The Krone Experiment (36 page)
“As many of you know, I am actively involved
in Project Antares at Los Alamos. Our goal is to create controlled
thermonuclear reactions by imploding a pellet of deuterium and
tritium. The present scheme has six gas lasers the size of
locomotives producing seventy-two laser beams that are brought to
focus on the pellet. The pellet is drastically compressed, creating
high enough temperatures and densities to trigger the fusing of
deuterium into helium.
“This is only one of the projects currently
being undertaken by our government and by that of the Soviet Union
that appears to me to bear on this problem. The others, given the
current political situation, are related to weaponry. I speak of
beam weapons of many kinds that unload their destructive power at
the speed of light and will render normal missiles and aircraft
obsolete and defenseless.
“I myself have had a role in developing the
infrared chemical laser that the Navy is using in their Sea Light
lethality verification program and the related Talon Gold pointing
and tracking tests. The Air Force has its own parallel program with
a carbon dioxide gas laser on an NKC-135 at Kirtland Air Force
Base.
“While I’m not involved with them, except as
a competitor for funding, there are several programs developing
particle beams. The White Horse project at Los Alamos aims for a
space-based neutral beam generator using a radio frequency
quadrupole accelerator. The Advanced Test Facility at Liver more is
producing an electron beam, and the RADALAC at Sandia can fire
electrons, protons, or negative hydrogen ions at near the speed of
light. Lord only knows what sort of gadgets the Russians have by
now. Most of our ideas were stolen from them. We know they have
developed techniques to use chemical explosions to drive magnetic
flux compression generators. They have used stupendous electric
currents generated by these devices to power rail guns—linear
induction motors that can be used to hurl payloads into orbit or
drive armor piercing bullets at hypersonic velocities.”
Zicek leaned forward, resting his forearms on
his thighs and interlocking his fingers. “Now my point is, any of
these devices—lasers, relativistic electron beams, rail guns—can,
in principle, be focused inward to achieve implosions. So far the
goal of implosion studies has been to achieve high density and
temperature and produce nuclear fusion. Such processes cannot
achieve extreme densities because the energy expended to raise both
the temperature and the density is too high. Alex and Harvey
discussed that yesterday.
“But suppose our goal was not high
temperature, but just high density— very high density. It is true
that I cannot see how to reach densities where self-gravity plays a
role and a black hole becomes feasible. I can, however, imagine a
few tricks in principle to keep the temperature relatively low even
as the density rises.”
He unlaced his fingers and gestured with open
palms.
“I’m sorry to be so long-winded. What I am
trying to say is that our technology is moving even now in a
direction where such a thing becomes imaginable. Technological and
scientific advances are growing exponentially. Who knows what comes
next?”
Zicek looked around the confines of the small
room, eyeing his colleagues.
“Are you inviting us to conclude,” asked
Fletcher in a voice of deliberate calm, “that, while we cannot now
do such a thing, perhaps a society only somewhat advanced from ours
could?”
“Never mind a very advanced society,” put in
Noldt more excitedly.
“Oh, hold on,” said Leems disgustedly.
“Granted, Vlad, we’re inventing a cornucopia of implosion
machinery. There is still an immense jump to making black holes.
Just because we’ve launched a space probe out of the solar system
doesn’t mean that intergalactic space travel will be possible for
us or for any advanced civilizations that might be out there.
Sometimes practical limits can erect just as solid a barrier as
physical impossibility. You damn well can’t strike a match on a wet
cake of soap. I still find the whole black hole business
preposterous.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Harvey,” admitted
Zicek, “but I feel we should not jump to a conclusion either way.
No one has really thought seriously about how hard or how easy
making a black hole might be if one really tried. I’m just saying
such a thing may be possible. Our knowledge of the behavior of
matter at only slightly greater than nuclear density is very
sparse.”
“Well, what we don’t know, we can’t use to
reach any conclusions,” said Leems, still sounding disgusted.
“Of course, of course,” placated Zicek. He
addressed himself to Phillips again. “My thoughts in this direction
lead me to one concrete suggestion you may want to consider.”
“Yes, what is that?” inquired Phillips.
“We have discussed bringing in other experts
to help us deal with the particulars of this problem. Carl
suggested Humphreys,” he waved toward Fletcher. “I think we should
consider more carefully this question of how such a thing might be
made. One person comes to mind who would be uniquely qualified in
terms of both experience and creative insight.”
“I’ll bet you’re thinking of Paul Krone,”
said Runyan.
“Yes, in fact, I was,” replied Zicek.
Isaacs looked up sharply at this reference.
He had heard of Paul Krone, and he was not the kind of man Isaacs
would be keen to bring into this effort. Not exactly stable.
Leems made clear where he stood.
“That horse’s ass? Surely you don’t want to
set that bull loose in this china shop?”
“You’re being unfair,” Zicek replied tensely.
“I know there are people jealous of Paul’s successes because they
don’t understand his methods, but he has great insight that could
serve us well and he’s currently deeply involved in these
questions.”
“Jealous?” Leems waved a hand in dismissal.
“He can’t even keep a job. Half his ideas are fantasy—sheer
gibberish. And who knows what other troubles he would bring.”
Isaacs thought Leems probably was jealous.
Krone had worked his way through a couple of universities, private
industry and various government labs, a maverick always on the
move, but he had a midas touch. A dozen times during his career he
had started a little company on the side, working on some
development or other. If the idea worked, Krone would keep a
controlling interest, but turn the company over to professional
managers and never look back. The scientists he worked with were
always suspicious because he made so much money. Businessmen
couldn’t understand how he could throw it all over and go back to
tinkering in some laboratory or doodling equations.
Krone was a man of great appetites as well as
great talent. There had been some trouble getting him a security
clearance for one government consulting job, and the case had come
to Isaacs’ attention informally through an acquaintance with the
FBI. There had been questions of drugs and women, a year or two ago
he had taken up with an expatriate Russian of all things, and legal
entanglements concerning the proprietary rights to some of his
developments. In looking over the file, Isaacs had been amazed to
see the number of well- known companies, three of them on the
Fortune 500, that Krone controlled, directly or indirectly.
Runyan laughed to take the sting out of
Leems’ words.
“C’mon, Harvey. It’s true Paul can be hard to
take when he starts ranting. There’s no question he’s a raving
egomaniac with a penchant for hiding his ideas until he can spring
them on the world. And maybe half his ideas are nonsense, but half
of them have some real insight, and half of a lot is a lot.”
He addressed himself to Phillips.
“It strikes me someone like Krone who’s
familiar with both theoretical physics and engineering developments
might be useful to us.”
Runyan turned to Zicek.
“What’s he doing now? Didn’t I hear he was
consulting at Los Alamos?”
“That’s right. He started another company and
has a consulting contract with the Lab to explore just these
developments I was describing—laser implosion, relativistic beams—
both experimentally and theoretically. That’s why I thought he
would have a general grasp of the situation that would be useful to
us.”
Isaacs saw there might be some merit to the
arguments Zicek and Runyan made, but his sympathies were more with
Leems. He spoke up. “I wonder whether the questions Dr. Zicek
raises, and perhaps Dr. Krone’s involvement, might be of secondary
importance just now. It seems that our critical task is to confirm
or deny Dr. Runyan’s suggestion. I would like to ask Dr. Gantt
whether he has considered the requirements of the proposed
experiment. I’m sure your seismology lab at Caltech is well
equipped, but I wonder whether you will need any help that my
agency or some other government agency can provide?”
“I’ve not had time to plan any details,”
replied Gantt. “We’ll want to go someplace that is seismically
inactive—away from the California fault system, perhaps Arizona. I
might use some help with transportation and some support equipment.
I’d like to use an on-site minicomputer for analysis. I have one,
but it’s cumbersome to move.”
Isaacs nodded. “We can help with that.”
Gantt continued, “We must, of course, know
where to look. From Dr. Danielson’s present data it appears that
the activity comes near the surface at about twelve-hundred-mile
intervals. The trick is to be in the right place at the right time.
You’ve said you can predict the surface location at any particular
instant to within a kilometer or so.” He looked toward Danielson
for confirmation, and the young woman nodded.
“With updated sonar data, we should be able
to do better than that,” she said.
Gantt turned to Runyan. “What gravitational
perturbation did you estimate for a distance of a kilometer,
Alex?”
“That should give you a fluctuation of a part
in a million,” replied Runyan.
“We can do that,” asserted Gantt.
“I’m going to be busy with things in
Washington,” Isaacs said, “but I’d like to have someone on the site
with you. Would you mind if Dr. Danielson joined you?”
“Not at all,” Gantt replied. “I think her
knowledge of the background to this situation could prove most
useful.” He smiled at the young woman and got a brief appreciative
one in return.
“You wouldn’t mind joining Professor Gantt,
would you, Pat?” Isaacs asked.
She thought of her urge to go to Dallas to be
where the action was. Nothing would keep her from being on top of
it the next time.
“I would like to very much.”
Oho, Runyan thought to himself, now there’s a
trip I’d like to make, too. He looked at Isaacs’ stern visage and
decided now was not the ideal time to press his petition.
“Excellent,” said Phillips, with an air of
summary. “Perhaps we should leave it at that, then. I know Mr.
Isaacs has a plane to catch, and I don’t believe further discussion
would enhance the situation at this point. I suggest we
adjourn.”
He rose to emphasize his decision and watched
as the others stood and filed out. He joined Isaacs in the hall and
they waited a moment for Danielson and Runyan, who were the last
ones out.
Isaacs and Danielson gathered their things
from their rooms while Phillips called for a car. They caught a
noon flight back to Washington.
They spoke little until the plane was in the
air. When the no smoking sign was turned off and the attendants
began to move around the cabin, they turned as if at a signal, and
looked at one another. Each read in the other’s eyes the special
camaraderie of a shared, shocking experience. Impulsively,
Danielson leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
Surprised and pleased, he patted her hand on the armrest, in what
he hoped was a fatherly manner. Danielson leaned back in her
seat.
“Wow!” she exclaimed quietly. “I feel like
I’m trying to work an idea into my head that’s a hundred sizes too
big to fit.” She turned to him. “Thanks for the opportunity to go
with Gantt. I really want to do that.”
“You’ve done an excellent job all along,”
Isaacs told her. “We need you to follow up.”
“Thank you,” she replied, “but you’re the one
who deserves congratulations. I know what you risked to bring us
this far.”
The rolling chaos of the serving cart
appeared in the aisle next to them, and they each ordered a bloody
mary.
Danielson took a sip of her drink, then
stared into it, probing on the lime slice with the swizzle stick.
“Who would have thought that that faint signal would lead to this?”
she asked herself as much as Isaacs.
She turned to him. “You certainly were right
about the effectiveness of Jason. What did you think of Alex
Runyan? Wasn’t that amazing the way he so quickly drew everything
together?”
“That was quite a show he put on,” Isaacs
replied neutrally. “We do have to remember that for all his
arguments we have no direct proof. Perhaps we should reserve
judgment until Gantt performs this experiment.”
Danielson was surprised at his coolness. She
shot a sideways glance at him, with a sudden flash of intuition.
Was it possible, just possible, that Bob Isaacs was the tiniest bit
jealous of Alex Runyan? At the attention he had shown her? She took
another sip of her drink. There were a number of things, big and
small, to savor about this trip. She added that notion to the
list.
*****
Ellison Gantt glanced at the naked sun high
over his shoulder, wiped sweat from his forehead and dried his hand
on the seat of his pants. He checked the date on his watch.
Tuesday, August 10. Hot in this part of the world. The Jason
meeting with the CIA people had catalyzed a week of exhaustive
activity. He had assembled an impressive array of seismological
data monitoring equipment and made what modifications he could to
suit the mission at hand. They had been encamped for two days in
this remote part of the Lechuguilla Desert, thirty miles from Yuma,
a little southwest of Welton. Despite the debilitating, blistering
August heat, they had managed to set up the equipment and to repair
the minor damage done in transit. Gantt still marveled at the speed
with which the transportation had been mobilized once a suitable
site had been selected and the equipment was ready. Isaacs had
arranged for an Air Force cargo jet to fly them to the Yuma Marine
Corps Air Station, then for a helicopter ferry to this remote
site.