When Bomeer had admitted that there was not, Consol had added, “What you have brought to my attention is efficiency for the sake of efficiency; tinkering for the sake of tinkering. Where is the value in that?”
The tachyon screen suddenly glowed blue, pulling him from his reverie of things past; of things that could not be changed. Of things that simply did not possibly matter now.
“Stand by for realtime transmission,” the screen system advised. “Conference linkup will be completed in approximately one minute.”
I have a duty, he reflected as he waited for the communication from Emperor Javas to be routed to the screen, to be true to myself, and to what I believe. And that is not inconsistent with my duty to the Emperor.
There was a diminutive beeping sound that caught his attention, and he sat straighter in his chair and faced the screen at about the same time Javas’ features appeared.
“I’ve received your request for a realtime conference, Academician,” he said, his expression serious, “and must admit that I’m somewhat concerned by the tone contained in the recording you sent. Is something wrong out there?”
Bomeer toyed with the idea of giving Javas a long-winded explanation of why he had insisted on a conference rather than merely sending a recorded report on the latest modeling, which would have been normal procedure, but decided on the more direct approach of stating the problem directly. Look at me, he silently mused, after all these years I’m opting for efficiency instead of protocol.
“We have discovered a flaw in the equations,” he said without preamble.
Javas nodded. “How serious a flaw?” The Emperor, too, seemed more interested in getting to the heart of the problem than belaboring the problem itself.
“Unknown, Sire. Dr. Montgarde’s theories are basically correct, but with the modeling stage now completed, we have found that the values of replenishment do not match the values that had been projected in the original equations.”
They spoke for several minutes, interrupted only once by a garbled signal, as Bomeer did his best to explain what was wrong.
“The tuned pair of singularities does not behave as we expected. The wormhole is there, and the energy transfer takes place as predicted…”
“But?”
Bomeer hesitated, uncertain as to how to continue. “But the energy released in the breeder star is too high for the wormhole to remain stable. It works in the model, but it is difficult to say what the actual effect will be without testing it physically.”
Javas nodded again. “Very well. Thank you for your candor, Academician. Dr. Montgarde will return to Luna in”—he looked to one side, checked a readout on his desk terminal—“in two weeks. Please burst me a full report on your findings so I can have them forwarded to her on the Levant. It’ll still take a while for her to receive them, but it’ll give her a bit of time to go over the results and make any necessary adjustments before she returns to oversee the next phase.”
“No! Sire, I…” He stopped, cursing himself inwardly for responding so abruptly. But the next thing he was about to say was what he had rehearsed so carefully before sending the conference request to Javas. He also reminded himself, before continuing, that what he was about to say constituted a part of his duty; no, was his duty.
“Yes?” Javas asked, waiting.
“Sire, we are ready to proceed with the physical test. We had not anticipated this flaw and have already created the tuned pair for the test. As we speak they’re being held in stasis by the Sarpan shielding.” Again, he paused, swallowing heavily. “The modeling results tell only half the story—that a problem exists—and I’m afraid Dr. Montgarde would have no better clue as to why they are invalid than we do. May I be so bold as to suggest, Sire, that it would be more prudent to continue with the physical test? That way, Dr. Montgarde would have the full results of the flaw in the equation on her arrival.”
The Emperor considered the suggestion. “You may be right,” he said. “She’s been out of cryosleep only a short time and probably has more to catch up on than she can handle without this added concern. You’re certain that the physical test will give us more information on the problem?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“All right, then,” he concluded, “proceed with the next test and send me the results. Good luck.”
“Thank you, Sire.”
Javas’ image faded immediately, and Bomeer stared at the darkened screen. He was sure that in recommending that the physical test be undertaken he was pursuing the proper course. The flaw in her equation would be dramatically revealed and, with the ability to send the results of the failed test instantly through most of the Hundred Worlds, would elicit renewed questioning into the validity of the project.
It is my duty as an academician to point out the error in this project, he reminded himself. To do less would be to commit a lie to the Emperor, and to myself.
He thumbed the control of the comm screen on his desk, setting it up to send a directive to Rice and Supreme Commander Fain, informing them that the next step should commence. Rice, working with Oidar, would put in place the final setup for the scientific aspects of the test. Fain, meanwhile, would coordinate with the Sarpan commander their final navigation coordinates for the event.
This is what I must do, he reflected again in an attempt to convince himself that the actions he’d taken were in the best interests of the Hundred Worlds. To do less would be a crime against the Empire.
He couldn’t help feeling, however, as he keyed in the sequence that would send the two prepared messages, that he was acting not in the best interests of the Empire, but rather in his own best interests.
Chapter Thirty
Rice had been aboard the Flisth several times since they had arrived at the test site a year earlier. Before that, in the time it had taken for the combined Imperial and Sarpan fleet to travel together from Luna, he had had ample time to get used to the ways of the aliens while dealing with Oidar’s father in the earlier stages of the research. Most areas of the Sarpan ship resembled Imperial craft, and Rice supposed that there were designs inherent to space travel that were universal in nature regardless of the life-forms that rode in them. But until now, he had never seen the personal quarters of a Sarpan crew member. Oidar’s cabin on the Kowloon had given him some insight into the aliens’ way of life, and although he had never actually seen it when visiting his friend and coworker, he supposed the “bathroom” of his cabin on the Kowloon must have looked something like the room in which he now stood, but on a much lesser scale.
If he had not known better, if someone had carried him blindfolded and unconscious to a place like this, he would have sworn it to be impossible that he was aboard a starship. Only the entranceway where he stood held any trappings of an artificial construction.
The small pond stretched to a thick copse of trees on what he assumed would be the far side of the room. Some of the trees must be real, he reasoned, since those nearest him by the entrance to the room certainly were. But where the genuine growths ended and the holographically projected image began, he could only guess. The air was thick and heavy, and Rice touched the control plate integrated into the sleeve of his E-suit to raise his internal air-conditioning to a more comfortable level. He had a bubble helmet, as was mandatory for any Imperial personnel visiting the Sarpan ship, but once inside, away from his escort, he’d removed it and held it tucked under one arm. The cool air of the E-suit’s temperature control system wafted up around the metal collar ring, offering some relief from the stifling heat of the water chamber. The room was alive with insect life, and the draft of cool air also served to deter the occasional curious flier that buzzed close to his face.