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I wrote the bare bones of 'The Man Who Would Build Spaceships' fourteen years ago. The plot is that a group develops an insanely dense energy storage medium, which my hero dreams of using as a battery for his water-propelled spaceship. While he's building it and a few sundries (8-P), things fall apart around him as the group is betrayed by the irresistible lure of 30 pieces of silver, of riches beyond the dreams of avarice, of greed and blood-money. He survives partly by accident, partly by being suspicious and being half-way prepared, and also the power of plot sustains him…
I can write the good-parts version, at least! To begin with-
'The End'
The surplus Russian space suit is holding up well. I had landed the GS Hope a little hard, but we don't seem to have sprung a leak, and the tanks are holding as well. To be perfectly honest, it's more than I had any right to expect. I've come a quarter of a million miles to duplicate a cold war stunt, try my hand at refueling at the lunar south pole, and to do one other thing…
The plaque is a simple sheet of quarter inch steel welded with a few words, a few names. A few good people who changed the world, changed my world, and who deserved better, deserved long and happy lives. I can honestly say that I've finally done right by them when I place the plaque up here in eternal sunshine.
"Shines the name, no, shines the names," I whispered. I remembered the cameras, still transmitting, and didn't care what the world might think of the crazy private astronaut, but, for the families, I decided to elaborate.
"A few people I worked with discovered a valuable secret, what we called the 'Shipstone' for certain literary reasons- go look it up! It just might save technical civilization, but it got them all killed, murdered by some greedy bast-" I shut the hell up for a minute, breathing raggedly. The pressure read zero and I opened the cabin up to vacuum, stepping out with the plaque and a few tools.
"I can't think of a better way to honor them than this- this is what I can do, what I've always wanted to do! What you can do is whatever the hell you want! Build a hospital maybe, or a library, name it after them. Better yet, rebuild that sorry excuse for a world down there, where people need to measure worth, not wealth!"
I found a likely spot, not blasted by the landing and so, I figured, safe for if and when I left. I made a good job of it, securing the steel plate for... well, a good long time. I read it out loud for the folks at home.
"I dedicate *this* small step to the memory of Carl, Beth, Mannie, and David. They all helped to make my dream possible, and they gave me back hope for tomorrow."
I didn't have anything else to say to the good people, on the good Earth. I just went about my business. The lunar dirt, regolith, whatever, did yield a little water ice, along with ammonia and other volatiles. I managed not to get myself killed, all alone such a long way from home, and I topped off the tanks with enough water to get me somewhere interesting, maybe even there and back again…
*Up ship!*
I can write the good-parts version, at least! To begin with-
'The End'
The surplus Russian space suit is holding up well. I had landed the GS Hope a little hard, but we don't seem to have sprung a leak, and the tanks are holding as well. To be perfectly honest, it's more than I had any right to expect. I've come a quarter of a million miles to duplicate a cold war stunt, try my hand at refueling at the lunar south pole, and to do one other thing…
The plaque is a simple sheet of quarter inch steel welded with a few words, a few names. A few good people who changed the world, changed my world, and who deserved better, deserved long and happy lives. I can honestly say that I've finally done right by them when I place the plaque up here in eternal sunshine.
"Shines the name, no, shines the names," I whispered. I remembered the cameras, still transmitting, and didn't care what the world might think of the crazy private astronaut, but, for the families, I decided to elaborate.
"A few people I worked with discovered a valuable secret, what we called the 'Shipstone' for certain literary reasons- go look it up! It just might save technical civilization, but it got them all killed, murdered by some greedy bast-" I shut the hell up for a minute, breathing raggedly. The pressure read zero and I opened the cabin up to vacuum, stepping out with the plaque and a few tools.
"I can't think of a better way to honor them than this- this is what I can do, what I've always wanted to do! What you can do is whatever the hell you want! Build a hospital maybe, or a library, name it after them. Better yet, rebuild that sorry excuse for a world down there, where people need to measure worth, not wealth!"
I found a likely spot, not blasted by the landing and so, I figured, safe for if and when I left. I made a good job of it, securing the steel plate for... well, a good long time. I read it out loud for the folks at home.
"I dedicate *this* small step to the memory of Carl, Beth, Mannie, and David. They all helped to make my dream possible, and they gave me back hope for tomorrow."
I didn't have anything else to say to the good people, on the good Earth. I just went about my business. The lunar dirt, regolith, whatever, did yield a little water ice, along with ammonia and other volatiles. I managed not to get myself killed, all alone such a long way from home, and I topped off the tanks with enough water to get me somewhere interesting, maybe even there and back again…
*Up ship!*
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