Chapter 625 - 611 Christmas Eve

"If we take these medicines and some patents to establish a pharmaceutical company, seek investors and then go public, we’d definitely make a substantial amount from the stock. Raising a few billion for emergency use should be no problem,"

"It’s a feasible plan."

Confident in the money-making ability of pharmaceuticals and the reliability of system research, Lin Ju looked at the others:

"Any other ideas?"

Guo Shen raised his hand:

"Speaking of stocks, can we get United Mining listed on NASDAQ?

As long as United Mining goes public, the space mining concept stocks are bound to soar. It won’t be hard to make money through a bit of manipulation.

Even if we can’t do that, we should still think of ways to utilize financial power, or the power of investors. There are plenty of rich people in the world."

Having lived in America for over a decade, Guo Shen did have a keen sense of the financial market.

"United Mining cannot go public in America." Ye Changsi shook his head in negation but quickly nodded again:

"Taking rich people’s money is a great idea. This year we’ve almost conducted 16 space tourism missions, earning several billion scatteredly. Still, it’s not enough, and this market can be further explored.

We need to create selling points and tie space as closely to business as possible, rather than desperately leeching from our subsidiaries.

In the future, microchips, new energy vehicles, smart driving, and satellite communications are all major directions that require substantial funds."

"Let’s make contact with the IAU first while the bio labs accelerate their work as much as possible."

Lin Ju settled the matter with a firm stance, his eyes filled with bloodshot tiredness but still burning with intensity:

"Although it may still be a stretch to call us the chosen ones, what we are about to face and do pertains to the whole of human civilization. In the next 96 months, every single day is precious."

...

"This is unprecedented. We bear the mission of the entire human civilization, and the safety of the world is in our hands. Only the great United States can withstand this crisis!"

Four floors underground in the Pentagon, within Office Thirteen, John stood up, fist waving with a sense of tragic determination.

Office Thirteen might sound small, but in reality, it occupied half of the underground level. Nearby was the strategic duty room, and it had become the Federal Government’s most secretive layer.

However, the main body of Office Thirteen was actually in the underground fortress at Cheyenne Mountain, where an even more specialized team was being assembled.

All of this was not alarmism overplayed; the atmosphere at the higher levels of the Pentagon was extremely tense, comparable only to the crisis in 1962.

After several expert groups’ continuous discussions over a number of days, and the brief capture of a signal again on December 23—though not as much as the first time—it thoroughly solidified the judgment regarding the alien signal.

If the media continuously followed up, they would know that most of the Federal Government’s high-level officials had already stopped appearing in public.

Only two or three super-elite owners of major financial syndicates were in the know, and right now, they were here, listening to the report from David Usno and John’s intense rallying cry.

"According to information provided by NACA, we could reach Mars within two to three years at the soonest, but this will require even greater support than we have now: a lot of money, a tremendous amount of money, and full collaboration from several major corporations."

"Money, resources, those are not issues."

"What we should consider is the limits of humanity, not the limits of the Federal Reserve’s accounts."

Two voices emerged from among the four mysterious council members, with the other two apparently agreeing with this stance by default.

For them, these super-elites who had nearly transcended worldly concerns, money was no longer an indicator of wealth.

This attitude greatly relieved John’s heart, as their support also meant the backing of the military-industrial complex and the consent of the vast majority of Congressional members, ensuring future decisions would be implemented effortlessly. In fact, it also served to strengthen his overall authority and public standing.

Of course, his subsequent reelection was certainly included in this, as it was the guarantee for the continuity of policy.

"Then we’ll have to complete the lunar landing mission by early 2020 at the latest. I am applying to be one of the first to land since it involves contact with aliens, there will definitely need to be sociologists and linguists involved. Any accident could lead to unimaginable mistakes, so we must be cautious."

David seized the opportunity to put forward a small request of his own, which was unsurprisingly granted.

"So—"

The current NASA Administrator, Robert, stood up and looked around before solemnly addressing the Star-Spangled Banner on the wall:

"From this moment on, we have entered the interstellar era."

...

The Moon, Kuom Impact Crater.

On the plain outside the northwestern part of the impact crater, the "Origin" lander’s outer surface shone brightly with four searchlights, illuminating the campsite now cluttered with flagpoles, equipment, lunar rovers, and other sundries. Yet what was most striking was the distinct circular mark about 20 meters around the lander.

This was a territory delineation Wiseman had created after several rounds aboard the "Black Mamba," as he stated, "This here is the territory of Artemis III."

Marking territory, of course, was to deny strangers access, and the specific target was obvious.

On the first day, the two moon landing teams had no communication, as Artemis III and Chapter 9 were busy—especially the latter, with only four astronauts working, and the four robots taken to the caves for secrecy.

With a tighter schedule, Wiseman and Victor had gone to rest before Deng Lei, spending the Moon’s Christmas Eve on the upper level of the lander.

They each called their families back on Earth and recorded public holiday greetings before they carefully opened the gift boxes specially prepared by NACA, which contained an apple and a random greeting card from a middle school student’s submission.

Victor read the greeting card closely and then wrote a reply, which he put into an envelope and fixed it in a convenient place, deciding to stuff some Moon soil into it on the way back to send to the lucky kid as bragging rights for years.

Only after all this could he bite into the apple with peace of mind.

"Bless you, Reed."

"Bless you, Victor."

A white man and a black man were squeezed together in the lander’s cabin beside the meteorite crater at the Lunar South Pole, celebrating the holiday together.

But before they could enjoy a moment of peace, Houston sent a communication request to them.

"Hey, Jim, you must’ve forgotten that just an hour ago you wished us a happy holiday, right?"

Victor’s tone did not sound too good, clearly aware that there was more work to be done.

"Uh... sorry, I don’t want to bother you guys, but there’s just a small favor I need from you."

"Wow, Your Excellency, the Deputy Director, your loyal sailors will execute your command perfectly."

Jim ignored Victor’s odd tone and spoke earnestly:

"The communication I’m having with you now is confidential, there’s no record, so please listen carefully:

By the President’s order, you need to add a task to your mission, to investigate any traces of the fifth person on Artemis II, but you mustn’t reveal your purpose and can have limited contact with the Chinese people.

Don’t question it, you are now undertaking a top-secret mission. Victor, Reed, I ask you to swear an oath to me as a soldier."