You were told to build a tractor, but you're building a rocket? Chapter 403 - 394 NX17, Where Are You1

"Thank you."

Lin Ju took the freshly brewed tea but didn’t sit down, instead pacing back and forth.

Seeing this, Big Shot laughed and said, "I’ve never seen you so nervous before. The Storm is in great condition. It’s going to land soon; there’s nothing to worry about."

Not realizing that Lin Ju was waiting for the system settlent and assuming his concern lay with the space shuttle, Big Shot joked, "Last night you had them going round in circles. I didn’t know there was a shallow deposit...well, a depth of a thousand ters isn’t exactly shallow."

Lin Ju replied, "I never lied...every word was true. It’s Landing Site Two, in the Sea of Tranquility. Rember last year when Explorer One found a rock with a 1.5% concentration of rhenium? It’s near there, with high concentrations of iridium, osmium, and neodymium—rich ores that are easy to slt. You absolutely cannot find these on Earth!"

Big Shot asked, "What’s not to say then?"

Lin Ju said, "Initial and maintenance costs, this is a secret, but to speak frankly, it’s not promising. Basing the initial investnt on market prices, it’s going to be a big loss. Optimistically five years, pessimistically ten, New Yuan managing to break even would be a good outco."

"But it’s acceptable for New Yuan. At least we can find a truly sustainable project, then wait for the technology to advance until one day we can develop it on a massive scale to make money, right?"

Lin Ju fell silent for a mont before answering,

"The annual trade volu of the rare earth market is around 200,000 tons of raw ore, and the pure tal content won’t exceed 2,000 tons. If we export a large quantity of refined rare tals, we can absolutely gain a significant market share, and that would be enough."

"Yes, that would be enough. Actually, the higher-ups also value rare earths and have been reducing exports and increasing imports. But this thing...it’s not just about money, it’s about having a say.

You guys could really make a killing too, but it would require so savvy handling."

A mysterious smile suddenly appeared on Big Shot’s face as he uttered two words:

"Futures."

"We still are a major rare earth exporting country. If we cooperate a bit, making money off the capitalists is much faster than selling resources."

...

At 2:45 p.m. on June 3rd, the Storm passed over Kazakhstan, entering the national border from the northwest.

Two escort fighter jets that had been waiting at the border began their relay protection, but the gliding speed of the Storm was extrely high, and it wasn’t until it reached the plains that it descended to an altitude of thirty thousand ters.

At the semi-open airfield designated for the landing and takeoff of nuclear-powered spacecraft, military reporters in full protective gear, along with photographers and ground crew, waited by the runway.

When the space shuttle approached, foam-producing detergent was imdiately sprayed from nozzles on either side of the runway, which kept on operating.

The decontamination vehicles rushed to the side of the Storm the mont it stopped. Ground crewmbers, also in protective gear, first covered the three engine nozzles with radiation shielding using prepared mobile scaffolding and then stepped away to watch nurous decontamination vehicles continuously spray foam onto the spacecraft. The dirty water on the ground was promptly sucked away by two other vehicles, which was then followed by rinsing with pure water.

The staff in the control tower carefully checked the levels of radiation on the air and the spacecraft’s surface: fortunately, even without protective asures, it was below the safety line.

An hour later, the seven bored astronauts in the cabin could finally exit the hatch. This ti, there was no waving or leisurely stroll; everyone was required to quickly enter the NBC (nuclear, biological, chemical) protected off-road vehicle and rapidly move away from Storm.

The radiation removal work on Storm would take seven days. It would only be transported back to the base for maintenance by an An-1250 after it was completely clean. The interval for the crew was not less than three months, and they could not fly more than twice a year.

Even though the radiation levels were lower than those of a nuclear submarine, it was always better to minimize the risks for astronauts.

Hundreds of kiloters away in Capital, Lin Ju heard the prompt in his mind at the mont Hu Dong stepped out of the hatch; the system’s reward arrived as scheduled.

...

Pentagon, Air Force Intelligence Room.

Since the trial flight of the H2 series spacecraft, this had beco the busiest departnt, mobilizing almost all spy satellites to carry out secret surveillance that could not be made public.

Major General Kerry, who commanded this place, had gained significant influence and power. It was said that he would be promoted next year, causing elites from various departnts to seek ways to enter this division.

Anthony was one successful example. He submitted a speculation regarding the purpose of the unknown spacecraft NX-17 three months ago and successfully obtained a budget of two hundred thousand US dollars and the authorization to command reconnaissance satellites.

Although Dr. Freeman of JFT thought that the probability of NX-17 being a secret weapon was less than 10%, Anthony saw it as a good opportunity to make a contribution. He exaggerated the severity and established the Office 17 with himself at the lead to follow up on the case.

Nothing unusual had been discovered about NX-17 in the past month; the minor tests also seed reasonable. However, after this, on New Yuan’s official website, a low-key statent added to an ordinary tweet ntioned that "experintal nature space nuclear reactor" had completed its test mission, exhausted its orbit-changing fuel, and lost nuclear power, indicating that the nuclear facility would be recovered by a spacecraft at an appropriate ti.

Although a large nuclear device falling into the atmosphere would barely affect Earth, New Yuan clearly did not want to create trouble for itself. This announcent was by the book, virtually declaring that Office 17 had co up empty and could be disbanded.

But Anthony always felt there was sothing fishy and continued the operation with the remaining budget for another two months, though it was almost coming to an end.

Still, others envied him as this experience would be a foundation for future promotions, especially in the Air Force Intelligence Room.

Office 17 was not always able to command satellites; in fact, they could only use them when higher-level projects were idle. Therefore, it was four days after New Yuan announced it lost contact that they had ti for observation, and as expected, they found nothing.

This was not surprising, as although NX-17 was substantial, it was essentially nothing in the vast space. A small acceleration could make the orbit irregular and difficult to find.

Now he was almost ready to give up, but then there was a twist.

hours ago, a spy satellite accidentally recorded a set of high-frequency encrypted communication signals. Although Anthony could not decrypt them, he recognized them.

It was too familiar; the unique frequency of NX-17 had been etched deeply into his mory over the past several months. It had attracted the Air Force’s attention initially for its high-frequency encrypted shortwave communications, which is more typically used on secret facilities.

Anthony imdiately applied for additional clearance to conduct reconnaissance and, with the help of astronautics experts, estimated a possible orbital altitude range. If only he could locate NX-17, it would prove that New Yuan was lying, and that there was definitely sothing fishy about NX-17!

The content that could be inferred from that set of signals was minimal. Searching based on these was almost like looking for a needle in the ocean, but Anthony was very confident, practically living in the Pentagon.

NX-17, where are you?