the Noise Within (2010) (5 page)

After appraising Philip for a second, Catherine spoke. "A meeting, you say. Today. In person."

"Yes," he replied simply.

Her eyes were the only feature that hinted at a glorious past; clear, bright and of a piercing blue. For long seconds her gaze held his, as if measuring his worth, his integrity. It was all he could do not to flinch.

"Very well," and, with a nod of farewell, she broke the connection.

Philip let out a breath which he hadn't even realised he was holding. At least Catherine had not been crass enough to ask
why
he was calling the board together. She for one had the intelligence to realise that he would not be insisting on a physical meeting were he willing to discuss the subject so readily.

If only others were equally as perceptive.

"What the hell's this all about, Philip?" David Benn had demanded.

"I'll tell you at the meeting."

"Don't be ridiculous. I can't simply drop everything just on your say so!"

But he did.

"Well?" demanded a familiar voice.

Philip's reveries slipped away. He hadn't even noticed the approach of Susan Tan, his senior research assistant.

"Looks pretty good," he temporised, while pulling his focus back to the readings in front of him.

"
Pretty
good? That was fantastic!"

"Perhaps," and his eyes darted across the figures, seeking imperfections and finally focusing on something, "but that approach turn and acceleration would have killed him in real life, if not for the gelsuit."

She snorted. "Oh, come on. That's like saying that in real life he'd have died in the near-vacuum of space without the ship; which is why we build ships and why we've designed the gelsuit. You're going to have to do better than that."

She was right, but at least the banal observation had given him enough time to hunt down more significant indicators. "Look at the stress levels," he said, pointing to the relevant figures. "You're right, that performance was just about perfect, but this was one manoeuvre lasting only a matter of minutes... and just
look
at the strain! If we'd subjected Jenner to a couple of hours of this, let alone a day or two, he'd most likely be dead."

And therein lay their real frustration. No matter what drugs they fed in and cushioned it with, no matter the gelsuit and all the other physical supports they provided, the human brain still struggled to operate at these levels for any length of time; it simply couldn't keep up without burning itself out. Yet they were so close. He could sense it, everyone involved could sense it.

"I know." Susan's sigh was a weary one. "But this is something, isn't it?"

"Yes," he agreed, "it's more than just something. This is fabulous progress." He left the many 'buts' unspoken; Susan could hear them as clearly as he could. Philip checked the time, and was surprised at how much of it had passed. "I have to go."

"Ah yes, this mysterious board meeting of yours. Maybe, if I'm lucky, you'll eventually get around to telling me what it's about some time."

Philip suppressed a smile. Susan's inquisitiveness was legendary. He supposed it went with the territory; after all, what good was a senior researcher who didn't yearn to discover things?

"When I can," he assured her. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You'll be the first to know, I promise."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

He afforded her a wry smile from under raised eyebrows but turned without further comment and strode away.

"More likely I'll be the last, as usual," she called after him.

Philip returned to his office. He knew there were preparations to make before the meeting but was strangely reluctant to begin them. His thoughts kept returning to
The Sun Seeker
and all that the ship meant to his company, his family.

He picked up a statuette awarded him for innovation some years ago, running his fingers distractedly over the familiar contours of the clichéd rocket ship's hull, putting it back only to pick it up again. He couldn't sit down, could not stop fidgeting, while his mind switched incessantly between considering the past and reviewing that morning's work. With a conscious effort he battened down the former and concentrated on the latter, reaffirming its significance to his own satisfaction and making sure that he wasn't allowing his enthusiasm to run away with him and cloud his judgement.

No, this really was as important as he imagined it to be. He found himself near-breathless with an excitement unmatched since the very earliest days of the ongoing project, the latest chapter of which he had just witnessed.

The somewhat blandly named Homeworld may not have been the centre of the universe, or even of that small portion of it claimed as human space, but at least Kaufman Industries had ensured that the planet's name remained prominent on any map. Popular myth had it that the world's underwhelming name came about because this was the world where a base was first established when this section of space was originally being explored. Those early pioneers, weary after protracted time in the cramped confines of their ships, would talk about returning to 'home base' or simply 'home' and the name had stuck, expanding to encompass the whole world. Philip had no idea whether the story was apocryphal or not, but a sentimental part of him hoped it wasn't.

Kaufman Industries had been innovators in ship systems and engine design for three generations, rising to real prominence under the stewardship of Philip's father. Malcolm Kaufman had overseen the development of the Kaufman Drive, a completely new approach to the propulsion systems which powered starships through wormholes and enabled them to sidestep the laws of physics and traverse the gulf between the stars. So revolutionary was the system, so much cleaner and more compact than anything seen before, that the name 'Kaufman' soon became synonymous with all ship's engines in the minds of the general public.

Such success came at a price, and competitors were quick to latch on to Kaufman Industry's meteoric rise, doing all they could to hang onto KI's shirt tails. 'Imitation is the greatest form of flattery; except when it hits you in the bank balance!' had been one of the company's maxims since Malcolm's time. KI's past was littered with lawsuits against the manufacturers of devices with such dubious epithets as the 'Kouffman Drive' and the 'Kautman Drive', all with suspiciously familiar logos.

Yet despite its eminence and despite having branches on over half the settled worlds - including every single one that mattered - the company's roots were surprisingly provincial and their power base remained so. The seven people who joined Philip in the boardroom towards the end of that day represented almost the entire board of Kaufman Industries. Only Daniel Ackerman was absent, being out of town and unable to get back in time.

Philip was well aware of the irony of the situation: only the previous evening he had been cursing the organisers of the Gügenhall for insisting he attend an event in person, and now here he was, dragging seven equally reluctant souls across town to do the same. However, he had examined his own motives carefully. He was wholly satisfied that the situation merited every precaution, and that this was not some form of perverse transference of his own enforced discomfort. At least, not entirely.

He waited while the others took their seats before sitting down himself at the head of the magnificent polished rosewood table - so deliciously retro with its rounded corners and edges inlaid with gold and imported mahogany; so pleasingly incongruous in this setting. The room itself was a functional oblong space with plain walls and a trio of large plate-glass windows. The latter had been treated with a patented nano-coating designed to break up the rhythm of vibration and so prevent their being used as a sounding board by any would-be eavesdroppers. The imposing table with its complement of ten hand-carved and equally impressive chairs - four to either side and one at each end - might have been lifted from another world, another time. Furniture and room provided a jarring juxtaposition between the practical and the ornate, one which Philip delighted in.

"This had better be important, Philip!" Benn growled before Philip even had a chance to bring the meeting to order.

"Now, David, I'm sure our chairman would not have been so insistent we should be here in person if it weren't," Catherine Chzyski said before flashing her disgruntled colleague a misleadingly pleasant smile. "Would you, Philip?"

Her mouth might have been smiling, yet those piercing blue eyes were anything but as they turned towards him. Philip could almost hear the unspoken 'dared to' in her gentle rebuke to Benn. He swallowed on a suddenly dry throat. "Thank you, Catherine. Indeed I would not."

She was the key here. Even within such a small group as this, alliances and cliques were inevitable as people shuffled to gain advantage. Catherine represented the traditionalists on the board, with a history of influence stretching back to long before Philip's time. There were even whispered rumours of an affair between her and Malcolm, which Philip had never chosen to listen to or explore. At least two of the others here would follow Catherine's lead; if he could convince her of the significance of all this and what it meant to their project, he would all but have won the day. Philip took a deep breath and began.

"I apologise for dragging you here in person, but, as we all know, any form of electronic or virtual conferencing is susceptible to interception, no matter how sophisticated the security safeguards, and what I have to show you is far too sensitive to risk a leak before we're ready to go public." He didn't mention that electronic communication was precisely how
he
had learnt of the matter in the first place.

A holographic image of
The Noise Within
appeared, to take station above the centre of the table.

"I take it we all recognise what this is?" he enquired. Judging by the nods and murmurs that went around the room, they did.

"
The Noise Within,"
someone muttered helpfully.

"Indeed, but you may be surprised to learn that she's far more than just that." The image began a slow horizontal rotation.

This time around the transformation was far more impressive than the dry simplicity Mal had presented the previous evening, which had resembled an academic teaching module. Philip had designed his version for maximum effect; taking full advantage of the larger scale and his own revised program. As the ship turned, gaining speed by imperceptible increments, individual arrays and attachments floated away from the hull one at a time, only to disappear as they departed. This happened slowly to start with but gained speed to match the image's rotation. Soon parts were detaching in rapid succession. Choreographed as if it were some elegant dance, the process was initially regal and restrained but built towards a flailing crescendo of disappearing parts, stripping the vessel down to its basic hull in the space of a few moments.

Philip surreptitiously studied his fellow directors as the show unfolded, pleased to see that all of them were absorbed by the metamorphosis and delighted to hear a sharp intake of breath from more than one as the slightly stunted, uncommonly bulbous form of
The Sun Seeker
began to emerge. A few seconds' stunned silence greeted the ship's full unveiling.

"You can't be serious," someone said - Pete Bianco, judging by the pinched, nasally whine of the voice. One of Catherine's lackeys.

"Oh, but I am. This much-fêted ship, this latest cause célèbre of the media, is none other than
The Sun Seeker
reborn."

A babble of voices erupted

"But where has she been all this time?"

"... can't be!"

"And where did she get the armament and the modifications?"

"Preposterous!"

Philip waited until the initial reaction began to wane before holding up a restraining hand. "Please!" The babble died away completely. All eyes were on him. "I have no idea where the ship has been or what has happened to her in the meantime, but that's not the point. Am I the only one here who's able to grasp the significance of this?"

Catherine had sat silent, watching him throughout. He suspected that she at least understood the implications.

"That long-ago experiment which everyone assumed had failed
hasn't
," Philip continued. "The proof is out there right now. Think about it. This ship, which we've all heard so much about, this vessel which pops up out of nowhere to run rings around the space service, making the authorities look like a bunch of inept fools in the process, is
The Sun Seeker
!" These last words were almost bellowed.

A few calculating glances flickered around the table.

Philip's voice was again calm and controlled as he resumed speaking into the silence. "What further proof does anyone need that we are very much on the right track? The project puts us light years ahead of the opposition. We've always had our detractors and I know that even some of you in this room have harboured doubts of late, but what are they going to say now - those people who called the project folly, a waste of money and resources?"

One or two of his colleagues looked fleetingly uncomfortable. Philip avoided looking directly at David Benn, whose overheard comment he had just quoted, but hoped the man felt as discomfited as he deserved. Realisation was starting to dawn on a few of their faces, but Philip pushed the point home in any case. He was beginning to enjoy himself. "Who else are the government going to turn to once the truth gets out? Who are the only people equipped to pull their collective arses out of the fire? Us! Nobody else has anything even remotely resembling the project in development. Since Shippeys pulled the plug on their own parallel project five years ago, we've been the only players in the game; which means that only Kaufman Industries have any hope of producing a system that can go head-to-head with
The Noise Within
and win."