Chapter 220: Contingency

Dojin Frontier Headquarters, Strategic Planning Division

The revised plan for the ‘Luna Link’ project was displayed on the large monitor.

I stood in the center of the conference room, holding a laser pointer.

“As you all know, the Luna Link project will not be a solo endeavor but will proceed as an international joint development project.”

Flags and logos of various countries appeared one after another on the first slide.

ESA (European Space Agency), ISRO (Indian Space Research Organisation), ISA (Israel Space Agency), and VSA (Vietnam Space Agency).

Kim Se-bin tilted his head in confusion.

“Is there a reason for including Vietnam? In terms of influence, Japan or the UAE seems bigger…”

I smiled at Kim Se-bin’s words.

“VSA may not have international influence yet, but they control the Southeast Asian communication and data hubs. Especially, they can open up their entire undersea cable and ground station network to us.”

This would not only speed up the communication network construction but also expand the launch vehicle’s orbital coverage.

As I moved to the next slide, the equity allocation for each country appeared.

[Luna Link Equity Status]

• Dojin Frontier: 30%
• ESA (European Space Agency): 5%
• ISRO (Indian Space Research Organisation): 5%
• ISA (Israel Space Agency): 5%
• VSA (Vietnam Space Agency): 5%

“Even if you add up all the shares listed here, it’s only about 50%. How will you fill the remaining half?”

“Is it true that the MTCR told us not to take more than 30% of the shares?”

Park Cheol-jin and Seong-hwan bombarded me with questions.

“It was a necessary measure, not just from the MTCR but also to get approval from the U.S. government.”

If I had said we would take more than 30% of the shares…

The MTCR would never have approved it as quickly as they did.

I moved to the next slide, and a large circular chart appeared on the screen.

The chart was densely packed with the logos of numerous companies.

“Are you planning to receive equity investments from these companies?”

I laughed and shook my head at Seong-hwan’s question.

“Not all of them, just the key component companies first. We’ll receive equity participation through direct investment from companies specializing in high-precision thrust control valves, satellite semiconductors, low-orbit communication modules, and high-reliability batteries.”

I pointed to the first section of the chart with the laser pointer.

The chart was filled with logos that seemed familiar yet carried weight in the military and aerospace industries.

[Key Component Company Investment Allocation: Total 30%]

• AeroValve Dynamics (UK): 2% · Thrust Control Valves
• NovaCircuits GmbH (Germany): 1.5% · Semiconductors for Satellites and Aerospace
• Tetsuyo Microsystems (Japan): 1.5% · Satellite Navigation Modules
• OrionSat Comms (France): 2% · Low-Orbit Communication Modules
• CryoFuel Industries (Norway): 1% · Cryogenic Propellant Pumps
• Magnus Propulsion Ltd. (Australia): 1.5% · High-Power Thrusters
• …….

“Altogether, 30%. Although the share per company is small, more than half of the world’s core technologies will be included in this investment pool.”

“Is there a possibility these companies will refuse?”

Kim Se-bin answered Park Cheol-jin’s question.

“There’s no reason for them to refuse. Since Dojin Frontier has already proven its value, we’re receiving equity investments, and there are even more inquiries asking if we can increase their shares.”

“But I don’t see any American companies. Did you intentionally leave them out?”

At Seong-hwan’s question, I moved the laser pointer to another area of the chart.

“We can’t leave out American companies in a project like this.”

With the U.S. government watching me like a hawk, how could I leave out American companies?

“American companies are more involved in…”

I looked around before continuing.

“…support infrastructure, data, and platforms. It’s more advantageous to assign them areas that are less likely to be directly militarized and face scrutiny from the MTCR and ITAR.”

I flipped through the materials to reveal the details.

[Project Support Company Investment Allocation: 20%]

• Atlas Cloudworks Inc. (USA): 3% · Satellite Data Cloud Analysis
• Global Maritime Networks (USA): 2.5% · Undersea Cables and Maritime Relay Platforms
• SkyHarbor Logistics (USA): 2% · Launch Vehicle Transportation and Ground Station Construction Logistics
• EuroNav GIS Consortium (EU): 2% · GNSS Correction and Satellite Navigation Data
• Aerospace Integration (Israel): 2% · …….

Park Cheol-jin scanned the list and said,

“American companies and institutions hold about 10% of the shares, with the EU, Israel, and Asian countries making up the rest.”

On the surface, it appeared to be a structure with multinational capital evenly distributed.

Kim Se-bin, who had been observing, expressed concern.

“While equity participation and collaboration with key component companies and infrastructure and data platform institutions are certainly not a bad approach…”

Kim Se-bin believed that this kind of collaboration could resolve monopolies on technology and components, serve as a political shield from entities like the MTCR and ITAR, and definitely create synergy in data and infrastructure.

But…

“In case of any unforeseen circumstances in the future, defending management rights might be difficult.”

“What specific unforeseen circumstances are you referring to?”

Kim Se-bin took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering.

“First, the alliance of external forces. In the current structure, we hold 30% of the shares, while the remaining 70% is scattered among various space agencies, component companies, and platform companies. If their political interests align, they could consolidate their votes and seize management control.”

I displayed a simple equity structure simulation on the monitor.

On the screen, the logos of ESA, ISRO, three American companies, and some European component companies merged, resulting in a figure of 31%.

“Even this much could neutralize our voting rights.”

Kim Se-bin continued, counting on his fingers.

“Second, there’s the risk of a chain reaction in voting rights due to political pressure. Especially if the U.S. and Europe are on the same side, it’s highly likely that the smaller shareholders will follow suit.”

Park Cheol-jin added,

“Third, there’s the interruption of key component supplies. While the multinational structure seems stable now, if a specific component company decides to delay supply, the entire launch schedule could collapse. It would also be difficult to prove whether it was intentional or not.”

Seong-hwan crossed his arms and spoke in a low voice.

“Fourth, there’s also the risk of technology leakage. Even if we disclose parts of the ECR or closed-loop structure, if each partner takes what they learn in their domain, in a few years, we could see competing launch vehicles and satellite networks. ESA or ISRO could create something similar within five years.”

I smiled at the three of them.

“In summary, it’s about components and shares. Oh, and don’t worry about the technology leakage risk. I’ve excluded that.”

While I did disclose some aspects of the ECR (Enhanced Catalytic Reformer) technology, I didn’t reveal everything.

“Only we know the core reactor structure and catalyst arrangement algorithm.”

I moved the mouse to display some of the publicly available ECR diagrams.

There were intentionally omitted circuits and pipe routes.

“It may look like a complete blueprint, but 17 core parameters are missing. Without these figures, it won’t be easy for other countries to replicate it.”

Of course, it’s not impossible, but it won’t be something they can easily replicate within two to three years.

Kim Se-bin nodded.

“Only the outer parts of the technology have been disclosed, and the real core remains undisclosed. There’s no need to worry.”

“And regarding the component supply issue…”

I moved to the next slide, displaying the ‘Multi-Supply Chain Network’ diagram.

Beneath AeroValve Dynamics (UK) were Magnus Propulsion (Australia) and the Argentine startup VentorTech, listed side by side.

“Each key component company has contracted to share reverse-engineering rights with at least two backup suppliers. Even if one stops, the others can produce identical specification components within 60 days.”

Park Cheol-jin, who had raised the issue, exclaimed,

“With this setup, even under political pressure, the supply chain won’t be disrupted.”

“But… not all companies agreed to reverse-engineering, right?”

At Seong-hwan’s sharp observation, everyone’s eyes turned to me.

I nodded in agreement.

“To allow reverse-engineering, companies would have to disclose their own technologies, and not all companies would willingly do that.”

I moved the cursor to the ‘Non-Cooperating Component Companies’ section at the bottom of the diagram.

There were dozens of logos framed in red.

“NovaCircuits, Tetsuyo Microsystems, OrionSat Comms… these are the companies that firmly stated they would not share their core technologies.”

Park Cheol-jin immediately asked,

“So, we’re proceeding with this line despite the supply interruption risk. Do we have a plan?”

“There is no plan… So, we’re moving forward with the project as is.”

“What?”

“These companies have also actively expressed their willingness to participate in the ‘Luna Link’ project with us, so it’s unlikely that the situation you’re imagining will occur.”

“But still, in case of any unforeseen circumstances…”

“Let’s stop here for this matter.”

Seeing my reluctance to discuss it further,

no one dared to bring up the issue again, and the meeting ended.

…

…

“There’s no way you don’t have a plan, hyung. Was it something too sensitive to discuss in the meeting?”

After the meeting,

Seong-hwan, who had come to my office, asked, and I smiled.

I took a document from my desk drawer and tossed it to Park Cheol-jin, who had come with Seong-hwan.

“What… is this?”

“It outlines the measures regarding the concerns you raised and the alliance of external forces. Read it.”