"The directors feel that it is worth it to have a station between the Earth and the moon, to handle expected lunar and interplanetary traffic and to serve as an emergency resource. They feel that ion engines give us the power to maintain position economically."
Of course, the announcement set off worldwide discussion and argument. Many felt that Eros should be put in a closer Earth orbit, until they learned that a new moon the size of Eros could affect the Earth's orbit and rotation. Others wanted to put it at L-4 or L-5, as the beginning of a space colony. Still others felt it should be placed into a lunar orbit. Discussions were loud, vehement, and prolonged, even though the decision had already been made.
A week later, just as the excitement over the placement of Eros was beginning to subside, Dolf dropped the other bombshell.
"The directors of Man's Hope International and Space International today announced the signing of a contract for a joint venture to exploit Eros.
"It was announced that Man's Hope International will be responsible for all space operations, to include orbital computations, computer services, and traffic control functions of the space station.
"Space International will be responsible for all commercial operations aboard Eros. This will include provision of supplies and services for visiting spacecraft and mining of Eros for minerals, and the remains of Carter IV for oxygen, hydrogen, and water. They will also manage development of Eros as a space station and possible future transient accommodation. For their efforts, they will receive a percentage of the revenue generated."
The reaction among the media was close to hysteria. Frank was being attacked viciously and constantly, and Susan reported that the tone was becoming steadily more hostile, despite the active work of his lawyers and public relations people. Susan was beginning to fear for his safety.
***
"Hey, Charlie," Frank said. "What the hell are you doing in Cambodia? Are you still playing in the dirt?"
"Damn it, Weatherly, I keep telling you that running one of the largest mining firms in the world is not 'playing in the dirt'!" Charlie Reynolds' voice was attenuated on the cell phone he was apparently using. "And I'm in Cambodia looking for minerals, of course. Are you still throwing money away into space?"
Frank grinned into the receiver. Until last year, he'd held a large number of shares in Charlie's company. "Nope," he replied, "Now I'm beginning to get a lot of it back. I need some help, Charlie."
"Yeah?" Charlie said. "Last I heard, you were dumping your shares. Why the hell should I help you?"
"Money, of course," Frank replied. "That's the only reason you do anything. And I've begun buying those shares back. How would you like to get in on the ground floor of the biggest thing to hit mining since dynamite?"
"What the hell . . . Wait. You're talking about the asteroid, aren't you?"
"Yep," Frank replied. "We expect it to contain millions of tons of minerals. Space International holds the mining rights, but we need a subcontractor to handle the actual work."
Charlie's voice became excited. "Damned right we're interested. I'll hop a plane ASAP. Let's see, it's Tuesday in Brazil, right? Well, it's Wednesday here. I'll be in Brasilia sometime tomorrow. Your tomorrow. Damn it, I'll be there Wednesday sometime. This International date line is a pain!"
"Calm down, Charlie. I'm actually at Alcântara right now, but I need to run over to Brasilia anyway. I'll meet you at the SpaceInt headquarters. Let me know your arrival time, and I'll have a car pick you up. I should warn you, though; I've already had feelers from United Metals."
"You bastard! You wouldn't!"
Frank's grin widened. "Of course I would, Charlie. You know me. So you'd better spend your time on the plane figuring out what you can offer."
"All right, all right," Charlie replied in a grudging tone. "Bastard!"
"No, no, Charlie," Frank protested. "You keep getting it backwards. You're the bastard. I'm the sonovabitch."
The smile was back in Charlie's tone. "Yeah, you're right. I keep forgetting which is which. See you tomorrow."
***
Susan had watched with growing apprehension as the attacks on Frank became more frequent and more vicious. Finally, she decided she could wait no longer, and called Fred, Frank's lead attorney.
Fred knew Susan, of course. She'd been Frank's secretary for many years, and their romantic relationship was now public knowledge. So he took her call immediately.
"Fred, I'm worried about Frank," she began. "He's so wrapped up in preparations for the asteroid's arrival that he's not seeing what's going on. Oh, he doesn't have to worry about being arrested this time; but that's part of the problem. People are starting to listen to this Sheik Ibn Masood, the UN representative from Yemen. I'm afraid Frank's going to wake up one morning and find they've stolen the asteroid out from under him!"
"I've been wondering why Frank didn't step on that bug," Fred replied. "You think it's because Frank isn't taking him seriously?"
"Exactly," Susan said. "He thinks Masood is just some loudmouth trying to divert attention from the misery in his own country."
Fred assured her he would talk to Frank.
"Frank, you damned fool," came Fred's voice. "Were you born stupid, or did you have to study?"
Frank was not amused. "What the hell are you talking about, Fred? I'm busy."
"You're always busy. Well, don't forget to plan the ceremonies. The ones where you turn over the keys to the asteroid to the goddam UN!"
"Oh, hell," Frank replied. "You've been talking to Susan. She's all excited about some third-world jerk who's making a lot of noise in the UN."
"For your information," Fred said, "That third-world jerk has a U.S. Ivy League education, and is a past master at guilting the first-worlders into giving him things. Right now, they're about to give him control of space. And You're sitting on your ass letting it happen."
Frank's tone turned to concern. "You really think it's something to worry about, Fred?"
"You have an asteroid, and right now, half the world thinks you're a gangster who must've stolen it somehow. Yesterday, Masood introduced a UN resolution to the General Assembly, stating that all celestial bodies in the solar system should be administered by the UN for the benefit of the people of the world. By the time the asteroid arrives, you'll be able to just turn it over to a UN Administrator. Happy day."
"Shit!" Frank swore, "We can't let that happen! It'll be the death of space development. Nobody's going to spend billions to go into space if they have to turn everything over to the UN!"
"Susan's been trying to tell you that for months, you idiot. Now, dig out your kneepads and go beg her forgiveness, and then get your ass in gear!"
Frank's first move, after apologizing to Susan, was to get his public relations firm to get him scheduled on talk shows. This was no problem; Frank was still such a popular whipping boy that the networks were lining up to book him.
The first put him opposite a U.S. Senator, who had been making a career out of hinting at Frank's great misbehaviors. Senator John Campbell was a large man with carefully-coiffed white hair and a resonant voice that gave him an air of depth. He was a career politician, a pragmatist who was capable of supporting both sides of an argument, if it was politically expedient.
"Tell me, Senator," the host asked, "you support the UN resolution on space, don't you?"
"I certainly do, Ted," the Senator replied. "Celestial bodies should belong to all the people of the Earth, not just those wealthy enough to go get one, or cunning enough to trick the people into paying for his adventure!"