Roger Allen - The Ring of Charon

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?”

Raphael opened his mouth and shut it without speaking. Before he could come up with anything more cogent, Webling chimed in. “I most certainly did not cede my authority—not to Dr. Raphael or to anyone else. But that does not excuse your impertinence, Dr. Berghoff.” Webling turned and addressed Raphael. “But that to one side, Simon, right protocol or wrong, young Mr. Chao seems to have his numbers right. It would be criminal to reject such a promising claim out of hand over some breach of scientific etiquette . The first response from Titan should arrive at any moment. It seems to me that we are about to receive either a confirmation or a refutation of these theories. Shouldn’t that be the basis for our reaction to Mr. Chao’s work?”

Sandbagged , Sondra thought gleefully. The old goat just got blown out of the water by his closest ally, in front of the entire staff . Larry seemed about to say something, but she kicked him under the table. This was no time to let Raphael off the hook. Let him squirm.

But Sondra didn’t get to see Raphael’s reaction. A low beeping began, a sound that seemed to come from everywhere all at once. It took Sondra a moment to realize it was her notepack, alerting her that a message was incoming for her. Larry’s pack was beeping too—and so were Webling’s and Raphael’s.

Titan! She pulled her pack out of its belt pouch and punched in the Read Message command.

The screen cleared and displayed the text of the message. Even as she read to herself, Webling stood and read it aloud to the entire staff.

“from: tistat commcent personal and immediate.

“to: raphael, webling, berghoff, chao.

“message reads: titan station, sakharov physics institute sending for pluto, gravitics research station. warmest congratulations to raphael and entire team. incredible! grav meters here recorded indisputable reception of pulsed, modulated gravity waves of remarkable power as per your preexperiment transmission. we are honored to be first to congratulate your lab for this great achievement. we are processing initial detailed analysis and will transmit same to you at earliest convenience. this is a breakthrough of the first importance. we toast you here with the true stoli vodka. well done, simon. proud regards, m. k. popolov, director, message concludes.”