However, Wasserman turned to look at Visser with an expression that was more sneer than smile: “Which findings are you most interested in, Ms. Visser? Spectrographic analysis of their hull materials and thrust exhaust? Gravimetric anomalies? Or maybe their bizarre shift signature? Or maybe you’re interested in something that I’ve overlooked?” When the ambassador did not rise to the bait, Wasserman’s sneer became more pronounced. “I’m ready to follow your scientific lead, Ms. Visser.” Visser tried to glare at him, but looked more like a deer caught in the headlights of advanced physics.
Downing bit his lip, wished Lemuel would let Visser off the hook. Hopeless git; a genius in his own right but soured by living in the eclipsing shadow of a celebrity uncle.
Visser converted her failed glare into a severe look. “Tell us about the shift signature.”
“What—exactly—do you want to know about it?”
Visser sounded as though she had swallowed lye. “Start by telling us what a ‘shift signature’ is.”
Wasserman’s smile dimmed into a smug curve. “A shift signature is a collection of anomalous physical sequelae that result when extremely high energy-density levels induce space-time disruption of real-space interstellar superstring traces—”
Visser held up her hand. “Mr. Wasserman, please—you are the expert. Not us. In terms we understand, please.”
Wasserman leaned back, smiling, taking his time, letting Visser squirm. “So where would you like me to start, Ms. Visser? With high-school physics?”
Visser became very pale, then very red. She was slowly raising her finger. Crikey; here it comes.
Caine stepped into the space between them. “Actually, Lemuel did a fine job of familiarizing me with the basics the other day. Major Patrone and I were, uh . . . napping when the shift drive was introduced, so we needed a review of its oddities. Maybe you could repeat that explanation here, Lemuel?”
Lemuel’s sneer faltered into a frown.
Downing almost nodded at Wasserman. Take his lead, man: Caine’s trying to help you save yourself, even though you are a right bastard.
Wasserman’s frown faded away. The rest of the delegation relaxed—gratefully, it seemed, since every prior word and second had been taking them toward an in-group conflagration.
As Wasserman started to speak—cocky, assertive—Downing noted that Visser’s gaze occasionally migrated over to Caine’s face. In another scenario—had the ages been closer, and Visser not already been furnished with a same-sex spouse—Downing might have suspected that she was discreetly fueling a romantic infatuation. But her expression was attentive rather than adoring: specifically, as Wasserman spoke, Visser was monitoring Caine’s reactions. She trusts his judgment. She’s listening to Riordan very carefully, and with a strong positive predisposition. That’s good—and useful—to know.
Wasserman had already warmed to his subject. “To understand what a shift signature is, you have to understand how a shift drive operates. First, get it out of your head that the ship travels faster than the speed of light. It doesn’t.”
Durniak nodded. “It is impossible to exceed or even achieve the velocity of light. Relativity.”
Wasserman seemed about to disagree, then shrugged. “More or less. The Wasserman drive works by creating a field effect that ruptures weak spots in normal space-time. Although we accelerate for weeks to make the shift possible, speed really has nothing to do with it: the velocity is just a way of storing energy.
“What?”
“Trevor, think of the mass of the entire shift carrier as a battery. At zero velocity, it has only its rest mass energy—not useful for our purposes. However, as we accelerate it, every atom in that mass is also being moved to a higher energy state. In essence, the ship itself becomes a kind of energy capacitor—which is the only way we can store the energy levels required to effect shift.”
“Then why do we need the antimatter reactors?”
“To push us over the hump. As you begin to achieve significant sub-relativistic velocities, it takes increasingly more energy to add more speed. So, the efficiency of using the ship’s mass as a capacitor begins to drop sharply. That’s where the antimatter reactor comes in.”
“It provides a final burst of speed?”
“No, Trevor. I told you: it’s not about velocity. The antimatter reactor powers the Wasserman Drive, which works by compressing a seed of superdense material into a borderline implosion. That creates what laymen call a ‘pseudosingularity.’”
“And which you call—?”