"SO," John said to a glowering Ereel, "we now grasp the significance of what is being done here. Right?"
"Yes," she replied after a moment.
"We also know now that the primitive knows more about wormholes than all of you put together, right?"
Her answer took a few seconds longer than her first.
"Yes."
"We also know," John continued, rubbing it in, "who exactly is in charge. Right?"
"Scorp –" she began but John cut her off brusquely, thrusting his face at her.
"In this fucking room, it's me!" He roared then paused and said very calmly, "Right?"
Ereel's eyes held nothing but defiance.
"Correct." She ground out. "For now."
John suddenly laughed and backed off.
"You – I like your moxy. You make me laugh. You can stay." He slapped her on the back as he walked past her and didn't see her face darken but was well aware it had. He stopped before his machine. He knew aggravating Ereel was not really helping, but it wasn't hurting him, either. He needed time yet. Tech Renaa approached him slowly and eyed the machine.
"Crichton… may I ask what you call this device?"
"Ah, see – deference. A little respect never hurt nobody."
Renaa opened her mouth and then closed it. She was slightly more even-tempered than her superior and refused to rise to the human's bait.
"This," John continued, "is stealing fire from the gods. What I call a 'Coherent Point Source Displacement Wave Invertor'." He smiled a lopsided smile at her. "Or F. o. G., for short."
"Ehf oh gee?"
"Inside joke, not important. Suffice to say this thing when it's finished can end any war, instantly."
"That is a rather broad – and risky – claim to make," Ereel warned him from behind, "many have come before with an 'ultimate weapon' that has done nothing."
"They weren't me," John told her with a contemptuous wave, "and they didn't have this."
"You do not have forever to complete it, Crichton." Ereel reminded him.
"You're a bundle of laughs, you know that?" John turned and walked back to his workstation. "It only needs a few more things and some tweaking." He informed her. And that off switch, he thought to himself, although I'm debating giving one to you bastards. Might be worth it to just off the lot of you. All nice, clean and final. I advance Earth, oh, a few hundred years or so and then we rise up and take your place. Humanity – better, stronger and faster. A Golden Age like no other.
It's got a definite appeal…