If the space elevator was humanity's ladder to the stars, the orbital processing station was the anvil on which Alex Price intended to hammer the future into shape.
From Earth, it looked like a speck of light drifting across the night sky, easily mistaken for a satellite. Up close, however, it was an engineering marvel:
Dimensions: Nearly 6 kilometers in diameter, a rotating ring with stabilizing arms extending outward like the spokes of a wheel.
Gravity: The inner ring rotated at just enough speed to provide artificial gravity at 0.4g light enough for efficiency, strong enough for human crews.
Power: Twin fusion cores provided the baseline, supplemented by massive solar wings stretching nearly 12 kilometers end-to-end, gleaming like blades in the sunlight.
Capabilities: Smelting bays, zero-gravity forges, nanite assembly lines, docking spires for cargo haulers, and even a prototype arc reactor integration system Stark's reluctant but crucial contribution.
Defenses: Orbital laser arrays and drone interceptors. Alex didn't just build infrastructure he built fortresses.
Tony floated inside the rotating ring in a mag-lock harness, arms crossed, staring at one of the smelters. "Okay, I'll admit it. This is insane. Beautifully insane, but still insane. You've basically made a factory in space that can chew up asteroids and spit out warships."
Alex tapped on a holographic control panel, data streams reflecting off his glasses. "Not warships. Platforms. Civilian, industrial, exploration…" He smirked. "And maybe a few things DARPA would lose their minds over."
Vision hovered nearby, gazing out the viewport at Earth below. "From this altitude, one can truly appreciate humanity's fragility. A thin line of atmosphere, shielding billions of lives. And yet here you stand, attempting to build a shield stronger than nature itself."
Tony smirked. "Don't get too poetic, Tin Man. Alex here doesn't do poetry. He does balance sheets and weapons platforms."
Alex gave him a look. "And you don't?"
Tony pointed at him with mock indignation. "Hey, I'm an artist. I make flying suits that look good. You're making orbital mining lasers and nanite swarms. There's a difference."
"Semantics," Alex replied flatly.
The side experiments were already underway.
Deep inside one of the sealed labs, Alex had authorized three research streams Stark wasn't yet cleared to fully see:
Nanite Self-Replication Limits – controlled swarms tested for self-repair of orbital hull plating.
Graviton Containment – experiments on localized artificial gravity fields, a possible breakthrough for deep-space propulsion.
Quantum Transmission Relays – the beginnings of instantaneous communication, using entangled particles to bypass signal lag.
Tony, however, was busy tuning the mining laser arrays—vast banks of Stark-optimized emitters that could vaporize asteroid rock and funnel the plasma into magnetic fields for refining.
He adjusted a holographic projection, frowning. "Your beam coherence is off by 0.07 percent. At that scale, you're going to melt half the station's collectors every time you fire."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "And your solution?"
Tony grinned, flicked his wrist, and the hologram reconfigured. "Stark resonance calibration. Patent pending. Cuts scatter in half, doubles your efficiency. You're welcome."
Alex studied the adjustment, then gave the faintest nod. "Acceptable."
"'Acceptable'? That's it? Not even a 'thank you, Tony, for saving my six-billion-dollar orbital toy from spontaneous combustion'?"
Alex didn't look up. "I'll consider it when the laser doesn't explode."
Vision, ever unhelpful in these exchanges, added calmly: "The probability of catastrophic failure has dropped from 14 percent to 0.3 percent. Anthony deserves recognition."
Tony pointed at Vision. "Thank you. Finally, someone appreciates my genius."
Alex muttered, deadpan: "Your ego doesn't need appreciation. It needs containment."
Finally, the first live test of the space elevator began.
On the ocean anchor far below, a cargo platform loaded with refined titanium and industrial nanite packs locked into the tether's climber system. The platform's engines hummed as magnetic clamps engaged, pulling the payload upward.
Slowly, impossibly slowly, the massive cargo began to rise, climbing the ribbon of carbon-nanotube tether toward orbit. The process was silent, but on the monitors, Earth's curvature fell away beneath the rising cargo.
Tony watched the feed with wide eyes. "That's… nuts. We're basically sending a freight train into space. No rockets, no re-entry, no billions burned in fuel. Just an elevator ride."
Alex's eyes never left the data. "Cost per kilogram: reduced by ninety-five percent. This isn't an elevator. It's a revolution."
The platform climbed higher and higher. Five hours later, the payload locked into the orbital station's docking array with a satisfying thud.
The workers on the station cheered. On Earth, live feeds lit up every screen on the planet. The news spread like wildfire: the first space cargo delivered without rockets.
Tony let out a low whistle. "Well, congratulations, Price. You just made NASA obsolete, SpaceX irrelevant, and every government on Earth paranoid as hell."
Alex folded his arms, staring out at the Earth below. "Good. Let them be paranoid. Fear drives progress."
Vision, gazing down at the blue planet, said softly, "Or destruction."
Tony sighed, shaking his head. "Great. I'm stuck between a philosopher toaster and a Bond villain with nanites. How did this become my life?"
Alex smirked. "You volunteered."
Tony groaned. "Worst decision I ever made."
But even as he complained, he couldn't hide the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Together, they had done it. Humanity had climbed its first ladder to the stars.
And the world below would never be the same.