Bridgehead by David Drake

moment before when he discussed the need for secrecy.
    â€œThat shouldn’t matter,” said the Traveler. “One more person…”
    â€œBut you know,” Sara Jean went on as her mind shifted gears, “I wasn’t alone there—Danny Cooper was with me. And I really don’t know who he might have told.”
    *   *   *
    Mike Gardner whisked the tarpaulin off the tabletop unit.
    â€œWhy, this is tiny,” said Keyliss as she surveyed the equipment. The odor of burned insulation had had time to become stale. It was a blue haze hanging in the air of the lab.
    â€œWell,” said Arlene Myaschensky, “we kept the resistances and impulse strengths to scale. There was nothing in the formulae that determined size.”
    â€œThe one downstairs we built,” added Mustafa, “was that size because you said it, not because the mathematics said it.”
    â€œSo you’d try to lift a car with a string because in principle it’s the same as a hawser?” Astor demanded in a caustic voice. “You were lucky you weren’t killed! Smell that!” She waved an imperious finger through the stench.
    â€œHere’s the feed from below,” said Gardner. He pointed out the terminal to Keyliss, but he was already fishing a screwdriver out of a desk drawer to disconnect it himself. “But nothing’s live, nothing.”
    â€œSurely, Astor,” said Louis Gustafson in a reasonable tone, “if the field is weaker but the signals are in balance, nothing should—”
    The big Traveler set her hands on her hips and fiercely scowled the engineer to silence. “The field isn’t weaker,” she snarled in response. “The field is the same strength as that of our own transport unit that we harmonized yours with. It’s the machinery that’s ridiculously weaker but trying to maintain the same load. You could have killed us all!”
    â€œAstor,” said Keyliss as she looked around, “that of course isn’t true.”
    â€œListen,” snapped Isaac Hoperin, also to the bigger Traveler, “You were swearing a moment ago that nobody here needed to know anything because you had it all under control. I think you had better fill us in. There’s a great deal at risk, here, and I don’t mean Louis’s reputation alone.”
    â€œDr. Gustafson,” called a voice as gray as sword blades from the hall, “I’d like to speak to you in private if you don’t mind.”
    Everyone in the laboratory turned. The department chairman stood in the doorway, flanked by Rice and Cooper.
    â€œYes, of course, Robert,” said Professor Gustafson. He took off his glasses as if to polish them on his sleeve. His tone was completely devoid of affect.
    â€œWho’s that?” whispered Keyliss to Gardner, frozen where he bent over his work.
    â€œThe chairman,” the grad student whispered back. “Jesus, he’ll shut us down for sure if he’s learned.”
    â€œLouis,” said Astor. Her arm extended itself in front of Gustafson. “Chairman—please come in and close the door. This isn’t a matter for the two of you alone, because it isn’t a matter for your age alone.” Her eyes narrowed as they swept Rice and Cooper in the near background. “You, too, I suppose,” she added. “What can’t be helped…”
    â€œAstor, if this unit was harmonized during our transport, we don’t have very long,” interjected Keyliss. “Selve could calculate it better, but—”
    â€œThen be quiet and let me finish this,” Astor said sharply. She stepped forward. Myaschensky and Bayar made way, the Turk with the stiffness of a soldier executing an element of drill. The Traveler extended her hand to Chairman Shroyer with the forcefulness of a climber helping a fellow over a lip of rock. “Please,” she repeated. “Earth