Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Embrace of a different taste. ❯ Chapter 1
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Mad Maxx Coyote 
The begining.
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Fantasy / Romance / Sci-fi | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 03.24.2009 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.2K | Visits: 732 | Status: Work In Progress
The begining.
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Fantasy / Romance / Sci-fi | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 03.24.2009 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.2K | Visits: 732 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: Its mine! I own it all! Muwhahahahaha! That’s right! All mine!
Harley grumbled to himself as he finished replacing the burnt out circuit. Honestly…did he have to do EVERYTHING himself? For a week the energy readings had been completely screwed, and for a week he had told the technicians what needed to be done to fix it.
All four corners of each Trans-gate needed to be in aliment, otherwise it could explode, which is why it had been built as a square. They said they had fixed it four times now, and yet….still not fixed.
So…like most things he had just ended up doing it himself.
“Idiots…all of them.” Harley grumbled. “You would think you would get some competency out of the military, but noooo.”
He could hear footsteps approaching but paid them no mind. If it was for him it would wait.
“Dr. Windham?” A male voice said. Harley rolled his eyes.
“I do think that you can see I am in the middle of something yes?” Harley replied.
“It is Dr. Clark. I would like a word with you.” Clark said, ignoring Harley’s rhetorical question.
“I know who it is.” Harley snapped. “And you can wait.”
God he detested that man, Benson Clark, a psychiatrist who had dabbled, and Harley stressed the word dabbled, in engineering in his younger years. Clark had pretty much been nothing more then a giant pain in the ass ever since Harley had taken over the project.
He could feel Clark stewing, but said nothing. What? Did the old prick actually expect him to jump right out from under the machine just to listen to him babble?
Insufferable really.
Harley did not even know why the man even had access to the lab, it had nothing to do with Clark, and yet he always seemed to be there. Twisting his head Harley glanced at the readout on his portable screen, still not quite there yet.
“Tech’s say that should be good.” A voice came over his earpiece.
“Yeah well…their stupid.” Harley muttered.
“What was that?” The voice asked.
“Pitch it four more degrees.” Harley ordered. With the circuit already replaced, once they put it where it needed to be he could replace the access plate and make sure the locks engaged…something they had not been doing up till now.
“Doctor?” The voice muttered.
“Just do it.” Harley grumbled. All this Doctor crap was getting on his nerves too, yes he was, but once people heard that they tended to instantly think of the medical type…and he hated being asked medical questions.
Harley watched as the heavy gears turned smoothly, he had always received a bit of simple pleasure from watching machines work, especially ones that he had designed. The locks clicked into place, affirming his belief that the only reason the locks had no engaged previously was because it was not in alignment in the first place.
Which is what he had been saying all along. Funny how something so simple could elude so many people.
Satisfied he began to gather up his tools, slipping them neatly into their designated spots.
“What is the reading now.” Harley asked.
“Um…it has almost doubled sir.” Was the response he got.
Right where it should be.
Dragging himself out from under the device he was more then slightly annoyed to see that Clark was still standing there.
“What is it?” Harley snapped. “I honestly do not understand why you are here so often.”
“I have serious doubts about what you are attempting.” Clark said. Harley waved him off dismissively.
This again? He was growing quite weary of it all. Ignoring Clark Harley began to head back towards the tool lock up, something he had insisted upon as tools seemed to have a nasty habit of disappearing in this place.
But wouldn’t you know it….Clark followed.
“Your Father said we would only require one of those…things.” Clark continued. “Your brother bumped it up to two, and now you are having two more contracted.” Harley just nodded his head.
“Thank you for the recap.” He said sarcastically. Clark made a disgruntled noise in his throat.
“I have never supported this project, it is nothing more then a waste of money in my opinion.” Clark stated. “However…you are preparing to run a tremendous amount of power through these hunks of metal. Even if they will form a circuit as you claim, do you have any idea what will happen if they do not?”
Harley rolled his eyes.
“Boom.”
Clark growled.
‘No one has even checked your work!”
Harley held up one finger.
“Au contraire. All my calculations are up on the board right now.”
He had taken to putting it all up in public view after hearing so many people complain about the very same thing Clark was.
“You have machined nearly all the parts, wired up the circuitry….you have included nearly no one in the entire process!” Clark nearly yelled. Harley turned away from Clark, throwing the lab coat he never wore over his shoulder.
“That is because most of you are incompetent fools, who either can not do, or can no understand. It is hardly worth the time to allow you to play with such seriousness.” Harley called over his shoulder. It was true, he was surrounded by morons. There were times when he felt like the entire place was staffed and ran by monkeys.
He would have left, but General Howley came through the very door he was about to leave through. Great…just what he needed, an idiot and a blowhard.
Technically Howley was in charge of the project, but to be honest Harley highly doubted he understood even a fraction of it. Except what Harley explained to him in nice small words of course.
“Now, now Dr. Clark. I am sure the young Dr. Windham knows just what he is doing.” Howley soothed. The General was a snake, oily and deceptive. Harley knew that. The man had been disgraced years ago, linked to a major scandal that while granted he had never been charged with anything, had done wonders to bring the man down.
But Harley knew it was all true, the money theft, the death threats, the cover up, all of it. All he had to do was spend ten minutes with Howley and he knew it.
He had only heard bits and pieces of the whole story true, but that was enough for him to know not to trust the man. Howley wasn’t here because he wanted to be, Harley was sure he would rather be in some boardroom somewhere sending men Harley’s age off to die.
But Howley was here, and seemed to be trying to make the best of it. He was hooked into the project now, perhaps seeing it as a way to redeem himself, to reclaim his -legacy-.
Howley had proven useful at times however, the project did not seem to be hurting for money, and they had a state of the art facility. Plus because of Howley he had only had to have one meeting with certain senators who wanted to “discuss” his work and the project itself.
Meandering monkeys…that’s all they were. They didn’t even know what the project was…it had been humorous to watch them grope around in the dark so to speak, trying to fish some details out of him. Humorous, but ultimately annoying.
“But General…the risks.” Clark began.
“No rewards without them.” Harley butted in. That really seemed to piss Clark off, but Harley knew it would appeal to the gung ho military man.
“You are an arrogant little snot.” Clark sneered. “It is bad enough that all of this…science fiction garbage is even being tried. But to put us all in danger to do it….and about your so called -calculations- I personally think that you are simply making up nonsense. Those formulas are practically impossible. Why you want this mockery of real science to continue is beyond me. Your Father was delusional, and your brother was sucked in. So…what is your excuse?”
Harley’s temper rose at the mention of his father and brother, and he clenched his fists. What…the old geezer was trying to put him on the couch now?
How dark the wrinkled bag of stupid insult the two most brilliant minds of the last hundred years! He opened his mouth to lash out, but Howley literally stepped in between them.
“That is enough Dr. Clark. Dr. Windham has taken this project further then any other, and we owe his family for having the genius to create such a work. I dare say he has single handily saved all of this work after the…accident.”
Harley puffed up for a moment from the praise, but quickly pushed it away. Ever since he had arrived Howley had been trying to act Fatherly to him. He was not sure what the ploy was, but he knew there was one. He could play along however, sometimes it was something one had to do to get things done.
“You know what I think?” Harley growled, stepping out from behind Howley. “I think your just a bitter old man Sigmund, your own work could never be so grand, and you just can not stand that a mere twenty five year old is better then you.”
Without another word Harley turned and stalked off.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hours later Harley was sitting in his so called quarters going over various staff letters.
Just the normal complaints really. Typical bureaucracy, nothing more.
The bullshit in this place astounded him at times. If he asked for copper wiring, he would get back a page and a half of questions, and not sensible things like length, size and thickness, things he had already answered. But stupid crap like what country of origin, what brand, spooled or not spooled, ect, ect. Just stupid shit.
And it was like that with everything.
Which was a big part of why he ended up doing most things himself, that and the fact that no one else ever seemed capable of doing anything he ordered right. Even with simple tasks.
He had needed a new gear for the adjustment mechanism, it was not complex, it did not have to be incredibly precise. Yet they still managed to get it wrong four times. FOUR!
Once he could understand, twice maybe, but four times?
Not to mention they tried to take as much time as they possibly could to do anything. One gear, three weeks. He had thought the head machinist has been joking when he said that. But sure enough, three weeks later they had shown up with the gear.
Harley had been furious.
Then when it had been too large, instead of just taking it back to the shop and machining it down a whole quarter of an inch, they had simple thrown it away and started over.
Four gears, twelve weeks.
It had put Harley so far behind is own personal schedule that he had lost it. He forced his way into the shop, despite their protests, and in two hours had the part he needed.
It had indeed been an eye opening experience. He had dealt with competence and intelligence his entire life, and now was surrounded by insufferable fools whose names he could not even bother to remember at this point.
Idiot one, idiot two….they were all interchangeable at some point.
He refused to believe so many people could be as worthless as the ones at the base had shown themselves to be. Yet time and time again they attempted to force him to believe it.
Through the rumor mill he had heard that most of the staff believe the project was worthless, and would be canceled before too long. But it was an easy, high paying job so they wanted to make it last. Harley could not believe a project so groundbreaking, so sensitive, could be staffed by such uncaring people.
He probably had Howley to thank for that.
“It is not useless….I’ll show you all.” Harley vowed.
Tossing the papers into the trash Harley stretched in his chair. They didn’t like be cut out did they? Then do the job right the first time, it was as simple as that. He was not putting up with anything anymore.
Rolling his head to the side Harley smiled as the pictures of his father and brother popped into his view.
He would finish what they had started.
Harley did have to admit he had always been very skeptical of his Father’s dream. It just…didn’t seem like something to focus on.
A portal.
A portal to anywhere in the world. Perhaps even beyond.
It was something straight out of science fiction. But for some reason his Father had always been hooked on the idea, ever since he had had a certain dream as a child.
Not that his Father was the first to ever play with the idea. Hundreds had played with it, trying things like teleportation pods, wormhole theories…the idea was as old as time travel.
But Harley’s Father had actually done it.
Harley had some to the house after school one day, twenty years old and well on his way to following his Father and Brother, and his Father had been in the kitchen, just giddy as a school girl.
On the table had been a metal square, Harley remembered his father asking him to draw up some blueprints for it, it was a made of a gold titanium alloy Harley would later learn, and an orange.
“Watch this Harley.” The elder Windham had said. He flipped a switch, nearly all the other electronic devices in the house went out, fuses blew, and the electric bill spiked like nobodies business, but the little square hummed and some type of field crackled inside of it. His Father rolled the orange through the square and it disappeared.
Harley’s first thought had been. “Wow Dad….you’ve made the worlds quickest incinerator.”
But a second later the orange reappeared, rolling across the counter by the wink some seven feet away.
Needless to say Harley had been quite shocked.
A great deal of laughing in his Father’s face and dozen’s of proposals later. Project Eternal Discovery was under way. Cheesy name yes, but his Father had liked it.
There had been more then a few snags with the infantile technology. With but one -gate- if that was what you wanted to call it, there seemed to be no real way to set where they were going, to tell where they actually went, and if they went anywhere at all.
Indeed the popular theory was that the test subject was simple atomized. A few of their little test bots had been discovered once robotics actually got their shit together and put a beacon on them.
It had been very rough on his Father, nothing had gone the way he had hoped. Then Harley’s brother Tyler had stepped in. Strangely Tyler also claimed to have had a dream, one that apparently was the same one that Father had had decades ago, only a week after joining the project.
It had been Tyler to suggest a second gate, thereby forming a tunnel. The first gate punched through, the second was used to steer in a sense.
It had been their Father however how had designed the system in which destination was set. The earth itself had a natural frequency, in a sense a -tone-, as did the gate itself, that could be tuned into. Of course if one used the earths own frequency they probably would end up at one of the poles, but by setting a beacon where they wanted to go they could, in a sense, give the gates a number to dial.
It had been a marvelous solution to a rather troubling problem.
The new setting had worked much better then the old, they had been able to set destination with ease. However…as with most things there just had to be a snag.
Because the first gate propelled the subject through the second as they walked through the tunnel, it did so at great speed. You did not walk in and then walk out. You were shot out.
Which had been fine with but one gate, it had only been akin to walking across an airport treadmill ramp, and then reaching solid ground. A little jarring perhaps, but nothing dangerous.
But with two…well their little robot probe had reached its destination at something like six hundred plus miles and hour….
It was an issue, but Harley was sure that Tyler and their Father would have realized the solution before too long. But then….the accident.
A freak accident some might say. But to Harley it spoke volumes about why he hated most people.
They had been driving to the secondary test site, nothing too dangerous even on the mountain roads that surrounded the base, when one of Howley’s little solider boys, drunk and stir crazy, came barreling around the pass at about eighty mph. Father had managed to react fast enough to prevent a head on collision, but had still been clipped on the left side.
The hit had sent their car spinning into the mountainside so hard that it had ricochet right off and into the guardrail.
By all accounts his Father had slammed on the brakes, but either the initial hit, or the out of control smash into the solid rock, or perhaps both, had caused the brake system to fail.
They hit the guardrail, and ripped right though it.
One hundred and eighty three feet straight down.
Their Father had died instantly, Tyler had lingered.
By the grace of whatever gods that were watching Tyler had managed to hit the emergency button on his government issued phone, which was supposed to be used in case they were kidnapped or something, Harley wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it instantly dialed a federal line and the phone doubled as a GPS locator.
Tyler had been life flighted from the scene and taken to a nearby hospital. That was when Harley got the call.
He had just been sitting at home, treating himself to a rare pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese pizza while he read a book.
The phone rang…and everything turned into a nightmare.
His Father dead, his brother is critical condition, his heart pounding in his chest during the frantic drive to the hospital. Of course once he got there…the circus began.
Nurses shoving papers at him, sign this, read that, is he and organ donor?
He had pushed on past all of them, racing to where his brother was. He was out of surgery, but the doctors looked grim. Injuries too severe they had said, lost too much blood.
“He’s not going to make it.”
Harley had an extremely hard time swallowing that. All the medical advances mankind had made over the years, and nothing? They couldn’t do anything? And what about God? How could he let someone like Tyler die? How? Billion’s of worthless people lived, and yet….someone with so much to give, so much to offer….
Harley had barely been able to recognize the man he grew up with when he finally reached Tyler’s bedside. Gauze here, stitches there, tubes running everywhere, machines buzzing and beeping.
It had been horrible.
Tyler had recognized him though, through it all, the pain, the drugs they were probably pumping him full off. Even with his arm badly bandaged, splinted and all wrapped up Tyler had tried to reach for him.
As Harley held his hand, doing his best not to sob the whole time, Tyler had tried to speak. To this very day Harley wondered just what his brother had wanted so badly to say. He did not know, and never would….because only a few moments later Tyler’s one visible eye had started to roll back, machines starting beeping faster and screaming. Doctors, nurses, all running in, trying to push Harley away.
He had not gone anywhere, for better or worse he had to be there. He stayed, holding Tyler’s hand, begging, pleading with him to just hang on, to stay with him. He had tried to just…will Tyler to live.
Tyler had convulsed for a moment, and then grew still.
At that moment Harley had truly lost the two most brilliant men he had ever known. He respected and loved them with all his heart…and they were gone.
The court martial of the offending officer had gone quickly, only one hearing, so quickly that Harley had not even been involved, something that struck him as odd.
Two weeks after Harley had put his family into the ground….and then he went to work.
With Robert S. Windham and Tyler T. Windham gone their project had been on the verge of being shut down. He, Harley P. Windham had not only stepped up immediately, he took over.
All the incompetent staff that had benefited from Tyler’s kindness were gone after just one day. Harley would not put up with it at all. He was filled with but one desire now, to make his Father’s dream come true. To not let all of his brother’s hard work go to waste.
It had been two years now, two years willed with blood pressure raising frustrations.
He had been familiar with the equipment of course, and had even designed some of the more practical parts of the device at his Father’s insistence. He had easily been able to understand his Father and Tyler’s notes, something no one else had been able to do.
Tyler had been so close, and now….now Harley was there.
Just a few more very minor trivialities and Harley was ready to turn it on for real.
A sky that looks different then it should. Clean rivers running everywhere, giant fields of golden wheat sitting under a sun like no other.
The image ran through Harley’s mind and he rubbed at his eyes. Two days after Tyler’s death Harley had had a very vivid dream, a dream of a place that looked very much like an untamed area of the earth…yet different.
He had to wonder, was it THE dream?
It seemed highly improbable that it was, but…it was just another one of those things he would never truly know.
His Father had believed, or hoped, that his invention could take them to other worlds, not just other planets in the solar system, but whole new planes of reality.
Harley did not really believe in all of that, but he definitely felt it would revolutionize space travel, as well as creating a whole new way of getting around the world.
After all…why fly when you could be there in seconds?
“Almost there…” Harley whispered to their pictures. “Just a little longer…”
Harley grumbled to himself as he finished replacing the burnt out circuit. Honestly…did he have to do EVERYTHING himself? For a week the energy readings had been completely screwed, and for a week he had told the technicians what needed to be done to fix it.
All four corners of each Trans-gate needed to be in aliment, otherwise it could explode, which is why it had been built as a square. They said they had fixed it four times now, and yet….still not fixed.
So…like most things he had just ended up doing it himself.
“Idiots…all of them.” Harley grumbled. “You would think you would get some competency out of the military, but noooo.”
He could hear footsteps approaching but paid them no mind. If it was for him it would wait.
“Dr. Windham?” A male voice said. Harley rolled his eyes.
“I do think that you can see I am in the middle of something yes?” Harley replied.
“It is Dr. Clark. I would like a word with you.” Clark said, ignoring Harley’s rhetorical question.
“I know who it is.” Harley snapped. “And you can wait.”
God he detested that man, Benson Clark, a psychiatrist who had dabbled, and Harley stressed the word dabbled, in engineering in his younger years. Clark had pretty much been nothing more then a giant pain in the ass ever since Harley had taken over the project.
He could feel Clark stewing, but said nothing. What? Did the old prick actually expect him to jump right out from under the machine just to listen to him babble?
Insufferable really.
Harley did not even know why the man even had access to the lab, it had nothing to do with Clark, and yet he always seemed to be there. Twisting his head Harley glanced at the readout on his portable screen, still not quite there yet.
“Tech’s say that should be good.” A voice came over his earpiece.
“Yeah well…their stupid.” Harley muttered.
“What was that?” The voice asked.
“Pitch it four more degrees.” Harley ordered. With the circuit already replaced, once they put it where it needed to be he could replace the access plate and make sure the locks engaged…something they had not been doing up till now.
“Doctor?” The voice muttered.
“Just do it.” Harley grumbled. All this Doctor crap was getting on his nerves too, yes he was, but once people heard that they tended to instantly think of the medical type…and he hated being asked medical questions.
Harley watched as the heavy gears turned smoothly, he had always received a bit of simple pleasure from watching machines work, especially ones that he had designed. The locks clicked into place, affirming his belief that the only reason the locks had no engaged previously was because it was not in alignment in the first place.
Which is what he had been saying all along. Funny how something so simple could elude so many people.
Satisfied he began to gather up his tools, slipping them neatly into their designated spots.
“What is the reading now.” Harley asked.
“Um…it has almost doubled sir.” Was the response he got.
Right where it should be.
Dragging himself out from under the device he was more then slightly annoyed to see that Clark was still standing there.
“What is it?” Harley snapped. “I honestly do not understand why you are here so often.”
“I have serious doubts about what you are attempting.” Clark said. Harley waved him off dismissively.
This again? He was growing quite weary of it all. Ignoring Clark Harley began to head back towards the tool lock up, something he had insisted upon as tools seemed to have a nasty habit of disappearing in this place.
But wouldn’t you know it….Clark followed.
“Your Father said we would only require one of those…things.” Clark continued. “Your brother bumped it up to two, and now you are having two more contracted.” Harley just nodded his head.
“Thank you for the recap.” He said sarcastically. Clark made a disgruntled noise in his throat.
“I have never supported this project, it is nothing more then a waste of money in my opinion.” Clark stated. “However…you are preparing to run a tremendous amount of power through these hunks of metal. Even if they will form a circuit as you claim, do you have any idea what will happen if they do not?”
Harley rolled his eyes.
“Boom.”
Clark growled.
‘No one has even checked your work!”
Harley held up one finger.
“Au contraire. All my calculations are up on the board right now.”
He had taken to putting it all up in public view after hearing so many people complain about the very same thing Clark was.
“You have machined nearly all the parts, wired up the circuitry….you have included nearly no one in the entire process!” Clark nearly yelled. Harley turned away from Clark, throwing the lab coat he never wore over his shoulder.
“That is because most of you are incompetent fools, who either can not do, or can no understand. It is hardly worth the time to allow you to play with such seriousness.” Harley called over his shoulder. It was true, he was surrounded by morons. There were times when he felt like the entire place was staffed and ran by monkeys.
He would have left, but General Howley came through the very door he was about to leave through. Great…just what he needed, an idiot and a blowhard.
Technically Howley was in charge of the project, but to be honest Harley highly doubted he understood even a fraction of it. Except what Harley explained to him in nice small words of course.
“Now, now Dr. Clark. I am sure the young Dr. Windham knows just what he is doing.” Howley soothed. The General was a snake, oily and deceptive. Harley knew that. The man had been disgraced years ago, linked to a major scandal that while granted he had never been charged with anything, had done wonders to bring the man down.
But Harley knew it was all true, the money theft, the death threats, the cover up, all of it. All he had to do was spend ten minutes with Howley and he knew it.
He had only heard bits and pieces of the whole story true, but that was enough for him to know not to trust the man. Howley wasn’t here because he wanted to be, Harley was sure he would rather be in some boardroom somewhere sending men Harley’s age off to die.
But Howley was here, and seemed to be trying to make the best of it. He was hooked into the project now, perhaps seeing it as a way to redeem himself, to reclaim his -legacy-.
Howley had proven useful at times however, the project did not seem to be hurting for money, and they had a state of the art facility. Plus because of Howley he had only had to have one meeting with certain senators who wanted to “discuss” his work and the project itself.
Meandering monkeys…that’s all they were. They didn’t even know what the project was…it had been humorous to watch them grope around in the dark so to speak, trying to fish some details out of him. Humorous, but ultimately annoying.
“But General…the risks.” Clark began.
“No rewards without them.” Harley butted in. That really seemed to piss Clark off, but Harley knew it would appeal to the gung ho military man.
“You are an arrogant little snot.” Clark sneered. “It is bad enough that all of this…science fiction garbage is even being tried. But to put us all in danger to do it….and about your so called -calculations- I personally think that you are simply making up nonsense. Those formulas are practically impossible. Why you want this mockery of real science to continue is beyond me. Your Father was delusional, and your brother was sucked in. So…what is your excuse?”
Harley’s temper rose at the mention of his father and brother, and he clenched his fists. What…the old geezer was trying to put him on the couch now?
How dark the wrinkled bag of stupid insult the two most brilliant minds of the last hundred years! He opened his mouth to lash out, but Howley literally stepped in between them.
“That is enough Dr. Clark. Dr. Windham has taken this project further then any other, and we owe his family for having the genius to create such a work. I dare say he has single handily saved all of this work after the…accident.”
Harley puffed up for a moment from the praise, but quickly pushed it away. Ever since he had arrived Howley had been trying to act Fatherly to him. He was not sure what the ploy was, but he knew there was one. He could play along however, sometimes it was something one had to do to get things done.
“You know what I think?” Harley growled, stepping out from behind Howley. “I think your just a bitter old man Sigmund, your own work could never be so grand, and you just can not stand that a mere twenty five year old is better then you.”
Without another word Harley turned and stalked off.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hours later Harley was sitting in his so called quarters going over various staff letters.
Just the normal complaints really. Typical bureaucracy, nothing more.
The bullshit in this place astounded him at times. If he asked for copper wiring, he would get back a page and a half of questions, and not sensible things like length, size and thickness, things he had already answered. But stupid crap like what country of origin, what brand, spooled or not spooled, ect, ect. Just stupid shit.
And it was like that with everything.
Which was a big part of why he ended up doing most things himself, that and the fact that no one else ever seemed capable of doing anything he ordered right. Even with simple tasks.
He had needed a new gear for the adjustment mechanism, it was not complex, it did not have to be incredibly precise. Yet they still managed to get it wrong four times. FOUR!
Once he could understand, twice maybe, but four times?
Not to mention they tried to take as much time as they possibly could to do anything. One gear, three weeks. He had thought the head machinist has been joking when he said that. But sure enough, three weeks later they had shown up with the gear.
Harley had been furious.
Then when it had been too large, instead of just taking it back to the shop and machining it down a whole quarter of an inch, they had simple thrown it away and started over.
Four gears, twelve weeks.
It had put Harley so far behind is own personal schedule that he had lost it. He forced his way into the shop, despite their protests, and in two hours had the part he needed.
It had indeed been an eye opening experience. He had dealt with competence and intelligence his entire life, and now was surrounded by insufferable fools whose names he could not even bother to remember at this point.
Idiot one, idiot two….they were all interchangeable at some point.
He refused to believe so many people could be as worthless as the ones at the base had shown themselves to be. Yet time and time again they attempted to force him to believe it.
Through the rumor mill he had heard that most of the staff believe the project was worthless, and would be canceled before too long. But it was an easy, high paying job so they wanted to make it last. Harley could not believe a project so groundbreaking, so sensitive, could be staffed by such uncaring people.
He probably had Howley to thank for that.
“It is not useless….I’ll show you all.” Harley vowed.
Tossing the papers into the trash Harley stretched in his chair. They didn’t like be cut out did they? Then do the job right the first time, it was as simple as that. He was not putting up with anything anymore.
Rolling his head to the side Harley smiled as the pictures of his father and brother popped into his view.
He would finish what they had started.
Harley did have to admit he had always been very skeptical of his Father’s dream. It just…didn’t seem like something to focus on.
A portal.
A portal to anywhere in the world. Perhaps even beyond.
It was something straight out of science fiction. But for some reason his Father had always been hooked on the idea, ever since he had had a certain dream as a child.
Not that his Father was the first to ever play with the idea. Hundreds had played with it, trying things like teleportation pods, wormhole theories…the idea was as old as time travel.
But Harley’s Father had actually done it.
Harley had some to the house after school one day, twenty years old and well on his way to following his Father and Brother, and his Father had been in the kitchen, just giddy as a school girl.
On the table had been a metal square, Harley remembered his father asking him to draw up some blueprints for it, it was a made of a gold titanium alloy Harley would later learn, and an orange.
“Watch this Harley.” The elder Windham had said. He flipped a switch, nearly all the other electronic devices in the house went out, fuses blew, and the electric bill spiked like nobodies business, but the little square hummed and some type of field crackled inside of it. His Father rolled the orange through the square and it disappeared.
Harley’s first thought had been. “Wow Dad….you’ve made the worlds quickest incinerator.”
But a second later the orange reappeared, rolling across the counter by the wink some seven feet away.
Needless to say Harley had been quite shocked.
A great deal of laughing in his Father’s face and dozen’s of proposals later. Project Eternal Discovery was under way. Cheesy name yes, but his Father had liked it.
There had been more then a few snags with the infantile technology. With but one -gate- if that was what you wanted to call it, there seemed to be no real way to set where they were going, to tell where they actually went, and if they went anywhere at all.
Indeed the popular theory was that the test subject was simple atomized. A few of their little test bots had been discovered once robotics actually got their shit together and put a beacon on them.
It had been very rough on his Father, nothing had gone the way he had hoped. Then Harley’s brother Tyler had stepped in. Strangely Tyler also claimed to have had a dream, one that apparently was the same one that Father had had decades ago, only a week after joining the project.
It had been Tyler to suggest a second gate, thereby forming a tunnel. The first gate punched through, the second was used to steer in a sense.
It had been their Father however how had designed the system in which destination was set. The earth itself had a natural frequency, in a sense a -tone-, as did the gate itself, that could be tuned into. Of course if one used the earths own frequency they probably would end up at one of the poles, but by setting a beacon where they wanted to go they could, in a sense, give the gates a number to dial.
It had been a marvelous solution to a rather troubling problem.
The new setting had worked much better then the old, they had been able to set destination with ease. However…as with most things there just had to be a snag.
Because the first gate propelled the subject through the second as they walked through the tunnel, it did so at great speed. You did not walk in and then walk out. You were shot out.
Which had been fine with but one gate, it had only been akin to walking across an airport treadmill ramp, and then reaching solid ground. A little jarring perhaps, but nothing dangerous.
But with two…well their little robot probe had reached its destination at something like six hundred plus miles and hour….
It was an issue, but Harley was sure that Tyler and their Father would have realized the solution before too long. But then….the accident.
A freak accident some might say. But to Harley it spoke volumes about why he hated most people.
They had been driving to the secondary test site, nothing too dangerous even on the mountain roads that surrounded the base, when one of Howley’s little solider boys, drunk and stir crazy, came barreling around the pass at about eighty mph. Father had managed to react fast enough to prevent a head on collision, but had still been clipped on the left side.
The hit had sent their car spinning into the mountainside so hard that it had ricochet right off and into the guardrail.
By all accounts his Father had slammed on the brakes, but either the initial hit, or the out of control smash into the solid rock, or perhaps both, had caused the brake system to fail.
They hit the guardrail, and ripped right though it.
One hundred and eighty three feet straight down.
Their Father had died instantly, Tyler had lingered.
By the grace of whatever gods that were watching Tyler had managed to hit the emergency button on his government issued phone, which was supposed to be used in case they were kidnapped or something, Harley wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it instantly dialed a federal line and the phone doubled as a GPS locator.
Tyler had been life flighted from the scene and taken to a nearby hospital. That was when Harley got the call.
He had just been sitting at home, treating himself to a rare pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese pizza while he read a book.
The phone rang…and everything turned into a nightmare.
His Father dead, his brother is critical condition, his heart pounding in his chest during the frantic drive to the hospital. Of course once he got there…the circus began.
Nurses shoving papers at him, sign this, read that, is he and organ donor?
He had pushed on past all of them, racing to where his brother was. He was out of surgery, but the doctors looked grim. Injuries too severe they had said, lost too much blood.
“He’s not going to make it.”
Harley had an extremely hard time swallowing that. All the medical advances mankind had made over the years, and nothing? They couldn’t do anything? And what about God? How could he let someone like Tyler die? How? Billion’s of worthless people lived, and yet….someone with so much to give, so much to offer….
Harley had barely been able to recognize the man he grew up with when he finally reached Tyler’s bedside. Gauze here, stitches there, tubes running everywhere, machines buzzing and beeping.
It had been horrible.
Tyler had recognized him though, through it all, the pain, the drugs they were probably pumping him full off. Even with his arm badly bandaged, splinted and all wrapped up Tyler had tried to reach for him.
As Harley held his hand, doing his best not to sob the whole time, Tyler had tried to speak. To this very day Harley wondered just what his brother had wanted so badly to say. He did not know, and never would….because only a few moments later Tyler’s one visible eye had started to roll back, machines starting beeping faster and screaming. Doctors, nurses, all running in, trying to push Harley away.
He had not gone anywhere, for better or worse he had to be there. He stayed, holding Tyler’s hand, begging, pleading with him to just hang on, to stay with him. He had tried to just…will Tyler to live.
Tyler had convulsed for a moment, and then grew still.
At that moment Harley had truly lost the two most brilliant men he had ever known. He respected and loved them with all his heart…and they were gone.
The court martial of the offending officer had gone quickly, only one hearing, so quickly that Harley had not even been involved, something that struck him as odd.
Two weeks after Harley had put his family into the ground….and then he went to work.
With Robert S. Windham and Tyler T. Windham gone their project had been on the verge of being shut down. He, Harley P. Windham had not only stepped up immediately, he took over.
All the incompetent staff that had benefited from Tyler’s kindness were gone after just one day. Harley would not put up with it at all. He was filled with but one desire now, to make his Father’s dream come true. To not let all of his brother’s hard work go to waste.
It had been two years now, two years willed with blood pressure raising frustrations.
He had been familiar with the equipment of course, and had even designed some of the more practical parts of the device at his Father’s insistence. He had easily been able to understand his Father and Tyler’s notes, something no one else had been able to do.
Tyler had been so close, and now….now Harley was there.
Just a few more very minor trivialities and Harley was ready to turn it on for real.
A sky that looks different then it should. Clean rivers running everywhere, giant fields of golden wheat sitting under a sun like no other.
The image ran through Harley’s mind and he rubbed at his eyes. Two days after Tyler’s death Harley had had a very vivid dream, a dream of a place that looked very much like an untamed area of the earth…yet different.
He had to wonder, was it THE dream?
It seemed highly improbable that it was, but…it was just another one of those things he would never truly know.
His Father had believed, or hoped, that his invention could take them to other worlds, not just other planets in the solar system, but whole new planes of reality.
Harley did not really believe in all of that, but he definitely felt it would revolutionize space travel, as well as creating a whole new way of getting around the world.
After all…why fly when you could be there in seconds?
“Almost there…” Harley whispered to their pictures. “Just a little longer…”