“And the corruption?” Ben asked. “The shadow-taint in the phoenix’s fire — that’s a byproduct of your extraction process?”
Hargrove’s enthusiastic expression faltered. “We’ve encountered some…instability. The essence extraction necessarily disrupts the phoenix’s natural cycle. The corruption is an unfortunate side effect.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “An ‘unfortunate side effect’ that’s killing it.”
“Only temporary,” Hargrove said, his quick reply indicating that he was ready to defend his research, no matter what. “Once we’ve refined the process, we’ll be able to harvest the essence without causing permanent damage — ”
“Eric.” Rosenthal cut in there, her tone sharp. “Mr. Sanders doesn’t need the technical details yet. Save the briefing for after he’s seen the demonstration.”
Hargrove went quiet after that rebuke. Since Rosenthal didn’t seem inclined to say anything else, they moved on in silence, descending another level via a service elevator while the guards maintained their professional distance. Ben used that time to study Hargrove’s body language. He was no expert, but the man seemed uncomfortable, almost defensive when discussing the phoenix’s corruption. Not quite guilty, but close.
Maybe he could be a weak link, a way to get around Rosenthal.
The elevator opened onto an observation level that overlooked a massive underground chamber, and Ben’s breath caught.
The artificial portal dominated the center of the chamber, a perfect circle perhaps fifteen feet in diameter, suspended in a framework of steel and humming machinery. Energy swirled within the circle, visible to the naked eye. But where natural portals showed clear, stable dimensional boundaries, this one was wrong. The energy was orange-tainted, flickering with shadows that seemed to writhe on their own, unattached to anything in the room that might have been casting them.
Corrupted phoenix fire, exactly as he’d feared.
Around the portal, banks of equipment monitored and regulated the flow. Technicians in clean-room suits moved between stations, checking readings and making adjustments. The whole setup reminded Ben of pictures he’d seen of particle accelerators, only using supernatural energy instead of subatomic particles.
“We achieved stable activation three days ago,” Rosenthal said, moving so she could stand next to him at the observation window. “Six hours of operational stability, sufficient for preliminary testing.”
Ben forced himself to maintain his “interested scientist” façade while his mind raced through a variety of possibilities, each worse than the last.
“What happens after six hours?”
Hargrove spoke then. “The stolen essence degrades.” He’d joined them at the window, and his expression was troubled. “We have to deactivate and allow the natural portal network to compensate.”
“‘Compensate.’” Ben turned to face the scientist and had to fight to keep the rage surging within him from revealing itself. “You mean the natural portals have to regenerate the energy you’re siphoning, which puts additional strain on an already disrupted system.”
“The math is sustainable — ” Hargrove began, but Ben cut him off.
“Show me the math.”
Hargrove blinked, looking as startled as if Ben had just asked him to produce his baby pictures. “I’m sorry?”
“The calculations showing your extraction is sustainable,” Ben responded without missing a beat. “The models that predict long-term stability. If this technology is truly viable, then those numbers should be solid.”
He watched Hargrove’s expression shift from surprise to something that looked almost like relief, as if he was glad someone was finally asking the right questions.
“Dr. Hargrove was just about to brief you on the specifications,” Rosenthal interjected, her tone smooth. If she was annoyed by Ben’s questions, she revealed no sign of it. “Eric, perhaps you’d like to show Mr. Sanders the lab?”
“Yes. Of course.” Hargrove gestured toward a door leading off the observation level. “This way.”
They left the observation deck and went down one hall, and then another. The laboratory was smaller than Ben had expected — a single room filled with computers, monitoring equipment, and stacks of printouts. Hargrove moved immediately to the main terminal and began pulling up files.
Rosenthal remained in the doorway, watching Hargrove as he worked, while the guards stayed in the corridor beyond. Ben noted their positions and the distance to the nearest emergency exit. All tactically useless, since he’d get tackled the second he tried to make a break for it, but information was information.
“Here,” Hargrove said, then turned the monitor so Ben could see it more clearly. “These are our sustainability calculations. Draw rate, regeneration capacity, predicted long-term system stability.”
Ben leaned in to get a closer look at the numbers. Mathematics had never been his strongest subject, but he’d spent enough time analyzing scientific papers to recognize when the data told a different story than the official conclusions its author wanted to convey.
“This model assumes a stable baseline in the natural portal network,” he said, speaking slowly as he continued to scan the information on the monitor. “But your own readings show the network is already stressed. The phoenix’s corruption, the increased manifestation of shadow creatures — those variables aren’t factored into your sustainability math, are they?”
Hargrove’s hands paused on the keyboard. For a long moment, he stared at the screen, saying nothing. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. “The baseline stability factor was established before we began active extraction. But you’re right. The current network stress isn’t fully accounted for in these projections.”
“Meaning your six-hour operational window is optimistic at best,” Ben replied. “The actual sustainable duration is probably less. Maybe much less.”
