Kenneth felt queasy. He didn't love being pulled in for interviews. That would be because they were the starting point for months and months of stress. He had a guilty conscience, and knew that there were too many cooked books out there that he was responsible for.
This time at least he knew what project it was for. The blasted encapsulated torpedoes. A dark and murky mess that was. Plessey were a greedy lot. There was spooky stuff in the background. It was far too risky a project in the first place.
And that sausage roll he'd eaten on the drive in wasn't quite right.
He was sitting on an airport-type steel bench in the lobby, trying not to look too nervous. Were there a bunch of military police about the place? Was this the end of the line? His head started to ache just a little worse.
Had the Russians spotted any of the pigs? That would really be quite bad.
Eventually he was called in. It was quite a nice interview room. Actual wooden table in the middle. Padded seats. The mirrored window was small and tastefully framed. And a youngish officer waiting for him, polite with a positive appearence.
The opening round of questions were managable. All dull stuff about units and commanders. The headache ticked up slightly though.
Then there was a little session of the technical details of the system. Easy enough. And about the contractors. Had they ever tried to bribe him?
He wished. That would have meant they'd have shown some regard for him.
Then there were some pointed questions on the security of the system. What would it take for someone else to control it? Could anyone remove the Navy's control?
The control channel was transducers embedded with hydrophone arrays. These had always been there, but someone had seen the potential to have a cheap control channel for the encapsulated torpedoes, as well as for active sonar someday. These were wired back to shore in Scotland. 2 people had to work together to arm them, like the nuclear missiles. Theoretically someone could break the encryption of the system, but that wasn't really possible without having all the information from the manufacturer about the system, and deploying their own transducers to brute force the codes. And even then, the system must have had a 'safe' level of security to be deployed, yes? There had been meetings about that, it was all documented. As for kicking the Navy out of the system, that was a matter of the security of the hydrophone arrays. His stomach churned. The sausage roll really hadn't been quite right. Maybe he should ask for a glass of water?
There'd been no mishaps in deployment, had there? How about the attempt to sell the encapsulated torpedoes abroad?
So far as he knew, there hadn't been any problems. It had been out of his hands at that stage, he had been assigned to assist in the sales effort. The South Africans weren't interested, the Australians had seemed curious but felt the price was a bit steep for a system that was so hard to deploy. Eventually the Americans had hired away the main designers from Plessey, and that was the end of it. They were out there now, sitting at the bottom of the ocean, ready for use, and would deactivate themselves in another 5 years, leaving everyone safe. He was sweating, and could really do with a run to the toilet.
Then it was a bunch of questions on what he'd been doing since then, and personal questions. Had he any debts, any compromising relationships? He squirmed and answered as best he could. None of it was really a lie, just the most positive spin he could put on it. They could see the files and make up their own minds. He fidgeted and fidgeted. He needed out of that room. Was the floor moving?
Finally, the officer looked up at him and said, 'That'll be all. Thank you for your help. I'll be in touch if we have more questions.', and stood and opened the door. Kenneth jumped up and shoved past him, run out to the balcony area down the corridor, and vomitted, all down the granite and glass side of the stone frigate HMS St Giles.