Fire with Fire(7)

Caine quickly stripped the insulation off the last two wires. “Even the old ploy of the Trojan Horse still has merit; it just needs some clever updating. Hey, I’m almost done here.”

“Yes. But unfortunately, you have just run out of time.”

Red lights flashed and spun; a klaxon howled next to Caine’s ear. The hatchway beside him wrenched open with a high-speed hiss. But instead of finding himself sucked out into space, Caine was slammed backwards by a lateral geyser of water.

And, as the roaring flume bounced him off the mock-up bulkheads—which Caine discovered were just as hard as real ones—he thought: Well, shit.

MENTOR

Nolan edged into the control room as the orderlies were helping a bruised and waterlogged Caine limp out of the test chamber. “How’d it go?”

Downing snatched up his dataslate. “A brilliant success and a dismal failure. Riordan effortlessly spewed out a number of completely novel—and potentially game-changing—strategic insights, but botched the main task: a simple circuitry bypass job that many of our average trainees learn in half the time.” Downing shook his head. “I’m afraid Caine’s genius must be of a very narrow sort.”

“Oh, Riordan isn’t a genius. I mean, he is, but that’s not what makes him useful to us. And that’s not why he excelled at one task while botching another.”

Downing looked up. “Then what was the cause?”

“Interest versus boredom.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Caine was interested in your strategic brainstorming but bored by the circuitry test.”

Downing reared back in his seat. “Well, isn’t that simply awful for him. Next time, I will create an amusing vignette involving the circuitry.”

Nolan smiled. “It can be challenging working with a true polymath. We don’t see many in our line of work, mostly because they lack either the depth of interest to become world-class experts at any one thing, or the ability to maintain a brutally narrow field of focus. Or both.”

“Hmm. That doesn’t sound like a polymath; that sounds like a dilettante. Or a spoiled brat.”

Nolan shrugged. “In some cases, they are both. But for most polymaths, that’s just how they’re wired. The intensive detail work that intrigues most field-specific geniuses is usually suffocating for them.”

“So that’s why Riordan can’t memorize the circuitry?”

“Maybe. Or maybe he’s just bad at it. Or maybe he’s subconsciously responding to the inconsistency between what we’ve been telling him about the mission versus what we’ve been training him for. We assure him that he’s being sent to Delta Pavonis Three just to look around, ask some questions, gather some evidence: nothing dangerous at all. But then we spend most of our time teaching him how to hotwire bulkheads, crack security codes, recognize counterintelligence agents, and a dozen other field craft skills that you only need when the work gets risky.”

Downing folded his arms. “I see: he must be trained in a ‘special way.’ Most edifying. Except you’ve never answered the more important question.”

“Which is?”

“Which is: why in bloody hell is a polymath any good for us?”

Nolan smiled. “Because, if sufficiently interested or motivated, a true polymath can learn almost anything. They don’t see the world as a big pile of discrete facts and figures. They see it as a matrix of paradigms and interrelated data. Hell, sometimes they find a solution to a problem in one field of knowledge by applying the established principles of another field.”

“Ah,” exhaled Downing with mock reverence, “a Renaissance man.”

Nolan shrugged. “That term may be increasingly accurate.”

“Why?”

“Because in the Renaissance, broadly integrative thought was at a premium; empirical method was in its infancy. Now, with the tools of measurement so highly refined, we produce lots of narrow specialists but fewer expansive thinkers.”

“Well, I doubt expansive thought is going to help Mr. Riordan when he gets into the field.” Downing rose. “And that time is approaching all too quickly. With our luck, Caine’s op could come apart before it’s started, probably before he even debarks from the shuttle down to Dee Pee Three. . . .”

ODYSSEUS

Caine squinted through the gloom of the generic shuttle’s cargo bay. On its far side, he could see the partial silhouettes of the two terrorists who would surely resume their attack soon.

Why the terrorists had been on the shuttle, and what they were after, was not clear and probably never would be. Their attempt to hold the bridge crew hostage had apparently devolved into a firefight which ended up blasting out the flight deck windows and exposing friend and foe alike to hard vacuum.