For the Thrill of the Blunt
Page 20
“Still theoretical, sir. The whole concept never moved beyond the purely theoretical.” Ben bit his tongue, trying to hide any bitterness from creeping in to his tone.
“We were wrong to pass on the project, Ben. At the time, the board and I lacked vision. But things are different now, and I have some good news to share with you. A prototype was built by another team. And it worked just as you said it would.” He slid one of the folders across the desk. “Take a look for yourself.”
Ben stared at the folder. A year ago, when he’d presented the concept to the board, they’d seemed more than unimpressed. He’d even suffered a snarky comment or two about ‘refocusing on profitability’. And whenever they’d agreed to any of his past ideas, they’d always let him build it out. But this time, they gave the project to another team.
Which goddamn team?
Who else could possibly manage the timetables, the power iterations, the photon optimization?
Was anyone aware of the risks? They were practically asking for catastrophic inversion failure!
His blood began to boil. He was back on the roof, looking down.
I sacrificed everything for this damn company, and they let some other asshole develop my concept.
Enough. I’ve had enough.
“Thanks for letting me know, sir. I appreciate your candor. If you’ve handed the project to another team, there’s no need for me to see the paperwork. I trust they have everything under control.” Ben stood and bowed. “If that’s all, I’ll see myself out.”
“Have a seat, Ben.” The old man’s expression hardened. “I didn’t drag you all the way up here just to wound your delicate ego. Open the damn folder.”
Without sitting, Ben grabbed the folder and flipped it open. He quickly scanned the collection of diagrams, reports, and photos. His eyes widened, then narrowed. He sighed and tossed the folder onto the desk.
“Looks like they had a power issue. My analysis is that they’re lucky to have made such a basic mistake. A magnitude more energy, and the whole thing could’ve imploded. If that had happened, you and Mr. Bridestine would’ve had one hell of a time explaining how half of Alaska was suddenly vaporized.”
“Sit down!” The big guy’s face turned beet red. Ben remained on his feet.
Mr. Vernon took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and said with restraint, “The team didn’t fail. The project was sabotaged.”
“Sabotaged?” Ben crossed his arms. “Way up there in the middle of nowhere? Must’ve been someone sent by Bezos, or maybe Musk. Do you have any security footage—”
“We know exactly who was responsible.” The big guy locked eyes with Ben, slid the second folder across the desk, and sank back into his chair.
Curiosity got the best of Ben. He snatched it and flipped it open. He immediately flipped it shut again.
His vision blurred.
His legs buckled and he fell into the chair.
He opened it again. He gazed past the photo, past the report, into infinity.
Impossible.
This is impossible.
I must be dreaming.
“Look, I know about your personal struggles this year. I know how hard this must be. When someone we care about takes a wrong turn, it can—”
“How?“ Ben mumbled. “There must be a mistake. There’s no possible way…”
“It’s him. He was apprehended trying to infiltrate the facility during the test. He was ID’d and questioned. It was definitely him, Ben.”
“But why? He’s a pothead, sure, but he’s no terrorist. Besides, how could he have known about the project? If you think I—”
“He was working with others. Some unknown eco-terrorist group. They succeeded in destroying the prototype, and as you saw in the first folder, the whole facility was destroyed. Lives were lost. He—”
Ben flew out of his chair. “Was he in the building when it collapsed?”
“He survived. Not only did he somehow get out of there in time, we have intel that he’s planning another attack. We need your help preventing it.”
“I haven’t seen him in over a year. We had an argument. I said some things I regret. If you’re helping the Feds look for him, I doubt I‘d be any help. I’m the last person he’d contact.”
“Let me be clear. we haven’t passed any of this on to the Feds. For now, this is an internal company matter.” The big guy leaned forward. “We suspect that you may be the only person who can reach him. Maybe knock some sense into him, get him to talk. We need to know how he knew about the project, and who he’s working with. But I’ll tell you this—the one thing we do know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, is that you’re the only person who can rebuild the Quantum Megamaser.”
Ben stared at the mugshot. The boy’s eyes were rolled back into his head. He’d been roughed up a bit. Thin, and very dirty. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
Ben’s heart turned inside out, fell to the floor, and shattered into a million pieces.
At the same time, elation washed over him. His son was alive. Maybe, if they both played their cards right, they’d have a chance at being reunited.
A shrill buzz came from the desk phone, followed by the secretary’s voice, “Mr. Vernon, your lunch is here. Would you like me to send it in?”
“One more moment,” he responded, then shot Ben a grave look. “I know this is a lot to handle all at once, but this is a time-sensitive matter. What do you say? Develop a technology that may someday save humanity, and at the same time, maybe find your boy?”
Ben’s cell was already at his ear. “I’m in. Let me call my lawyers first, explain to them what happened. Damn, no signal! Mind if I use your desk phone? I’ll be quick.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re willing to help, Ben. But no lawyers. No Feds. Like I said, this is an internal company matter. After what happened in Alaska, we can’t take any chances this time. There’s a helicopter on the roof, ready to take you to a remote base of operations.”
“Remote? Right now? I don’t have any luggage, or my passport. I can zip home, grab some things—”
“The chopper leaves now. You’re either on it, or not. Where you’re going you won’t need a passport.” The big guy smirked and waved a hand toward the doors. “Someone is waiting at the elevator to take you up. Good luck, Ben.”
Ben sighed, nodded, and slid his phone back into his jacket. He pushed through the doors and sped toward the elevator. The secretary looked up and winked over her glasses.
“Safe travels, Mr. Hong.”
In his rush to get to the elevator, he bumped into a wheeled cart that carried Mr. Vernon’s lunch. As the doors slid shut, Ben imagined he heard a small meow come from beneath the silver lid.
Stress does weird things to the senses.
His phone was back in his hands, his thumbs swiping from photo to photo. A hopeful smile was plastered to his face.
I’m coming to find you, Charlie.
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Silence of the Schwag
(Far Out Chronicles: Book Four)
Light years from his old life back on Earth, Charlie still managed to end up on the wrong side of the law. When a member of his crew is arrested by the Galactic Federation, Charlie embarks on a dangerous mission to set things right. Stranded on a planet so delicate that sound is destructive, his stoned wit is put to the test. Surviving robot mercenaries, deadly booby traps, and shapeshifting monsters will seem like a piece of cake compared to the real challenge: doing it all with nothing more than a sack of the schwaggiest schwag in the cosmos.
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About the Author
Tom Sadira is known throughout the multiverse as one of the most accompl
ished authors of sci-fi and fantasy to have ever spawned in this sector. He’s been published in journals, anthologies, and collections throughout this galactic quadrant, most of which you’ve never heard of, so just forget I mentioned it. Sadly, his home world of Earth is one of the last planets to catch on.
He currently basks in the intense solar radiation of Arizona with his lovely wife and three children (all human, probably).