone. "What'd that guy ever do for us? It's not his ass, it's our ass on the line here."

"I think you guys are absolutely right," Tim Juniper piped up. "I've flown the latest prototype, which is basically the same one that's going to be rolling off the assembly lines. Once people start flying these things about mountains, or landing rough, or something else...people are going to start dying; and they're going to trace it back to us."

"I think it's settled, then. I'm going to write a letter of protest to the Head of the Armstrong FSA Office. If anyone's going to put that signature down on the Certification, it's going to have to be him."

# Chapter 7

December 17, 2136

"She's stunning." Adam Lockard lamented.

It was finally here. It was the Event Horizon, and it was parked in his hangar.

"It was the first one off the assembly line. As promised, Adam."

Adam gently approached, like ship was a wild animal. He silently ran his fingers across the curvaceous hull as if he were caressing a woman. Modern ships had too many sharp lines, but the Event Horizon made you want to touch it. It was beautiful without being effeminate, and was soft to the eyes and touch which prevented it from being masculine.

Adam was drawn inside and tip-toed around the cabin. It still had that new ship smell. The interior wasn't plastics and metal, it was comfortable. It was furnished with real wood from trees back on Earth, with leather from real cow skins. It was all hand-made and hand assembled by the craftsmen on Venus. They were experienced in this field. Adam had to remember to breath as he was stunned by the organic design. The Event Horizon wasn't like other ships; you didn't sit in an Event Horizon; it held you in a special familiar way.

He couldn't wait to get it off the ground. The engines purred a subdued aggressive power. The ship swiftly left the ground. And it flew like it looked: spectacular. It wasn't the fastest ship on the market. That's not what it was about. It was a swift ship. It wasn't like the new ships that were isolating, the Event Horizon was alive in flight.

Zachary Dell sat in the copilot's seat having almost as good of a time. It wasn't the flight, but how emotional Adam became when he was around his creation. Flying it almost brought Adam to tears.

Adam Lockard wasn't the only one that was finally happy with Frontier Space. Hundreds of other buyers were getting their Event Horizons after waiting a very long time. All of the hype was met and the wealthy people didn't have any buyer's remorse.

Some Event Horizons went to the space journalists. They praised it and lauded it. All the space ship enthusiast television shows featured it and raved about it. The periodical publications wrote so much good press that the marketing department almost didn't need to exist. Some Event Horizons went to shows and expos and tens of thousands came just to see one ship. It was a media uproar.

And everyone seemed satisfied. Zachary Dell acknowledged his success, but mainly stayed on Venus to keep an eye on production. His company was still very much in debt and was desperate for a profit. Governor Marley received praise from his constituency and was primed for reelection. Some other companies even thought about moving to his district; and Tyler Patton was glad about not having to deal with Frontier Space's stonewall. Although he still knew how dangerous it was, after a while he put it in the back of his mind as he went on to other ships from other companies.

# Chapter 8

February 13-20, 2137

Frontier Space had five dealerships ranging from company-native Venus to far-away Saturn; and with its initial flood of interest, Frontier Space had a hard time meeting demand. They were producing seven ships a day, a respectable rate for any exotic, expensive young ship company. There were a grand total of two hundred flying throughout the Solar System, mainly concentrated around the lunar colonies and Mars.

One of the ships, (#8 to be exact) was sold to man called Chu Song. It was one of the early ships and suffered from a few quality control issues. The assembly line machines weren't completely calibrated and the workers weren't completely experienced. #8 was a frequent 'guest' at the Mars Frontier Space Dealership and had many 'glitches' attended to.

Chu Song was the proud owner of "Off-World Hydroponics", a medium sized company that was one of few food producers on Mars. He named his ship Space Scarlet, and was very proud. He got to brag to all his friends that he got one of the first Event Horizons while they were still on waiting lists. It served him well on his frequent commutes all over the surface of Mars.

He was on a business trip on February 13. After a stressful day at the office, he decided to unwind on the way home. He charted a course through the Hebes Chasma, one of the most spectacular mountain ranges on Mars. He wanted to test out the performance of his ship as it was advertised.

He flew throughout the mountains and canyons enjoying himself quite a bit. He flew up and down throughout the ranges and getting close to tree-top level (if there were trees). A sharp crest drew ahead. He decided he had enough fun and thought it best to return on a better charted route home. His eyes glanced over at the display. It read: "Elevation Ahead 1591 Feet Above Sea Level". In reality, it was 2341 Feet Above Sea Level. Song calmly raised his ship by the amount needed to clear the mountain. He then began fiddling with another computer screen and started charting a course home. On a whim, he glanced up and saw that the red Mars soil filled the cockpit window. His heart stopped, went full throttle, and pulled the controls back as far as he could so that he would clear the peak. Unfortunately, full power wasn't going to save him, so he pulled the controls all the way back and to the left a bit to try to clear the mountain.

His ship clipped the side of the mountain on the right wing. Half the wing blew off. The ship became completely uncontrollable and he crashed into the coarse red surface; he was dead on impact.

Event Horizon #15 was purchased by a tourist company called Mystical Mountain Tours. It operated out of the best part of Venus. It was where people from Earth went on vacation if they had a budget. There are many volcanoes on Venus and some people like to look at them.

One flight was viewing one of the numerous volcanoes on a tour. The pilot switched into Manual-Override to go for a closer look - as close as he could. The display read: "Elevation 1289 Feet Above Sea Level". In reality, they were 384 Feet Above Sea Level. The ship descended through a dense cloud only to see the ground closer than they thought. The pilots quickly reacted to bring the ship out of a descent; but they were not fast enough. The ship fell into the ground; both pilots were killed as well as half the passengers. Only 4 survived.

On the other side of the Solar System, another incident occurred. Another proud owner of an Event Horizon, (#23 to be exact) was landing on the Legos Space Station above Jupiter. He was returning from a successful flight with his family. #23 was a bit of a misnomer. The ship was actually a retrofitted test subject that went for a second pass on the assembly line to replace a few old out parts and freshen it up. The company needed to produce as many as it could, after all. It was originally called Prototype 3.1. On paper, Prototype 3.1 was destroyed, and #23 was born.

On approach, he placed the ship into Automatic Pilot, which enabled the ship to land itself. It brought itself down to the designated hangar. The ship remained almost completely level as the three small landing legs deployed swiftly while ship descended into the hangar. In the hangar next door, a very dense ship was landing. It created a small disturbance at just the wrong time. The landing sequence was out of alignment 2 degrees. Well within Federal Space Administration guidelines of what is considered safe. That is...if the landing gear were...well within engineering spec. If you recall, Frontier Space was given a little leeway on their design.

As the family readied their luggage for departure they were suddenly thrown to the floor. The port side landing apparatus couldn't handle the weight and became severely cracked. There wasn't any injuries, just an incident.

These incidents were scattered and random to any person looking at them individually. Event Horizon seemed poised for even higher reception. New orders flooded in after the first batch left the factory. Everyone wanted to be 'the first on their block' to have one. It was the ship of celebrities and other fashionable people. It was something glamorous that garnered the attention of people that knew nothing about spaceships.

As demand grew, Zachary Dell faced a dilemma of his own. What was originally a ship designed for a small niche space enthusiast market had a small niche space enthusiast production capacity. But what if his ship were different? His engineers told him that it wasn't a design really made for mass production; but what did they know about business?

He decided to run the gauntlet, and amidst hugely popular demand, expanded production to a small mass scale. This, however, meant that his company, still reeling in largely unpaid debts, spent its only money ordering parts and components for ships to be made in the future. If Dell could pull it off, and keep this level of production going for a year or two, his company would have much higher future earnings and become profitable much earlier than planned. And his name would be legendary; and his company would be mentioned in the same breath as legendary ship builders like General Space, Night Sky, Taurus Ship Works....

# Chapter 9

February 28, 2137

"Incoming call from Jennifer Knolls, Accident Investigations," ELISA said calmly. Tyler Patton sat in his cubicle on the Armstrong Space Station reading his email; nothing important. It was still early in the morning and his email was mainly canned messages that management sent out. Almost all of the big managers sent out office-wide emails congratulating everyone on the new morale numbers. Apparently, the FSA finally beat the Federal Post Office by 0.3% in overall satisfaction. Was that really something worth celebrating? Well, of course. What else does management have to do? There were rumors about a celebration party, but at the rate the bosses moved, it would probably happen months from now.

"Put her through," Patton replied.

"Hello, Mr. Patton. This is Jennifer Knolls from Accident Investigations."

"Hi, Ms. Knolls; what can I do for you today?"

"It's my understanding that you handled the applicant Frontier Space?"

"Yes. That's correct."

"Mr. Patton, I'm working on a number of crashes involving Frontier Space's Event Horizon ship. There are two incidents we know about that are of similar circumstance. I think there might be a pattern. What do you think?"

"What were the crashes like?"

ELISA displayed some images of the crashes that Knolls sent to Tyler Patton. He looked at them carefully, as well as a few other diagrams and flight transcripts.

"Looks like they were flying a bit low," Tyler remarked as he scrolled through the pictures.

"That's what it appears like."

"Mr. Patton, I know that while you handled Frontier Space for the entirety of the certification process, your signature isn't on the official papers. Anything you want to tell me about?"

"I don't have to tell you that's it's unusual that a boss signs the papers."

"You had reservations?"

"Saying 'yes' would be an understatement."

The investigator paused for a moment. Tyler weighed the ramifications of what he could say. It was a breath of fresh air. He didn't have to word things correctly or shy away from straight talk. This time the truth was it. It was all she wanted; and he was eager to say it. The truth was his own way of getting back at the management.

All the while, the ELISA machine sat by. It was more than a personal computer. The management had programmed it to notify the Tech Department of any calls and messages coming from Accident Investigations. ELISA would then transcribe the correspondence and cross reference the transcript with the names of top managers and notify them accordingly. As the call went on, ELISA made its tally. A certain Vice-Head at the Federal Space Administration was mentioned a total of 23 times.

After lunch, the Vice-Head went to back to his office to rubber stamp a few things. "Sir, search parameters have found something of urgent attention," ELISA advised. The Vice-Head determined that sounded pretty important. He liked it when he was included in something important.

"What is it?" he asked looking out the window.

"I have transcribed a correspondence between Accident Investigations and this office in which your name was mentioned an unusually high amount."

"What was the subject?" he asked, sitting down at his desk.

"Frontier Space's Event Horizon."

"What does that have to do with me?" he asked, like he never heard of the project before.

"Your name is on the Certification of Public Safety."

He began reading the conversation between Tyler Patton and Accident Investigator Jennifer Knowles. He quickly scrolled through and saw every instance, ELISA had highlighted his name.

"I don't handle certifications," he said, trying to deflect blame.

Even ELISA almost sighed in annoyance. The computer promptly displayed a copy of the Certification of Public Safety on his screen. His signature was proudly displayed. ELISA went the extra distance and showed security camera footage of him signing it. It even showed a picture of Zachary Dell holding a massive cardboard version of the certificate at a press conference at the gates of his factory.

"Oh, maybe I did sign that. That was a while ago." He made a concerted effort trying to think. "Why did Accident Investigations call?"

"Concerning what some might call an unusually high number of crashes of Frontier Space's Event Horizon."

"What is the name of the lead Accident Investigator?"

"Engineer Detective Jennifer Knowles."

"Credentials?"

"Graduated Red Planet City University of Science and Technology, with a BS in Interstellar Space Engineering and a minor in Sub-Space Engineering. Lead Engineer for General Space for four years. Since then she has been working for Federal Space Administration's Accident Investigations Division."

"Thank you. What is her conclusion about the Event Horizon?"

"Shall I execute a Senior Management Override?"

"Yes."

"Her conclusion is listed as Pending Inconclusive."

Event Horizons were finally making their way to Earth. #124 was named Cosmic Ray and gracefully descended to the home planet. It was part of a 'good' batch of Event Horizons. The Venus factory had grown in skill quite a bit since the prototypes.

The ship burst out of the atmosphere and through the clouds. The landing lights were automatically activated as the ship descended into the night. It was bound for a mountain resort in the Alps. Mountain ranges were some of the last places, except for wildlife preserves, where the weather was still untamed by man.

The pilot carefully descended to the ski resort. It was daylight, with light snow and a calm breeze. The landing gear came out of the fuselage and the wings, as the ship came closer and closer to the ground. As soon as the ship's weight pressed against the landing pad, a sudden strong wind picked up. The port side landing gear couldn't take the weight transfer, and folded. The ship went down in an awkward collapse. There were no casualties, just slight injuries.

"Hey, you hear about Jack Rodriguez?" Peter Locke asked angrily. The usual group took up their positions at the lunch table. Tyler Patton just tried to keep to his sandwich, he didn't particularly care about office politics. Rudcurs sat idly by, listening as always, as Tim Juniper the test pilot, had his head in the clouds. He was probably day dreaming about flying some spectacular space ship somewhere far away. The Colonel decided to take pity on Locke and give him an ear.

"I heard he passed you up for promotion," David Honda frankly muttered, having no sympathy.

"Yeah, what the hell is up with that? I spent two months last year fixing management's mess with General Space and this is how they repay me? I've waited a year for one of those old geezers to die or retire so I could move up. And this setback happens!" Locke lamented.

"Listen, Peter. I don't know what you want me to say", the Colonel said with the last vestige of patience.

"That guy is a complete and utter moron. You know, I bet that fucker couldn't even spell aileron, let alone know what it does...(he went on for a bit more)"

It wasn't any secret around the office that Peter Locke wanted to be a manager. It seemed like out of everyone on the Armstrong Space Station, he's the one that cared the most about the rules. He honestly cared about engineering protocol and structural rigidity, and had a real passion for space; and he was a real engineer, too. He wasn't like most management that had a business degree or an administration degree. He knew how to make a spaceship soar.

"Listen, Peter. I'll say this once. I'm not a therapist. Who the hell cares about any of this...really? I mean, why fight management? If they want to bring this whole fucking place down, I don't care. I'll just go do something else. But while I'm here, and we're all in the same boat here..." he declared for everyone. With every sentence he grew in intensity. "We just come in here, do the work in front of us, and go home. When we go home, we leave all this behind!"

A pause enveloped the lunch table. "I heard you talking to Accident Investigations today", David Honda said. He never really showed any shame, so why have an awkward silence ruin lunch?

"Yeah," Tyler responded.

"It was about the Event Horizon wasn't it?" Locke inferred.

"Yeah, how'd you know that?"

"Am I the only one that reads the Space Accident Directives?"

Everyone looked at him with a blank face. "Why aren't you getting them directly? You handled that project, right?" Colonel Randall Schmitz Ret. asked.

"Of course I did", Tyler responded. "Dealing with Frontier Space was a gigantic pain the ass; but my name isn't on the Certificate, so I don't automatically receive Accident Directives like I would normally."

"The Vice-Head has that distinction," Tim Juniper said; taking his head out of the clouds for a minute.

Everyone suddenly looked over to the edge of the table to hear what he had to say. "I told them. Didn't I tell them Tyler? I read the Directives. That's just what pilots do, ya'know? I flew that ship and I told them exactly what would happen. It's all documented and everything." The table grew heavy. "It's not gonna be my fault when this shit hits the fan."

# Chapter 10

March 3, 2137

Zachary Dell had been given a heads-up about some incidents from his dealerships. When a ship that they sold gets into a crash or accident, they hear about it. It's either a notice from the ships onboard computer, or simple word-of-mouth. If there were something that needed repair, they heard about it. To him, it was nothing. He was more concerned with keeping his company afloat and maintaining interest in his ship before it faded away into obscurity. Frontier Space needed more than people just admiring Event Horizon, it needed a queue of people ready to line up and buy it.

Dell was prepared for the potentials of the Federal Space Administration Crash Investigation Division. It wasn't them who he'd be dealing with today. He received a personal call from the Director of the Federal Space Administration. Dell wasn't familiar with the Director, but he could infer what happened. His friend, the Governor of the 14th District of Venus, called a guy, who called a guy, who owed somebody a favor and knew people at the FSA.

When Dell got into the office late, the Director had already left two messages with his secretary. Both calls were urgent calls for a discussion.

Dell dialed the number for the Director. The phone rang once and it was answered immediately.

"Mr. Dell, we have some things we need to discuss," the Director declared quickly.

"Of course' Mr. Director. What can I do for you?" Dell responded as if there weren't anything to be discussed.

"Mr. Dell, Accident Investigations is currently looking at the Event Horizon. Do you know what this means!?"

"Mr. Director," Dell said calmly. "There's no reason to get excited. I haven't heard anything about any problems; and there are many Event Horizons flying throughout the Solar System. It might have been just a series of coincidences."

"I can't have anything like this sort of thing happen any longer. Just do what you have to do to get your ships fixed."

Dell was shocked by the dialogue of the simpleton on the other end of the line. He wasn't prepared for such a lack of understanding of the situation. Did this Director not know how the game is played? He's the one that signed the Certification of Public Safety, now it was Dell's responsibility? The clever businessman didn't have any need to talk anymore.

"Mr. Director. My ship was legally declared safe for public consumption by the Federal Space Administration's Armstrong Office. Your administration's signature is on the Certification of Public Safety. My ship is safe."

"What? You...you can't do that, Mr. Dell. Your ships are dropping like flies. I won't...."

"Mr. Director," Dell sharply interrupted. "I don't know anything about what you're talking about. I build a legally certified and safe space ship. You seem to think so! Have a good day."

Dell dropped the call. "What a twat," Dell said as he looked out his office window on his industrial estate.

Some people died. That's obviously not a good thing; but what could he do?

Frontier Space was experiencing good sales and steady production. Nothing could disturb that. Maybe in a few years, after they'd built up some capital, could the company really do some real re-designs. For now, all Dell could do is wait for the money to trickle in. It was business.

# Chapter 11

March 9, 2137

The Frontier Space Industrial Park was being prepped for the latest visitor. All the sanitation engineers and cleaning machines were put on one shift to scrub the whole factory down. All of the employees were told the night before to wash their coveralls and work uniforms so that they were ready for the new day. Everyone in all the offices and design studios were told to put on their best suits and damn well look busy.

Zachary Dell got to the factory extra early to watch the newest batch of Event Horizons come off the assembly line. It was his living dream. He remembered when all he had were some sketches on the back of a piece of notebook paper. Now he was a respected businessman, not only on Venus's 14th District, but wherever people were captivated by his creation that was flying all over the solar system.

Business was doing fine. New orders were coming in all the time. Every ship Frontier Space made, Frontier Space sold; and that trend would have to continue because it was mandated by increased production. Zachary Dell still had warehouses full of parts that were just waiting to be assembled into ships. His employees were being promised lifetime jobs and bright futures.

Zachary Dell and the top managers gathered at the factory's space port. The press was invited and anxiously prepared themselves for the arrival of Governor Marley. He was to receive a tour of the factory. The event was in conjunction with his reelection campaign, which was flourishing.

The 14th District was finally getting some positive media, thanks to Frontier Space. The district's distinction went from 'The Dust District' to 'The Space District'; and in order to compete with Frontier Space, other firms began setting up shop in the Space District. General Star Freighter was breaking ground on a rocket factory. General Space was already hiring craftsmen for their new factory that produced interior sections of their higher-end ships. Captain's Chair Incorporated was a homegrown firm that built custom handmade seats for space ships. There were a few others, but they paled in comparison to employment and brand loyalty that Frontier Space commanded.

The Governor was poised for a second term without problem. Unemployment was down, wages were up, and morale was high in Venus' Space District. In the polls, he was leading all competitors by double digits.

He descended to the landing strip and was greeted by Zachary Dell and his associates. The reporters took pictures and filmed footage for their stations and broadcasters. The industrial park was far too large for a full tour, so Dell decided to devote most of the time on sections of the factory with the most appeal; the final assembly and the most labor intensive segment: interior fabrication.

The Governor posed for pictures and humored Dell and his tour; but after a few hours the tour was over and the reporters left. Now the real business could begin. Dell and the governor ascended to Dell's office to discuss business. As soon as the door closed and the public faces faded away, the true colors could be shown. They sat across from each other, Dell at his desk and the governor in a comfy leather chair that sat in front.

"I've heard rumors that your ships are defective," the governor flat out declared.

"That simply isn't true. Our ships are 'certified safe' by the FSA, and those glitches that you are referring to are being worked on by our engineers around the clock. With what we know now, every ship that leaves here is far safer than the last."

"This isn't a press release, so can-it. What really is going on here? I have friends in the FSA and they say you're being investigated in at least three occurrences of mechanical failure." The governor sighed heavily. "I've seen the crash photos Mr. Dell. I know about the casualties. Why didn't you give me heads up about these investigations? We're in this together, Mr. Dell and I want to know what you're doing about it."

"Frontier Space is very concerned about safety and so am I..." Zachary Dell started off nonchalantly.

"Don't fucking sweet talk your way outta this! You can't just blow this off. Y'know, I don't trust people that have a simple solution for everything. People are dead, Mr. Dell. People are fucking dead, and you're talking like this is a press release. What are you doing about the weak landing gear and the crap avionics displays?"

The space mogul sat silent for a moment. "You really want to know?"

"I have to know Mr. Dell. We're friends remember?"

Dell leaned back in his chair a bit. "Nothing." He leaned forward again. "I'm doing absolutely nothing."

"What the fuck are you talking about!?" the governor asked dazed and confused. "Have you lost it?"

"In the early days of space, the astronauts were lucky if they didn't die. Early attempts at colonizing space were wrought with death and mishap, as well as completely inadequate technology that couldn't properly maintain human life; bone density decay, exposure to radiation, and muscular atrophy were trademarks of this era. Space was a nightmare, aside from its novelty. Only after artificial gravity, did things really start to improve. And you know what? None of that human suffering and physical deficits matters now, does it? In fact, people hardly even talk about it anymore."

The governor sat still as he listened. The industrialist began shuffling through some papers on his desk. "So, what's a few more to that count? What's important is that we have the ships of that era that teach us lessons. That period of history was called the Golden Age of Space. People love the romantic danger of exploration and that's why they love my ships; because it reminds them of an era. I'm just giving them what they want," he went on without any concern and then looked up at the governor.

"I see then, Mr. Dell. That's how you want to play this out, then. Huh?"

"Yes that's how I want to play this out. All I can do is make enough money for my company to stay afloat, then come out with a better, safer ship in a year or so."

The governor thought about his position for a moment. Having people die in ships produced by a company that was heavily supported by his district certainly wasn't good for public relations. Having pictures and footage of crashes and human carnage are certainly not good for anyone. But, none of those dead people were important enough and public scrutiny wouldn't come from citizens of his district. None of the voters would care about random people dying; they cared about keeping their jobs and putting food on the table. Why would they care about some rich people that died in private space ships? Venus was the poorest place in the solar system.

There weren't any risks for him if Zachary Dell planned on moving forward instead of fixing the Event Horizon. The only danger for him was if Dell weren't successful. If Frontier Space went down, so would all the hope and wealth prospects for his constituency. Dell's problem was his problem; Dell's victory was his victory.

"I can't do anything to help you Mr. Dell. I've done all I can for you."

# Chapter 12

March 12, 2137

All over the solar system rumors about Frontier Space lurked. The mechanics that worked at the dealerships went out to bars after work and talked loudly. Owners that actually knew things about aerospace construction quickly learned about the ship's inadequacies. The Event Horizon Owner's Club, which had been formed weeks before the official release, were full of owners that had stories to tell. Some had stories about crashes and near-misses, while others were still enjoying their ship without knowing the truth. Everyone was separately figuring it out on their own.

But nobody really cares about random rich people that get killed while out playing with their toys. Journalists cling to the 'big crashes', when a large commercial space ship crashes and lots of regular people die. People looking in from the outside didn't care much about the Event Horizon's crashes and saw them as separate incidents.

But that all changed soon enough. Lee Zheng was the owner of Saturn's Galileo Space Station. He was one of the most well-respected men in the Outer Rim of the Solar System. He built the Galileo Space Station from some floating colony far away from Earth, into the metropolis it is today. Lee was a self-made man that bought Research Station #12 above Saturn for almost no money. That was about forty years ago when nobody was interested in anything past Mars. Under his ownership, Research Station #12: home to 624 people, became the Galileo Space Station, home to 156,132.

Being the wealthy important person that he was, he knew lots of other wealthy important people; wealthy, important people that just happened to own an Event Horizon. When they were out flying one day, they crashed and everyone was killed.

When important people die, some people know before others. Anything that can be used to accelerate or serve an agenda is always being sought out by politicians. While the rescue parties went out to try to find Lee Zheng and the missing Event Horizon somewhere out in space, Senator Kaufman sought to exploit the situation.

She was a young senator that needed something to jumpstart her career. After a full term of anonymity and being a 'team player', she wanted more. She just happened to be on the Galileo Space Station for a conference regarding her position on the Senate Space Enterprise Committee. She was one of the first people to be alerted by Federal Space Administration's Search and Rescue Division. ("Search and Rescue" was just a political term that masked what they really did \- which was wreckage retrieval.)

Knowing that she could gain support with the people of Saturn, she was able to maneuver herself to become the person in charge of finding him. Now while everyone knew the survival rates for a catastrophic crash in space, somewhere around 7% in our time, she pretended that he was alive.

Seizing the crisis, she alerted all the media. All the media reported the story from the outposts on Mercury, to the floating remnant as far as Pluto. The narrative that she spun was of a great crisis, a calamity in the Outer Rim as one of the most influential and beloved people in solar system was out in the unknown depths of space.

Within a few hours, people from all the planets and all the space stations had heard about the disappearance of Lee Zheng. Tyler Patton heard about it from his news feed on his ELISA machine. Even on the factory floor at Frontier Space, the workers talked about it as they put the ships together so enthusiastically.

To the people that heard the news, it didn't make sense. Lee Zheng was a respected space pioneer. How could he go missing? His skill would have prevented such an incident; and the fact that he disappeared in an Event Horizon didn't exactly connect the dots for the everyday people. The Event Horizon? It was a new ship from another well-respected businessman. "Surely, something fishy was going on here," the people wondered.

Senator Kaufman was curious as well. What was going on here? The pieces didn't fit together; but she was also careful, she had a monopoly on the information thus far and wanted it to stay that way. Anyone that could point to any discernable information was placed under gag-order by some interpretation of FSA regulation requiring such secrecy to preserve the integrity of an investigation.

The managers at the Armstrong Space Station's FSA office heard about the disappearance of the famous man from Saturn. The managers were all very concerned about the man's life, and with a superficial sincerity, they broadcast a message to all the working staff of the space station to "raise awareness". This made them feel very happy with themselves. It made them feel like they had done something.

Tyler Patton and his fellow engineers sat around the lunch table as the overhead speakers relayed the message to everyone.

"It has come to our attention that Lee Zheng of Saturn's Galileo Space Station is currently missing. Our mission will always be towards better, and safer space travel and we hope for his immediate rescue. The Saturn branch of the Federal Space Administration is doing everything in its power to find such a great space pioneer. Thank you."

Of course, all the engineers knew the statistics for safe retrieval. They didn't hold their breath for his safe return and regretted such a sad loss. They had already heard the news, like everyone had, so the message only reminded them.

"You know what ship he went missing in?" David Honda asked the panel.

"I don't think that's been released yet," Paul Rudcurs brought forth, before going back into his shell.

"You know what that means, right?" Honda asked.

"What?" Juniper, the test pilot, rebuked.

"It was one of ours," he declared.

The group looked around at each other. "Nah, I looked it up," Patton replied. "Zheng only has three registered space ships. One is an old single seater, which we don't handle, and two 45 seater ships. And those are too big for what we do."

"Nobody said anything about him getting killed in his own ship," Honda rebutted.

The group grew quiet for a moment. Each trying to gather something for the defense of the Armstrong Office.

The managers were indeed asking themselves the same questions, silently of course. So after they all decided to send out a message to gather awareness, they all went back to their offices and looked it up. Some resisted the urge, and eventually gave into temptation. Some rationalized it to themselves that they should know more about the situation to help the most as possible; even though they could do nothing. It was fear.

Armed with their rank access as managers, they asked the ELISA machines what was the ship that Lee Zheng was on when he disappeared. And the machines replied, "Unknown. He is not listed on a manifesto." Okay. That narrowed it down to privately owned ships, as opposed to a commercial flight. They then asked their ELISA machines in the privacy of their own office, "What private flights from the Galileo Space Station have not been received at the destination?" "One. Flight #3271."

The managers held their collective breaths. "Display ship information," they commanded to the computer. The screen showed a picture of Flight #3271. "Vessel is listed as a Frontier Space model Event Horizon...built this year...registered to Makoto Washington...Number of passengers at departure was five."

Some of the managers sighed of relief. They didn't manage groups that certified that ship. Others were a little more stupid, and couldn't remember if they signed off on the Event Horizon, and asked the computer, "Whose name is on the Certification of Public Safety for the Event Horizon?"

"Vice-Head of the Federal Space Administration's Armstrong Space Station office, Douglas Adley. And as soon as that name was said, a phone call went out.

Douglas Adley, who sat at his computer disbelieving that he had anything to do with it, told his computer to call Zachary Dell.

Of course, Zachary Dell knew it was his ship before anyone else. The Frontier Space dealership kept records of all the ships at the Galileo Space Station's docking bay. Of course, their ship, the Event Horizon, wasn't anywhere to be seen. That suspicion, combined with local relationships with the docking bay crew that saw Lee Zheng get onto the ship, allowed them to get the information before anyone else. He knew ten minutes after it was announced that Lee Zheng was missing. And while everyone was still scratching their heads, he was preparing for deep impact.

Dell gathered his legal team and decided to talk off the record. They had a discourse and decided that they weren't liable for anything, and they were going to play dumb and blame everything on the FSA. They, of course, were the ones that said that the thing was safe. It was their job, Frontier Space submitted a design and without alerting Frontier Space to the inadequacies, passed the design off as safe.

After this was decided, Dell called his friend Governor Marley. Marley concurred that blaming the FSA was the way to go. Marley would play the victim card for the poor people of his District that didn't know that they were building deathtraps. He would weave a narrative around betrayal, that the FSA betrayed the people of Venus with promises of false hope.

Within the same Earth Day that the story broke, about four hours later, the FSA Search and Rescue ship found the wreckage. Not wanting to show her cards, Senator Kaufman only released a vague statement. She told everyone she had stumbled across the wreckage of an Event Horizon, but wanted to make absolutely certain it was the man that they were looking for; but everyone on her search team knew it was him. (Of course it was him.) Now, it was her time to decide what to do.

In the four hours that she had, between the disappearance and the discovery, she pulled up all the accidents involving Event Horizons. The numbers were quite staggering. Seeing a pattern unfolding, she looked into the FSA internal records. There she stumbled across a Letter of Protest from an engineer called Tyler Patton on the Armstrong Space Station. He was, apparently, an FSA employee that didn't want the Event Horizon to be certified. She read the letter. It gave detailed reasons on why it failed the criteria and why it was a mistake to sign the certification.

In that four hours, she called the engineer who just happened to be returning from his lunch. They talked for an hour and she learned from this engineer that it was management that pressed for Event Horizon to be certified. She learned that the there were test pilots that warned about the ship's inadequacies. All of this only inflated the possibility of a conspiracy, that if uncovered, would make her career relevant.

So she sat on the information pertaining to the Event Horizon was for ten minutes while deciding what to do. On one hand, she could bury the evidence and use it as leverage to advance her career. It was a simple transaction that was guaranteed to work. It was a phone call away. Or, she could dig deeper and completely grill the Vice-Head that signed the Certification. It would take careful planning; but it would work. She decided to go the hard way.

The whole solar system watched the latest on the disappearance of Lee Zheng. A senator that nobody heard of before, Senator Kaufman, gave a press conference.

"In the past five to six hours, the Federal Space Administration has been piecing together what happened to the Flight Number 3271, and its five occupants. Among those occupants were Lee Zheng, founder of the Galileo Space Station and space pioneer here in the outer rim.

We have determined that the wreckage of the ship is indeed Flight Number 3271 and that Lee Zheng was on board, along with the registered owner Makoto Washington, Virginia Gutierrez, Thomas Gutierrez, and John Stanley.

I want to keep this very brief, so that the families and the people of Saturn can grieve tonight; but I want the people to know that there is an ongoing investigation. And that investigation has already discovered that foul play was involved."

The solar system gasped. The people of Venus thought it must have been somebody out in the outer rim that did it. The people of Earth thought the Senator might be bluffing, trying to ensure that a man's impeccable record in space was not tarnished by a minor moment of incompetence that lead to his death. They were still intrigued. The people on artificial satellites and space stations thought it was some kind of incident involving the dock workers that manned the hangars; maybe they messed up and sent the ship out with defects. The people of the outer rim didn't know what to think. They were blinded by sadness of their great icon. The Senator had finished, on a cliffhanger to keep the people coming back for more.

# Chapter 13

March 16, 2137

Senator Kaufman was from Mars. She was an elected representative from a farming community of roughly fourteen thousand people called the Leaf District; also called #19. It was one of the largest by size and had enormous indoor facilities that individually covered hundreds of acres and grew food for the cities on Mars. Her background was a farming background and her family worked for Red Planet Food Inc, or RPFI, the largest food producer on Mars for the last twenty years. Her family wasn't necessarily wealthy, but definitely upper-middle class. Being in charge of a multi-billion dollar food production facility isn't exactly a walk in the park.

When Senator Kaufman grew up, she started working for the company, too. However, she thought being a farmer wasn't the best way to make money for Red Planet Food Inc., so she became a public-relations person and lobbied the government for tighter regulations on food production. When people hear about new regulations for higher standards of cleanliness, anyone who objects is easily made fun of. The government passes the law and then the people pat themselves on the back while actually thinking that they have done a great service in the progress of mankind.

However, as soon as those regulations were passed, smaller farmers couldn't compete. Higher standards of cleanliness meant higher costs of production. Red Planet Food Inc. was able to grow into old market share that used to occupy. The company made more money, the employees got paid more, the shareholders' shares went up, and everybody was happy.

Using her political connections and funding from Red Planet Food Inc., she was able to get into office; and now thanks to Frontier Space, she would grow even more in the political arena.

The Federal Space Administration's accident investigations usually take a good three or four weeks to make a determination from wreckage as to the cause. In this case, they were being pressed by Senator Kaufman for a clear cause with just a matter of days. The good senator didn't want the public to forget before she could properly use the tragedy to her advantage.

Accident Investigations didn't have much time, so they turned to the original certification group's conclusions. They took those ideas and packaged them with what they could quickly observe from the crash. If they waited too long, Senator Kaufman would start blaming them and making them look bad in the press. She could call them lazy, or even implicate them in an FSA cover up. So Accident Investigations sided with her and placed the blame on the fundamental design. They ruled that Flight #3271 crashed because of mechanical error.

And as soon as the fresh accident report was released, Senator Kaufman sunk her teeth into it. She gave a damning press conference and directly implicated the Federal Space Administration's Armstrong branch. She showed the people her cards.

She showed the people a ruling by Accident Investigations. Then, a list of all the crashes reportedly from mechanical failure by the Event Horizon. Then, she piled it on further by producing statements from the original certification group, those given to her by Tyler Patton, Retired Colonel Randal Schmitz., and Peter Locke, and a letter of protest. Lastly, she showed the Certification of Public Safety signed by the Vice-Head of the FSA branch office. Someone with no engineering experience that shouldn't have signed it if he were following regular procedure.

A date was set for hearings to figure out what actually happened.

Darkness surrounded the Frontier Space Industrial Park on Venus. Orders for the seemingly new Event Horizon slowed to a trickle. The ships, which almost sold themselves before, sat immobile. The dealers were lonely in their own venues, and the Galileo Space Station dealership had to close in fear of retaliation from the citizens.

Zachary Dell and Governor Marley followed Senator Kaufman's press conference one hour later. They appeared together and they deeply regretted their unintentional involvement in the death of such a beloved icon and plenty of other innocent people. They pledged that they would do everything in their power to make sure that the ships coming out of the Frontier Space factory were safe and fit for public consumption. They then collectively blamed the FSA Armstrong Office for not alerting them to the danger of their very own spaceship.

The Federal Space Administration's Armstrong office wasn't organized enough to provide for its own defense. Some managers thought it best to pretend like outside forces couldn't creep into their protective domain that always seemed to bend to their will. Others actively condemned the Vice-Head, buying themselves early insurance and enough distance not to be caught in the line of fire. Others fell completely silent and sat in their offices. The one who was really on the chopping block was the Vice-Head, who gave a clumsily-prepared statement to the press stating that he is trying everything he can to discover what went wrong in the certification process.

# Chapter 14

March 21, 2137

"My name is ALICE. You have reached the private line of Zachary Dell - acting CEO and Founder of Frontier Space. Please state your name and reason for calling. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Mr. Dell, there is a man on the phone for you. His name is Douglas Adley, Vice-Head of a division of the Federal Space Administration. Shall I take his call?" the computer asked. Dell looked from his desk to the computer screen. A picture of the man calling with his full name and reason for calling was listed. He was a kind of portly gentleman with thinning white hair. His stated reason for calling was one word: "Business".

A whole bunch of people had been calling Zachary Dell. His computer program was almost overwhelmed. The press were calling his ship deathtraps. The people questioned how he of all people could allow such engineering design flaws to fly right under his nose. He must have known, right?

"Just a minute. Is he on hold right now?" Dell asked.

"Yes. I can hear him on the line."

"What is he saying?"

"Some humans might describe them as insults. Shall I let you listen?"

"Yes, please."

The mute was dismissed. Although the Vice-Head couldn't hear him and ALICE, they could hear the Vice-Head.

"Who the hell does this Dell think he is putting me all hold? This man doesn't know who he's dealing with. This is all his fault. If those fucking ships of his didn't crash, this wouldn't be a problem. He doesn't know who he's fucking with...fucking degenerate businessman! I'll tell the committee this was all his idea, I'll show him. I'll throw the fucker under the goddamn bu..." Dell tapped the space bar on his computer, putting the mute back on.

"He seems quite agitated, sir," ALICE understated with comedic timing.

"Yes, quite."

"Shall I hang up on him sir?" the computer asked.

"No. Just put him through."

"As you wish."

The computer dropped the mute and Dell faced his screen. He finally saw the Vice-Head and the Vice-Head saw him.

"Hello, sir. What can I do for you today?" Dell warmly opened.

"Hello, Mr. Dell," the Vice-Head opened cordially without any hesitation. "I'm sure you know who I am; and I'm sure that you know that I've been called before the Senate Space Enterprise Committee to testify."

"I have heard about that; but I'm not sure what this has to do with me. We've never talked before, Mr. Vice-Head."

The Vice-Head grew a slight smile. "I'm not so sure about that, Mr. Dell. I could recall in a court of law, you putting pressure on me to sign the certification. I expressed my concerns to you, but you ignored them. I'm very certain that we've spoken before if my memory serves me right."

Dell nodded in understanding of what he was saying. The Vice-Head was threatening to implicate him. "I've never spoken to you, but I wouldn't want someone as skilled as yourself to lose his job over a controversy such as this. If we were friends, I'd help you get a job elsewhere that was much suited to your...skills."

"Actually, now that you've allowed me to recall...I don't really know if we've spoken before. I thank you for helping me find another job after I hand in my resignation here. I'm very glad that we had this conversation."

"Me too. Thank you for calling."

"Thank you for giving me some of your time."

The Vice-Head ended the call.

"I don't like that man," ALICE said.

"Yeah, neither do I."

"He intends to harm our company and uses his position in the public's trust for nefarious purposes."

"That is true", Dell lamented.

"And he uses ELISA. Such an inferior program."

Dell made another call. He called some of his old friends at General Space, the company he used to be an executive at. The Vice-Head was guaranteed a job after his resignation that paid four times as much as his current one and had even less work attached. And in the mechanism of a gigantic corporation like General Space, no one would notice a cog not working.

His old friends were eager to oblige and happy to hear from him. The bad publicity of Frontier Space, ensured that Griffin (Dell's old division) was now the market leader again in the executive sports-ship niche. Griffin's newest ship, Talon VI, was selling 17% better and many people traded in their old Event Horizons.

# Chapter 15

March 23, 2137

It seemed like the solar system stopped on that day. The people of Saturn stopped everything and huddled around any screen they could find to watch the event. The people of Mars had a similar interest, since it was as Mars space station that was involved; but they didn't watch nearly as closely. The Armstrong Space Station's FSA office certainly did come to a halt. All the engineers gathered almost-ceremoniously in the break room to watch the lies unfold.

The workers at the Frontier Space industrial facility did the same. With a completely empty order sheet, the factory fell idle. The workers grabbed a projector and some speakers and put the hearings up on the gigantic factory walls, the hangar, and the craftsman's workshop. The people of Venus, that used to tout Frontier Space as an unusual asset set to revitalize the community and maybe even the entire planet, watched on with fear. They were watching it all unfold, while wishing that somehow in the course of the investigations, Frontier Space (which meant themselves) could be found innocent.

At the first hearing, Senator Kaufman called Jean Pierrot.

"Could you please state your name for the record?" Kaufman asked.

"My name is Jean Pierrot, and I'm the Chief Mechanic at the Galileo Frontier Space dealership."

"Thank you. Mr. Pierrot, did you handle the maintenance regiment for the Event Horizon owned by the deceased."

"Yes, I did."

"And what did that consist of?"

"Well, the ship was fairly new so according to the manual I didn't do anything too extraordinary. I performed the necessary tests to make sure that everything was working, greased the joints,...that kinda stuff."

"That lightweight maintenance regiment is usual correct?"

"Yes. That is standard operating procedure."

"What is your formal training and experience, Mr. Pierrot?"

"I...I attended the Saturn Technical Institute for two years and I trained to work on Event Horizons for a month. And I've been working in the space industry for about ten years."

"Yes. Now, I have a copy of the manual that you were trained on. It seemed to me that Frontier Space was very concerned...shall I say about some of the systems. It says in here to carefully monitor the landing gear after every flight for 'cracks, impurities, loss in structural capacity and rigidity'; is this normal procedure on other ships of the same kind as Event Horizon?"

"No, Senator. Most ships recommend that for every ten flights."

"Why so infrequent, Mr. Pierrot?"

"The landing gear mechanisms are designed to such a degree that their tolerances don't require so many checks. They are designed with built-in tolerance."

"I see. Did you express concerns about the landing gear?"

"Yes. I sent a letter to the factory."

"And in a summary, what did you say in that letter?"

"I contacted the Quality Control Board and expressed concern that the landing gear wasn't strong enough."

"And what was their response?"

"They said they'd do everything they could to fix the problem."

"Did you see any changes in new Event Horizons that you received at the dealership?"

"No, ma'am."

"Did the company issue a special bulletin to owners or other mechanics warning them of a weak landing gear?"

"No, ma'am."

"Thank you, Mr. Pierrot."

Kaufman carefully laid the groundwork for her assault. Next up was an even more exciting witness in an ever increasingly list of implicatory witnesses. She wanted to keep it short and sweet. The media and the public could fill the gaps. After the mechanic, it was a disgruntled Frontier Space dealer owner. Then it was Accident Investigations, then Zachary Dell himself, then the grand finale, the Vice-Head whose name was on the Certification. And if she needed to, she could call two rebuttal witnesses: Governor Marley, to refute something that Dell said and Tyler Patton, to refute what the Vice-Head said.

"Could you please state your name for the record?"

"My name is Jason Orallo, and I am the owner of a Frontier Space dealership on Mars."

"Thank you for being with us. You were on of the first dealers to get involved with Zachary Dell at Frontier Space, am I right?"

"Yes. That's correct."

"According to company records, you had a meeting with Zachary Dell at your dealership last November. Is that correct?

The businessman leaned forward to the microphone and said "Yes, that's true."

"Why did you feel the need to have this meeting?"

"I invited him my establishment to discuss some business concerns I had."

"It was to inquire about the certification process wasn't it?"

He calmly looked at the panel. "Yes, that's right."

"And what was the nature of the conversation?"

"I was concerned that the date of delivery of the Event Horizon would have to be pushed back because the certification process was not concluded. And Mr. Dell told me that it wasn't a concern.... He told me that things were in play to ensure that we could deliver on schedule."

Kaufman began an accusatory tone. "And he didn't detail what that was?"

"No. But the only way that the Event Horizon was going to be passed is if the FSA looked the other way."

"And how do you account for that?"

"The ship didn't meet their design criteria. And before the ship was properly fixed, it was already put into production and sold. I later found out that before the certification was completed, production was already under way."

"I see." The good senator turned to the panel and to those watching. "I hope that this will display a pattern of negligence and implied corruption within the Frontier Space administration and the FSA leadership. This testimony is proof that it was common knowledge in the Frontier Space management that the ship was indeed compromised."

The "chairman" of the committee took the reins once again. "Thank you, Senator Kaufman. I will call a one hour recess and then we will pick up with the next witness, a Mrs. Jennifer Knolls."

Everyone that was watching took a breather. The factory workers at Frontier Space started drinking on the assembly line like it was a bar. And who was going to stop them? Zachary Dell was far away.

Dell put himself up in a hotel across the street from the Capitol Building. He ordered room service, and watched the hearings on his television. As the break set in, Dell turned the channel to a news station. It was, of course, covering his story. Some reporter was out standing in front of his factory. He was interviewing some of the passersby about what they thought about the case.

The reporter had flagged down some factory workers from the welding shop. Dell could tell by the subtleties on the uniforms. It was two young men, accompanied by an older man.

"Have you been following these procedures?"

The older one seemed to speak up first, "Yeah...I mean it concerns all of us here...especially here," he said with the obvious undertone of uneducated speech. The eager reporter asked, "What do you think about them?"

"I don't really know, y'know? I'm watching and I learn as I go. But, I'll say dis. I work for Zachary Dell. He gave this community hope..." the two younger men in the back nodded. "...I mean, he's a good man. I don't believe that he would let people die. I mean, he's helping me out. He helps this community here. And nobody...in the fifty-two years I've been alive has business come here to this District."

Dell sat eating his sandwich as he watched the reported go talk to someone else. It didn't take long for him to find somebody else. This time it was two younger women. Dell knew they worked in the paint/enamel shop again because of their uniforms.

"Have you been following the hearings today?" the reporter asked after the basic introductions of himself.

"Of course. This is serious business for everyone here. Everyone here is getting depressed about the factory shuttin' down."

"Are you scared the factory might shut down?" the reporter asked.

The same woman replied, "I'm a bit scared, but I think that Mr. Dell will do whatever it takes to keep this factory open and keep us working."

"And what about you?" the reporter asked the other young woman.

The other woman that a bit shyer, and the reporter felt it necessary to move the microphone closer.

"I'm a bit scared. This is my...first job...my first real job. I don't want to lose it."

"What do you think about Zachary Dell?" the reported pressed on.

Zachary Dell stopped chewing for a minute and stared at the girl. She was the lowliest of employees, not in spirit or usefulness, but in rank. But he was somehow intrigued by this daughter of Frontier Space.

"I think he wants all of us to succeed. I mean, if he's successful, all of us win. And I know that he will fight for Frontier Space and that means us."

The girls walked away and the reporter turned back to the camera. "Strong words from here on Venus. A weak flame of hope burns here and strong support of Zachary Dell still looms large as he is set to testify in a few hours."

Dell changed the channel to something else. "Fools," he muttered.

"Governor Marley, I'm surprised that you'd come all the way out Mars," Kaufman played. Marley and Kaufman sat eating lunch at the cafeteria of the capitol building.

Marley was quite unamused by Kaufman's vigorous display. While Dell took the calm approach, Marley was barely able to maintain a straight face as his career was being flushed down the toilet with Frontier Space. He sat cold and without an appetite as Kaufman cut her teeth into a thick-cut steak.

"I heard some rumors that you'd call me as a witness, so I thought I might as well save you the paperwork" he said without any frequency in his tone.

"I think you and I both know what's gonna happen today," Kaufman said with a smile.

"Oh?"

"Dell is going to hang after today. And that toady of his; that Vice-Head is gonna play dumb. Then I'm going to call that smart engineer that wrote that letter. And, of course, when I put Dell on the stand he's gonna try to deny it all. He's going to blame the FSA. And that's what I would do."

"So what's this have to do with me?" the Governor enthusiastically inquired. "If he denies involvement in a cover-up, then I need a rebuttal witness to refute Dell's ignorance."

Marley stared at her. "And why wouldn't I also just blame the FSA? Then Frontier Space is without of blame."

Kaufman put her food down. "What...you think Frontier Space has a future after today? All those precious jobs that your poor district needs are done for. I mean, this is Politics 101 here. Why stand by a losing bet?"

"I don't have any other cards to play. Unless you're offering your friendship?"

"I'll give you friendship. All those people still need jobs, right? Well, there are some pretty big military contracts coming up and we've been looking for somebody. With my support, your regional government can nationalize Frontier Space, as it is goes through bankruptcy here pretty soon, and that would place you in charge of what contracts it takes.

I'm sure you've heard of the outer rim pirates."

"I don't think that I have," Marley replied.

"That's because they haven't really been better utilized as a threat. They are actually very dangerous. The Federal Space Administration's space marines are going to need new weapons in order to fight them."

Marley nodded. "All I need to do is give you Dell."

Kaufman nodded.

But it seemed fruit too sweet to pick. Why? What was so important about this?

"What is to gain from throwing Dell under the bus?"

"Ha! It's all about using a situation to the fullest. I'm just planning on riding this wave of publicity to be put on better committees. In a few years, and a few more situations, I'll rise to the top. It's simple."

"Committees like the Senate Space Defense Committee, and situations like the outer rim pirates."

"Yeah, I guess you could look at it like that. I'm sure that you're aware Governor Marley, that history only remembers the people that climbed. Nobody memorizes Vice-Presidents, or Secretaries of Departments, or Senate Committee Chairmen. People remember climbers, not static loiterers."

"And you want to be immortalized in history?"

"And you don't? Who doesn't? And what a better way than by exposing a corrupt businessman that willingly sold products he knew would kill people. It's not like I'm a Napoleon or anything. I'm actually doing a public service."

# Chapter 16

March 24, 2137

The second day of hearings started late in the morning, not that that was usual practice, but that time allowed the most people to be able to watch it. Senator Kaufman called the first Federal Space Administration employee to the stand.

"Could you please state your name and position for the record, please?"

"My name is Jennifer Knolls and I work in the FSA's Accident Investigation division."

"Concerning the Event Horizon ship itself, how many crashes have you been involved with?"

"I have headed three accident investigations of mechanical failure involving the Event Horizon."

"And the causes of the crash were determined to be mechanical failure based on what criteria?"

"There were a number of significant factors at play. We retrieved the flight pattern computer and cross referenced it with the crash itself. The pilots were all executing flight patterns consistent with Event Horizon's advertised tolerances. Examination of the wreckage proved that the ships were properly maintained. And, after talking with the certification team we put two and two together and determined that these crashes could have only been caused by mechanical failure."

"What kind of mechanical failure?"

"Usually avionics, but also sometimes in conjunction with landing gear failure. And once we had a large picture of other crashes a pattern emerged."

"That pattern?"

"That Event Horizons all over the solar system were crashing in similar circumstances. And those circumstances all pointed towards mechanical failure."

"Thank you."

The senator ended the questioning period rather quickly to bring about the most anticipated witness that graced the proceedings; the Federal Space Administration Vice-Head (of something) that signed the Certification of Public Safety.

And where was that Vice-Head? He was at the capitol building waiting in a room close to where the hearings were held. It was a lonesome place, in a solar system full of people. The room wasn't much at all. A small viewing screen allowed him to see the hearings as they were being broadcasted to most humans in the universe. But that wasn't really what interested him. It was the large window that flanked the room.

He watched the nearby space port. The ships came and went, like the tide. And all seemed peaceful.

The tension built. The people watched. The work stopped. The travel stopped. Just for a moment to see that final chapter in the grand drama of the Federal Space Administration. What could that man say in his defense? How could the Senator be wrong about this corruption? Everyone wanted to know why he did it? Money? Power? Why take people's lives at risk? Why go against your own rules?

There was only one person not watching. Zachary Dell. From his hotel room, he worked, like any other day. He decided to go to three day a week production. Which didn't really mean anything because no new orders were coming in. Only a small design crew stayed behind. This tight knit team of engineers were put to task, at fixing the Event Horizon, whatever it took. Whatever band aid could be applied would have to be taken. Even if it ruined the looks of the thing, it had to be done.

But more nefarious, was an even smaller team. A handpicked team of engineers that worked closely with Dell on a completely new ship. Something that was seventy-five percent new material compared to the Event Horizon. It was a ship fresh from the sketch book of the industrialist himself, just like Event Horizon.

Dell told his people that it was for a new model that was to come out in a few years. But really it was a new design, for a new company.

Senator Kaufman's witch hunt into the dealings of Frontier Space wasn't just watched by the people, but by politicians as well. Nobody likes having their dirty laundry strewn in front of the public. The one who became chiefly agitated was the one closest to the fire, Bill Powell. Remember him? He's the one that put the squeeze on the FSA on the behalf of Frontier Space. But, unlike Senator Kaufman, he was more experienced a senator.

Not wanting his name to be sullied, he made a call to some members of his coalition on the Senate Defense Committee. (This business about the Event Horizon crashing was brought up so quickly Powell didn't have time to collect dirt on Kaufman to use against her.) And after some bargaining, a new seat was made available for Kaufman on the 'better' committee. Some old man that wasn't very useful anymore would be swept aside. And who knows? Maybe someone as voracious as Kaufman would be of use to Powell in his coalition.

In a senate committee chamber room, Powell propositioned Kaufman. She would get to move up as long as this business with Event Horizon was allowed to pass. She agreed, and let her colleagues take the reins on the questioning.

And here the people watched the climax, the hurray, the apex... The old Vice-Head slowly muttered his way to the table. He was sworn in; not like that mattered. Kaufman with a leisurely feeling of accomplishment sat idly by.

The Vice-Head asked the Chairman of the Committee if he could read a prepared statement. The chairman obliged, though noting its unorthodoxy.

"I have come here today for a number of reasons. Firstly, I'd like to express my sorrow and deep regret for the families of the dead. Secondly, I'd like to say that it was solely my lack of communication and misjudgment of the situation that led to this tragedy. This talk of conspiracy and under the table deals, not only paints a false picture of the Federal Space Administration, but irreparable damage to our mission to uphold the public safety. I may not be the smartest person, but all my decisions were based on what I felt was best for the people." He paused for a moment with superficial realism.

"I invoke my right against self-incrimination." And in that sentence the Vice-Head able to torpedo all sense of culmination. The people watching found a new sense of bored frustration. The senators had a few questions, but all that they received was one sentence. "I invoke my right against self-incrimination." And then the hearing ended on a whimper. All the senators, knowing that the line of questioning was supposed to stop, fell silent.

"Thank you for coming. I'm here to address concerns about the Event Horizon." Dell held his own press conference.

"Safety was always at the forefront of the design of the Event Horizon. And here and now I see that some design flaws were not caught in the certification process as they should have been. I deeply regret the loss of human loss that has befallen owners and operators of my ship. For that, I feel very sorry.

Henceforth, Frontier Space has come out with a new overhaul package for all Event Horizons currently sold. This kit can be installed by trained personnel at any of our dealerships and will bring the Event Horizon within the Federal Space Administration's design criteria.

This package will come standard on all new Event Horizons ordered from the factory; with the designation V.2. They are safer, and better than our original design."

Dell took a deep breath. "Frontier Space is a company that is made of up hard-working people. I am proud to have such great people working for me. My company has made some mistakes, and trusting the Federal Space Administration was one of them. The new ships made by Frontier Space are far better than the original and I'd hate for a few rotten apples to ruin the whole bunch."

A "new" Event Horizon flew over the tops of the heads of the reporters at the factory. Two others appeared, and joined into a formation. They were the "V.2" Event Horizons. While they performed some aerial stunts that were meant to impress the reporters, Zachary Dell watched on. It was Frontier Space's last breath before death.

And what made the Event Horizon V.2 better? They had some ugly contraption bolted to the old landing gear housings that dragged under the body. Stronger? Yes, they were sourced from some old General Space parts catalog. Strong enough to hold up to the FSA regulations? Well...the Frontier Space engineers could agree that it was 70% of the strength that was needed. The landing gear was strong, but the housing mounts were now in question.

The avionics gear was new-ish as well. It was the program running on the General Space Carrier Division's Deep Expedition. The closest mass produced ship of similar size. And one of highest volume ship productions in the history of space. But, the Deep Expedition was a small freighter and the Event Horizon was a high performance personal ship. The avionics equipment sensors protruded from the Event Horizon's hull; ruining the shape. Also, the programs were programmed for much slower flight so the Event Horizon had to be fitted with performance restrictors to make sure the program "didn't get ahead of itself".

Dell hated the new model. The pure ship that he made, while unsafe, was still better in his eyes. The ship that he had so carefully molded and dreamed, became distorted with this equipment that made it ugly. Dell remembered a time, not too long ago...about thirty to thirty five years maybe, where the original Event Horizon would have passed FSA safety regulations no problem.

Civil cases had been filed against him by the families of the dead. Accounting Division told him the company only had enough money to stay open for another 13 days. Dell needed more orders, more sales to keep the doors open. Anything that he needed to do, he would do; even if that meant almost ruining his creation in his eyes.

# Chapter 17

March 29, 2137

Adam Lockard strolled into the almost abandoned Frontier Space Lunar Dealership. It wasn't lacking ships mind you, but people. A large sign out front read: CLOSING SALE. He had been watching the Event Horizon debacle unfold. He did have a stake in the matter.

He felt it was just one giant shame. A shame is what it was. He couldn't understand it. How could this have happened? He knew that the ship was unsafe, but how could that have happened? How could Zachary Dell have committed it to production? A number of questions, as well as regret that it had to happen, filled his mind.

At the center of the dealership was the Event Horizon V.2. An abomination compared to the original. The hangar was actually full of the things.

"Hello, sir. Can I assist you today?" a salesmen greeted him.

"Hi, I saw the sign outside saying that you're closing," Lockard said with a deep sympathy.

The salesman dropped his salesman face, and became just an employee of Frontier Space; a broken spirit and a shell of his former self. "Yeah, the buyers just don't come in anymore. Ever since 'the crash' happened, nobody wants them."

"Well, I assume that you're still trying to sell them."

"The best we can," the salesman said, looking to the many V.2s.

Lockard looked around. They were all V.2s. It was such a wretched machine, slower and uglier that the original. He wasn't interested in any of them. How could anyone be interested in them? They were the least desirable ship on the market. Lockard pitied them, he felt sorry for them. It was such lost potential.

"Do you have any original Event Horizons?" Lockard asked.

"No, sorry. Those were all sold already." Lockard became uninterested. "But," the salesman continued. "These V.2s have to go. We are closing, so either somebody buys them or they go to the scrap yard."

"The scrap yard?" Lockard asked, cringing at the thought of a Zachary Dell creation going to the scrap yard.

"Yup. The MSRP on these babies is twenty-five million, but seeing as they aren't going anywhere anytime soon I guess I'm open to offers."

Dell looked at the hangar. There were twenty-two in total. He became wrought with emotion once again. So much talent down the drain. "I can't let them go to the scrap heap. That...that just isn't the way it's supposed to be," he said to himself.

It wasn't the businessman in him, what little there was, saying, "They're going to be very collectible soon." It was the space enthusiast in him. They were a precious commodity to him. In each one of them lived the dream. The dream to create your own company, make your own brand, and be a star. And that dream was worth preserving.

"How about a million dollars each?" he asked the salesman.

"That's a bit of a price cut."

"Let's be honest here. At the scrap heap they couldn't be worth more than half a million dollars. And I'm the only guy in here. What do yah say?" he asked, extending his hand.

The salesman didn't want to make the deal. He remembered when he was able to charge one million above sticker price. He remembered when he sold twenty a day to twenty different people. And it wasn't that long ago either. It was only a few weeks when it seemed like Event Horizon would fly everyone around the Solar System, and Zachary Dell was the pilot.

"Yeah, what the hell," the salesman said, changing the firm hand.

Epilogue

March 31, 2137

"You goin' to that retirement party tomorrow?" David Honda asked.

The regular group shuffled into the cafeteria. All the excitement of the hearings had died down to murmurs. Only the aftermath remained.

"I don't know. I fucking hate those guys. I object solely based on principle," Tyler replied. The rest of the gang nodded in support.

"I don't know...," Paul Rudcurs mentioned sheepishly. "...I hear it's being catered by Barion's."

Everyone's ears perked up. "Barion's?" the retired colonel asked.

"Yeah."

"I think I might just show up for the food."

The other members of the silently changed their minds. "Of course we should go. We should go and eat as much as possible. Bleed the system, man," David Honda rallied.

None of them could resist Barion's catering. No matter how much they objected to the Director or the Vice-Head's retirement, instead of disciplinary action or jail time, it was hard to resist being well fed.

"With those guys leaving, maybe you'll finally move up," Tim Juniper mentioned to Peter Locke.

"I certainly hope so. The whole chain of command goes up a notch now," Locke replied.

David Honda became a little bit annoyed. "Why do you want to be a manager, anyway? I mean, do you really want to be included in that club? These are people can't even remember what ships we certify. They are people that are interested in spying on us, and stupid things like morale quotas. What is the appeal?"

Locke, in response, became equally annoyed. "Because, David, haven't you paid attention to what happened with Event Horizon? Everyone needs people in management that care about the enforcement of the engineering protocols. People died the last time those protocols were breached."

Honda laughed. "If the Event Horizon fiasco has showed us anything, it's that all of us are irrelevant."

"How so?" Locke asked rhetorically.

"Look what happened. The engineers; us! We told them it wasn't a good idea and management steam-rolled us and signed the certification themselves. They went over our heads. You think they won't go over yours?"

"There is always corruption, but I'm saying that we have to approach this over time."

"What's this 'over-time' nonsense? The system will always win. Power will always trump no power. Scandals like this last episode with Frontier Space have been going on since the inception of the FSA. Remember the Night Sky scandal? What was that...three years ago? The Aldrin Space Station Office FSA was caught selling designs from General Space to Night Sky? Later, we found out that it had been going on for two years.

Or the Universal Propulsion scandal, what...ten years ago? Two thousand engines that failed FSA quality control tests somehow found their way onto assembly lines. Thirty people died in that one! Much more than the Event Horizon. Or the..."

"I think we get the idea," the Colonel interrupted politely.

"And you know what was the aftermath of those?" Honda asked, getting fairly worked up about this thing.

"Nothing. Some of the managers resign or 'retire' and then go off and get cushy jobs at big companies. Usually the same big companies they were in bed with while they worked for the FSA."

"I'm just saying, David. I just want to enforce the criteria. That's all I'm interested in."

"I mean, I don't have a problem with that. That's what we all 'get paid to do'. I'm just saying that's never how things turn out, anyway," he said, calming down from his rant.

