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Any three-space effects would be due to some unfocus on the fringe, and
doubtless take the energy form of gravitational waves.
Artificial gravity is a five-space/three-space interface phenomenon, as is
your military gravitic imploder lance."
D Emorie twitched slightly, but trying to keep a five-space physicist from
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knowing about the principles of the imploder lance was an exercise in futility
right up there with trying to keep weather secret from a farmer. The best the
military could hope for was to keep the engineering details under wraps for a
time.
"Could it be, I don t know... that we re looking at half the weapon?"
Riva shrugged, but looked interested rather than scornful, so Miles hoped it
wasn t a stupid question. "Have you determined if it is meant to be a weapon
at all?" she said.
"We ve got some very dead people to account for," Miles pointed out.
"That, alas, does not necessarily require a weapon." Professor Vorthys sighed.
"Carelessness, stupidity, haste, and ignorance are quite as powerfully
destructive of forces as homicidal intent. Though I must confess a special
distaste for intent. It seems so unnecessarily redundant. It s...
anti
-engineering."
Dr. Riva smiled.
"Now," said Vorthys, "what I want to know is what happens if you aim this
device a wormhole, or, possibly, activate it at while jumping through a
wormhole. One would in that case also have to take into account effects due to
the Necklin field it was traveling inside."
"Hmm..." said Riva. She and the sandy-haired youth went into close
math-gibberish-mode, punctuated by some reprogramming of the simulation
console. The first colorful display was rejected by them both with the
muttered comment, "
That s not right...."A couple more went by. Riva sat back at last, and ran her
hands through her short curls. "Any chance of taking this home to sleep on
overnight?"
"Ah," said Lord Auditor Vorthys. "I m afraid I was unclear to you over the
comconsole last night. This is something in the nature of a crash program,
here. We have reason to suspect time could be of the essence. We re all here
for the duration, till we figure this out. No data leave this building."
"What, no dinner at the Top of the Dome in Serifosa?" said Yuell, sounding
disappointed.
"Not tonight," Vorthys apologized. "Unless someone gets really inspired. Food
and bedding will be supplied by the Emperor."
Riva glanced around the room, and by implication the facility. "Is this going
to be the ImpSec Budget Hostel again? Bedrolls and ready-meals?"
The Professor smiled wryly. "I m afraid so."
"I should have remembered that part from the last time.... Well, it s
motivation of a sort, I suppose. Yuell, that s enough of this comconsole for
now. Something s not right. I need to pace."
"The corridor is at your disposal," Professor Vorthys told her cordially. "Did
you bring your walking shoes?"
"Certainly. I did remember that from our last date." She stuck out her legs,
displaying comfortable thick-soled shoes, and rose to go off to the hallway.
She began walking rapidly up and down, murmuring to herself from time to time.
"Riva claims to think better while walking," Vorthys explained to Miles. "Her
theory is that it pumps the blood up to her brain.
My theory is that since no one can keep up with her, it cuts down on the
distracting interruptions."
A kindred spirit, by God
. "Can I watch?"
"Yes, but please don t talk to her. Unless she talks to you, of course."
Both Vorthys and Yuell returned to fooling with their comconsoles. The
Professor appeared to be trying to refine his hypothetical design for the
missing power-supply system for the novel device. Miles wasn t sure but what
Yuell was playing some sort of mathematical vid game. Miles leaned back in his
station chair, stared out the window, and addressed his imagination to the
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question, If I were a Komarran conspirator with ImpSec on my tail and a novel
device the size of a couple of elephants, where would I hide it?
Not in his luggage, for damn sure. He scratched out ideas on a flimsy, and
drew rejecting lines through most of them. D Emorie studied the Professor s
work and reran some of the earlier simulations.
After about three-quarters of an hour, Miles became aware that the echo of
soft rapid footsteps from the corridor had ceased.
He rose, and went and poked his head out the door. Dr. Riva was seated on a
window ledge at the end of the corridor, gazing pensively out over the
Komarran landscape. It fell away toward the stream, here, and was much less
bleak than the usual scene, being liberally colonized by Earth green. Miles
ventured to approach her.
She looked up at him with her quick smile as he neared, which he returned. He
hitched his hip over the low ledge, and followed her gaze out the sealed
window, then turned to study her profile. "So," he said at last. "What are you
thinking?"
Her lips twisted wryly. "I m thinking... that I don t believe in perpetual
motion."
"Ah." Well, if it had been easy, or even just moderately difficult, the
Professor would not have called for reinforcements, Miles reflected. "Hm."
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