about this?"
"No, sir! If you got the power, you can always figure out how to deliver it. Hell, we've already done that. That's the easy part."
"As I told you," the engineer told Morozov, "the problem isn't getting the lasers to put the power out-that's the easy part. The hard part is delivering the energy to the target."
"Your computer cannot correct for-what?"
"It must be a combination of things. We'll be going over that data today. The main thing? Probably the atmospheric-compensation programming. We'd thought that we could adjust the aiming process to eliminate blooming-well, we didn't. Three years of theoretical work went into yesterday's test. My project. And it didn't work." He stared off at the horizon and frowned. The operation on his sick child hadn't quite been successful but, the doctors said, there was still hope.
"So the increase in laser output came from this?" Bondarenko asked.
"Yes. Two of our younger people-he's only thirty-two and she's twenty-eight-came up with a way to increase the diameter of the lasing cavity. What we still need to do, however, is come up with better control of the wiggler magnets," Pokryshkin said.
The Colonel nodded. The whole point of the free-electron laser that both sides were working on was that one could "tune" it much like a radio, choosing the light frequency that one wished to transmit-or that was the theory. As a practical matter, the highest power output was always in about the same frequency range-and it was the wrong one. If they'd been able to put out a slightly different frequency the day before-one that penetrated the atmosphere more efficiently-the thermal blooming might have been reduced by fifty percent or so. But that meant controlling the superconducting magnets better. They were called wigglers because they induced an oscillating magnetic field through the charged electrons in the lasing cavity. Unfortunately, the breakthrough that made the lasing cavity larger had also had an unexpected effect on their ability to control magnetic-field flux. There was no theoretical explanation for this as yet, and the thinking of the senior scientists was that there was a minor, though undiscovered, engineering problem in the magnet design. The senior engineers, of course, said that there was something wrong in the theorists' explanation for what was happening, because they knew the magnets worked properly. The arguments that had already rocked the conference rooms were spirited but cordial. A number of very bright people were struggling together to find Truth-the scientific kind that did not depend on human opinion.
Bondarenko's mind reeled at the details even as he scribbled down his notes. He'd thought himself knowledgeable on lasers-he had, after all, helped to design a wholly new application for them-but looking at the work that had been done here, he thought himself a toddling child wandering through a university laboratory and wondering at the pretty lights. The principal breakthrough, he wrote, was in the lasing-cavity design. It allowed the enormous increase in power output, and had been made over a table in the canteen when an engineer and a physicist had jointly stumbled across a piece of Truth. The Colonel smiled to himself. Pravda was actually the word they used. "Truth" was the exact translation, and the two young academicians had spoken it so artlessly. Indeed, that was a word that had gained currency at Bright Star, and Bondarenko wondered how much of that was an inside joke of some sort or another. "But is it pravilno," they would ask of a fact. "Is it truthful?"
Well, he told himself, one thing was truthful enough. Those two people who'd met to discuss their love life-Bondarenko had already heard the story in greater detail-over a canteen table had combined to make a colossal leap forward in laser power. The rest would come in good time, Bondarenko told himself. It always did.
"So it appears that your main problem is computer control, both of your magnetic flux field and the mirror array."
"Correct, Colonel." Pokryshkin nodded agreement. "And we need some additional funding and support to correct these difficulties. You must tell them in Moscow that the most important work has already been done, and proven to work."
"Comrade General, you have won me over."
"No, Comrade Colonel. You merely have the intelligence to perceive the truth." Both men had a good laugh as they shook hands. Bondarenko couldn't wait for the flight back to Moscow. The time had long passed when a Soviet officer needed to fear at the delivery of bad news, but the delivery of good news was