“You won’t tell us how it’s done,” Zenger said, pointing to the apparatus. “But you’re doing it, whatever it is, remotely… What’s your maximum distance?”

‘That’s not going to be discussed today, either,“ Leander said. ”Sorry.“

Zenger turned to me, grim-faced. “We can’t make an evaluation if we don’t have enough information.”

“We’ve asked the group not to reveal certain facts,” I said.

Zenger drew his chin back and shook his head. “You’ve called us in to give expert testimony, but by keeping us ignorant, you might as well impress a couple of chimpanzees.”

Casares was less prickly. “Let’s see what there is to see,” he said. “If you produce energy from our sample, we have something interesting. We can debate secrets later.”

Part of me had hoped for more drama. There was expectation in that little room, curiosity, skepticism — but very little drama. Charles did not try for emotional effect. Instead, he worked quickly and quietly with Leander. Both passed instructions to the thinker, and we were invited to observe.

The display above the thinker projected a 3-D diagram of the cylinder, filled with colors showing temperature gradients. The cylinder, Charles explained, was still cooling to the ambient temperature, about minus sixty degrees Celsius. The gas within churned slowly.

“Charge is conserved, of course,” Leander said. “We can’t convert charged particles except in pairs with particles of the exact opposite charge. Neutral atoms and molecules are ideal. The descriptors distinguishing mirror matter and matter are tied to other descriptors describing a particle’s spin and time component. We have to access these linked descriptors all at once. The result is a conversion that violates no physical laws. But since matter will meet with mirror matter, energy will be released.”

“And how do you change the descriptors?” Casares asked.

Charles grinned almost shyly. “I’m sorry. Can’t say just yet.”

Zenger said, “So what is there to evaluate? You might show us a splendid magic trick. Everything could be rigged…”

“We hope you trust our reputations enough to accept that what you see is legitimate,” Leander said.

“We can’t pass judgment without evaluating the theory behind the effect,” Casares said, folding his arms. “Science is about reproducible results. If only one group has done the work and gotten results, it isn’t science. What I’ve heard so far isn’t encouraging.”

Charles looked between us, clearly frustrated. “I’d just as soon tell you all there is, but for obvious reasons, it’s up to Vice President Majumdar.”

I felt completely out of my element, but I could not afford to be indecisive. “Key parts of the theory must be kept confidential,” I said.

Charles held out his hands, What can I do?

Zenger and Casares shook their heads. Zenger finally waved his fingers as if dismissing me, but said, “All right. I don’t like it, but show us what there is to see, and we’ll argue details later.”

“Thank you,” Charles said. He nodded to Leander. “Let’s project the sample as our thinker sees it.”

Leander touched the insubstantial control panel. A surface of peaks and valleys appeared, arrows dancing from peak to peak and finally settling on one, which promptly grew. A small red cube appeared, and within the cube, blue lines sketched the cylinder. Again the cylinder filled with colors, and within the colors, flashing numbers and Greek letters moved like bottled flies.

“The QL thinker evaluates the sample,” Charles said. “Everything is in the hands of the thinker now. We should see energy produced within the sample in a few seconds.”

We looked out the window; the suspended cylinder, beneath the dome, was not visible except in a vid projection. The room filled with a whine and distinct clicks and growls and howls. “Atoms of matter and mirror matter meeting,” Chinjia explained, adjusting the sound. “They’re bouncing around within the cylinder. The cylinder’s heating up, and…” Her finger traced a new graph on the display. “Here’s gamma ray production. We expect about ten percent efficiency, and of course some interaction with the bottle… Neutron flux now.”

“So far, we’ve created about a trillion molecules of mirror hydrogen,” Charles said. “The reaction has produced about fifty-four joules.”

“That should be enough,” Zenger said. “There seems to be heat and neutrons.”

Charles told Leander to stop the experiment. Leander touched the control panel and the red cube and graph disappeared.

“We’ve thought of ways to increase efficiency,” Charles said. “We can convert half of the molecules in the cylinder to mirror matter in a shape that interlocks with the normal hydrogen. The ambiplasma pressure will push fleeing molecules and particles into optimum configuration for further interaction. Ninety percent destruction would occur. But that would vaporize the cylinder and part of the apparatus and dome.”

Zenger nodded. “To the extent that we can make any judgments, it seems you’ve done something interesting.”

Charles said, “We’ll have an arbeiter remove the cylinder and put it in the back of the lab. You can examine it remotely.”

Zenger said, “I assume we can’t take it with us?”

All heads turned to me. “It should stay here,” I said.

“Very exciting indeed,” Zenger said flatly.

An arbeiter moved the cylinder to an isolation box at the rear of the lab. While Zenger and Casares looked it over, muttering quietly to themselves, Charles sat across from me in the dining booth. I forked through an uninspired bowl of nano food.

“Bit of a letdown?” he asked.

“Not at all,” I said, looking up with what I hoped was calm dignity. “I didn’t expect Trinity.”

He smiled briefly. “You’ve been reading history, too. Mind if I eat with you?”

I shook my head. He returned with his own bowl. I was nearly finished, but clearly, he wanted to talk.

“Do you still resent what we’ve done?” he asked.

“I’ve never resented any of this,” I said.

“No,” he said, suspending his tone between statement and question. “It’s only going to get more stressful.”

“You said that years ago.”

“Was I right?” he asked.

“You were right.”

He tasted the paste, made a face and dropped his fork into the bowl. “Not the best,” he said. “It’s a tradition. Scientists on Mars must eat stale nanofood. Something to do with creativity. Remember the terrible wine at Trés Haut Médoc? I’m still sorry about that.”

“The wine,” I clarified.

“Not just the wine.”

I leaned my head to one side, determined to avoid the subject, and pulled out my slate. “Do you have any other demonstrations? This one — ”

“Isn’t going to impress politicians. I know. We can vaporize Olympus Mons if you wish.”

For a moment, I couldn’t tell whether he was joking. “That would be… mature,” I said.

Charles laughed and toyed with his bowl, tipping it with a finger. “We can do a lot more. As Stephen said on the way here, we can build a super-efficient, high-acceleration mirror matter drive, better than the best Earth can make. We can install it in a standard Solar System liner and zip around like hornets. Make a planetary tour in months instead of decades. With a fully equipped engineering plant, we could put it all together in sixty or seventy days.”

“A ship like that would be very bright, visible across the Solar System,” I said. “How about something that won’t upset Earth?”

Charles put his elbows on the table. “Of course,” he said. “Stephen and I have been planning a number of demonstrations, with varying degrees of sophistication. Experts to yahoos. Bring them on.”

He was being a shade too flippant, given the nature of our problem, but I had tired of bringing him up short. “I’m still not well versed on physics,” I said.