to finish the product, get it in a can, and on the shelf."
There, the doctor jabbed an emphasizing finger to the table.
"The facts of what I say remain and I'm telling everyone here. Either we get them out now, regardless of how close the project is to completion or I swear I will quit this program and personally go to Warrington to get them out."
Brows raised and bodies stiffened.
"The hell you say!" challenged one voice. "You signed in on this thing, same as the rest of us!"
"In for a penny; in for a pound!" joined another.
Corealis got to his feet, diplomatically intervening.
"Easy, everyone, easy. Going at each other will serve no purpose. Let's all take a deep breath."
He patiently addressed the defiant medic. "No one is criticizing your ethics, Thom. I personally appreciate your professional concern and frustration. It means you care and that's the glue that's united us from the start. But we have to stay realistic, if we hope to finish.
"I also applaud what you speak of from a personal level. Doctor Keener has indeed undergone some obvious attitude changes, turned somewhat critical and antagonistic. I've had my own hands full trying to keep him on track."
Feeling the medic settle back, Corealis offered a morsel of indulgence.
"Would you be satisfied if someone was sent out to babysit them, Thom? It's the best I can offer."
The medic mulled it over, giving a reconciled nod. "That's a start, yes. But right away. Someone who could issue concentrated diuretics to start flushing their renal systems. And I personally don't care what kind of excuse is made for his appearance there."
Corealis nodded in return. He looked about the group, agreeably. "For starters, how about yourself?"
The doctor's eyes flared in surprise. But he didn't object.
"We need field agents to chaperon the base shutdown anyway," reasoned the director. "If you say we should have someone out there, okay. And I have no problem with sending people a little early—including you as the man best equipped to treat our scientists."
Royce watched a dazed sort of vindication settle over the now quiet medic. He then looked to the meteorologist. "Ryan, I understand the latest SHAPP data confirms that the ion storm we banked on is brewing prematurely over Greenland?"
Shields nodded. "It's also grown to a number ten magnitude cell that will slide right down over the east-west corridor in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The usual high power EM forces will be dumped all along the route. But this one will also carry a lot of supplementary weather which will come down hard in the far west. The lead elements will definitely mask an excursion. But if your team can't beat it back, they'll have to find some place to weather out the secondary effects. And they will be rough. There still is some time left in the clean air window. But that's also closing fast. So any radio transmissions you might want to send in advance had better go soon."
Corealis shook his head. "Better that our people show up unannounced." He turned to Clausen, the transportation manager. "You're certain your special bird can handle something this strong?"
"In its stride," replied the lean hawk-faced man. "When we christened it an all-weather flier, we meant it. Including the worst-case EM hurricane. No need to risk a crew at all if you don't want. With its self-contained decision making, we can key in its flight parameters from here, let her go out empty and bring the people back. That bird is the closest thing to perpetual motion any of us will ever see."
Corealis had heard the proud litany before. But this time something new struck him. He tabled the notion for later, addressing the chief of security. "Refresh my memory on the base dismantling, Dick. Precisely, how is it to be handled?"
Welton, a stocky crewcut man, paused in lighting a cigarette. Their eyes touched speculatively before he spoke. "Nuclear clean sweep. A small fusion device was implanted to scour the area
There, the doctor jabbed an emphasizing finger to the table.
"The facts of what I say remain and I'm telling everyone here. Either we get them out now, regardless of how close the project is to completion or I swear I will quit this program and personally go to Warrington to get them out."
Brows raised and bodies stiffened.
"The hell you say!" challenged one voice. "You signed in on this thing, same as the rest of us!"
"In for a penny; in for a pound!" joined another.
Corealis got to his feet, diplomatically intervening.
"Easy, everyone, easy. Going at each other will serve no purpose. Let's all take a deep breath."
He patiently addressed the defiant medic. "No one is criticizing your ethics, Thom. I personally appreciate your professional concern and frustration. It means you care and that's the glue that's united us from the start. But we have to stay realistic, if we hope to finish.
"I also applaud what you speak of from a personal level. Doctor Keener has indeed undergone some obvious attitude changes, turned somewhat critical and antagonistic. I've had my own hands full trying to keep him on track."
Feeling the medic settle back, Corealis offered a morsel of indulgence.
"Would you be satisfied if someone was sent out to babysit them, Thom? It's the best I can offer."
The medic mulled it over, giving a reconciled nod. "That's a start, yes. But right away. Someone who could issue concentrated diuretics to start flushing their renal systems. And I personally don't care what kind of excuse is made for his appearance there."
Corealis nodded in return. He looked about the group, agreeably. "For starters, how about yourself?"
The doctor's eyes flared in surprise. But he didn't object.
"We need field agents to chaperon the base shutdown anyway," reasoned the director. "If you say we should have someone out there, okay. And I have no problem with sending people a little early—including you as the man best equipped to treat our scientists."
Royce watched a dazed sort of vindication settle over the now quiet medic. He then looked to the meteorologist. "Ryan, I understand the latest SHAPP data confirms that the ion storm we banked on is brewing prematurely over Greenland?"
Shields nodded. "It's also grown to a number ten magnitude cell that will slide right down over the east-west corridor in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The usual high power EM forces will be dumped all along the route. But this one will also carry a lot of supplementary weather which will come down hard in the far west. The lead elements will definitely mask an excursion. But if your team can't beat it back, they'll have to find some place to weather out the secondary effects. And they will be rough. There still is some time left in the clean air window. But that's also closing fast. So any radio transmissions you might want to send in advance had better go soon."
Corealis shook his head. "Better that our people show up unannounced." He turned to Clausen, the transportation manager. "You're certain your special bird can handle something this strong?"
"In its stride," replied the lean hawk-faced man. "When we christened it an all-weather flier, we meant it. Including the worst-case EM hurricane. No need to risk a crew at all if you don't want. With its self-contained decision making, we can key in its flight parameters from here, let her go out empty and bring the people back. That bird is the closest thing to perpetual motion any of us will ever see."
Corealis had heard the proud litany before. But this time something new struck him. He tabled the notion for later, addressing the chief of security. "Refresh my memory on the base dismantling, Dick. Precisely, how is it to be handled?"
Welton, a stocky crewcut man, paused in lighting a cigarette. Their eyes touched speculatively before he spoke. "Nuclear clean sweep. A small fusion device was implanted to scour the area
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