The ELI Event B007R5LTNS

still more speed, splitting the building’s image into infinitely smaller pieces.
    The glow intensified, filling the bunker with color. The lightning flashed through glass, steel, and stone with equal rapidity, zipped around corners, and kept on going. The lines continued spreading and touching and diverging in a kaleidoscopic pattern until the building itself was obscured, and the scene looked like an enormous jigsaw puzzle of blue neon. In seconds, the blue-white glow was so intense that each man in the bunker except Pettis shielded his eyes or looked away from the screen.
    The glow diminished, and the jigsaw lines could be seen again, more numerous than ever, dissecting the building into millions of minute, finely-detailed pieces. The building’s image blurred, then quivered like gelatin. The lines of the window casings and the edges of the masonry became wavy, indistinct, as though the monitor were going out of focus. Holt blinked hard to make sure it was the image, not his vision, that was blurry. For a few moments more the building stood unsteadily, weaving like a drunk about to pass out.
    Then, slowly, the massive structure simply… disintegrated. There was no crumbling or caving in, no imploding walls, no falling debris, just a serene sense of fading away like the final scene of a movie, as the entire building decomposed into dust-like particles. Most of it drifted away in the hot desert wind before it touched the ground; what was left to fall collected in a small heap where the building had stood, and was quickly blown away. All trace of the structure had vanished. Only the eternal desert remained, dry and barren as if the building had never existed.
    It was over.
    The four men in the bunker stared silently at the monitor, at the empty stretch of desert, at the incredible devastation they had just witnessed. Even Pettis seemed too moved to speak. Dalton Holt, his jaw slack, his breathing deep and slow, lowered his head in awe.
    Williams checked his terminal screen. “NADCOM mainframe reports test completed successfully, sir. Powering down now.”
    Pettis stood silent, his gaze still fixed on the screen in front of him.
    “Are… are you sure that was just ten percent?” Holt haltingly asked the young man.
    “Yes, sir. Ten percent. Verified and accepted by NACOM mainframe, and executed under NADCOM’s complete control, without further intervention from us.”
    “Ten percent,” he repeated. “Good grief, son, what does this thing do at full power?”
    “Well, to tell the truth, sir, we don’t know. This test was a bit, um, unorthodox. That is, this the highest output level we’ve ever tried.” He inclined his head ever so slightly in Pettis’s direction. “If you know what I mean. Sir.”
    Holt glanced over at Pettis, still staring at the target monitor with unblinking eyes, clearly oblivious to the conversation going on ten feet away. “Yes,” Holt said quietly, “I think I know what you mean. Why have you never tested the MDA at higher output levels?”
    “The technical committee back at base advises against it, General. They say the MDA is unstable at anything over five percent.” He turned to his terminal and pointed to a column of numbers. “As you see, sir, these figures indicate that in this test, the object vector was already compromised by the time the MDA reached seven point three one percent. The electron suppression alone—”
    “Whoa, whoa,” Holt interrupted. “I get the idea. Tell me, is the fact that this test is… unorthodox, as you say, the reason there are only two of you here?” The techs looked at each other nervously. “It’s all right,” he coaxed. “Does the technical committee know you performed a ten percent test here today or not?”
    Williams blinked and swallowed. “No, sir,” he finally said.
    Holt nodded and looked at Pettis, who still seemed somehow fascinated by the empty target monitor.
    “But they really don’t have to, sir,” the technician continued. “You see, Major Pettis has complete control of the project, and doesn’t require authorization from the civilian members of the staff to perform a test or to do anything else. Our function is merely to execute, analyze, and recommend. It’s really his ball game.”
    “I see. Thank you.” Holt walked slowly across the bunker and stood beside Pettis. “Major,” he began evenly, “about this test. I am amazed by what I’ve seen, but I’m also somewhat concerned.”
    Pettis seemed