"Strange, isn't it?" Hammond pointed out, goading him on, "how after all these years expediency has degenerated into murder."
Rinehart stopped moving and turned an agonized gaze on Hammond. He rubbed a hand over his face and then flopped- back into his chair. "You really know nothing about it, Commander...or you wouldn't say those things..." he mumbled.
"Then you better start filling me in," Hammond said quietly.
Rinehart closed his eyes again. A moment later, they flew open and he said, "Do you know what Thin Air was?"
"No. That's what I came to find out."
Rinehart snorted, then said, "It was the development of invisibility...as a weapon."
Hammond nodded carefully without reacting.
"It came about in 1941 as a secret project under wartime emergency. It was initiated by a man named Emil Kurtnauer, whose roots in it extend back to 1933." He paused a moment, scratching his eyebrows. "Do you know anything about him?"
"Just what was in the ONR file."
"Oh, that." Rinehart laughed. "What a joke." Rinehart settled himself into his chair and tapped his fingers on the arm, organizing his thoughts. "Emil Kurtnauer was an Austrian physicist much influenced by Albert Einstein's theories of relativity. He was studying in Düsseldorf in October of 1933 when Einstein and Niels Bohr met in conference at Brussels. Kurtnauer went there and pestered them until Einstein agreed to sit down with him. For two whole days they discussed an application of Einstein's Unified Field Theory that Kurtnauer wanted to work on. Einstein took great pains trying to talk him out of it, insisting that the theory, which he'd put forth in 1929, was desperately flawed and any applications of it could only compound the error. Kurtnauer insisted to the contrary: there was something to it and he intended to devote himself to his project. Einstein, sensing determination, encouraged him to send over his findings and he in turn would keep Kurtnauer advised of his own progress. So Kurtnauer happily went home.
"But 1933 was also the year Hitler rose to power. Kurtnauer, a Jew, fled Germany in 1935, emigrating to America. He got in touch with Einstein, who helped him secure a teaching post at the University of Chicago. Eventually, he was taken under the great man's wing as a part-time assistant. Einstein put him to work on the Unified Field Theory, giving him calculations to work out and problems to toy with."
Rinehart leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and gently moving his hands as he spoke. His guarded manner had vanished.
"You see, there was a marked difference in the way these two men approached science. Einstein was the great reducer. He believed certain physical phenomena had more than passing similarity to one another. Electrons moving around the atomic nucleus, planets revolving around the sun—Einstein concluded that space and the atom were different aspects of the same thing, and ought to be considered in relation to each other. His ideas about unification were aimed at distilling everything down to a few simple basics.
"Kurtnauer, on the other hand, was a great applicator. He wanted to put those simplified theories to work even before they were proved. It's as if the two men were clinging to the same tree, Einstein trying to find the roots and Kurtnauer climbing out on a limb."
He stopped. Hammond was mixing a smile with a distinctly puzzled look. "Am I going too fast for you, son?" asked Rinehart.
"A little."
"Well, let me see if I can clarify. You have any idea what relativity is all about?"
Hammond swallowed. "Vaguely," he said.
"Hah! Good answer." Rinehart's blue eyes twinkled. "First of all, let's take a few basic quantities." He ticked them off on his stub fingers. "Energy, matter, time, space, and gravitation all have something in common: they're effects we find operating inside both space and the atom. They're unifying forces, but in scientific observation we separate them into two groups, the two elemental forces in the universe: electromagnetism and gravitation.
"Electromagnetism comprises the basic units of matter and energy—concepts falling under what we call quantum theory—while all our ideas on space, time, and gravitation are described by relativity.
"The attempt to unify the two began with Einstein's Special Theory of Relativity, which says that for all systems moving in a uniform manner relative to each other, the natural laws governing them are the same.
"The sun sets up a gravitational field in space and the planets spin around it. Within the atom, the nucleus sets up an electromagnetic field which keeps charged particles spinning around it. But the sun also has an electromagnetic field, which we recognize as its poles...and the atom also possesses gravitation. So they're equivalent Interchangeable concepts.
"Einstein wanted to show how gravitational attraction was interchangeable with electromagnetic field—to build a bridge between microcosm and macrocosm. That's the 1929 theory that Dr. Kurtnauer fell in love with. But Einstein always felt his own work on it was inadequate. He spent the rest of his life trying to revise it."
Rinehart studied Hammond, trying to gauge his comprehension. Hammond stared back like a first-year physics student who knew he would never make it to the second year.
Rinehart sighed and spoke very slowly. "In Special Relativity, Einstein's equation, E=mc2, says that energy is equivalent to the mass of a body multiplied by the square of the speed of light." He held up the stubby forefinger of each hand and brought them together until they were side by side. "Matter converts into energy and back again depending on what you do with the velocity at which it moves.
"In General Relativity, gravitation is a field exerting a geometrical force on the bodies within its influence. When light, an electromagnetic force, enters a gravitational field, it bends..." Rinehart curved a hand in Hammond's face. "The angle at which it bends is relative to the mass and velocity of the gravitating body."
Hammond managed a look of intense interest, but Rinehart knew that only half of what he was saying was getting through.
"In simple language," he continued patiently, "what Kurtnauer saw in unifying these forces was the opportunity of altering the state of a single body by playing with the way we perceive it. If he could set up a gravitational field oscillating on an electromagnetic frequency, it should contain everything within that field, yet-permit him to alter its state of being."
"Alter it in what way?" asked Hammond.
"Make it invisible."
Hammond stared at him. Of course that was what it was all leading to, but he still found it hard to accept. "That's right out of Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon, Mr. Rinehart."
"Sure it is. But where do you think rocket travel came from? Laser beams? Space stations? They're all cases of reality mimicking art."
Hammond squinted at the rows of science-fiction magazines crowding the bookshelves over Rinehart's head: Amazing Stories, Air Wonder Stories, Astounding, Galaxy....He wanted to laugh, but Rinehart was making it too painfully real for that.
"Make...make what invisible?" he finally asked.
"People."
Now he did laugh. Rinehart just watched him, devoid of feeling.
"It's an old concept," he conceded. "But it could work if the right approach was used. Since all relativistic effects depend on the presence of an observer separate from the uniform bodies in motion, the effect could only be measured by someone outside the field.
"In other words, I could stand here while you could be set to vibrating inside Kurtnauer's field at some incredible velocity. I would then perceive you becoming invisible."
Hammond took a deep breath and held it for a moment, his mind racing. Rinehart smiled and said, "Maybe you'd like to see it on paper."
Hammond nodded, so Rinehart got up and rummaged in a bookshelf, dragging out a battered notebook. He flung pages around until he located an old yellow sheet and pulled it out. He passed it to Hammond, saying, "That's all I've got left of Kurtnauer's original proposal to the Navy at the end of 1941."
Hammond studied the paper. It was marked with a little numeral 3 in the upper right corner and contained only
a few typed lines:
Matter could be restrained from total conversion
into energy by the controlled application of
a radiation field of sufficient gravitational
intensity to contain a body or bodies moving
uniformly near the velocity of light, thereby
rendering them invisible to outside observers.
Rinehart smiled. "Kurtnauer believed that by employing a gravitational field generated from an electromagnetic source, he could control the loss of mass and prevent things within the field from turning to pure energy. He could simply make them move so fast that they couldn't be seen."
"What was it all for?" asked Hammond. He had to restrain himself from jumping in with a dozen questions at once.
"When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, a lot of secret projects sprang up under military auspices. Kurtnauer went to the War Department with his proposal, a plan for developing invisibility as a weapon against the Japanese. The War Department was already swamped with similar ideas, but when Kurtnauer mentioned his association with Einstein, they sent him along to Frank Knox, who was then Secretary of the Navy. Knox approved the project, gave it its somewhat ironic name, Thin Air, and appointed a committee to administrate. Kurtnauer was to head the scientific team, I was made project director, and a Captain Sartog was appointed Naval Haison." Rinehart sipped his tea and thrust his Skinny legs up on a worn footstool.
"I had been a consultant to the Sperry Corporation in California since the mid 1930s—involved in research programs with the Navy. I was a bug on things that nobody else wanted to touch, and I was well-known to Frank Knox. He brought me in, threw the project in my lap, and said, 'Don't let these boys get out of hand. You're the project director and they're answerable to you....'"
Rinehart snorted bitterly. "Later on, I think he forgot that conversation. Anyway, Kurtnauer hand-picked a small group of physicists and engineers from across the country," he continued. "And I had them all moved to Philadelphia. We took over quarters in the Navy Yard there, windowless sheds with heavy security. We lived there day and night, meals and recreation. We were like prisoners, allowed to take long walks on the breakwater but ho fraternization with other people on the base."
"Excuse me," said Hammond, "but was there a man named Traben among those scientists?"
Rinehart's eyes seemed to glaze over with coldness. "Yes," he said. "Kurtnauer made him his personal assistant. It was Traben's daring that really moved the project along. Kurtnauer was a theoretical physicist, and a genius at it. But he wanted everything to work on paper first. That's all he cared about It was Traben who insisted that we requisition a ship, a new DE. He felt we needed something big, that if this process were ever to work as a weapon, we had to prove it on a grand scale. He intended that we would make the entire ship invisible and bring it back undamaged."
"Was that the Sturman?" asked Hammond.
"Yes. Captain Sartog requisitioned DE-166 even before she came off the ways, and had her modified before completion. They eliminated a three-inch cannon and the entire forward gun mount on the main deck, at Traben's direction. Sartog martialed a corps of engineers to construct our equipment, which consisted of the field generator and electromagnetic couplers producing enough power and range to affect the entire vessel. These were fitted into one of the Sturman's engine rooms, completely replacing the port engine."
"Why did Traben have them remove the forward gun mount?" asked Hammond.
Rinehart leaned forward and spoke with distaste. "Because he had an ace up his sleeve. He knew that the goddamned ship, invisible or otherwise, was useless without a crew. He needed men to subject themselves to the field, and he needed a place for them to stand in plain view, where they could be observed by someone outside the field."
Rinehart bounced to his feet and the nervous Siamese shot across the room. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and scowled at Hammond. "It could have been the ultimate weapon of its time. We could have made the ship and its crew invisible, guided them to a destination by remote control, then turned off the field and let them attack! Imagine where they could have popped up! Guam, the Philippines, Tokyo Bay! In the blink of an eye! Suddenly, there's the Sturman, blazing away! If we had succeeded, Commander, they could have called off the Manhattan Project. There would have been no need for the atomic bomb!"
Hammond looked doubtful. "You were saying—if you had succeeded—?"
Rinehart blew out his breath. "It was Traben's fault. The sonofabitch moved too fast. The experiment was a success, but the after-effects on the men were disastrous. It was nothing we could have foreseen, but we should have taken precautions....Kurtnauer suffered personally. It nearly destroyed him..." He trailed off, lost in a painful memory.
"Well, what happened?" asked Hammond. But Rinehart wasn't listening. He shook a finger at Hammond, like a father lecturing his son.
"You have to understand Kurtnauer," he said. "He was a humanitarian. He shared that with Einstein, who-disapproved of the bomb, and I'm sure he was not in favor of Kturtnauer's project either, once it became clear what it was going to be. And Kurtnauer, if he had suspected the side' effects, would never have allowed the experiment to take place."
Hammond was impressed. Rinehart was sounding less and less like a crackpot. He paced the room and spoke about Sartog's appointment of Lieutenant Commander Leslie Warrington, a close and trusted friend, as commanding officer of the Sturman in 1943.
"She was commissioned on the fourth of July. Warrington had her from the beginning. They used a volunteer crew from the East Coast bases: Norfolk, Newport News, and Boston—mostly machinist's mates and engineers. The men were told only that the ship would be subjected to a kind of force field, making it impossible for them to be seen from outside it. The drills were repeated day after day for months to make the whole project seem ordinary. Warrington wanted his men relaxed and familiar with the routine when they were finally ready for the big moment."
Rinehart stopped pacing and threw another log on the fire. He warmed his hands over the flames and went on: "But Traben insisted time was at a premium and we had to proceed with the ultimate experiment as soon as possible. Kurtnauer, on the other hand, was cautious. Without further testing on lab animals, he felt it would be too dangerous to use men. Traben turned to me for arbitration and I took the matter to Frank Knox."
He fell back into his seat. The dog in the basket behind him yawned. "By this time, the Secretary had concluded invisibility was a desperately needed, vital weapon. So he told me to perfect it and do it fast.
"What about Kurtnauer's objection?" asked Hammond.
"I had to go back and convince him. It wasn't easy, but at that time, Emil was still willing to believe in his adopted government."
"He had doubts other than the use of men?"
"Later on, yes," Rinehart said, not looking at Hammond. He rubbed his knee-joint and grimaced. Hammond guessed arthritis.
"In October of 1943," Rinehart continued, "the Sturman received final preparations. And on the morning of the twenty-second, just before dawn, she was towed out of the yard, then south into Delaware Bay to a point well off the coast of New Jersey."
"This was with the full crew?"
"Full experimental crew, yes. At no time did she have a sailing crew, per se."
Hammond glanced at the tape. He was going to run out soon.
"From an observer ship stationed two thousand yards beyond the effective range of the field, I watched with Kurtnauer, Sartog, and Traben. We conducted rehearsals the rest of the day, then let everybody sleep until dawn the next morning. Then the experiment began. The Sturman was not anchored. Her engine was shut off and she was allowed to drift and roll. Warrington was positioned on her navigating bridge, his hand over a 'dead-man' switch which would allow him to shut off the field generator in the event something went wrong.
"Around four-thirty on the morning of October twenty-third, Sartog whispered instructions into the radio. Warrington pulled a swit
ch on the Sturmaris bridge and the field generator went on below deck. It produced an incredible amount of power and set up a vibration aboard the ship that quickly accelerated to enormous velocity. The generator was tuned to a frequency that would ultimately vibrate at 90 percent the speed of light, nearly 168,000 miles per second."
Hammond whistled. "How could the ship withstand that kind of stress?"
Rinehart smiled patiently. "That's what I was trying to tell you before: the ship and the field vibrate together. Everything within the field is contained, kept intact in its original form. Uniform bodies in motion, Hammond, behave as if they are a world unto themselves. And actually, they are."
Hammond nodded, sure that he was never going to grasp all of it, but sufficiently convinced that whatever had happened was extraordinary.
"Even two thousand yards away, we could hear the high-pitched hum, could feel the initial vibrations as a rippling shock wave built up and rolled across the water. Then the hum got so high we couldn't hear it anymore.
"Warrington's voice came over the radio, curiously low-pitched and slowing down like a record player that had just been shut off.
" 'It's creeping up,' I remember he said, and then the radio fell silent. From the observer ship, we saw the effect spreading outwards: progressive fading, shimmering, then full transparency, then finally—the Sturman simply blinked out"
"Vanished?" asked Hammond.
Rinehart nodded. "In its place was a convex depression in the water and clear sky on the other side."
Hammond stared at him. He had been expecting this tale to end in failure. He should have known better—there had to have been some early success for this project to have continued as long as it did. The details were frighteningly similar to Fletcher's and Yablonski's nightmare, but the experiment Rinehart was describing had taken place ten years earlier!
"The field acceleration, had leveled off to a constant velocity," Rinehart continued, "reaching an equilibrium that put it in another time/space framework.
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