Oidar had said nothing through all of this, but Bomeer heard it making a faint purring sound, and knew that even though Rice had made a show of downplaying his neglect, the alien had been offended by the double dishonesty of what it had observed. Its big eyes blinked several times and its gaze shifted from him to Rice, and it was clear the alien saw little difference between the two humans right now: one overtly lying to cover an error; the other pretending not to see the lie, and in so doing, committing another untruth. The sound reminded Bomeer of a growling animal, and he made his best effort at ignoring it. “What else do you have for me?” he asked, anxious to move this meeting closer to a conclusion.
“There is another playback. System! Start playback of file Rice two-oh-four, version two, on my mark.” Rice turned to face him, and when he spoke, his voice carried with it a subtle condescending tone. “The first model was based on Dr. Montgarde’s original equations. As you could see from the playback, there is no visual change in either of the stars—the energy levels of the ‘feeder’ star into which the negative singularity, the black hole, is inserted remain constant. The same is true of the ‘breeder’ star. The transfer of energy through the wormhole effect is quite gradual, and serves only to replace the internal mass as it’s spent, effectively increasing the life span of the breeder star. When done to Sol, it would effectively extend its life far beyond the normal range.”
Bomeer nodded, and felt inside his tunic to see if he had a dry handkerchief. “And will continue to extend its life until the feeder star is depleted. This is all in her original presentation. You’re telling me nothing new.” He had nothing in his inside pocket and wiped again with the soaked cloth.
Rice’s eyes narrowed. “Please bear with me, Academician. The model you just saw was based on the outcome of the original figures; figures based on a hypothetical field strength of the shielding she believed would be required to contain the singularities. Dr. Montgarde’s figures and equations were a hundred percent accurate, but were based on a shield technology that simply did not exist at the time she did the original work. However, working closely with the shield specs provided by the Sarpan, we’ve been able to redo the equations based on the actual technology, as it now exists. The second computer model shows a different result.” Rice paused, then pivoted in his seat. “System, begin playback.”
Bomeer turned to the holo display area with renewed interest, and watched as the same scenario played itself out. The pyramids formed by the red cylinders, the glowing spheres, the two images of stars representing Sol and the unnamed feeder sun—everything looked the same. Bomeer looked closely at the figures and readings that scrolled above the images, but was unable to follow them at the speed at which the playback had been set. It wasn’t until the spheres, contained in the spinning pyramids, sank into the centers of the stars that the playback differed from the one before.
Where before it appeared that little had changed, visually speaking, it was plain to see that the two stars in this model had been affected. The one on the left side of the image, representing Sol, seemed slightly brighter than it had before the insertion, and the values of the numbers hovering above it increased. However, since Bomeer had not bothered to study Rice’s reports closely enough, the values had little meaning to him. He would correct that error at his earliest opportunity. Indeed, he already was making plans to go through the two playbacks meticulously: forward, backward and at a speed slow enough that every figure, every readout, every table and chart of values could be examined one by one.
Bomeer leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and letting the sodden handkerchief fall forgotten to the floor, and stared at the playback image in silence for several moments, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. The sweat continued to drip down his temples as before, but as he watched the glowing stars in hypnotic fascination he no longer noticed the heat in the room.
“There is a flaw in Dr. Montgarde’s theory,” he said softly.
Bomeer viewed the figures again, checking and crosschecking them nervously while he waited for Javas’ call.
How I have longed for this, he thought. But now that it has finally happened, why can I not sort out my feelings about it? Based on the results of the modeling, there was no doubt that Dr. Montgarde’s equations—or at least one of them—were flawed. As presented, given the realities of the technology that had been developed and adapted to support the project, it simply would not work.
So why am I not rejoicing?
The fact of the matter was that this new development, from that moment in the open lab when he’d first viewed the model, had filled him with an elation the likes of which he’d not felt since Emperor Nicholas first declared his intentions to pursue the project. Perhaps now the wasteful application of Imperial funds and energies could finally be diverted from this endeavor. Perhaps now a more orderly approach to scientific study could be implemented; an approach more closely resembling the old order, and less an outgrowth of the New Attitude.
Bomeer knew better, however.
Even if the project to save Earth’s Sun were abandoned today, the advances that had come from the research already done would remain. The Hundred Worlds had been reinvigorated, just as Nicholas had predicted, and it seemed to the academician that little could be done to reverse the forward trend of the New Attitude. Besides, he realized, there were few left who shared his vision of what the Empire should be. His closest ally, Plantir Wynne, his rejuvenations becoming increasingly less effective with the passage of time, had died fifteen years earlier. Many of the members of the Imperial Academy of Science, whom he’d enlisted for support at the time of Nicholas’ decision to move the seat of Empire to Luna, had left the Academy. Some had been seduced by the New Attitude and had embraced the opportunity to actively delve into science once more. Others, even though they still shared Bomeer’s feelings on the validity of the project, had long ago grown tired of the uselessness of continually fighting something that had proven itself beneficial to the worlds.
There were new members of the Academy, of course. But they were young and idealistic, like Rice, and put a higher value on pure research and advancement than on tradition and protocol.
So, what do I do with this information? Is it so wrong to want to learn and advance? Bomeer settled back in his chair and slapped the palm of his hand on the bar of the flatscreen reader in his lap, blanking the display, and tossed the reader absently on the desk. He leaned against the right armrest of the chair, resting his chin on his hand. Searching his memory, he tried to recall an incident that had occurred shortly after his admission to the Academy.
He had found a “shortcut” to one of the procedures he’d been assigned by a senior academician named Consol. The refinement to the research process was minor, and he had realized it, but it was an improvement and would serve to get a better understanding of the goals of the assignment at hand.
He had approached Consol with a mixture of pride and foreboding when he reported his finding. Consol had laughed in his face.
“What is your hurry, Anastasio?” he had said. “Are the events of the Empire not progressing fast enough to suit you?”
Bomeer had stared dumbly at him, unable to come up with a rebuttal. “But… it is a more efficient way to proceed with—”
“Is there something inherently wrong with the current method of experimentation?” he had demanded.