THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR ADULT READING ONLY.
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Space tourism is beginning. But have the rocket scientists and venture capitalists really thought about the sort of deals they can offer?
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The Cessna business jet climbing out over the white and pink beaches of the small Caribbean island looked perfectly normal. All the changes were in the passenger section: seats removed, the floor padded and the interior divided into three cells by flexible plastic sheeting. Each cell had its own separate air supply and ventilation system, for the very good reason that sexual ardor was effectively quenched by the sight and smell of vomit. If anybody threw up during the flight then at least the stench and stomach contents would be contained within the cell in which they had emerged.
The nine passengers were standing up as the Cessna took off, three to a cell, each group of passengers strapped to a grid of plastic bars in one of the cells. As soon as the 'fasten belts' sign was turned off, the passengers released their straps. Each of the groups consisted of two males and one young female, but whoever might be airsick, it certainly wouldn't be any of the girls: all three were qualified military jet pilots and each of them also held a degree in aeronautical engineering. They also had two other common traits: they were all highly fuckable and each of the flight suits they were now peeling off their shapely bodies displayed the insignia of Vestal Virgins Space Lines, a bow and arrow armed Cupid with his wings replaced by a rocket pack.
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"Come in, Ms Dodwell, come in. Delighted to meet you."
Lisa sat down in the very expensive chair in front of Sir Robert Brompton's desk. He looked more like an aging poet than what he really was, a major league investor in communications, media, and the airline industry. The logo on his desk said it all: 'Vestal Virgin Investments'. That and the dominating viewpoint of London's square mile financial district as seen from his executive office eyrie. Brompton had the means, the power and the ambition to make her dream come true.
Sir Robert glanced at the screen of the computer on his desk: "OK, let's make sure I've got it right. Lisa Dodwell, Australian citizen, over six hundred hours flying F/A-18's for the Royal Australian Air Force, and a graduate in aeronautics from the University of New South Wales. So what brings you here, Lisa? You seem to be doing very well for yourself without my help."
"I want to be an astronaut."
The Englishman smiled and shrugged his shoulders ruefully: "I can't get you into space, Lisa. Well, not for long anyway. Orbital flight is still strictly government business. All that private enterprise can offer right now are sub orbital flights, with some very heavy duty strings attached."
"I'm never going to get into NASA," Lisa said. "I'm a bloody good pilot but I'm the wrong nationality. So I'll settle for going as high as I can."
Sir Richard leaned forward with his forearms resting on his massive desk: "Seventy five miles up is the best I can offer, plus an excellent salary and a very big bonus for every successful flight. No contract either, any time you feel this isn't for you, you can leave with no problems from us. But I have a duty to explain everything that's involved to you very clearly, so you can't say we mislead you. Are you prepared to keep confidential everything I'm now about to tell you?"
"Yes."
"OK, your word is good enough for me. So, yes, we do have an experimental rocket plane which has now flown successfully. At the moment it's called the X-plane and we're moving ahead to build half a dozen of the same class. You understand that it's nothing like the space shuttle: the shuttle has to be big enough to accelerate twenty tons to an orbital speed of 17,000 miles per hour, which means huge engines and massive amounts of fuel. The X-plane only lifts the pilot and two passengers, and it's almost motionless in relation to the earth when it gets to the top of its trajectory because all the fuel is used in the climb. So the X-plane looks a lot like a conventional airplane since it uses a normal runway for take offs and landings. The only power plant is a throttable rocket engine using kerosene and hydrogen peroxide as fuel. Obviously, because of its flight path, the X-plane doesn't need any tiling to protect it from re-entry heat. It simply falls back into the atmosphere using reaction controls to keep it stable, then turns around as soon as its wings start to grip the air and glides back to the airfield it took off from. Any questions so far, Lisa?"
"How long will each flight last?"
"Under two hours, with 6.7 minutes of zero g at the top of the trajectory. With luck we should be able to do a turn around fast enough to get an average of at least two flights out of each X-plane every day. I'm setting up a company called Vestal Virgin Space Lines which is going to build a base for sub orbital launches on a island called Barbuda in the Leeward Islands, over in the Caribbean. It's undeveloped place, almost deserted, with just a couple of resort hotels, and as long as we don't disturb the bird sanctuary on the other side of the island, everything will suit us fine. There's no reason why we should bother our feathered friends. Take off speed will only be a 150 mph and you won't be putting the pedal to the metal until you pass through 40,000 feet. Nobody on the island will hear a thing, especially when you glide back in."
