Free The Black Gate by Michael R. Hicks

if I said I was able to immediately accept such possibilities as those you put forth. But the history of science is filled with examples of theory transcending implausibility to become verified fact, is it not? Otherwise we would still believe that the Sun revolves about the Earth, or that man could never take wing to soar with the eagles.”
    “Quite true, young man,” von Falkenstein conceded, a shade of warmth creeping into his voice as he gave Peter a more contemplative look. “Quite true. My peers at the time did not have your agility of thought. But, as you can see,” he said, gesturing with his hands at the opulent room around them, “the Führer had a more open mind and greater vision.”
    “That comes as no surprise at all, Herr Professor ,” Peter agreed with a bow of his head, and a number of people around the table chuckled. The tension in the room began to subside. As if time had been paused and then set into motion again, the stewards resumed serving dinner.
    Mina took a shuddering breath and looked up at him, but said nothing.
    “So, young man,” Falkenstein said after he took a sip of wine, “you have had some time to inspect our malfunctioning computational machine. Tell us, what have you discovered?”
    “Since I had less than an hour to study the machine, my assessment can only be considered preliminary,” Peter said.
    Von Falkenstein’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
    “I don’t believe there is anything wrong with the computer itself.”
    “That’s preposterous!” The civilian to von Falkenstein’s left blurted.  
    The professor held up his hand, and the man choked off whatever else he was about to say. “Calm yourself, Dr. Hoth.” To Peter, von Falkenstein said, “Explain.” The threat was back in his voice and a veil of tension had again descended on the party, although not quite as dramatically as before. All eyes were on Peter.
    He looked at the porcine man with the glasses who had exclaimed his disbelief at Peter’s assessment. A red flush was creeping up the man’s neck as he glared at Peter. “Dr. Ernst Hoth?” Peter asked.
    The man, clearly surprised that Peter recognized him, responded with a jerk of his head.  
    “ Mein Herr ,” Peter said, holding up his hands in a gesture of supplication, “please forgive my rather blunt appraisal. Had I realized you were present, I would have been more…measured in my reply to the Herr Professor’s question.” Hoth was one of Europe’s leading researchers in the area of superconducting materials, which had first been discovered by Dutch physicist Heike Kamerlingh Onnes in 1911. Some of Hoth’s papers on the subject had been among Peter’s required reading while he was studying at Heidelberg University. Peter had wondered about the enormous golden ring in the cavern, and understood now that Hoth must have been behind its design.  
    “I’m sure the good doctor is not offended,” von Falkenstein rumbled, the beginnings of a smile turning up the ends of his mouth. His expression had again warmed up, this time by a significant measure. “Now, please explain your findings…in a more measured reply, as you might say.”
    “Of course, sir. Let me guess what has been happening. The computer performs as it should to a certain point, then one or more of the vacuum tubes burn out, even if they’ve been recently changed. And in some cases the failure is sufficiently severe that the wiring to the failed tubes is also damaged, usually melted from excessive heat.”  
    “Yes, yes,” Hoth said, bobbing his head and making his neck jiggle like a turkey’s wattle. “That is precisely what is happening. But there is no apparent cause!”
    “There was a cause,” Baumann said with a shark’s grin. “We had a saboteur, and he must have left something behind, something you, Herr Doktor , have been unable to find.” He took a sip of wine. “Your former comrade, Klaus Model, was responsible for the machine’s failure. He admitted as