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Breakthroughs

Written by Jack Carroll

General Electronics laboratories

March 1634

Something didn't fit, and it looked important.

Else Berding had gone to the break room for a cup of coffee. She came out to see Jennifer Hanson in the hallway, carrying on a conversation through a ham walkie-talkie. It was a little bit of a thing, no more than four inches high, with an eight-inch flex antenna sticking out the top.

"Far as I could tell from the phone message slip, it sounded like he was talking about some old CW transmitter that he hasn't used in years. Nothing high powered, but for sure a way to get on the air."

The other station came back. "That sounds pretty good, Jennifer. You think we could afford it for the club station?"

"Good chance of it. I'll be seeing him tonight, and we'll find out one way or the other."

"Okay, and if it don't work out, maybe we can build something up from junk box parts. Well, I've got a class in a few minutes, so I'll sign off with you now. W1PK, W8AAG."

"See you later. W8AAG, W1PK."

Else stopped dead. "A class? I've heard you talk to him before, but I thought he was someone here in the plant. Where is he?"

"Oh, that's Rolf Kreuzer. He's a junior at the high school. We've been scrounging around for some gear to put together a club station over there. The kids need it, if they're going to actually do anything with ham radio."

Else looked confused. "He's at the high school? What band were you using?"

"Two meters."

"I thought everybody said all those high frequency bands are line-of-sight, until the sky wave skip finally comes back."

"Well, it pretty much is."

"But, there's a hill between here and the high school! There isn't a line of sight between here and there."

"It's pretty close to one, though."

"Pretty close isn't the same thing at all. There has to be some other physical effect involved. Does Professor Müller know about this?"

Without waiting for an answer, Else charged off to her boss's office.

John Grover was just getting up to leave. Müller waved her in.

"Conrad, you asked us all to report any unexpected observations that have anything to do with the project . . ." Grover turned back, listening alertly.

Else described what she'd just seen. " . . . so you see, line-of-sight can't explain that. There must be another physical effect, to make that happen. It might be something we can use." Else stopped. She saw how Grover was standing. He was no longer poised like some prospector looking at gold dust on the bottom of a creek. Now he was leaning back against the door frame, and smiling slightly, like—a teacher listening to a favorite student? "You know about this." It was a statement, not a question.

"Uh, yeah, we do. There are several effects that can make a radio wave go around terrain obstructions. The army is making good use of them, too. Thing is, we don't think the Ostenders and the Austrians have figured it out yet, and we want to keep it that way as long as we can. So keep it quiet outside our group, okay?"

"Oh. All right. Well, I'd better go back to my desk, then."

By this time Jennifer had caught up, and they walked down the hall together. Else asked, "Did I do something foolish?"

"No, you did what they asked you to. I was about to tell you, but I didn't get my mouth open fast enough. I'm sooorrry. Forgive me?"

Else burst out laughing at the sight of a thirty-four-year-old wife and mother, pouting like a penitent little girl.

After they left, Grover stayed a moment longer. He shook his head. "Damn, that was brilliant."

Müller looked up at him. "Oh, yes. If we had two or three more like her, this project would move faster."

"You know why she spotted that so quick? Chuck Fielder and the rest of them teach their students to think like scientists."

****

The invitation to an interview at General Electronics had come as a complete surprise. John Grover had been honest, and so had Else.

"You understand, Mr. Grover, I've finished only about half the courses I planned. And even that is from study groups, not school courses."

"Yes, I do understand that, Fraulein Berding. But Conrad and I think the ones you've finished are the ones you need to do this job. Your last study group adviser thinks you have what it takes to learn the material.

"Of course, it would be better for you and us if you had the rest of the courses, and an experienced electronics engineer to work with on the job. But not much about the Ring of Fire was fair. There isn't anybody like that. What we have is a really good collection of books on vacuum tube theory in Gayle Mason's library. What we don't have is somebody who can put them to work. You're the first person to come in here who has the math and physics to really understand the electrical insides of a tube."

"Wouldn't it work better if I went further with physics before taking up something like this?"

"Probably. But let me lay out the situation. VOA runs on tubes, and they don't last forever. We only have a few. When the last ones burn out, we're off the air unless we figure out how to repair them by then. Most of the long-range transmitters for military and diplomatic radio are in the same situation, and some of them don't have any spares at all. And then there's a lot of transistor gear the army is using. They don't need tubes, but when something breaks, we don't have parts to fix them with. Before too many of them wear out or break down, we need to be building replacements. And once we run out of up-time parts we can salvage, that takes tubes. We're already behind schedule. You can imagine what could happen if we let too much more time slip away. Battles can be won or lost in seconds. Better something they can use in time than a perfect solution too late."

"I see. I'm still not sure. Could I look at these books, and see how well I can understand them?"

"Sure. I can't let them out of the building, but I'll take you up to the library. And there's one other thing. You won't be stuck completely on your own. You know Charnock Fielder? He has a lot of other demands on his time, but he does some consulting for us. He can help you figure things out if something doesn't make sense."

"That might make a great difference. I had one of his physics classes. He explains things very well."

The next day Else was back.

"Mr. Grover, I've thought very hard about what you said. I probably wouldn't be alive if the Emergency Committee hadn't taken me in three years ago. They offered me citizenship and school. Now, it seems, it's time to pay back. I believe I can learn what is in those books. I will join you and do my best." She reached her hand across the desk to shake. She looked very serious and very young at that moment.

That night she prayed. Lord, help me do what they ask of me. Research engineer . . .

She lay down to sleep, wondering whether she'd ever hear anything of her family again.

****

Else had studied hard before, but not like this. But the principles were starting to make sense. The vacuum wasn't quite good enough yet, and it would be a while before the materials people could give her group what they'd need to build a test model, but they had some idea of what they'd be able to get within the next few months. Meanwhile, she was working out a couple of trial designs on paper.

Late in the morning Else went out to the lab. She called across the room to Heinz Bennemann, "I need to study the pieces of that dead tube you took apart some more. Where do you keep them?"

"Third shelf in the cabinet, in the little red felt-lined box."

"Felt-lined, is it? Still the fine jeweler?"

"I was only a jeweler's apprentice. Now they call me a general technician. It means I'll never be done learning things. There's no such thing as mastering this trade."

"No? What do you think a research engineer is?" Else took the box over to a bench where there was a microscope and a precision mechanical stage, and settled down on a tall wooden stool. A flapping belt drive under another bench caught her eye.

"Heinz, shouldn't there be a guard over that belt?"

"We'll put it on when we're done. You know Marius Fleischer, here? No? He's a mechanic from the vacuum group. He just brought over a better roughing pump, and we're trying it out."

Fleischer put in, "It seems to need a few adjustments yet."

He and Heinz turned back to the assembly drawing.

****

Marieke Kettering was a good-natured woman in her mid-forties, with the gift of maintaining her good nature regardless of what kind of deadline pressure and turmoil were erupting around her. Being in charge of personnel and purchasing for both VOA and GE, she needed it. She heard the front door close, and then footsteps coming to her office.

"Gertrud! What a pleasant surprise! What brings you here? Sit."

"Oh, Marieke, we were just passing by. We're going into town for a little shopping."

"And who is this fine fellow in your lap?"

"This is my little nephew Erwin Spiegelhoff. Erwin, say hello to Frau Kettering."

"Gwathm!" exclaimed Erwin, with the sunniest of smiles.

Gertrud continued, "So, have you seen the new Brillo play yet?"

"No, but I want to. My cousin says it's insane, with them saying one thing in English, and then not exactly the same thing in German."

"Well, why don't I see if I can get us some tickets? Do you think Hermann would want to come too?"

Erwin slipped off his aunt's lap and started playing with his wooden duck on the floor. After a few moments of conversation, Gertrud noticed the silence. "Erwin?" She looked around the office. No Erwin. She stepped out into the hall, just in time to see the toddler disappearing through a doorway.

"Nein, Erwin! Komm zu Tante!"

****

Erwin didn't feel like coming to Auntie just then. What he heard was the interesting rhythmic blup-blup-blup coming from under a bench. He saw the shiny things going round and round, and the long thin black thing bouncing energetically up and down between them. He made a beeline for the vacuum pump.

****

Else was just taking a quick stretch. Something was moving down low . . .

"Heinz! Look out!" She pointed at the little boy, and scrambled off the tall wooden stool, sending it flying.

Heinz dove for the floor, trying to get between the child and the moving parts. Else flew toward the spot. They got in each other's way for just a moment. Just as Heinz got an arm in front of the boy and started to push him back, and Else got one hand on the edge of the bench to brace herself and the other hand on the boy's shoulder, he grabbed the drive belt. It whipped his left hand under the idler wheel.

Marius yanked the power cord out of the wall and started cranking the roughing valve shut to keep the diffusion pump from coming up to air.

It was never clear afterward whether the child had grabbed at the test leads dangling over the edge of the bench, or whether Heinz snagged them with his foot as he hit the floor. Else saw something start to slide toward the edge of the bench, and tried to stick out a foot to cushion its fall. There was no time. It hit the floor with a sickening crack.

Marieke and another woman came running full-tilt into the lab just as the boy let out his first deafening scream. Else cradled the child in her arms, blood on them both.

"Erwin," the strange woman cried. "Erwin!"

Else called, "Frau Kettering! The first aid kit!" She held Erwin as still as she could, while Heinz took a fast look at the injury and got a bandage on it to control the bleeding.

Heinz looked up with a sober expression. "It doesn't look good. His hand is all cut up. He needs the hospital."

Marieke swallowed. "I'll get the ambulance." She picked up the telephone.

The other woman took Erwin in her lap and wrapped her arms around him. "Erwin, Erwin, it will be all right. There are good people coming to make it stop hurting."

Erwin screamed.

****

After the ambulance left, Else and Heinz finally had a chance to look at what had hit the floor. It was Gayle Mason's Simpson 260 multimeter. The case was smashed to fragments, the glass had a crack all the way across, and the needle was bent. Heinz delicately picked the pieces off the floor to prevent any more damage, and collected them in a box. About then, John Grover arrived in the lab to see Else glumly sizing up the remains. She showed him.

"It's a mess, all right. I'm a lot more concerned about that little kid, though. We've got other meters in the lab."

"Yes, John, but this is the only one with a calibration sticker from up-time. We've been using it to standardize all the other electrical measurements."

"Oh, boy. Well, we'd try to fix it anyway, but it looks like we have a real incentive here, huh? Heinz, you're about the best tech here for fine work. What do you think?"

Heinz shrugged. "I haven't worked on meters before. This is different from the other little parts I've made. I wouldn't like to take a chance with this, if there's anyone else in town who knows more about these things."

"Well, there's always AEW. They make meters. Fine, let's see what they think."

****

The accident investigation took up most of the afternoon. Jacob Cokeroff, the head of the vacuum group, doubled as the company's safety officer. He had barely started interviewing everybody involved when the city fire marshal showed up. Between the interruptions and the staff's state of mind, there wasn't a lot of useful work done for the rest of the day.

Late in the afternoon Cokeroff and the marshal were wrapping up in John Grover's office, and discussing what would go in the report. The phone rang.

"That was Marieke. She just heard from the hospital. Erwin is out of surgery. It's not great, but it could have been a lot worse. They had to pin two bones back together, and he's lost one joint off his middle finger. There'll be some scarring. Outside of that, they think he'll be able to use the hand all right."

Cokeroff nodded. "We should be thankful."

"Oh, yeah. I was really worried. All the effort we put into safety, and this comes out of the blue. We don't want anything like this to happen again. So, recommendations . . ."

****

The next morning, Frau Kettering started working through a handful of signed requisitions. Her first visitor of the day was a carpenter.

"Right here, in the hall, between the offices and the workshops—I'll show you. A divided door, with fire exit hardware, locked on the outside. All right? How much, and how soon can you put it in?"

Next, she called in a sign painter.

"We need a sign on each of the doors going into the lab and shop area. 'Danger, Escort Required,' in big black letters on a yellow background. German and English. Latin too, I think."

Then things got harder. She called the sales department at American Electric Works. "Hello, I understand you make meters. We have a damaged multimeter from up-time that needs repair. Can you help with that?"

"What exactly is that? Something we make?"

"No, it's from up-time. It's irreplaceable, and it was calibrated. We need it for a defense project. My engineers think you're the only company that would know anything about it."

The president of the company came on the line.

"This is Landon Reardon. What can I do for you?"

"This is Marieke Kettering at General Electronics. We have a damaged Simpson 260 multimeter. It was broken in a fall. I understand you make meters, and I wonder if your company could repair it."

"A 260? Yeah, I know what that is. I used one when I worked at the power plant. How bad is it?"

"Well, the case is in pieces, and some of the parts inside are bent. They're not sure what else might be wrong."

"Oh, brother." He sighed. "I can't promise anything, but send it over with the manual. I'll ask the guys to go over it, and we'll let you know whether there's anything we can do."

****

The man who sometimes called himself Johann Schmidt was intrigued. He'd passed this building before. Those locks on the doors look new. Yes, the metal isn't weathered. Nobody to be allowed inside without being watched? Danger? What a naive ruse! There are secrets behind those doors. Obviously. Perhaps useful ones.

He continued to observe the building at intervals, but now he came no closer than a block, and never faced it directly. His patience was rewarded after three days. Several people left work, and one of them didn't show the alertness and purposeful stride of someone in charge. This man was dressed a little more cheaply than some of the others. "Schmidt" followed, half a block behind and on the other side of the street. The man went into a drinking establishment, a nondescript working man's place. "Schmidt" went in after a few minutes. He found a seat across the room, ordered a beer, and sat down to sip it, speaking to nobody but the barman. He continued to observe, without looking directly. After a while, the plain-looking man joined a card game at a table. This looks interesting. Yes, an indifferent player. The play of expression on his face as he lost very small sums showed it. Here's a man who can use a little money.

The next night, "Schmidt" arrived first. The room was fairly crowded, but there were two neighboring unoccupied places at the bar. He took one of them and waited.

****

The pace at GE was back to normal. Normal meant frantic. Else was constantly dealing with things she'd never studied, reading up herself, sending queries to Father Nicholas and the other researchers, answering questions, supervising experiments, taking measurements herself, or conferring with specialists in other groups.

One time it would be Heinz asking, "Else, do these results make any sense to you?"

Cokeroff wondered, "There's a kind of high vacuum gauge that looks something like a tube. Do you know anything about that? Could we make it?"

Another time: "Else, do you think we'd be better off modeling the electric fields around the control grid by computer, or in an old-fashioned electrolytic tank?"

"I'm not sure, Conrad, I'll give that some thought and get back to you. Maybe they'd both have a place. Do you ...