For 30 advance early chapters : p atreon.com/AutumnXd
Noon. The cafeteria.
Ryan found Reeves already seated with a full tray and closed eyes, head tilted back in the chair, apparently asleep upright.
"Dr. Reeves. Rough night?"
Reeves opened his eyes. They were webbed with red. "We've been running comparative analysis on the three connection datasets around the clock. Cross-referencing signal patterns, mapping synchronization curves, identifying anomalies. The preliminary report should be ready in two days, and then we can move to the next round of experiments."
"Appreciate the dedication."
"Dedication is one word for it." Reeves yawned. "Sleep deprivation is another."
Ryan ate his lunch and thought about what came next.
Then he remembered: his parents were arriving today. They'd finished their trip around the country and wanted to see him before heading home. The facility was in a restricted zone, so they'd arranged to meet in the nearby town.
He needed a car. A car meant Patricia.
He found her in her office, halfway out the door.
"I need a ride to town. My parents are coming."
"I'll arrange it. But first, sit down. I have something from leadership."
Ryan sat. Patricia looked at him with the careful expression she wore when delivering information that involved large numbers.
"The neural drift results have been received. The response was extremely positive. Leadership wants to know if you're ready to begin plasma cannon research."
"I've already started the theoretical work."
"Then they want to formalize it as a separate project. Dedicated funding, dedicated resources, whatever you need. Personnel, equipment, materials. Full support."
Ryan leaned back. That was a significant upgrade from the Jaeger Program's phased approach. Full support meant no gates, no milestones, no approval cycles between tranches. It meant they wanted the cannon badly enough to remove every obstacle.
"What's the catch?"
"Patent ownership. The cannon is a weapons system. If you succeed, the IP belongs entirely to the defense establishment. No co-ownership. No commercial licensing rights."
Ryan had expected this. A directed-energy weapon wasn't something you could take to market anyway. You couldn't sell plasma cannons on Amazon.
"Compensation?"
Patricia opened her notebook. "Two tiers. If total project expenditure stays under one billion, you receive eight hundred million as a personal reward, paid over ten years. If expenditure reaches two billion, the reward is four hundred million over five years. If expenditure exceeds two billion without achieving the promised performance specifications, the project terminates with no reward."
Ryan processed the numbers. The tiered structure told him exactly where Aegis's risk tolerance lay: two billion was the ceiling. Beyond that, the cannon wasn't worth the investment at its current performance level.
The i-22 plasma cannon, as specified by the system, had a maximum range of ten thousand feet and a plasma temperature of 3,600 degrees Fahrenheit. Impressive by current standards. Revolutionary, even. But still limited compared to what the technology could eventually become. They were buying a key, not a finished product. A key that would unlock an entire domain of directed-energy research.
Two billion for a key. The math worked.
"I want different terms," Ryan said.
Patricia picked up her pen.
"One hundred million, after tax, as a lump sum. No installments. Plus I reclaim the twenty-percent commercial revenue share that Aegis holds on three co-patented technologies of my choosing."
Patricia wrote it down. "That's for the sub-billion tier. What about the two-billion tier?"
"Same terms. No second tier needed."
Patricia's pen stopped moving. She looked at him.
"You're saying you'll build a plasma cannon for under a billion dollars."
"I'm saying I don't need two billion. If I can't do it for under a billion, I can't do it at all, and a bigger budget won't change that."
Patricia nodded slowly. Closed the notebook.
"I'll send it up. Now, about your car."
She arranged two drivers and a vehicle in under five minutes. Ryan rode to the coastal town, called his parents, and met them at a seafood restaurant near the harbor.
Tom and Lisa looked tanned and rested. They'd spent a month visiting national parks, eating at roadside diners, and not thinking about machining shops or mech projects or the fact that their fourteen-year-old son ran a classified research facility with a hundred and fifty employees.
"How was the trip?"
"Wonderful," Lisa said. "We saw the Grand Canyon. Your father cried."
"I did not cry. There was dust."
"He cried."
Tom changed the subject. "How's the work?"
"Good. Making progress."
Tom studied his son across the table. The kid looked tired but content. Not stressed. Not overwhelmed. Just a person doing the thing he was built to do, surrounded by people who could help him do it.
"Proud of you, bud."
"Thanks, Dad."
They ate. They talked about nothing important. They watched the boats in the harbor and the sun on the water. For an hour, Ryan wasn't a project lead or a defense asset or a fourteen-year-old prodigy. He was just a kid having lunch with his parents.
Then his phone buzzed. A message from Patricia.
Terms accepted. Plasma cannon project approved. Funding available immediately.
Ryan read it, pocketed his phone, and ordered dessert.
The key was his. Now he just had to figure out the lock.