Starship: Free Mars

Part 6: The Franentz Equation

Part 6: The Franentz Equation

Tate spent several nights with Glory over the next week. He would cheerfully have moved in with her. However, while he craved companionship as well as sex, he gave Glory plenty of space to work things out for herself.

One thing he did push. Once they had eaten breakfast after their third night together, he said, “Glory, I want to help you build a fusion engine.”

She looked away, flustered. “You are not supposed to know that.”

“What can I say?” he shrugged. “The guy with the gun said you were working on it, and that made everything else add up. You said yourself, I’m not stupid.” He smiled and tried to look innocent but helpful. “It’s been a long time since I’ve worked with the Franentz Equation, but I’m sure I could pick things up again.” Glory stared at him without saying anything. Tate finally asked, “What?”

“The Franentz Equation? You’ve actually worked with it?”

“Just the first two levels. The course never really got into the derivation, but we covered the structure of the operator matrix.” His thoughts began to catch up with the conversation. From Glory’s wide-eyed stare, it was obvious, but he said it anyway. “You don’t have access to magneto-dynamic fusion theory, do you?”

She shook her head. “Just the most basic summary. We’ve been trying to recreate the developmental work…” She stared at him intently. “No one studies this stuff much any more.”

“Except geeky mathematicians who have romantic dreams of flying to the stars.”

She sighed. “You don’t have a very high opinion of yourself, do you?”

Tate made a dismissive gesture. “I haven’t done much to be proud of. I was interested in fusion engine design, but I let myself get lured away by my charismatic research advisor. I ended up doing my dissertation on optimal topologies for Pencian operators and never went back.”

“I am going to talk to my supervising manager today. If we can’t get our hands on Franentz’s work, having someone who has actually seen it will be a big help.”

“This might help too,” he said holding up his PA. “They never let us download the actual text.” He looked away, distracted by a thought. “Seemed damned strange at the time…” but then he remembered what he had been going to say. “Anyway, I’ve kept all my class notes and papers with me. It might help.”

She stood up and reached out to reverently touch Tate’s personal assistant. “They let you keep that with you?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly tell them I had it,” he said with a smile. “I keep a large, encrypted data file with all my work in the middle of a partition in the operating system.” He nodded. “I guess I’m a bit of a sneak about things I’m not supposed to have access to.” His face got a little hot as he thought about some of the other things stashed on his PA.

Vice Commander Vicam Wieger, head of Naval Special Project, was not the kind of person Tate would have wanted to work for. But, he was Glory’s boss, and Tate kept his tongue in check. His smart mouth during his first encounter with Wieger when he had arrived on Mars had probably resulted in his teaching assignment. Something about the man just grated on Tate. Was it his made-for-video good looks? The full head of dark, well-groomed hair? No, Tate decided after listening to the man’s attempt to chop down Glory’s support for Tate, it was simpler than that. He did not like the man because the man did not like him.

Wieger thumped his hand against his desk emphatically. “No, I’m running too close to budget on this as the way it is. I can’t afford to take on another pampered Earthie just because he is your special friend.”

Glory colored at the implication, but she doggedly came back to her main point. “But he is someone who has actually worked with the Franentz Equation. If nothing else, we need a chance to find out what he knows. What can he tell us?”

“Tell us?” Wieger snorted. “He’ll tell us enough to send us off on the wrong track.” He tossed aside a sheaf of papers on his desk. “We’ve generated enough crap already. The Navy is getting impatient to shut down this loopy idea of Carlson’s.”

Carlson? Frederick Carlson, the president of Mars? He had not paid much attention to the politics on Mars, but his time in New Chicago had given him plenty of experience at interdepartmental maneuvering. Tate remained impassive, but Wieger had just given him a glimpse into the local slithering snake pit.

“So how long do we have?” Glory asked.

“They should have shut it down at year ago,” Wieger growled. He ran a hand through his coifed hair, but it fell neatly back into place. “I give it another three months before Admiral Fetts sends the finance committee the cancellation recommendation.”

“Then it won’t hurt,” Tate broke in, “to give me three months to see if I can make a difference.”

Wieger scowled at the interruption to his browbeating of Glory. “What do you mean?”

Tate shrugged. “Since you are going to be shut down anyway, what can it matter if I screw things up? All you have to do is to vouch to the university that you have work for me.” He smiled what he hoped was a innocent smile. “Besides, if you take me out of the classroom, you can prevent me from further corrupting the youth of your planet.”

Wieger stared at Tate for a time then finally looked away. “Well, maybe I can work something out,” he finally said. “You would have to understand it was only temporary. And, the university might fill your position if you take a leave of absence.”

While teaching was fun, Tate had an opportunity to work on developing a fusion engine. There was no contest. Tate nodded. “I can do other things.”

Wieger silently stared at him with contempt before he smiled a suspiciously pleasant smile and said, “Fine. Report in the morning. Ms Aurillia will find something for you to do.”