Orphans of Apollo - S1 E5
January 2022
From the ashes of forgotten space dreams, a new era of exploration begins.
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Previously: the tailing of the Meyer’s car convinced Larsson of the need to accelerate the training program at FAAS, against the advice of Connor O’Sullivan.
As the airliner broke out from the overcast layer, Christian Larsson caught his first glimpse of the city lights off to the left. A faint glow hung over the skyline where the clouds were lit from beneath. Rain began streaming back across the window. It seemed quite heavy.
The man in the next seat leaned slightly forward to see past Larsson. “Welcome to Newcastle, canny weather.”
They had exchanged sparse polite conversation on the short flight from Stockholm. It was clear neither was interested in getting to know the other, but made an effort with pleasantries. The man - Larsson couldn’t remember his name - had been on a short business trip. Something to do with telecommunications. He was a native of Newcastle upon Tyne and spoke with a soft Geordie accent. Larsson suspected in professional interactions he purposely tempered his accent. Although now he was accentuating it as he explained that gray overcast with rain was a typical feature of this part of the world.
Larsson had never been to the northeast of England before. He was actually glad of the brief history the man had given him of his home city as they briefly chatted whilst sat on the tarmac in Stockholm before leaving.
The area had once been an industrial powerhouse with a very proud shipbuilding and coal mining heritage. As these industries waned in the latter part of the 20th century, the area had rather successfully, if somewhat painfully, transitioned to newer high-tech industries. Newcastle was also home to a university with an excellent reputation in medical research, especially genetics. Indeed, it was only the second institution in the world to receive permission to pursue stem-cell research in human embryos. In the early 2000s, it had been recognized for research into ageing and continued to excel in this field. It was this excellence in human genetics that was the reason for Christian Larsson’s visit - at least he hoped so.
As the aircraft continued its final approach to Newcastle International Airport, Larsson reflected on the last few days and how he had come to be here. He hoped it was not a wild goose chase.
A week ago, Larsson had taken his private jet, a Gulfstream G650 from the FASS (Foundation for the Advancement of Space Settlement) headquarters in California, to his native Sweden. In Stockholm, there was an international conference of commercial space flight companies. Larsson wanted to make progress on forming a relationship with one or more of the companies, in order to have launch capabilities for his FASS organisation. He had been courting several, but had been unable to get a deal across the line. Of course, it didn’t help that in a speech he had made ten years ago - in what he now called his misguided younger days - Larsson had advocated for genetically engineering humans. This, he argued, was to make them more resistant to radiation and therefore better able to survive the harsh environment of space, once beyond the protective veil of the Earth’s magnetic field. After all, how else would we as a species begin our settlement of the solar system?
Larsson knew at the time he would ruffle a few feathers, genetically engineering humans was illegal. Many suggested some less than scrupulous institutions may have dabbled in this but the international community did not take too kindly to this.
Unfortunately, his remarks had turned him into something of a pariah. The once slightly eccentric but likeable Swedish-American billionaire retreated from public view. He had invested his vast fortune into space technology companies with a vision to make the human race a multi-planetary species. But that speech still dogged him. Companies he wanted to work with were reluctant to take investment from him as it scared other investors off who did not want to be seen to be aligning themselves with someone with such a controversial vision. He was tolerated now but not embraced as he had been when he first burst onto the scene with his dot-com made fortune.
The conference in Stockholm was an opportunity to stay in contact with others in the industry and possibly make a subtle approach if the opportunity presented itself. On the whole though, he intended to keep his now customary low profile. It also gave him an excuse to visit friends and relatives in his homeland, something which he had somewhat neglected in recent years.
On the second day of the conference, Larsson was having lunch with a Russian friend from NovaKosmos Launch Services, Ivan Kuznetsov. Larsson and Ivan’s paths had crossed many times over the years as Larsson looked to purchase launch slots for various small cube satellites students at FASS had built for test projects. Ivan specialised in securing rides on Russian rockets for western payloads. As with all sales people, he was sometimes guilty of stretching the truth somewhat, but at heart, he was a good person. Always treading a line of mistrust between his Russian managers and Western business, which were looking for a ride to orbit for their precious cargo. It was a skill he became very adept at. There didn’t seem to be any difficulty that he couldn’t smooth over with a little vodka and a charming “My friend, trust me, this is the way we do things in Russia.” Ivan was one of the few people who didn’t seem to feel the need to distance themselves from Larsson after his speech. As a result, they had become good friends.
Sat in the cafeteria at the conference centre, Ivan and Larsson were enjoying a lunch where they revisited old times. For some reason Larsson’s gaze was drawn to a young man sitting alone on the other side of the room. He had been watching them intently. Now Larsson looked at him, his gaze shot away and he pretended to be searching for someone amongst the various animated conversations that were going on around. He’s probably a journalist from some online publication, going to write a trashy article about how Christian Larsson and his mysterious FASS organisation is now investing money into the Russian space programme when western nations are all pulling out. Roscosmos is so cash strapped they will take money from anyone.
Ivan picked his phone up from the table. “Ah shit, sorry my friend, I’m late for a meeting.” He picked up his coffee cup and downed the remainder in one gulp. “We’ll talk again before you leave, eh.” With that he was gone, brushing crumbs off his shirt as he made his way swiftly to the exit of the cafeteria.
Larsson watched his friend’s sudden departure with amusement but not surprise, then he picked up his phone and started scrolling through the agenda for the rest of the conference.
When he next looked up, he saw the young man from across the cafeteria was approaching him. He felt a pang of dread in his stomach. Larsson hated talking to journalists, and although through necessity he had become somewhat better over the years, he still did not enjoy it. He studied the man as he closed the last few meters towards him, his subconscious quickly working to produce a snap judgement of character based purely on his appearance. Mid twenties, with a mildly athletic physique, quite pale skin and dressed in smart casual business attire. He blended in well with most of the attendees. Except for his age, he seemed a little young. That reinforced Larsson’s initial assumption. He probably runs his own website or YouTube channel.
“Mr. Larrson? Nice to meet you,” he said quietly with an outstretched hand.
Larsson acknowledged him but did not take his hand. He fought back the urge to make a snide comment about not enjoying talking to the media. From his accent, the young man was clearly English.
After holding his hand out for an uncomfortably long time, he retracted it. “My name is Isaac Underwood. I’ve been following closely the work you are doing with your organisation, the Foundation for the Advancement of Space Settlement. Myself and my colleague would very much like to work with you. We feel we have expertise that would further your cause.”
He handed Larsson a business card. On the top left was a coat of arms, a white cross on a blue background with a red lion above. Larsson didn’t recognise it. Next to it was printed “Newcastle University Medical School”. Underneath was the man’s university contact details, the email address had been crossed out. Larsson studied that card for a second, then turned it over. The back was blank but hand written was a personal email address and underneath a string of letters and numbers. Larsson recognised this as a public PGP key.
He looked up and locked eyes for several seconds with Isaac. Neither spoke.
“I look forward to hearing from you,” Isaac said with a gentle smile.
Larsson made a gentle nod. Isaac turned and walked slowly away.
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I hope everyone has had a pleasant week. It definitely feels like we have turned a corner towards spring down here in the southern hemisphere.
I’ve just been doing the washing up, and that’s always a good time to listen to a podcast. I haven’t got all the way through but I was just listening to the latest episode of StarTalk with Neil deGrasse Tyson, “Engineering Humans for Deep Space”. It’s worth checking out and very relevant for what is upcoming in “Orphans of Apollo”. I hope you enjoyed the latest episode. Look out for a behind-the-scenes post early next week.
Thanks for reading,
Alex