A Shift in Priorities - Sequel

rast

The picture of a shadow is a positive thing.
(John Locke)

The second attempt had been a full success. The pusher plate of USS Hercules was ready – and construction of the hull was well under way. The shock absorber units were in place. Harvey Allen had just come back from inspecting the reactor under construction at the Westinghouse site in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Westinghouse was promising a compact unit with maximal output. It was going to be, in fact, a third generation reactor, a truly groundbreaking device.

Allen had made a stopover in Washington. Exploring the lobbies of power was always recommended. As it was, the pest affair in Europe was not going to have negative repercussions on the Hercules project. Quite the contrary, because foreign trade was interrupted the administration was desperately looking for domestic projects that could absorb part of the underemployed workforce. Speeding up the project would create such opportunities. His proposals had solicited avid endorsement.

The pusher plate and the hull necessarily had to be built at Rebel Creek, but everything else, not only the reactor, could be constructed anywhere in the US and shipped to site. Allen’s staff was currently working out the specs. If everything went well, completion by the end of the year ought to be achievable. Gaining one year in construction time would mean an enormous step ahead. Quality control had to be intensified, of course. But hiring additional engineers was just what the folks in Washington wanted.

Allen had seen the figures. The economy was suffering from the closure of the borders. There would be no crunch; the US economy always had had a strong domestic mainstay. Nevertheless, omitted imports and cancelled exports were hurting the industry. Intermediate goods from China were missing almost everywhere. And even the farmers were complaining, because they couldn’t sell their overplusses abroad. Well, only a dead farmer wouldn’t complain all the time, but these folks had some very powerful senators speaking for them.

At least the colonisators had been silenced by the pest threat. Colonising the Caribbean Islands was no longer an objective the nation would consider in this situation. Therefore, space suddenly had become attractive for many more people – at least in political Washington. Okay, one was ready to make the best of this lucky turn. If the borders should remain closed for a longer period, it might even become possible to have a second NPP ship approved.
 

rast

Mistakes are the portals of discovery.
(James Joyce)

He thought he had found something. It was a kind of exercise book filled with handwritten notes and data. About one third of each page was indecipherable because of soiling and rot. It didn’t say which kind of bug it was dealing with, but it made quite interesting statements about breeding and producing variants. The label said ‘Frank-Charles 143’; the dates given were from 1955, March to August.

Friedhelm Wiegand had already phoned Professor Ramsauer. The boss didn’t know the booklet. He was sending a plane to fetch it. As a precaution, Friedhelm had made a copy. You never knew… Now he was waiting for the Dornier floatplane to touch down. The context of the excise book was unrewarding; fragments of two communist newspapers from 1955, a standard textbook of clinical epidemiology without cover and a 1954 pocket calendar, but devoid of any notes.

Would it be of help? Friedhelm didn’t know. But in Stavanger, they weren’t making any progress. So, even a tiny bit of new information might prove helpful. Or utterly worthless… Well, it was the only promising piece he had found. Everything else was a true load of crap. Why had the boss collected dirty old clothes? And office supplies?

There was the drone of engines. The Dornier was approaching. All right; they would want to refuel – and have a pee pause. No need to hurry…
 

rast

The same thinking that has led you to where you are is not going to lead you to where you want to go.
(Albert von Einstein)

Mars still was an indistinct smallish blob on the main screen, nevertheless preparations for turnaround had already begun. It was the only major manoeuvre to be executed on the journey out – and one practised many times before. Indeed, only touchdown on Mars was going to be novel. But one had already landed on the Moon and on Earth; so Mars shouldn’t pose any problems.

Wilfried Thalhammer would carry out the turnaround. Sigmund Jähn was due to land the bus in Isidis Regio. The dinghies were booked for tours to Phobos and Deimos, landings inclusive. Heinz Grabowski was earmarked for the takeoff. – Yes, the pilots would be kept comparatively busy. Well, and the scientists too. But – as usual – the most part of the journey was just boring.

Sigmund Jähn was languidly monitoring the gauges. All systems were working as they should. The First Officer, Major Krause, was on shift. The guy was a Luftwaffe officer as well, yet not a pilot but a rocket man – long-distance ballistic missiles. In Jähn’s appreciation, he was more of a scientist than a real soldier. Right now, he was studying one of the reports of the Hammer’s scientists.

Jähn knew the stuff, of course. There had been endless lectures on Mars during training. But it would never have occurred to him to read the original reports. Okay, if it kept Krause happy. – At least, nobody was space sick on this tour. He vividly remembered General Zeislitz’ tales about the Hammer’s arduous travels. – Well, this time it was suspense about the pest that kept people agitated.

The disease had reached Sweden, but the lockdown in this country still seemed to hold. Yeah, these Scandinavian countries were thinly populated. Perhaps the pest would just peter away – for lack of victims…
 

rast

I shall always consider the better guesser the best prophet.
(Marcus Tullius Cicero)

The open cases were restricted now to those from Christiania and Töcksfors in Sweden. All the others had already been declared closed. And the Töcksfors cases were out of reach. The Swedes wouldn’t let anybody near them. It seemed that the method of letting the disease run dry was succeeding at last. One was two days beyond the incubation period for new cases caused by either Christiania or Töcksfors. Professor Sigbert Ramsauer felt cautiously optimistic.

Provided the Swedes hadn’t made any grave mistakes, one had indeed managed to let the pest tail off. That was no mean achievement – even in thinly populated Scandinavia. One had, however, not found an effective counteragent for Burkholderia anglica mallei stavangerensis – not yet at least. Well, the Negroes had got stuck into the task; they might eventually find a cure. Once his friend Eberhart had fully recovered, he certainly would come up with a solution.

That had happened with BAM, with NED and with RV. Okay, RV had mutated further and the antidote against it had become stale rather quickly. Nevertheless, Eberhart was a genius in finding counteragents. One had finally got him out of artificial coma, but he still was very weak and had to stay in bed, supported by machinery. Doktor Schabunde said his team would stay here – and keep researching – until Eberhart was fit for travelling home.

He had given the booklet discovered by Wiegand to Schabunde. Perhaps the lad could make sense of the entries. Ramsauer assumed it might have something to do with breeding NED, but didn’t feel certain. The guy who had made the entries surely had been an expert in culturing bugs. A pity so much had been corrupted. – But perhaps it was only a red herring. One didn’t know on how many different diseases Porton Down had been working. What a loss…

Okay, the Norwegians had assigned an island where the recovered persons and the immunes were to be interned. They were contagious; one couldn’t let them run free. And one had to trust the Norwegians to keep the lot isolated. Just let’s cross fingers…
 

rast

Enchantment is the oldest form of medicine.
(Carl Jung)

Gut demolt, the dreadful pest seemed to peter out indeed – without that a terrible disaster was about to happen. That was good. Josef Dembitzer was sincerely relieved. Ober, what now? True democracy had been suspended virtually everywhere – for plain fear of the disease or sheer panic. Strauß was ruling all alone in Germany – and had crushed the parliamentary parties. The Rodinyadniki had turned Russia into a barrack yard. Even the domestic Linksbundists had suspended parliament.

Europe thus had been saved from pestilential death, it seemed – only to stumble into the grip of unscrupulous despots. Well, not quite, of course. In many countries – like Denmark, Finland or the Heymshtot, the special power of the government would end rather sooner than later. But Germany and Russia were special cases. Strauß had achieved a position he wouldn’t forgo voluntarily. And the Rodinyadniki had finally found a just cause – no longer expansion, which hadn’t worked anyway, but determined defence of the realm.

Was that going to play out good or bad? Relinquished Russian expansionism certainly should be a good thing for peace in Europe. But an unchained Strauß? – Sheyn, he wasn’t an expansionist, nor did he lust for mastery of the world – one assumed. But what was he really after? Was he just a clown running free? Or was there a cunning scheme behind his shenanigans? A scheme so cunning that even the specialists of the Seychl couldn’t detect it?
 
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rast

Nothing is more securely lodged than the ignorance of the experts.
(Friedrich August von Hayek)

KDM Indfødsretten, a brand-new frigate of the Hielperen class, was cruising in the Skagerrak Strait off Hirtshals. The sea was rough but empty. No fishing boats or other craft were allowed in these waters. On a clear day, the Norwegian shoreline would have been visible in the northwest. Today it was only clouds and haze. – Guarding the Danish coast against intruders from Norway had proven not a difficult task: there were no ships, not even ones of the Norwegian navy. They had been recalled to the territorial waters – and were closely sealing the Norwegian ports.

So far, lockdown in Norway and Sweden seemed to hold. Nobody was trying to flee to Denmark. That was fine, because one was under strictest orders to sink each and every vessel encountered. – Darkness was about to fall, when radar suddenly reported contact. A ship, a very slow ship, had been detected in the west. Was it drifting? It looked like so. The captain gave order to approach it. Signal lights and flags were not answered. The ship appeared to be abandoned. It was a trawler of about 450 GRT.

Was there a name – or a port of registry - visible? Nothing to be seen… Okay, no risk – the captain bade to open fire. Two rounds were enough to make the trawler founder. But when the sinking ship slanted, one could see corpses lying on its deck, at least five of them. Dodgy, very dodgy… High resolution photographs had been taken. They were immediately transmitted to sector HQ at Aalborg. But the trawler could not be identified. It was a common model. There were hundreds of that type in service in Norway, Denmark, Sweden and Germany. Without a name or registration number, it was not possible to track its origin.

The Norwegian ports were sealed. No ship had taken to sea since the first pest cases had occurred, said the Norwegians. If that was true, where had this ship – this death ship – come from?
 

rast

The worst of all deceptions is self-deception.
(Plato)

The Danes had sent copies of the pictures taken of the ghost trawler. The searchlights of the Danish vessel had provided ample illumination. One could see that the corpses – there had been six of them – had extensively been ravaged by seabirds. How long had the trawler drifted on the open sea? Where had it come from? – Well, on the final journey from England, evidently… But originally? The experts said it had been painted over, had received a grey wash as a kind of camouflage. All markings had been obscured.

But because it had been found in the Skagerrak the choice was obvious: another Norwegian looter. How many more had gone to England? Professor Ramsauer was exasperated. – But then, the crew hadn’t survived: And no other outbreak had been reported. Should one just cross it off? – The Norwegian authorities were only shrugging their shoulders. Before the lockdown, one had had no control. After all, the country was not a surveillance state; the citizens had been free to come or leave as they pleased.

Yeah, fudge… Might it happen again? Most probably not. After the Stavanger experience, even the most hard-noised looter would think twice. Well, at least for some time…
 

rast

The only antidote to mental suffering is physical pain.
(Karl Marx)

Good grief! One was swamped by work like never before. Franz Josef had, of course, appointed successors for all papists jailed or run off, but these folks, campaign-hardened DVP muppets for certain, were only creating fuss non-stop. Mercifully, Hans-Adolf Prützmann, the war minister, was still at his place, saving Hanne Zülch and her staff the trouble to deal with military affairs on top of everything else.

Franz Josef, as usual, was unhelpful throughout, refusing to answer questions and issuing confusing directives. Was he in touch with real life at all? Hanne wasn’t quite sure. However, the system – Germany – was working. While the rest of Europe had ground to a bitter standstill, Germany had never stopped turning out products like crazy. People hadn’t been forced into an abject lockdown, but had kept prospering.

And indeed, the pest in Norway seemed to have come to a final gridlock. Was Franz Josef the contemporary Hans in Luck? Had he – just by chance – done the right things at the right time? Or did he have an incredible grasp of the capitalist system? Did he instinctively comprehend what Marx, Engels and Luxemburg had failed to understand? Should he indeed be a living genius?

Looking at him, you wouldn’t think so. And the bloody pest certainly had nothing to do with capitalism and economy. But being lucky wasn’t reproachable, was it? – He was the uncontested ruler of the strongest – well, the only strong – country in Europe. Even the Russians, the eternal rivals, had dropped behind, had damaged their economy and wasted precious resources.

He had even sent out a spaceship, which was right now approaching Mars. Had it all been sheer luck or epic stupidity? Oh dear, one would never know, most probably…
 

rast

What people believe prevails over the truth.
(Sophocles)

Shouldn’t one restore the blockade of the British Isles? The peril of an armed confrontation with Russia had gone to nil obviously. In the aggregate, the Kaiserliche Marine was well capable of resuming the task. Considering recent events in Norway it might be a clever idea to do so. The admirals were even urging for it, which was most remarkable in itself.

Hans-Adolf Prützmann had proposed it; to no avail. The chancellor wouldn’t have it. The world had to learn dealing with England as it was – without Germany acting the nanny ad perpetuum. No, the navy had to do its job – and that wasn’t lazily hanging around in the North Sea.

Okay, that settled it. Of course, Prützmann wouldn’t argue with Strauß. – But it was… – well, weird, to say the least.
 

rast

Experimenters are the shock troops of science.
Max Planck)

Landed on Mars! Isidis Regio was an ancient impact crater backfilled with rubble. And Syrtis Major Planitia was not a plain, but an age-old volcanic complex. Okay, that had been known from the Hammer photographs, in principle. But the real thing was quite another matter. The scientists were happily collecting samples, but Sigmund Jähn found confirmed what General Zeislitz had told him: space flight was a dull affair, most of the time.

Bringing down the Feuerdrache hadn’t been challenging. The optical systems were a vast improvement over the Hammer’s. You could sit comfortably in your seat and do the job – without any dangerous gymnastics for the nape. And once the work was done – you were free to hang around. The dinghies were on Phobos and Deimos. There was nothing you could do… Officially, you were on immediate readiness, poised for emergency takeoff. In reality, you were gawking.

Well, not quite. Monitoring the activities of the scientists and their helpers was important, of course. The blokes were milling about like ants. There was the drilling team, looking for water deep down – and whatever else might hide below the surface. And the sample collectors. And the geologists rummaging the rocks. – Most figures, however, were just little helpers, borrowed guys from the technical and communications branches. One didn’t have more than six true men of science.

Anything new? Not really, Mars hadn’t changed. It was still a life-hostile small ball made of sand and pebbles. Some pundits believed there once had been water and life on this planet. Well, maybe, but it must have been long time ago. Nothing was left of it – at least nothing obviously visible. But he was only a humble space jockey, not a studied expert. Okay, should they find ruins – or other artefacts – he would get interested…
 

rast

We are not shooting enough professors.
(Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov)

Okay, there had been no new infections since fifteen days. The pest obviously had petered away. That was good. Professor Ramsauer, however, was counselling the authorities to uphold the lockdown for another month. You never knew. Norway was a rugged country where many people lived far away from the few urban centres. There still might exist unknown sites of infection. Therefore watching and waiting seemed the optimal approach.

Konrad Schabunde thought it was a reasonable strategy. The economic side of it he couldn’t gauge, but the Norwegians so far had weathered the lockdown surprisingly well. Anyway, it wasn’t his turf. SK, though, was. And the quest for a cure hadn’t produced any tangible result yet.

Professor Misuku, at least, was addressable although still bed-stricken. He was studying the research results – at a slow pace – and with a lot of respites. Would he solve the riddle? Well, the dream had shown him, Konrad, how to find the components that kept SK from multiplying. But it hadn’t told him how to administer the stuff. The boss was a genius when it came to administering.

Of course, one couldn’t wait until he had caught up. The team was researching and testing without cease. One was missing infected persons now, but at least hadn’t failed to develop a workable expedient in time. – Professor Ramsauer had agreed to leave the hospital ship in place until the boss was fit for travelling home. That meant one was going to have ample time for more research.

All the proposals received from Germany had been sorted by Ramsauer’s staff. Most had proven impracticable, but there still were thirty-six waiting to be tested out.
 

rast

The only way to lead people is to show them a future; a leader is a dealer in hope.
(Napoleon Bonaparte)

Kastenmüller was a Vizeadmiral now, in charge of Arx, the Jupiter colony. The chancellor himself had pronounced the promotion, when Director Kammler, Professor Fuchs and Kastenmüller had been to Berlin, called by Strauß himself. – Yes, it had been a shining hour – well, rather shining five minutes. Phönix would be built, the real starship, not the test model. Arx would be established. And the Four Sisters – Antje, Bertha, Carla and Dora – would get four junior siblings – Emma, Frieda, Gisela and Hilde.

Yeah, the chancellor had played it big. RRA would get everything it wanted, even if the request had never been forwarded. Germany would run a veritable fleet of nine NPP ships, establish a flourishing colony in the Jupiter system – and send a starship to Alpha Centauri and beyond. The Germans to the stars! – Helga von Tschirschwitz was busy communicating the details to the media.

It could be done, of course. Kastenmüller had the preliminary plans for Arx ready. It would be big, really big. But with five NPP ships, the material required for it could be shipped over in two runs. And Fuchs would install a little sun for it. The industry were already licking their chops in anticipation. – Compared to Arx, the Phönix would appear modest, although it was to carry two NPP craft as dinghies.

All this was going to take time to build. The Four Sisters were the first batch to become ready, approximately early next year. Arx would follow suit in 1969/70 – simultaneously with the Younger Siblings. And the Phönix might become ready in 1972. It was an ambitious programme, but you could bet that Director Kammler would push it to the outmost. Achieving all this before the end of his tenure would be his ultimate goal.
 

rast

Reason is a very light rider, and easily shook off.
(Jonathan Swift)

That Strauß character was a veritable madman. One had not yet found a counteragent for the pest, which was still in Norway and Sweden, but he was ordering fancy space stuff – quite a lot of it. As if the disease didn’t exist. This was rampant madness. It had to be, because it was utterly unreasonable. Yuri Andropov couldn’t understand it, nor could any of his Rodinyadnik friends.

Russia wouldn’t slacken her efforts, not for anything. The peril was still out there – even if Strauß chose to ignore it. Andropov couldn’t even help suspecting that the madman had wittingly lifted the blockade of the British Isles. And now was refusing to restore it. He was not an evil spirit but rather an insane one. Or was he? Might someone be crazy enough to provoke a pandemia?

Could one stop him? Andropov had contemplated his options. – Not a chance… Even a nuclear strike wouldn’t solve the basic problem. – Well, the defences were in place. The nation was armed to destroy all intruders. One just had to wait. It was nerve-wracking.
 

altamiro

Banned
rast said:
Reason is a very light rider, and easily shook off.
(Jonathan Swift)

That Strauß character was a veritable madman. One had not yet found a counteragent for the pest, which was still in Norway and Sweden, but he was ordering fancy space stuff – quite a lot of it. As if the disease didn’t exist. This was rampant madness. It had to be, because it was utterly unreasonable. Yuri Andropov couldn’t understand it, nor could any of his Rodinyadnik friends.

Russia wouldn’t slacken her efforts, not for anything. The peril was still out there – even if Strauß chose to ignore it. Andropov couldn’t even help suspecting that the madman had wittingly lifted the blockade of the British Isles. And now was refusing to restore it. He was not an evil spirit but rather an insane one. Or was he? Might someone be crazy enough to provoke a pandemia?

Could one stop him? Andropov had contemplated his options. – Not a chance… Even a nuclear strike wouldn’t solve the basic problem. – Well, the defences were in place. The nation was armed to destroy all intruders. One just had to wait. It was nerve-wracking.
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I wonder how long until some power - Russians, Germans, Ottomans etc - decides that the British Isles are too dangerous to leave as they are, and just carpet-nukes them, or sprays them with some persistent deadly chemicals from coast to coast. Even if just the cities and towns are thoroughly destroyed or rendered inaccessible, the desire to go exploring will very much evaporate.
 

rast

Governments not only are not necessary, but are harmful and most highly immoral institutions.
(Leo Tolstoy)

Yeah, Jupiter Colony – now officially named Arx, some Roman mythical thing – was coming within reach. Herbert would be six, his – hopefully – sister four. That should make travelling through space feasible. Nurslings were not accepted, but kids were welcome. Having them grow up in the colony was seen as the ideal way of producing its future population, said the media.

Egon and Gerdi Schagalla had already tried to get application forms, but they weren’t available yet. Consequently, Egon had written a letter to Admiral Kastenmüller. Reply was still pending. It would duly arrive, Egon was quite sure. As member of the Ruhr Council, the Dortmund City Council and security chief of Dortmund he was an important man, after all. Most probably, the admiral was just swamped by such letters.

The postal service, by all means, was working perfectly. The post folks, like almost all regional and national providers, had always ignored political strife – and done their bit. Indeed, who needed a remote government in Berlin? The Dortmunders were perfectly capable of settling their affairs all by themselves. And the Ruhr Council could well arrange all the rest.

In fact, everything was fine, had never been better. – Was it nevertheless really necessary to go into space? Well, it was the adventure that was attracting Egon and Gerdi, not economic misery or political dissent. Dortmund was fine and dandy, but there had to be something else…
 

Dain

Hohensaufen said:
"Dortmund was fine and dandy". A sentence I would have never thought I'd ever hear lol
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Well, evidently people are volunteering for one-way trips to the outer solar system just to get away from Dortmund, so the more things change the more they stay the same. ;-)
 
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