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The elevator
carrying Major Mack Jastremski glided to a stop on the third floor of
the Physics research center, Stanford University, and opened onto a sterile
looking corridor running straight away from the elevator door. The light tan floor tiles seemed to glow with
a no nonsense later day man‑of‑science attitude bathed by
the uniform radiance from overhead florescent lights. Jastremski strode down the hallway checking office numbers to find
the office of Dr. Elliot Lefevre,
noted physicist, and organizational head of the Gravitational Wave Research
Center 2,000 miles away in West Virginia.
Major Jastremski
was a tall, slender man with big hips.
He wore his medium brown hair in a short military style and walked
as if he were always on the drill field, measured exacting strides. He had been an Air Force officer for sixteen
years. He had enlisted after high
school, and was offered the opportunity to attend OCS shortly after his
first year of duty. However, he
was not now or had he ever been a pilot, and he was resigned to the fact
that without his wings he would never advance much beyond is present rank. He was recruited and joined Air Force Intelligence
in the late eighties. His first
assignment was in Analysis and since then had moved into increasingly
visible roles due to his insightful recommendations during the Persian
Gulf War. He was presently the
Liaison officer between the Air Force and the Gravitational Wave Research
Center, which included Dr. Lefevre.
The Major arrived
at the correct office, number 320, almost two thirds of the distance from
the elevator door to the end of the corridor.
He checked his watch. He
was still ten minutes early for his two o'clock appointment. He paused briefly before the door, then turned
the doorknob and entered. The
office inside was decorated in the typical new‑man image that pervaded
offices he was in these days. A
neat particleboard covered by laminate desk greeted him, surrounded by
a variety, a jungle really, of tropical plants and commercial type prints
of exotic ladies done in a neo-artistic style of light and shade.
'Totally without
character', Jastremski thought. Except,
in the corner by the door, an ancient 'Calvin and Hobbs' cartoon, clipped
from a Sunday paper years ago, was taped to the wall. Calvin and Hobbs were sledding down a mountain while arguing about
the consequence of choices people made.
Calvin explained to Hobbs that every decision man made resulted
in a new set of choices and how man responded to those choices directly
affected his future.
"I note
with some dismay that you have chosen the cliff," Hobbs said.
"Right!",
declared Calvin. "And with
this new choice, we have a whole new set of options", as they plunged
off the precipice.
That had style
Jastremski thought. Sledding off
a cliff, Jastremski thought.
The Major had
just flown in from Washington in response to the second "malfunction"
of Blunderbuss. The information
he had for Dr. Lefevre was disquieting,
and the murmurings of worried speculation as to what these malfunctions
might really herald was growing on both sides of the Atlantic. The Europeans had their own Blunderbuss, not the technical wonder
of America's version perhaps, not as sensitive, not as expensive, but
just as sound in theory of operation as the American version. The European model was located outside Helsinki in the sprawling
European Space Agency complex.
The problem,
as Major Jastremski would explain to Dr. Lefevre, was that a few milliseconds
after Blunderbuss suffered its second malfunction the European machine
recorded an event. Not the powerful
event Blunderbuss had seen, that threw Blunderbuss into a machine’s version
of catatonia, but a much more muted event, a gentle breeze, not a clout
on the jaw. An event if taken
at face value suggested that whatever caused the immense reading at Blunderbuss
was also physically near to the research center, and Washington DC.
Unfortunately,
the European machine had been down for repair and calibration at the time
Blunderbuss suffered its first malfunction.
No evidence from Europe was available to corroborate the first
event.
The Major scanned
the office suddenly annoyed that no one was there to greet him. He was about to venture into the inner office
to find someone when the inner office door opened and a young woman came
bustling through.
"Oh I'm
sorry" she said to the Major, "have you been waiting long?"
"Just
a couple of minutes" the Major replied with a slight smile, his irritation
subsiding. He studied the woman. She was quite attractive. She stood about five foot four, and had raven
black, thick, shoulder length hair, and deep brown, almost luminous black
eyes. Her nose upturned slightly
at the end, her lips, full and moist, offset her flawless cream-colored
skin. She swished past him, angling for the back
of her desk where she plopped down the pile of papers she had been carrying
in one arm. The Major's eyes glanced
at her body as she passed. She
was wearing a pair of well-worn dungarees and white running shoes (‘Sneakers’,
thought the Major. Remember when
all athletic shoes were simply called sneakers?)
The jeans showed a beautiful example of what could be called a
Rubenesque figure, slender waist blooming into a gloriously rounded rump.
"Are you
Major Jastremski." she started to say and turned in time to catch
the direction the Major's gaze was locked on and fell silent. The major started and looked up into her face.
He could see the color rising in her cheeks as she blushed her
embarrassment. The Major involuntarily
cleared his throat, his embarrassment evident in his eyes.
She graciously ended this awkward moment by restating her question;
"You must be Major Jastremski?"
"Ah, yes"
he said, voice just slightly raspy; "I have a 2:00 o'clock meeting
with Elliot Lefevre." His
eyes glanced to the desk and saw the brass nameplate. Her name was Diane Weeks. He
started reviewing the Calvin and Hobbs cartoon; he wanted to look anywhere
except those deep eyes.
"He's
expecting you, I'll go tell him you're here."
A moment later
Elliot popped out of the inner office.
"Mack! It's good to
see you again, please come on in."
"It’s
good to see you too Elliot", the Major said in return as he followed
the somewhat paunchy physicist into his private office.
"Have you had a chance to go over the information I emailed
to you before I left DC?" Mack
said after they entered the office.
"Yes,
yes, but first let me offer you something cool to drink. You must be tired, coming here straight from the airport and all."
"How about
something strong to drink?" He
was still a little ruffled about his first meeting with Diane. He noticed she had taken a seat near Elliot's
desk meaning she intended to stay.
Mack had met
the Doctor shortly after Congress had approved (by narrow margin) the
funds, in excess of three hundred million dollars, to build Blunderbuss. Elliot had been 60; he was forty five. But despite the difference in years, and major
difference in personalities, they had developed a good working relationship,
even a friendship of sorts over the intervening five years. He watched as Elliot went to the filing cabinet
and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, good ole' Number Seven. Diane sprang up lightly from the chair and
disappeared out the door into the front office.
"Can't
find the damn glasses", Elliot muttered as he pawed through another
pile of papers and books on the top of the filing cabinet. Mack wondered in an amused fashion if the good Doctor actually expected
to find glassware under a stack of books. He never really understood men like Dr. Lefevre. How could they be so brilliant in the field
of pure analytical thought, in seeing with the power of their mind's eye
wonders forever beyond the plane of sight of most people, yet have such
difficulty contending with the day to day tasks others took for granted?
Diane returned
carrying two tumbler glasses filled with cracked ice and offered them
to Elliot. Elliot looked a bit
surprised.
"Ah there
they are, been hiding them again have you, trying to confuse an old man",
he said to Diane with a wide grin. She
smiled at him and returned to her seat.
Mack noticed she had gotten a can of diet soda for herself. Elliot poured out a stiff drink for both of
them.
Mack took a
few quick sips of his whiskey and settled into the high back armchair
purposely left him. Nice chair,
he thought, real leather. Both
he and Elliot were waiting for the other to start discussing this matter. The moment dragged.
"Elliot,
have you read that email I sent you?"
Mack's question sounded more blunt than he intended. Diane tensed and got ready to take notes.
"Yes,
I’ve read it, very interesting, very, very interesting, assuming you're
a paranoid Air Force officer." Elliot
was not smiling now. "I've
been on the phone half the morning with the Project Director, Jim Palmer,
the man in charge of day to day tending of the instrument.
He thinks we just have another bug to resolve in the crystalline
antenna alignment circuitry. I
agree."
"You don't
find it the least bit curious that almost to the second Blunderbuss went
off scale another sensor half a world away measured an, an." Jastremski groped for the right word, "event,
even though the European sensor has never had a measurable response before?"
Jastremski watched Lefevre intently, but he just continued his
steady gaze. Mack felt the change in Elliot's attitude however.
He was no longer a rumpled, aging university professor, but a wily
expert on physical law.
"A remarkable
coincidence", Elliot said calmly.
"Why are
you so sure that it IS a coincidence?", Mack demanded.
Elliot smiled
slightly then leaned back in his chair and said, "Are you aware, Mack, of a mathematical proof called an 'exclusionary'
proof?" Oh God, Mack thought,
and here we go into the wonderful world of theory. I'm going to be chewed to bits. He did not answer and Elliot continued.
"It's
really quite simple. One lists
all the possibilities in a given situation then logically eliminates each
possibility until only one remains. That
possibility must then be the true answer."
"And have
you listed all the possibilities?" Mack demanded.
"I believe
I have", Elliot answered decisively.
"All right",
Mack said with an air of defiance, "what are the possibilities for
a major perturbation in the gravitational field of the planet?"
"First,
perhaps we have just now learned to see them, Blunderbuss being our eyes. We have no way of knowing whether these disturbances
are a normal, natural occurrence or not.
So, our first possibility is 'Natural Phenomenon'. It may be that they happen fairly regularly,
like earthquakes, and we've just never noticed before. Certainly, this theory fits the observance
of two events in such a short span of time.
If we say for the moment that natural phenomenon is not the cause
then we have to say the condition is artificially induced." Elliot paused and took a small sip of whiskey.
"Then,
if it isn't natural" Mack added, "it must be manmade." He had a distinct note of nervousness in his
voice as he continued, "General Grey's staff have suggested that
this is the result of either a belligerent or possibly another group of
terrorists. They think that if it is terrorists, then the
destruction of the World Trade Center and that mess in southwest Asia
could be child's play compared to what may be coming."
"First,
I never said that it was necessarily MAN made" Elliot corrected him. "We haven't discussed that possibility
yet. Second, the facts of the
case indicate that the most likely point of origin of the disturbance
is somewhere between the Mississippi River and the ridge line of the Atlantic
ocean. Those areas are hardly likely to be used by
terrorists to hide a first class theoretical physics lab." That made Mack more nervous, he took a long
swig from his own drink.
Elliot continued,
"Fortunately for us, the list of possibilities for an artificially
induced gravity ripple is mercifully short.
One: It IS man made, or Two: It was caused by an alien intelligence.
It cannot be one, that is MAN made.
I know everyone on the planet who could even conceivably figure
out how to create gravity waves and I can assure you that no organization
is anywhere near it. Hell, we're still trying to establish exactly what gravity is.
The primary rationale for Blunderbuss is to help answer the question
of what."
"So much
for possibility One", Mack sighed.
"Do you have an equally convincing argument for possibility
Two?"
"Hard
to say" Elliot said with a wry smile just at the corners of his lips.
"In fact
you'd better call Washington right now to make sure there are no reports
of seventy foot tall tripods roaming New York City obliterating citizens
with yellow and blue death rays!"
Mack shot up, just for a second, his heart filled with panic, and
then he realized this was a joke a la Lefevre.
"You asshole",
he hissed falling back into his chair. Diane bit her lip.
"Sorry",
Elliot said shamefaced, "that just sort of popped out. Diane, would you please scratch that from the
notes? No need to make the boys
in Washington think I'm more nuts than they do already."
"The reason
the second possibility is highly unlikely", Elliot continued with
his serious and practiced lecture voice, "is that there have never
been confirmed sightings, that is, admitted to sightings of honest to
God alien space ships. It is conceivable
that were this planet visited from another star, another race, they could
use some form of gravitational wave as a propulsive force. Certainly it seems unlikely they could use any form of an action-reaction
engine to get here." Mack interrupted,
"What
do you mean 'action-reaction engine'?
That's one I've never heard of.
I thought I knew, at least vaguely, every type of engine so far
invented."
"And so
you do", Elliot broke in.
"An action‑reaction
engine is simply the broadest category of engine. Are you aware that every engine at man's disposal is an action-reaction
engine, from the humble steam engine to the most advanced rocket?
It's the law of conservation of momentum.
All engines function in some form along the lines that mass with
force is exerted in some manner to derive useful work.
In a steam engine, it is high-pressure steam pushing on a piston.
In a rocket engine, it is mass ejected at high velocity out the
back end of the rocket to propel it forward.
But it is doubtful that an interstellar spacecraft", Elliot
paused a moment then continued: "Which
must be the case because we've concluded that we are the only life in
our own solar system; anyway,
it is unlikely that a ship from outside our solar system could carry enough
mass, in the form of fuel, to get them here at all.
"Consider
the Space Shuttle for a moment. The
Giant external fuel tank carries the required fuel to launch the shuttle
into orbit. The solid boosters
on either side of the tank provide the required thrust to lift the tank
itself. Fully two thirds of the Shuttle's blast off
weight consists of fuel. That
fuel is only enough to achieve a relatively low orbit.
How could one hope then to carry enough fuel to reach across the
stars?" Mack thought for
a moment. It made sense.
"But if
they don't use an action-reaction engine what in the hell do they use?",
Mack asked.
"Precisely.",
Elliot said.
"You don't
know", Mack mused.
"I don't
know", Elliot affirmed. Then
he added, "but this whole discussion presumes we've been visited
at all." Mack looked at him
intently. This was extremely interesting.
"Do you
believe we've been visited?"
Elliot thought
for a moment then said quite calmly, "No."
Mack was enthralled
however. "Let's assume, just
for the sake of argument, that we have in fact been visited. Do you have any clue, no matter how tenuous,
of what propulsion system may have been used?" Elliot stared at Mack then turned his gaze to some point only he
could see. How could Elliot show
what he saw to this man, to his friend, when he himself could only grasp
wisps, could only for an instant perceive darkly lit shadows of a higher
reality. It was nothing he could even begin to defend
in any remotely scientific context, a feeling really. There was something else, at least he felt there must be more, but
by comparison gossamer wings were concrete. Tenuous. That was the word
Mack used. He wished that what
floated on the edge of his mind was as solid as 'tenuous'.
"It may
be a gravitation phenomenon", Elliot finally sighed. Study of the data from his own lab, data collected at almost the
precise moment Blunderbuss went down for the second time might yield some
clues, but for the moment at least, Mack had to be kept in the dark about
his real suspicions. Elliot, aware
that they had veered badly from the main topic, made an effort to drag
the talk back to more immediate business.
"So you
see, possibility two is also unlikely.
Even if it had been aliens, I don't believe they would stick around
for almost four weeks, the time between the 'events', helpless on the
ground. No, I'm afraid that both scenarios of artificially
produced gravitational waves are found to be groundless."
Mack sat back
in his leather chair. "O.K.,
if it isn't natural and it isn't artificial, then what in the hell is
it? I would think of those two choices it MUST
be one or the other." Elliot
also sat back then said,
"There
is one possibility not yet discussed."
"And what
would that be?" Mack asked.
"It may
be as simple as what Palmer and I have said all along. It is just a crystalline antenna alignment glitch. No aberration, no event, just a malfunction."
Mack prickled at the idea. He
was trained to not believe in coincidence.
"And the European machine's malfunction?"
He said, an air of stubborn defiance quickly gathering around him.
"Really
a remarkable coincidence."
"Dammit,
you've said that already. Is that
your official response? If it
is, get ready for a mountain of shit to come crashing down all over you. There are several people watching, and they
represent some important interests, some powerful interests, and some
of them want this whole program to be classified.
More than one of them has given an explanation that seems to resonate
plausibility, or at least has a sympathetic ear somewhere. And none of those plausible explanations include
a simple malfunction." Mack
sat up on the edge of his chair, swirling his ice and whiskey around sides
of his glass while staring intently at Elliot. Elliot did not respond, but just kept placidly
gazing at Mack. Mack continued
in a lower and serious tone of voice,
"You have
got to face the fact that you are playing king of the mountain. You are on top now but there are about a million
ambitious sons of bitches right below you who want your prestige, more
to the point, your funding, who won't even think twice about throwing
you to the wolves if it means they even have a prayer of seizing this
project and its congressionally mandated dollars.
Coincidence in this situation does not wash. Period."
Elliot regarded
his friend with curiosity, not anger.
"What
plausible explanations?" Elliot asked.
Mack sat back red faced at his outburst and Elliot's apparent obtuseness.
"Some
people" Mack started slowly, "believe this could be the work
of hostile foreign powers, possibly terrorists groups, and that these
powers are developing a "super weapon" to use against the United
States. Granted, I don't believe that. I don't even think they believe it. But if they can scare some dull-witted senator
into believing it, they may be able to wrest control of the project from
NASA and put it under NSA or CIA control.
That would likely be the end of your involvement also."
"Oh bullshit",
declared Elliot. "They can
not even build a decent bomb, and this is much higher level work than
that. Dull-witted indeed."
"True",
said Mack, "But it gets better.
Other people are saying that it has to be alien life forms, owners
of a crippled space ship most likely, and that they are probably trying
to repair their ship and get the hell out of here before they are discovered. Still others think we may have a renegade super
genius on our hands who has solved the problem of anti-gravity and is
running around loose somewhere planning God knows what. These people worry that this genius is a foreign
genius and may align with the 'classify it' crowd."
"How interesting"
Elliot said blandly. "All
your scenarios fall into the 'artificially created' category that I just
dismembered. But I suppose that
a natural phenomenon is unpopular because they can't exploit it to their
own political ends. Tell me, do
any of these bright guys have an idea of where this alleged space ship
or super genius may be lurking?"
Elliot leaned forward intent on catching every nuance of Mack's
answer. Mack shifted uneasily in his chair.
"No one
knows for sure. The European machine
registered the event. But with
only Blunderbuss to compare it to, triangulation is not possible. And it only happened once as far as Europe
is concerned. There is a general
consensus that the event occurred much closer to Blunderbuss than it did
to Helsinki but that could mean the middle of the Atlantic Ocean for all
we know. Dr. Trasky, of your staff,
has speculated that the event, whatever it was, was a 'quadric root' event,
which if true narrows the field of search to probably the continental
United States, bounded on the west by the Mississippi river, on the East
by the Atlantic Ocean. No north‑south
boundaries have been established, except if Dr. Trasky is right, the event
occurred in the northern Hemisphere."
"That
would seem to preclude the hostile foreign power argument", Elliot
observed. Mack sighed and said,
"You are preaching to the choir on that one. As I said, I don't believe it either. What we really need is some authoritative evidence, some scientific
proof that we can use to discredit these guys. What about that prototype detector you originally
built to demonstrate the theory of the GWD? Is that still serviceable?" Elliot shook his head no but remained silent.
He was finally getting the truth out of Mack but did not want to
share his personal opinion. Diane kept writing furiously as Mack spoke,
not wanting to miss one single syllable.
Elliot broke his silence. "Do
they say their opinion on the cause of the event?" Mack looked at him, then Diane, then back to
Elliot.
"They
think it's a gravitational wave generator" he said quietly, "and
it has them scared."
Elliot remained
impassive but his mind was racing forward.
He was privately convinced that the 'renegade super-genius' theory
was too far fetched for any sort of credibility, rogue state or not. The days of great scientific discovery out
back in the tool shed had long since passed.
He simply could not conceive of a lone individual, probably with
very limited resources, just whipping up a gravitational wave generator
out of old refrigerator parts.
A foreign nation
could put more resources into the problem, but they would still need that
spark of genius. Without that,
all the resources of the world would be of no use.
But he was a trained scientist, even though he considered the possibility
remote if not impossible, he had instructed Diane to begin a search on
any type of organization that might actually be trying to develop a gravitational
wave generator. Her exhaustive
internet search had yielded nothing except an article on the Podkletnov
Effect, which was largely dismissive, and even if true was pitifully under-powered
to explain their observations.
Elliot considered
the other possibility, a disabled alien spacecraft, as indeed the most
likely and it held him transfixed. If
he could only find them, talk to them, learn how they got here, it would
be the achievement of a lifetime. He
had considered the possibility that they might not be friendly, might
be hostile even and very dangerous. But
something inside him did not believe that.
He did not feel terror at all.
Instead, he felt the giddy expectation of a great event.
It was not unlike a young man's first kiss. It felt new. It felt fresh.
And above all, it felt of Power.
Elliot considered
what he should say to Mack. He
really did not like the idea of lying to his friend, but he was determined
to be the first man to explore this alien ship.
That meant he had to find it first, which meant he had to stall
for time. "It need not scare
them," he said. "The
hysterics surrounding all this are just that, hysterics. I give you my word that the only thing that
has occurred is a glitch in the circuitry of Blunderbuss." Mack looked hard at his long time friend.
"You're
lying," he said simply.
Elliot looked
at Mack for a moment as if trying to come to a decision, and then his
countenance softened.
"Mack,
you are right, there is something I am keeping from you. I believe what we have seen, both in Blunderbuss and Helsinki, can
be explained but you must keep what I am to tell you very, very quiet."
Elliot's voice trailed off. Mack
sat up in his seat, more rigid than ever.
Elliot continued softly,
"The event
that both Blunderbuss and the machine in Helsinki recorded was not from
an outside source. Blunderbuss
caused the event. Blunderbuss
is, unintentionally, a gravitational wave generator."
Mack nearly came out of his chair.
Diane fumbled with her pen then dropped it, clattering onto the
floor.
"Oh Bullshit
Elliot" Mack roared, "I've heard a lot of Bull in my day but
this! This is beyond understanding,
you have to know that no one, not even me is going to buy that line of
nonsense for even a minute!" Mack
was bristling but forced himself to remain calm so he could hear Elliot's
response.
"It is
conceivable that the Plasma generators are capable of fourth dimensional
field generations," Elliot said, lapsing into his brand of lecture
hall speakese. AI contend that
the phenomenon we have witnessed is a result of the Plasma generators
in Blunderbuss being over stimulated by the crystalline antenna due to
an errant alignment harmonic."
"Horseshit"
said Mack.
"None-the-less,
how will you dispute it, Major?"
Elliot continued, "I am the expert the US of A listens to,
not you. I may be wrong, but it
is not your place to question my judgment."
Mack looked
at Elliot thunderstruck. Elliot
hoped his ruse would stick. Mack
looked at him a moment longer then rose to his feet.
"I am
tired. I am going to my hotel,
change clothes and have dinner. Think
about what you are saying. Be
sure it is what you want to say. A
lot is riding on it, Elliot. I'll
drop by to see you again tomorrow afternoon."
Mack turned and left Lefevre's office.
Diane followed him out of the office.
"Major?" Diane said, "If you will tell me where
you're staying tonight I can get you a transcript of the meeting, after
I get it typed I mean." The
major turned to her. Despite his
anger and confusion at the inexplicable turn in Elliot's behavior, his
rigidity could not help but soften as he beheld Diane
"I have
a reservation at the airport Marriott.
I don't know the room yet; I haven't checked in." Then he added, "Why don't you meet me there for dinner? Then you could give me the transcript and we
could have a chance to talk, get to know each other a little." Diane glanced down for a second, and then looked
up, "Yes, I think that would be fine.
Say 7:00 O'clock?"
"Perfect." Mack turned and left the office.
Elliot heard
the outer office door close and knew that Mack, after having a few words
with Diane, had finally left. A
second later Diane came back into the office.
"Do you
think he bought it?" She
asked Elliot. He shook his head
slowly, quietly,
"No, he
didn't buy it. Let's just hope
it buys us a few days head start on them."
He reached into the lower right side desk drawer and pulled a small
bound composition notebook out from underneath a pile of unrelated papers.
"Have
you finished your analysis of the data we got from the prototype?"
"Yes. We should be able to triangulate to the spot
where the event took place using the data from Blunderbuss, the European
machine and the prototype." Elliot
looked relieved, both that the data he had seemed to be consistent, and
that he never bothered to confirm that his first prototype originally
used to show the working theory of Blunderbuss actually did work (after
a fashion) and was operating in the basement lab.
The day after the first event, he had set some graduate students
(under Diane's direction) to the task of dusting off the equipment and
getting it operational. Now it
seemed that the gamble was to pay off.
"Diane,
what are your point parameters for triangulation?"
Diane sat down
comfortably in the chair the Major had recently used. She didn't mind playing secretary for Elliot but much preferred
to use her training and intelligence to pursue her own professional challenges. In less than four weeks she could assume the
title 'Dr. Weeks, PhD' and begin her own career. It had been an immense help to have Dr. Lefevre as a mentor. He was kind and helpful, had almost no ego
(which is very rare for a world class research scientist) and seemed to
be completely oblivious to the more earthy and seductive aspects of her
physical beauty.
"Her brains
are in her tits, that's why she's so smart, haw‑haw‑ haw"
the bullyboys said in high school. That
bothered her. It bothered her
so much so that she got into the habit of wearing oversized shirts, very
loose fitting shirts to try to conceal from the world a remarkably well
developed bosom. However, Diane had learned that Elliot's idea
of beauty was comprised of mathematics, of the real world he saw, that
few could enjoy with him. But
she could.
"The point
parameters for triangulation are, in the raw form, the measured intensity
of the event at the three sensors and the time delay between the readings. In Blunderbuss' case we can only assign a 'greater
than' value to the intensity measure, but by comparing the time differential
between it and the other two sensors we should be able to extrapolate
the true event intensity and origin."
"Good,
good" Elliot said, "what assumptions have you made in order
to come up with a likely point of origin?"
Diane shifted
in her chair, as if nervous of what Elliot would think of her assumptions.
"The first assumption is
that the event propagates at c, the speed of light.
The second assumption is really based on Leo's analysis that the
event is indeed quadric root determinant, which will allow us to fine
tune from the time difference calculations and solve for the unknowns
in the equation." She waited
to see if Elliot would dispute any of this.
"Are you
using c relative to a vacuum or c relative to transmission through a media?",
Elliot asked.
"A vacuum"
Diane answered. Elliot frowned
slightly.
"But it
isn't through a vacuum", Elliot said.
"It isn't
light either" Diane countered. Elliot
sat back and raised his eyebrows.
"You've
got a point, you've got a point, but then all we are really doing is making
a guess, isn't it?"
"Finally,"
Elliot dropped his voice and pulled up in his chair, "is it mathematically possible to triangulate on the origin
without the prototype's data?" Diane
did not hesitate this time.
"Maybe",
she said. Elliot looked at her
with sudden exasperation, "Maybe,
Miss Weeks?" Diane became
defensive. When Elliot referred to her as 'Miss Weeks'
it made her feel four years old and just caught eating more ice cream
than she knew she was allowed.
"I just
mean that if they make several assumptions, they may be able to pinpoint
the event to within a couple thousand square miles or so, if they make
the right assumptions, that is."
Diane grew silent.
"O.K. O.K."
Elliot said, regretting that he had made her uncomfortable. "Have you reduced the data so that I may
make the triangulation calculations?"
"Well
yes, Elliot, but I am quite able to finish the calculations". "No need, no need", Elliot interrupted.
"I have the rest of the afternoon, and if you are to keep
playing the role of efficient secretary and still make your date with
the Major at seven, you won't have time."
Diane blushed.
"It's
not a date," she said with just a hint of anger in her voice. "I want to figure out his agenda and the
names of any other players we may have to contend with. And besides, on the salary you pay me a free
feed at a good restaurant is a real plus."
* * *
Mack spotted
Diane as soon as she entered the restaurant.
He waved to her; she responded and walked over to his table. He stood up as she approached, walked around
to greet her, and held her chair. She
had changed clothes. The dungarees
had been replaced by a mid length peasant skirt, patterned brown and orange,
and a white blouse. 'Equally unrevealing'
the major thought, disappointed. They
exchanged pleasantries and sat down on either end of the small white cloth
covered table.
"Here's
the transcript of today's meeting" Diane said as she handed him a
sheaf of papers. He took them
and politely and formally stuffed them into his briefcase.
He knew that as of now work ceased and personal time was in play.
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