Then in 2062 the JSKP dropped its first aerostat into Jupiter's atmosphere, and began extracting He3 in viable quantities. There are only minute amounts of the isotope present in Jupiter. But minute is a relative thing when you're dealing with a gas giant.
The fusion industry—if you'll pardon the expression—went critical. Stations burning a deuterium–He3 mix produced one of the cleanest possible fusion reactions, a high-energy proton emitter. It also proved an ideal space drive, cutting down costs of flights to Jupiter, which in turn reduced the costs of shipping back He3 , which led to increased demand.
An upward spiral of benefits. He3 was every economist's fantasy commodity.
Bob Parkinson was the man charged with ensuring a steady supply was maintained; a senior JSKP vice-president, he ran the entire mining operation. It wasn't the kind of responsibility I would ever want, but he appeared to handle it stoically. A tall fifty-year-old, with a monk's halo of short grizzled hair, and a heavily wrinkled face.
«I was wondering when you were going to get round to me,» he said.
«They told me it would have to be today.»
«God, yes. I can't delay the lowering, not even for Penny. And I have to be there.» A finger flicked up to one of the screens showing a small rugby-ball-shaped asteroid which seemed to be just skimming Jupiter's cloud tops. Fully half of its surface was covered with machinery; large black radiator fins formed a ruff collar around one conical peak. A flotilla of industrial stations swarmed in attendance, along with several inter-orbit transfer craft.
«That's the cloudscoop anchor?» I asked.
«Yes. Quite an achievement; the pinnacle of our society's engineering prowess.»
«I can't see the scoop itself.»
«It's on the other side.» He gave an instruction to his desk, and the view began to tilt. Against the backdrop of salmon and white clouds I could see a slender black line protruding from the side of the asteroid which was tide-locked towards the gas giant. Its end was lost somewhere among the rumbustious cyclones of the equatorial storm band.
«A monomolecule silicon pipe two and a half thousand kilometres long,» Bob Parkinson said with considerable pride. «With the scoop head filters working at full efficiency, it can pump a tonne of He3 up to the anchor asteroid every day. There will be no need to send the shuttles down to the aerostats any more. We just liquify it on the anchor asteroid, and transfer it straight into the tanker ships.»
«At one-third the current cost,» I said.
«I see you do your homework, Chief Parfitt.»
«I try. What happens to the aerostats?»
«We intend to keep them and the shuttles running for a while yet. They are very high-value chunks of hardware, and they've got to repay their investment outlay. But we won't be replacing them when they reach the end of their operational life. JSKP plans to have a second cloudscoop operational in four years' time. And, who knows, now we know how to build one, we might even stick to schedule.»
«When do you start lowering?»
«Couple of days. But the actual event will be strung out over a month, because believe me this is one hyper-complicated manoeuvre. We're actually decreasing the asteroid's velocity, which reduces its orbital height, and pushes the scoop down into the atmosphere.»
«How deep?»
«Five hundred kilometres. But the trouble starts when it begins to enter the stratosphere; there's going to be a lot of turbulence, which will cause flexing. The lower section of the pipe is studded with rockets to damp down the oscillations, and of course the scoop head itself has aerodynamic surfaces. Quantumsoft has come up with a momentum-command program which they think will work, but nobody's ever attempted anything like this before. Which is why we need a large team of controllers on site. The time delay from here would be impossible.»
«And you're leading them.»
«That's what they pay me for.»
«Well, good luck.»
«Thanks.»
We stared at each other for a moment. Having to conduct a direct interview with someone who was technically my superior is the kind of politics I can really do without.
«As far as we can ascertain at this point, Penny Maowkavitz didn't have any problems in her professional life,» I said. «That leaves us with her personal life, and her involvement with Boston. The motive for her murder has to spring from one of those two facets. You are one of the trustees named in her will, she obviously felt close to you. What can you tell me about her?»
«Her personal life, not much. Everyone up here works heavy schedules. When we did meet it was either on JSKP business, or discussing the possibilities for civil readjustment. Penny never did much socializing anyway. So I wouldn't know who she argued with in private.»
«And what about in the context of Boston? According to my information you're now its leader.»
His tolerant expression cooled somewhat. «We have a council. Policies are debated, then voted on. Individuals and personality aren't that important, the overall concept is what counts.»
«So you're not going to change anything now she's gone?»
«Nothing was ever finalized before her death,» he said unhappily. «We knew why Penny had the views she did, and made allowances.»
«What views?»
It wasn't the question he wanted, that much was obvious. A man who took flying an asteroid in his stride, he was discomforted by simply having to recount the arguments that went on in what everyone insisted on describing to me as a civilized discussion forum.
He ran his hands back through the hair above his ears, concern momentarily doubling the mass of creases on his face. «It's the timing of the thing,» he said eventually. «Penny wanted us to make a bid for independence as soon as the cloudscoop was operational. Six to eight weeks from now.»
I let out a soft whistle. «That soon?» That wasn't in Zimmels's briefing. I'd gathered the impression they were thinking in terms of a much longer timescale.
«Penny wanted that date because that way she'd still be alive to see it happen. Who can blame her?»
«But you didn't agree.»
«No, I didn't.» He said it almost as a challenge to me. «It's too soon. There's some logic behind it, admittedly. With an operating cloudscoop we can guarantee uninterrupted deliveries of He3 to Earth. It's a much more reliable system than sending the shuttles down to pick up fuel from the aerostats. Jupiter's atmosphere is not a benign environment; we lose at least a couple of shuttles each year, and the aerostats take a real pounding. But the cloudscoop—hell, there are virtually no moving parts. Once it's functioning it'll last for a century, with only minimal maintenance. And we have now established the production systems to keep on building new cloudscoops. So when it comes to He3 acquisition technology we're completely self-sufficient, we don't have to rely on Earth or the O'Neill Halo for anything.»
«And biotechnology habitats are also autonomous,» I observed. «You don't need spare parts for them either.»
«True. But it's not quite that simple. For all its size and cost and technology, the JSKP operation here is still very much a pioneering venture; roughly equivalent to the aircraft industry between the last century's two World Wars. We're at the propeller-driven monoplane stage.»
«That's hard to credit.»
«You've talked to Pieter Zernov, I believe. He's full of dreams of what the habitats can eventually evolve into. We need money for that, money and time. Admittedly not much in comparison to the cost of a cloudscoop; but nor is it a trivial sum. Then there's Callisto. At this moment I've got a team there surveying the equator for a suitable mass driver site. JSKP is planning to start construction in 2094, and use it to fire tanks of He3 at Earth's L3 point. There will be a whole string of tanks stretching right across the solar system. It'll take three years for them to arrive at L3, but once they start, delivery will be continuous. A mass driver will eliminate the need for ships like the Ithilien to make powered runs every month.»