Momentarily surprised, he abruptly understood, saying, “Because the LOX won’t boil in a tank made of Stade, right?” When she nodded, he said, “It seems to me we could use this balloon technology, the same methods you used to build the vacuum chamber, to cast the outer shells of our rockets.”
“You could,” she said. “I can get you the contact info for our Mylar fabricator if you like.”
“I would like that.”
“One problem to consider,” she said. “If you want your balloon to be symmetrical, you’ll want to inflate it with enough helium in the mix to make it neutrally buoyant. That way it won’t rest on the floor and get a flat spot on the bottom.”
He nodded, “Good point… any chance you’re going to come back and work for us?”
She shrugged, “I like working for both companies. Seeing both technologies in action. I do think having me at Staze part-time is helping Space-Gen a lot. But if I had to choose, I’d go full time at Staze.”
He sighed. “I was afraid of that. Are they going to be doing cooler things than launching rockets?”
She nodded and that nod was emphatic. “Some of the things they’ve got in the works are just astonishing.”
“Any chance they need a CTO?”
Lee’s eyes widened at the implications. “Seba’s already got that position… but he might like it if someone took over the administration and let him focus on the technical stuff. Want me to ask him?”
Prakant nodded, “If you can keep it on the down-low?”
“I will. You need to realize that Staze is really small right now. That I and a guy that’s shared with GLI would be your only engineers and that we’re both working on other stuff besides space. Oh, and that they couldn’t afford a big salary for a while. In fact, they aren’t hiring anyone right now. Hiring an admin assistant who also acts as a receptionist was a big deal for them.”
Prakant felt surprised and wondered if this was a good idea. He squared his shoulders. “I think I’d like the challenge. I could even go without a salary for a while if I had to.”
“Hah!” Lee said, “I offered to do that when I started. I’ll ask them for you.”
They said their goodbyes and she left, on her way back to Virginia like Schmidt and the older Seba who’d left earlier that morning.
Prakant wondered if he’d just made a big mistake. You only live once, he decided.
***
Brad was lecturing and had just asked a Socratic question when his phone vibrated on the table next to him. He never answered his phone while teaching, but his eye strayed to the phone.
Seba’s calling! he thought.
His hand snatched up the phone of its own volition. “Dr. Seba?”
There was a little chuckle, then a voice said, “Just Kaem is fine. Certainly not ‘doctor.’ I don’t even have a bachelor’s degree.”
“I desperately want to talk to you, but I’m in the middle of a lecture… can I—”
“I hate it when my professors shortchange me in class. Call me back when you’re done.”
When Brad set the phone back down, he was surprised to see his hand was trembling.
One of his students asked, “Are you okay Dr. Medness?”
Eyes still on his phone, Brad said, “I have a feeling that was the most important call of my life.” He looked up at his class and tried to smile, “I hope you guys appreciate me putting it off for you.”
Typical for students, they didn’t seem at all impressed.
~~~
As soon as the class was over, he called Seba back. To his relief, Seba answered immediately, but he said, “Sorry, now I’ve got to put you on hold. Should be with you in a couple of minutes.”
Better than no answer, Brad thought.
~~~
It was probably three minutes, then there was a click on the line and Seba said, “Dr. Medness?”
Brad couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief. He launched into an explanation of his plasma research and how he hoped Stade’s properties might make significant advances possible. “Um, how expensive would it be to get a fixture stazed? I-I’m trying to figure out whether I can fit it into the budget of my grant.”
Cheerfully, Seba said, “We’re big believers in science so we’ve offered to staze items for the researchers at UVA for free, um, within reason, of course. We could do the same for you. But you’d have to fabricate the molds yourself. Or pay to have someone make them for you.”
“Oh,” Brad said, stunned. “Wow! Thank you. What’s involved in making a mold?”
Seba described it to him, then suggested Brad send his CAD drawings to him before he tried to have them cast, “To avoid errors of misunderstanding.”
***
Giles Turnberry had been listening to Kaem Seba answer questions from the physics faculty for over a half an hour. Many of the questions were phrased doubtfully, expressing their reservations about his theory of time, or of his company’s product Stade, despite the evidence of their own eyes. They often had the tenor of a professor lecturing a student, regardless of the fact that this particular student had made a Nobel Prize-worthy discovery. Stavros had tried to turn the questions toward learning what new physics could be done with Seba’s discovery, but the questions continued to come back to expressions of the faculty’s doubts rather than their curiosity.
Despite the unpleasant undercurrent of the questions, Seba had remained unfailingly polite.
He’d used the e-board to quickly write out equations supporting his theory, working through them to surprising outcomes.
He’d written citations of relevant literature on the board as well, apparently from memory.
He’d handed out enough Stade samples that every faculty member could take several with him.
He’d offered to cast Stades for faculty members for free, providing they
