[clark]

Trillian Star Date 2400.15

Dr. Samantha Bardosa chewed absentmindedly on her left index finger’s cuticle. It was a bad habit she had picked up during her design days working on the predecessor to the soon to be fielded ion drives. All the stress, and the price of failure, had caused her to develop a few neurotic tendencies, nail biting the worst among them. Her therapist said it had some something to do with unresolved emotional issues. Whenever she thought about it though, she felt like the only unresolved emotional issue she had was her deep belief that the man was a quack.

General McDougal gravely voice broke her reverie, "Dr. Bardosa, would you please explain again what your device does?"

The general was used to ordering, not questioning, so Samantha could detect the subtle ire in his voice. She had heard that the extremes of his anger were legendary, and had caused more than one senior research director to break down into bawling piles of mush. For the most part though, she had been able to avoid his wrath by consistently meeting, or exceeding his expectations. The problem for her though was she had to practically hold the man's hand to make him understand ideas well outside his "pay grade", as he put it.

She stopped chewing her nail, and cleared her throat slightly, preparing herself to go through once more the basic properties of the device. "Certainly General. The grava-metric space needle is a small device capable of measuring the fluctuating states of dark matter held in perpendicular to another plane of dark matter by-"

The General waved his hand, shaking his hand in the air, as if to erase what Samantha was saying. "Yes, yes, yes. I know that part," the General said sharply as he picked up a sheaf of research papers that Samantha had sent to him Last week, tossing it back onto his desk with a heavy sigh. "Tell me what it 'does'," he said, exasperated, anger bubbling in his voice.

Samantha began chewing on her nail again. This man could make or break her, and not just figuratively, the man had to be near three hundred pounds of solid barrel-chested muscle. She stared at him for a moment wondering what brilliant mind had decided that this rock of a monkey would be qualified, or even able, to understand the subtly of her work.

She took a deep breath, placing her hands in her lap, just like her quack had told her too, and tried again. "It's a compass." She always felt a little dirty when she reduced her life's work to such mundane comparisons.

The General screwed up his face, the idea visibly working it's way through his small simian brain. "A compass to what," he asked after what seemed an eternity to Samantha.

"Grava-metric-," Samantha began, but realized she should change direction as the Generals face stated turning a pale shade of red. "I mean, it's a compass to pinpoint entrance points for hyper-tunnels," she finished. Samantha was starting to feel sick to her stomach.

"You mean this grava-metric thingy-ma-jig of yours can take us through these 'Hunter-holes'?" he asked incredulously.

The telephone rang on the General's desk, which distracted him long enough for Samantha to roll her eyes and groan inwardly without him noticing. 'Hunter holes', now she had heard everything. The scientific community was still reeling from the reestablishment of Dr. Hunter, as a lead director at the Debian institute, backed by Empress Catharine no less. While Samantha had to admit his mathematics was the basis for most of her work, the man had been part of some damned cult several years back, and as far as she was concerned, he had no place in science. Naming the hyper tunnels after him just seemed to be more of the same mastabatory ego building that pervaded in certain circles.

Samantha waited for the General to finish his conversation, which seemed to be little more than him saying 'yes sir' and getting redder by the second. With controlled rage, the General placed the phone on the desk.

"The compass doesn't take us through General, no one is even sure if it's safe to go through one of these things. But the device will allow us to detect where a stable entrance point is. Right now, all we can do is detect the hy- Hunter holes." She decided that trying to correct the General any further would only lead to either the dissolution of her research project, or more therapy. Neither seemed attractive ends.

The General appraised Samantha for a moment, then opened a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a long cigar, and a small identity card, with the words "CLEARED" printed in large black letters. The General lit the cigar, then threw the card onto the desk, in plain view of Samantha. It looked like her picture was on it.

After a few puffs from his cigar, his office began to fill with the rich spicy aroma of Trill tobacco. He stared at the ceiling, spewing smoke like a volcano. "You know, if it were up to me, I would tell you to take your little toy and come back when you have something useful." General McDougal turned his gaze once more onto Samantha, and continued, "if it were up to me, we would be putting more time into research with a purpose."

Samantha instantly fell to the defensive, "but General McDougal, without this device-," the General cut her off.

"Without that device, we wouldn't worry about what's on the other side of these god-damn holes in space." Samantha could see the General's shoulders tense, his left hand clenching in and out of a fist. "Without that device, I could get more funding for the military research proposals that have been flooding in. Just two weeks ago, I had to postpone funding increases for some new concepts around space based fighters, space mines, and our next generation of troops."

"But General, this device, my research, it holds the promise of a greater future for all of Trillian!" Samantha countered, desperation entering at the edges of her voice. Why was he doing this she wondered, teasing her with the promise of the identity card lying on the desk, yet openly rejecting the merits of her work. Samantha didn't even notice that she was flicking her thumb against her index finger in anxiety.

"Like the promise of a better future with your engine designs. How many aero-pilots did your engines kill again? His words cut into Samantha like a knife. She couldn't recall how many times she woke from her nightmares, filled with the faces of those killed by her design teams engines.

"That's not fair General." Samantha countered weakly, fighting back the tears.

"No, it's not Dr. Bardosa. I don't get paid to be fair. My job is to worry about the peace and security of our people, which I believe is in jeopardy by all of this new technology and science." The General took another long puff on his cigar, staring at Samantha. "At least the powers that be have had the good sense to control the dissemination of this stuff until we figure out a way to prepare the general population," he finished.

Samantha knew what the General was talking about, since the existence of the hyper-tunnels was a State secret. That was primarily why she was in front of the General to begin with, since she needed his permission to publish her findings.

After Dr. Hunter was reinstated, there had been an exhaustive review of all areas of research, and any avenues found to be "socially sensitive", like hers, was to be classified. Any breach of protocols was liable to end in death. But Samantha never realized that the recent push in the psychology science fields was to figure out how to break the news to the people.

Samantha mentally shook herself, preparing for what would obviously be disappointment. It would seem that General McDougal's legend would grow by another story. "Well, General, thank you for considering my-," she replied despairingly.

Again the General cut her off, "As I said Dr. Bardosa, if it were up to me, we would bury this stuff so far that it would take a Trillian mega-mole years to get to it." The General smashed his half spent cigar into an ashtray. "But, it isn't up to me," he replied with contained anger in his voice.

Instantly a wave of excitement coursed through Samantha's body, she felt almost electric. "You mean I can publish my findings?!" She said excitedly. Suddenly thoughts of awards and kudos from her peers didn't seem so far off.

"No, you may not." The General retorted sharply.

Now Samantha was truly confused, "I don't understand, what are you saying," she asked.

"I'm telling you that you are to complete work on the grava-metric space needle proto-type by next month. Any additional help, or resources you require, will be made at your disposal to complete this project." With that, he handed the identity card to Samantha.

"I still don't understand General, what is this all about?"

The General stood up, motioning for Samantha to follow her towards his office door. "You don't need to understand Doctor, you just need to follow orders, just like me." He placed his hand on the door knob, turning towards Samantha before opening it. "And two more things before you go Doctor. One, if you breathe a word of any of this, you will be executed for treason against the Empire." The General paused, letting the brief pause add to the weight of his words. He continued, "and two, be prepared for a very long journey next month." An evil grin flashed across the General's face momentarily, unnerving Samantha. General McDougal opened the door, and Samantha stepped out into an uncertain future.

To be continued...

[ June 20, 2003, 18:02: Message edited by: clark ]