already knew that, but he let himself look impressed. “I’m surprised that you keep the droplets so small. I always pictured a big ball of red-hot metal hanging in the vacuum chamber.”
The youngster smiled tolerantly and nudged his rimless glasses back up his nose. “It’s a lot easier to handle a bunch of small spherules than one big glob. We can spin them up quicker, make them flatten out into sheets.”
“How do you spin them?” Paul asked.
“Magnetic fields. Dope the molten mix with a little iron and we spin the spherules, flatten them out into sheets, meld them together. It’s straightforward and it doesn’t take all that much energy.”
“So you’re using centrifugal force to produce sheets of alloy.”
The kid nodded and his glasses slid slightly down his nose again. “Then we turn off the heat and let the sheets outgas in vacuum. That drives out all the impurities while the alloy’s hardening.”
“All the impurities?” Paul asked.
The director gave him a lopsided grin. “Enough,” he said. “Come on over here, I’ll show you.”
He pushed off the oven wall with one foot and glided past a trio of workers bent over a piece of equipment that Paul did not recognize. Its access hatch was open and one of the workers—a slim Asian woman—was reaching into its innards while the two men with her muttered in low, exasperated tones. Paul didn’t understand what they were saying, but he knew the tone of voice: something had broken down and they were trying to figure out how to fix it.
“Here’s the final product,” the young director said, coasting to a stop in front of a long workbench. He slid his feet into the restraining loops set into the floor and pulled a thinsheet of metal, about a foot square, from a stack that was tied to the workbench with Velcro straps.
Paul flexed the thin sheet of shining metal in his hands. It bent almost double with ease.
“Higher tensile strength than the best steel alloys made on Earth,” said the director proudly, “yet it weighs less than half of the Earth-manufactured alloys.”
Paul felt impressed. “Detroit’s going to like this,” he said. “With an alloy like this they can make cars that are half the weight of the competition, so their energy efficiency will be double anything else on the road.”
“And the cars will be safer, too,” the youngster said, “because this alloy’s stronger than anything else available.”
“Good,” said Paul, smiling with genuine satisfaction. “Damned good.”
“But there’s a problem.”
Paul’s smile evaporated. “Cost?”
The kid nodded. “When you figure the cost of bringing the raw materials up here to orbit, this alloy costs ten times what groundbased alloys cost.”
Paul looked around the facility. It’s all here, he thought. We’ve got a new industrial base within our grasp. Almost. We can make billions. If …
Turning back to the earnest young director, he said, “Suppose I could provide you with the raw materials at a cost twenty times lower than they cost now?”
The youngster’s eyes widened behind his rimless glasses. “Twenty times cheaper? How?”
“From the Moon.”
The kid looked as if Paul had just offered to put the Tooth Fairy to work for him. “Sure. From the Moon.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know, Mr. Stavenger. Everybody knows you’ve been pushing to set up a mining operation at Moonbase. But that’s
years
away, at best.”
Paul smiled tightly. “It wasn’t all that long ago that people said we were
years
away from zero-gee manufacturing.”
“Well, yeah, maybe. But—”
Stopping him with an upraised hand, Paul said, “Orbital manufacturing doesn’t make economic sense if you have to lift the raw materials from Earth. We both know that. But ifwe can provide the raw materials from the Moon it’ll reduce your costs by a factor of twenty or more.”
The kid made a half-hearted nod. “Okay, so the Moon’s got low gravity and no air and you can
The youngster smiled tolerantly and nudged his rimless glasses back up his nose. “It’s a lot easier to handle a bunch of small spherules than one big glob. We can spin them up quicker, make them flatten out into sheets.”
“How do you spin them?” Paul asked.
“Magnetic fields. Dope the molten mix with a little iron and we spin the spherules, flatten them out into sheets, meld them together. It’s straightforward and it doesn’t take all that much energy.”
“So you’re using centrifugal force to produce sheets of alloy.”
The kid nodded and his glasses slid slightly down his nose again. “Then we turn off the heat and let the sheets outgas in vacuum. That drives out all the impurities while the alloy’s hardening.”
“All the impurities?” Paul asked.
The director gave him a lopsided grin. “Enough,” he said. “Come on over here, I’ll show you.”
He pushed off the oven wall with one foot and glided past a trio of workers bent over a piece of equipment that Paul did not recognize. Its access hatch was open and one of the workers—a slim Asian woman—was reaching into its innards while the two men with her muttered in low, exasperated tones. Paul didn’t understand what they were saying, but he knew the tone of voice: something had broken down and they were trying to figure out how to fix it.
“Here’s the final product,” the young director said, coasting to a stop in front of a long workbench. He slid his feet into the restraining loops set into the floor and pulled a thinsheet of metal, about a foot square, from a stack that was tied to the workbench with Velcro straps.
Paul flexed the thin sheet of shining metal in his hands. It bent almost double with ease.
“Higher tensile strength than the best steel alloys made on Earth,” said the director proudly, “yet it weighs less than half of the Earth-manufactured alloys.”
Paul felt impressed. “Detroit’s going to like this,” he said. “With an alloy like this they can make cars that are half the weight of the competition, so their energy efficiency will be double anything else on the road.”
“And the cars will be safer, too,” the youngster said, “because this alloy’s stronger than anything else available.”
“Good,” said Paul, smiling with genuine satisfaction. “Damned good.”
“But there’s a problem.”
Paul’s smile evaporated. “Cost?”
The kid nodded. “When you figure the cost of bringing the raw materials up here to orbit, this alloy costs ten times what groundbased alloys cost.”
Paul looked around the facility. It’s all here, he thought. We’ve got a new industrial base within our grasp. Almost. We can make billions. If …
Turning back to the earnest young director, he said, “Suppose I could provide you with the raw materials at a cost twenty times lower than they cost now?”
The youngster’s eyes widened behind his rimless glasses. “Twenty times cheaper? How?”
“From the Moon.”
The kid looked as if Paul had just offered to put the Tooth Fairy to work for him. “Sure. From the Moon.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know, Mr. Stavenger. Everybody knows you’ve been pushing to set up a mining operation at Moonbase. But that’s
years
away, at best.”
Paul smiled tightly. “It wasn’t all that long ago that people said we were
years
away from zero-gee manufacturing.”
“Well, yeah, maybe. But—”
Stopping him with an upraised hand, Paul said, “Orbital manufacturing doesn’t make economic sense if you have to lift the raw materials from Earth. We both know that. But ifwe can provide the raw materials from the Moon it’ll reduce your costs by a factor of twenty or more.”
The kid made a half-hearted nod. “Okay, so the Moon’s got low gravity and no air and you can
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