“Why a ‘dazzling’ success?” Webling asked. “It was a fairly routine experiment run.” She checked the time herself. “And why expect such an immediate response? If we get a message now, they would have had to have sent it the moment they received our graser beam. Why would they be so eager?”
“Because if our—my—figures were right, then Titan should have received a series of one-millisecond push-pull gravity-wave pulses, sent from here at a strength of one-tenth gee.”
Webling’s eyes widened. “One-tenth gee…”
Sondra stood up from the table and Webling got up as well, automatically following the younger woman’s lead. “I left a record of your experiment’s output figures in the observation dome, Dr. Webling. Perhaps you’d be interested in seeing them while we wait to see what Titan has to say?”
The beam was moving again.
First directed at the sixth planet, then shifted toward the fifth, now sweeping over the second planet. Soon now, soon, it would sweep this way, toward the third world, and the Observer and its hiding place.
Close. The moment was close. After all the endless millennia, the wait was down to mere minutes, seconds.
The Observer all but quivered with anticipation.
When Larry walked into the dome, he instantly noticed two things: one, a much larger number of people than usual “just happened” to be eating breakfast there, instead of in the cafeteria, and many were lingering over their coffee; and two, a murmur of conversation sprang up when he walked in—though no one had the nerve to go up and talk to him. When Sondra and Webling walked into the dome soon after, the murmur rose to a veritable buzz of excitement. Obviously, news traveled fast through the station, and rumor even faster. True to form, the computer center had leaked like a sieve when the Webling experiment had come through. Someone down there had seen and understood the significance of the readings—and that someone had a wagging tongue.
Sondra crossed the room and sat down at the table across from Larry, Webling beside her. “Larry,” she said with forced casualness, “tell Dr. Webling about that experiment modification we worked up.”
Webling stared hard at Larry and blinked once or twice. “You!” she said. “You’re the one who faked the gravity-field results!”
Sondra winced. Ouch. Off on the wrong foot. “No, Dr. Webling,” she said gently. “He’s the one they’ve accused of faking the results. But that doesn’t make the figures less true. Go ahead, Larry. Tell the doctor how you did it. Convince her that it really happened.”
Larry swallowed hard and pulled out his notepack computer. “Well,” he said doubtfully, “the main idea was to use the Ring’s gravity power to focus and amplify an existing gravity field.”
Webling’s eyes widened. “Amplify an existing field. How on earth did you…” Her voice trailed off as she looked at the math that was already on Larry’s notepack screen.
Within half a minute, the old woman and the young man were completely immersed in a complex mathematical argument, rattling off hideously convoluted formulas into the notepack’s voiceport.
Sondra tried to follow their arguments on the pack’s tiny screen, knowing that she was supposed to understand gravitic calculation and notation—but these two were just going too fast for her. Every time she thought she caught the sense of their discussion, they rocketed off onto a new topic before she had the chance to digest the last point.
Her attention wandered and she happened to glance up. Someone must have made a whole series of intercom calls. Virtually the entire station staff was there, and not just the scientists. The tech and admin and maintenance people were all there too. By now no one was even pretending to have a good reason for being there. They were simply an audience waiting for the show to begin.
If they were waiting for Raphael to show, they didn’t have long to wait. Not more than ten minutes after Sondra and Webling arrived, Raphael burst in.
He stalked up to Larry, leaned over him, and glared malevolently down at him. “I should like to know the meaning of this,” he said, obviously struggling to keep his voice calm.
Larry and Webling both looked up in surprise. “Meaning of what?” Larry asked, his voice nervous and subdued.
“Don’t play me for the fool,” the director snapped. He waved an experiment procedure form at Larry. “This is the standard report generated by the operations computer after every experiment run, showing how the equipment was configured and used. It describes the work done by these two”—he gestured in annoyance at Webling and Sondra—“last night. This absurd ‘modification’ to Webling’s intended experiment stands out like a sore thumb. This was your work. You have acted in direct and deliberate contravention of my orders!” he sputtered. “You have completely violated my every instruction. Every dollar, every cent expended by this ridiculous ‘experiment’ is coming out of your pay. Every cent.”
Larry stole a sidelong glance at Sondra. Now was the time for their plan from the night. Last night, he hadn’t much liked the idea of hiding behind Sondra’s skirts, no matter how sensible it was. Now, Sondra’s taking over was fine with him. Raphael practically had smoke coming out of his ears. Anyone who wanted to deal with him was welcome to the job. Larry glanced at Webling, and saw the sweat starting to pop out on her forehead, too. She wasn’t going to be much use as protective cover. No, if anyone was going to handle the director, it would have to be Sondra.
“Violated orders? But that’s just not so, Dr. Raphael,” Sondra cut in smoothly, dredging up a low, winsome, southern-belle accent from somewhere. Larry dimly recalled that she was from the American South, but he had certainly never heard that tone of voice from her. “I’m sure there must be some slight misunderstanding.” Larry glanced around. Sondra was obviously playing to the crowd, using the public audience as a screen against Raphael’s anger.
“Mr. Chao here was simply assisting Dr. Webling and myself in our graser system tests. I suppose he did help us augment our signal power, but I can’t see how that constitutes violating orders. For that matter, I don’t see how you could issue him orders as to what to work on in the first place. You are the administrative director, but that doesn’t give you any control over research operations. Mr. Chao is a full research fellow.
“Last time I checked the station’s charter, research fellows have complete access to the Station’s facilities. In fact, according to the station charter, the administrator is specifically excluded from authorizing experiments. That’s supposed to be up to the chief scientist, Dr. Webling.”
From the look on Webling’s face, it was apparent that even she had forgotten she was chief scientist. Raphael had gathered all the de facto power to himself so long ago that no one remembered the official de jure arrangements. Sondra saw Raphael’s quick glance toward Webling. That brief, nervous look told her she had won. She had found a vulnerable spot in Raphael’s armor. A bully who breaks the rules cannot use the rules to bully. “Unless, of course, I have it wrong. What, exactly, is your authority for controlling Mr. Chao’s work? Has Dr. Webling ceded the power of her office to you?”