The Krone Experiment k-1

by J. Craig Wheeler

  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.

  Chapter 13

  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.

  The basic location had suggested itself naturally enough. Gantt had briefly considered a shipboard experiment in the ocean west of San Diego, but he concluded that the delicate measurements he hoped to make would be virtually impossible with the present equipment on board a pitching ship. Even on this solid land where he now stood, the natural tremors of the Earth could mask any small effect, and he did not really know what effect to anticipate.

  He mentally surveyed the layout. Arrayed over several miles of barren rolling desert were a series of seismometers to measure the ordinary activity of the Earth, and the special seismic waves that were due to be superposed. There were also the special instruments designed to detect any accelerations that might occur if a significant gravitational pull, in addition to that of the Earth, were to occur. All these instruments were connected to a small but powerful computer energized by the portable generator the noise of which disturbed the otherwise quiet early afternoon. This computer would provide an instant analysis of the data. It not only re
corded the strength of the signals but, using information from instruments spaced at a distance, it could also triangulate and determine the direction and distance to the source of the waves or gravitational acceleration.

  All was now in readiness. Gantt felt a small chill despite the heat. In a little over an hour the seismic waves should broach the surface about two hundred miles away in eastern Arizona, registering on the seismometers but perhaps only marginally on the accelerometers even with Runyan’s most extreme estimates. Eighty and a half minutes later the source of the waves would again approach the surface but a thousand miles to the west, over seven hundred miles off the Pacific coast. Since the incommensurate period of rotation of the Earth made the surfacings appear to shift one hundred ninety miles every twenty-four hours, tomorrow at nearly the same time the waves should impinge on the surface very close to their present location.

  Gantt turned his back on the encampment and looked out across the shallow hills. He had great difficulty accepting the picture proposed by Runyan, and yet he could not resist a morbid temptation to imagine what was proceeding if the hypothesis were correct. A small speeding object was now plunging down through the deepest basalt layers of the Earth’s crust. In fifteen minutes it would enter the molten core, picking up speed as it went. Sensing the change in gravitational pull as it passed the Earth’s center, it would begin to slow as it shot back toward the surface, where it would peak with majestic slowness before crashing back into the dirt and rock.

  Gantt shook his head and strode back to the main tent of the encampment. The interior of the tent was a little cooler because of the air conditioner installed to service the computer, but it was still stifling. Gantt became too engrossed to notice.

  At five minutes before the appointed time, he focused his attention on the needles of the seismometers. They jiggled steadily, but with nearly constant amplitude, tuned to the basic constant sounds of the Earth. In a couple of minutes he saw the effect he was looking for. The swings of the needles on all three seismometers began to slowly grow in amplitude. Danielson’s seismic waves were real enough all right. The question was what caused them. Even to Gantt’s trained eye the signals on the three instruments looked identical. Only the computer could distinguish the minute differences due to the slightly different distances of the instruments from the source of the waves. Gantt turned to the computer, typing rapidly on the keyboard and then scrutinizing the screen in front of him as the printer to one side began to roll out the same data on a chain of paper sheets. The distance was about one hundred ninety miles, a little closer than their best guess, but within the expected errors. Gantt’s gaze then swung to take in the readings from the accelerometers that might detect some variation in gravitational force. He thought he could make out the briefest fluctuation, but could not be sure. Again he keyed the computer and found his impression confirmed. There might be an effect, but it was only marginally above the noise level. A more sophisticated analysis that could only be done with time and a bigger computer might dig something out, but for now there was no firm conclusion to be reached. Still, he mused, an effect of the size Runyan predicted could not be ruled out. If the minute fluctuation were real, then something massive had just surfaced two hundred miles away, and in three quarters of an hour it would do so again on the far side of the Earth.

  Gantt stripped the printed computer output off the machine and examined it more carefully. He swore quietly as sweat dripped off his brow onto the paper, obscuring a few numbers. He stopped to wipe his forehead and neck and then returned his attention to the rows of numbers. The seismic waves stopped several miles below the surface. After a minute or so, the source of the waves began again, moving nearly vertically down into the Earth. Gantt felt a nervous tightening across his abdomen. An ordinary seismic wave could be reflected, but it did not wait a minute while making up its mind. Such a delay might occur if the source of the waves moved up into light surface layers that were not conducive to the production of waves and then fell back again. Runyan’s hole could do that. Deep in thought, Gantt sat for some minutes striving for an explanation in terms of the normal behavior of the Earth as he knew it. Nothing occurred to him, but he told himself that Runyan need not be right on that basis, perhaps it was just his own lack of imagination or lack of sufficient information. The mysterious interior of the Earth had surprised him more than once and might be doing so again. Taking solace from that thought, he proceeded to a close study of the data acquired during the event.

  Wednesday morning Pat Danielson clambered down from the rear seat of the jet-black F-16 that was rigged for tactical reconnaissance. She was aided by the pilot and a ground technician. Her legs were a little unsteady from the excitement of the Mach 2 flight from Washington—over two thousand miles to the Yuma Air Station in an hour and a half. She followed a young marine to a waiting helicopter and stood there while he went into a nearby utilitarian terminal building. He reemerged in a moment followed by Alex Runyan. Runyan was halfway across the tarmac when he looked up and saw her. The look of surprise and pleasure on his face was delicious to her.

  “Pat!” He ran forward, grabbed her hand in both his and gave her a spontaneous peck on the cheek, oblivious to the watching servicemen. “What a delight. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “After you pleaded with Bob Isaacs yesterday,” Danielson said gaily, “we decided to coordinate the trips, save a helicopter ride.”

  “That’s great. When did you leave? It’s a long way.”

  She laughed with obvious glee. “Crossing three time zones helps, but so does that,” she pointed toward the fighter. “We landed before we took off.”

  “Holy cow!” Runyan exclaimed. “Now I know who has the real clout. I thought I was Mr. Big with the puddle jumper your boss arranged for me this morning. Well, let’s get on with the adventure!”

  He helped her through the passenger hatch in the side of the helicopter, handed up her light bag, then his and finally swung himself up and in with a single easy motion.

  “What did you think of Gantt’s preliminary report?” Danielson shouted over the whine of the cranking engine, as they buckled themselves in.

  “Too soon to tell,” he shouted back, “but I’m afraid there was nothing to prove I was wrong.”

  After they took off, the flight noise made conversation difficult. Danielson watched the country flash by the open hatch, vividly aware of Runyan’s long lean thigh next to hers.

  Gantt was engrossed in making some changes in the computer analysis routines when he heard the chopping roar of the approaching helicopter. He approached the landing site and stood a hundred yards off as the machine circled once around the area and then settled slowly to the ground. As the rotor speed decreased and the whine of the turbojet ceased, he saw a man get out and then turn to help his companion. Gantt squinted into the sun and then finally waved a greeting as he recognized the approaching figures.

  “Hello!” shouted Gantt. “Alex! What a surprise. I didn’t expect an extra guest at our little party here.”

  He shook hands with Runyan and then with Danielson. He grabbed the young woman’s hand with both of his and gave an extra shake. He suddenly wanted Danielson to feel welcome as a colleague, rather than a visiting government official.

  “Do you have baggage to unload?” he inquired.

  “Just a couple of bags,” replied Runyan. “Lord, it’s hot here! What’s the temperature?”

  “About a hundred and fifteen in the shade,” Gantt laughed. “Cools off in the evenings, though. Not so bad then.”

  Gantt looked back and saw the pilot unloading two small cases from the passenger compartment. He called to one of the young marines who had been recruited for the project to lend a hand and then ushered the pair into the mess tent.

  “Can I get you something? Coffee? Iced tea? Lemonade? Lunch won’t be ready for a while, but we might scare up a snack.”

  Both declined anything to eat. Gantt got a cup of coffee for himself and showed the
others where to help themselves to iced tea. They sat at a table under the outstretched flap of the tent, shielded from the sun but open to the fitful breeze.

  “Well, Alex, I needn’t ask what brings you here, but it is a pleasant surprise.”

  Runyan wiped his brow with the back of his hand and scratched his hot beard.

  “I’ve been living with the computer at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, adapting their orbital programs to calculate the path of a black hole through the Earth. When you radioed your results from yesterday to CIA headquarters, Isaacs relayed the essence of it to me. I’d calculated so many orbital eccentricities that I was getting a bit eccentric myself. I’m afraid I was rather obvious about my desire to be out here where the action is, even though that wasn’t on the program. Lord knows I’ll just be a fifth wheel.

  “In any case,” continued Runyan, “I was picked up by an Air Force plane this morning and, much to my pleasant surprise, met Pat here in Yuma.”

  “Well, I’m glad to see you both,” admitted Gantt. “I confess I’ve been bothered by not having anyone here to talk to about this business. How are your calculations going?” he asked Runyan.

  “The model basically fits the data. But there are lots of loose parameters. We don’t know enough about the detailed structure of the inner Earth and how a small black hole would interact with it to predict small subtle shifts in the orbit with any degree of confidence. A little extra rock, like the roots of a mountain range, can perturb the orbit slightly, depending on angle of approach, a bunch of things. You can get slow cumulative effects, or an occasional finite perturbation. Hard to pin down. The data you’re collecting now should allow us to fix some of those parameters. That still won’t be the same as proving my picture is right.”