The Great Debate


"No one trusts the government," Razia thought, "especially the
military."  From the small plane, she thought back at how everyone at
the conference had scowled at Major Bradly from the minute he arrived.
Her Turkish parents had always told her that strangers should be shown
warmth and hospitality, and given the benefit of the doubt.  "Academics
and their ivory towers.  They'll take the money, do the work, but still
hold themselves above every one else," she mused.  The session chaired
by Major Bradly, in his crisp green uniform, received a noticeably
colder reception from the audience, and there were few questions to the
speakers.  It was as if the speakers' motives had somehow become
suspect because of the connection to the session's chair, who, in fact,
was asked to fill in for the absent chair only that very morning.

Razia leaned her head back in the seat, letting her shoulder length jet
black hair fall backwards, took a deep breath, and thought about how
people had misjudged Major Bradly.  In an effort to welcome the
stranger, she had talked with him at the reception on the first
evening, and realized that he was actually an intelligent fellow, quite
witty, and even charming.  Being one of only a handful of women at a
technical conference, as well as being one with soft features and dark
middle eastern beauty, Razia was able to talk to anyone at the
conference with no fear of being ostracized by other factions.  She saw
early on how others were unfairly judging him based only on his
affiliation and uniform.  But no matter.

Her interest, in fact practically everyone's, was the afternoon session
of the third day.  The program promised to have three related,
revolutionary, and highly controversial papers; and the attendee list
included some of the biggest names in the field.  Razia remembered
thinking "Damn!" when she first saw the announcement.  The session
proved to exceed everyone's expectations.  There was a great discussion
that ensued that demonstrated how the papers were interrelated.  They
claimed the current theories of encryption were based on flawed
assumptions, and suggested ways in which they could be defeated.  There
were serious (read: disturbing) implications to the government and
military.  Of course Major Bradly was in the middle of the Maelstrom.
The quiet town of Lafayette, Louisiana had never seen anything like it
before.  And never would again.

Razia looked out the window as the jet completed the final circle over
the town.  No survivors.  There were a few bodies in the streets, and
soon enough it would attract attention.  The greatest minds there,
sitting in that hotel, probably in the same chairs as they were during
that great debate.  Had Razia not fled from the controversy and left
halfway through that session, she would have been among them as well.
People could read the papers, see the results, but without all those
minds there, together, nothing would ever come of the results.  Razia
knew that.

"Another Legionnaire's," she said to the pilot.

"Not my problem, ma'am," he growled.  "I just do what I'm told, and
follow orders."

Razia's head snapped forward and her black eyes shot an icy look at
the pilot.

"Your orders, ma'am," he muttered into his lap, fearfully.

Razia leaned back in her seat and thought about Major Bradly, sitting
in that room, along with everyone else, soon to be a prime suspect,
even posthumously.  "No one trusts the government, especially the
military," she thought.  "Good."