A complex and massive plan had finally revealed its tip, and the entire base was thrilled to be part of it.
This aerospace initiative was different from the "Agricultural Transformation Project" of a few weeks ago. It was more complex, grander, and far more magnificent. It was the ultimate product of humanity's struggle against extinction, a project with the highest difficulty rating in human history.
Technically speaking, the agricultural project hadn't been difficult; it was just a matter of labor and logistics.
But Project Orion was different. The workload was exponential, and the technical hurdles were theoretical nightmares. Controlled fusion propulsion, plasma dynamics, hull stress analysis, it sounded exciting, but the devil was in the details, and the scientists had to exorcise those devils one by one.
The Federation had never released the classified blueprints for the original 1958 Project Orion. Everything had to be designed from scratch. But this blank slate didn't hinder the ambition of the scientific corps in the slightest.
However, ambition is not engineering. The path had to be walked one step at a time. There were no shortcuts in physics.
Science is rigorous. It cannot be rushed, forced, or bent to the will of a politician.
Jason found himself unable to get a word in edgewise during the council meetings. Humanity's top minds had their own code of conduct, and they showed zero deference to the provisional government leader.
In fact, the scientists looked at Jason like a fat lamb waiting to be slaughtered, mostly because they saw him as a walking dispenser of energy quotas and resource allocations.
"Gentlemen, without the original blueprints, will we have enough time?" Jason finally managed to interject during a heated debate.
"Captain Jason, it is the twenty-first century. Do we really need to rely on vacuum-tube technology from seventy years ago?"
Felix, the Chief Physicist, retorted bluntly. "We have supercomputers. We have thirty thousand of the best minds Earth ever produced. Over forty of us are Nobel Laureates. Thirty are Fields Medalists... Do you really think we would gamble with our own lives?"
He roared the last part, looking as if his professional integrity had been insulted.
"I believe you, I believe you... as you were!" Jason retreated, thoroughly scolded. He realized he was out of his depth and moved to another discussion group.
This was the Engineering Construction team. Two men were shouting at each other, the air thick with technical jargon.
"Your circuit topology is garbage! If we expand the scale later, the load balancing will fail!" a middle-aged man with graying temples screamed, his face flushed with anger.
"What do you know, old man? This is the latest compact architecture, based on Dr. Doran's unified field papers!" the young engineer shouted back, possessing the fearlessness of a newborn calf.
"No! I absolutely veto this schematic!"
The old and the young argued incessantly. But the moment they saw Jason approaching, they stopped dead. They turned to him, their eyes lighting up like hungry wolves spotting a fresh steak.
"Lieutenant Jason! Have you approved our electricity quota yet? Without steel, without cement, how do we build the containment housing?"
"Exactly! And the cabling issue. We need to increase the requisition. Without five thousand tons of superconducting wire, the ship won't power up!"
The two enemies instantly formed a united front, physically blocking Jason's path to prevent his escape.
"Ah, well, you know, energy quotas need to be centrally planned..." Jason mumbled a non-committal answer and pulled a tactical retreat, turning around and walking away briskly.
*You can block the path, but I can still turn around.*
Some scientists were polite, but most were ruthless. They didn't care about rank; without resources, they couldn't build, and if they couldn't build, everyone died. Jason couldn't get angry at them. Their aggression was a sign that they were fighting for survival.
The preliminary outline for the grand aerospace plan took a full week to draft, even under extreme pressure. Some scientists stayed awake for three days straight, collapsing from exhaustion the moment the meetings adjourned.
---
A few days later, Jason sat in his office, rubbing his aching head.
Strange proposals were piling up in his inbox like a blizzard.
The mandate for the aerospace plan was "Fast, Hard, and Precise."
Fast because the orbit was decaying.
Hard, because they needed brute force power.
Precise, because in space, a decimal point error meant death.
The resulting design proposals possessed a peculiar, brutalist aesthetic. They were simple, violent, and terrifying.
Jason opened the first file: "Preliminary Concept for Thermonuclear Excavation."
It was a proposal to accelerate mining operations by bombing the lunar crust with hydrogen bombs. And it wasn't a joke, it was a fully fleshed-out plan with radiation shielding schematics and yield calculations. It was terrifyingly credible.
Jason didn't know what to say. He clicked the next document.
"Gigaton-Yield Fusion Warhead Design Blueprint."
His eyes widened.
They had developed this already? Did these physicists just walk around with doomsday weapon designs in their heads?
The next proposal was even crazier: "Teraton-Yield Antimatter-Catalyzed Fusion Research Plan."
Jason broke out in a cold sweat.
A "Teraton."
For context, the "Tsar Bomba"—the largest weapon ever detonated on Earth—was 50 megatons (0.05 gigatons). Rumors said the Soviets had a 100-megaton design.
These scientists were proposing weapons with yields in the billions of tons of TNT.
Jason finally understood why the Federation had kept the scientists on a short leash. If these people went unchecked, they could accidentally crack the planet in half during a lunch break.
He scrolled further down. The list was a fever dream of mad science.
[Laser-Ignited Inertial Confinement Fusion]
[Macro-Scale Biosphere Engineering]
[High-Efficiency UDMH Synthesis]
[Titanium-Aluminum Alloy Stress Testing]
[Automated Spider Drone Swarm Logic]
There was even a proposal titled "Powered Exoskeleton Armor" that looked suspiciously like a comic book design.
Was this sent by an intern?
Jason sighed. He was overwhelmed. Whether it was physics, chemistry, or engineering, his knowledge base was inadequate.
Each proposal was tens of thousands of words long. If it were a novel, he could skim it in minutes. But these were technical documents. He would stare at a paragraph for twenty minutes, cross-reference his physics textbooks, and still not understand it.
What was he supposed to do? Sit here all day reading jargon?
The scientists only sent these to him for one reason: they wanted his stamp of approval for energy and resources. But how could he approve what he didn't understand?
Fortunately, he had Lily.
The workaholic assistant sat across from him, typing furiously. She worked sixteen hours a day, digesting these complex proposals and summarizing them into one-page executive briefs that Jason could actually understand.
But he couldn't rely entirely on Lily. He was the leader. He needed to upgrade his own software.
Jason decided it was time to hit the books.