You’re young, Jerzy. You have no idea how uncertain space exploration was before the first HX discovery. We were using boost-and-coast rocket technology back then. A trip to Pluto took years, not weeks, and the Belt was a lonely place inhabited by a truly strange breed of human. I know; I was one of them.
Elias Jonas, for instance, had been not only phenomenally lucky, he was delusional. Before he struck it rich back in the 22nd century, it was a toss-up between letting him loose to become a Belter and locking him up in an asylum on Earth. But … we live in a prosperous society, and his folks chose to finance his wild ideas … and he indeed got lucky. The fourth asteroid he explored was not only the valuable nickel-iron type that everyone predicted it would be, it had thick veins of gold in it, too … solid, precious gold. That was a surprise, and gold has such a hold on people’s imaginations that finding it not only got all of Earth interested in Belt prospecting, but Jonas became the world’s richest man for a while—some from the gold itself, but much more through investing what he made from public appearances and endorsements.
A generation later, Bull Bomorov had been lucky enough at his prospecting that he could pay for his own chance at being once-in-a-lifetime lucky, which he was … lucky, that is, both ways: He had the good luck to find the first Sol HX fragment—what he called the Honeycomb Comet—and the bad luck to die on his second voyage exploring it.
We were able to find and exploit the Altair Sphere because of what we gained from the Sol fragments. Never forget that! Humankind gains when we risk. We lose, too, but we only gain big when we risk big.
We found our Sphere by detecting propulsion systems. We knew there was life in that empty spot in space before we knew there was anything HX there. We deduced that the reason for life in that one spot between the stars might be the existence of an HX fragment, and we also deduced that if so, it would be a whole lot richer than the Sol Fragments, just because there was still life around it. After that, it was a contest between altruism and greed as to who would control our first flight there. And just as it was after Columbus discovered America, both played their part.
Aniston Jonas got Number One ship, mostly by playing his name to the hilt. They even let him put that name on it! His cohort in crime, Nasir Czernak, was one hell of a politician, not one hell of a ship’s captain, but that was what got him Number Two, the Edgar Rice Burroughs.
Even before they left, there was muttering and grumbling among the crew. Czernak made hasty choices and about half of them were bad. Henry Osmore was made Czernak’s XO to balance him, because he was a real ship captain. In fact, Osmore was the captain’s captain: Smart, tough and no-nonsense, but people forget that. They’re distracted by the horror of the near-mutiny.
But I’m back here in the System, talking to you, because of what Osmore did, not because of what Jonas did. Jonas was a cowboy. You wouldn’t be talking to me, or Jonas, if Osmore hadn’t done his part.
And that’s why I’m willing to talk to you now: Because Osmore needs a break. If you don’t understand that, we can discontinue this conversation, right now!
And speaking of breaks, it’s lunch time for me, then nap time. Why don’t you come back tomorrow, Jerzy?
It wasn’t a suggestion. I waved my computer in its Stop-Record pattern, thanked him, and left. When I returned the next day, like any older human he repeated himself some, but I promise you, I didn’t interrupt. When your subject comes at the same facts from different angles, that’s a plus for a journalogger.
I didn’t tell him when he explained science I already knew, either. That was only polite.