chance to flirt with you,” she told him. “You should try to avoid giving any one of them too much attention. They develop attachments quickly, and at this age their egos are very fragile.”
Beau felt amused and annoyed. “Do you speak from experience?”
“Me? I don’t bother with romance.” She took out her flashlight and switched it on. “Emotional attachments are time-consuming and unpredictable, and the results are often disappointing. I don’t think I’m very good at them, either. Would you carry out that big blue case there?”
Beau retrieved what she wanted. “Matters of the heart are not experiments, Alys.”
She considered that. “I’ll have to take your word on that. I’ve never loved or been loved by anyone.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that he frowned. “What about your parents, your family?”
“My parents died in a car accident shortly after I was born. I spent my childhood at boarding schools. They were all excellent learning institutions, but growing up in a purely academic environment doesn’t encourage much in the way of personal bonding. I liked my schoolmates, and admired my teachers, but they weren’t effective substitutes for siblings or parents.”
Although she used unfamiliar words, Beau understood what she was saying. During his childhood Harlech’s family had been kind to him, and he had responded with steadfast loyalty, but he had never truly felt part of his foster brother’s boisterous, happy clan. “Who sent you away to school?”
“My guardian. He knew my parents, and when they were killed, he took care of me.” She shouldered a pack. “I didn’t see him very often, and he died last year.”
“I am sorry for your loss.” Beau picked up a second case she wanted before she could lift it. “Why didn’t your guardian bring you into his home and foster…raise you as his daughter?”
“We never discussed it,” she admitted, “but Robert was a bachelor, and he had to travel extensively for his work. Sometimes he sent postcards to me from different countries.”
Back in the processing area Alys gave Chan the task of assembling what she called “the trolley” while she set up a monitor screen, computer tower, and wireless transceiver.
To Chan she said, “Mr. York hasn’t worked at a siteusing ground-penetrating radar. Why don’t you explain the system to him?”
“Sure.” The intern turned to Beau. “The GPR transmits a signal into the ground, which bounces off subsurface features and objects. The receiver collects the return signals and displays them on the trolley’s LCD unit as a graphic. It also transmits them to the computer, where our software processes the time it takes for a signal reflection, and calculates parameters and depth. If the scans are clear, we should be able to construct a 3-D map of the area, which gives us precise coordinates.”
“We’ll need to use a lower-frequency signal out here,” Alys added. “Chan, please calibrate the emitter for two hundred megahertz to start. We’ll adjust it after we see the initial test scan.”
Beau eyed the trolley unit, which appeared to be little more than a four-wheeled cart. “How deep can the signal travel?”
“With this equipment, depending on the frequency we use, up to a thousand meters,” Chan said.
“The saturation of the ground will help.” Alys came over to adjust one of the switches on the trolley. “Dry soil doesn’t reflect signals very well. When it’s saturated, the moisture interfaces with buried objects, retaining or pooling on them, and that acts like a mirror. The more water present, the better the signal and the more details we can see in the reflection data.”
Beau studied the equipment as he sorted out what they had told him. “So you push this over the ground, and the echoes of the signal it makes creates a picture of what is beneath the soil. They tell you where you should dig, how deep, and what you will find.”
“It doesn’t take all the
Beau felt amused and annoyed. “Do you speak from experience?”
“Me? I don’t bother with romance.” She took out her flashlight and switched it on. “Emotional attachments are time-consuming and unpredictable, and the results are often disappointing. I don’t think I’m very good at them, either. Would you carry out that big blue case there?”
Beau retrieved what she wanted. “Matters of the heart are not experiments, Alys.”
She considered that. “I’ll have to take your word on that. I’ve never loved or been loved by anyone.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that he frowned. “What about your parents, your family?”
“My parents died in a car accident shortly after I was born. I spent my childhood at boarding schools. They were all excellent learning institutions, but growing up in a purely academic environment doesn’t encourage much in the way of personal bonding. I liked my schoolmates, and admired my teachers, but they weren’t effective substitutes for siblings or parents.”
Although she used unfamiliar words, Beau understood what she was saying. During his childhood Harlech’s family had been kind to him, and he had responded with steadfast loyalty, but he had never truly felt part of his foster brother’s boisterous, happy clan. “Who sent you away to school?”
“My guardian. He knew my parents, and when they were killed, he took care of me.” She shouldered a pack. “I didn’t see him very often, and he died last year.”
“I am sorry for your loss.” Beau picked up a second case she wanted before she could lift it. “Why didn’t your guardian bring you into his home and foster…raise you as his daughter?”
“We never discussed it,” she admitted, “but Robert was a bachelor, and he had to travel extensively for his work. Sometimes he sent postcards to me from different countries.”
Back in the processing area Alys gave Chan the task of assembling what she called “the trolley” while she set up a monitor screen, computer tower, and wireless transceiver.
To Chan she said, “Mr. York hasn’t worked at a siteusing ground-penetrating radar. Why don’t you explain the system to him?”
“Sure.” The intern turned to Beau. “The GPR transmits a signal into the ground, which bounces off subsurface features and objects. The receiver collects the return signals and displays them on the trolley’s LCD unit as a graphic. It also transmits them to the computer, where our software processes the time it takes for a signal reflection, and calculates parameters and depth. If the scans are clear, we should be able to construct a 3-D map of the area, which gives us precise coordinates.”
“We’ll need to use a lower-frequency signal out here,” Alys added. “Chan, please calibrate the emitter for two hundred megahertz to start. We’ll adjust it after we see the initial test scan.”
Beau eyed the trolley unit, which appeared to be little more than a four-wheeled cart. “How deep can the signal travel?”
“With this equipment, depending on the frequency we use, up to a thousand meters,” Chan said.
“The saturation of the ground will help.” Alys came over to adjust one of the switches on the trolley. “Dry soil doesn’t reflect signals very well. When it’s saturated, the moisture interfaces with buried objects, retaining or pooling on them, and that acts like a mirror. The more water present, the better the signal and the more details we can see in the reflection data.”
Beau studied the equipment as he sorted out what they had told him. “So you push this over the ground, and the echoes of the signal it makes creates a picture of what is beneath the soil. They tell you where you should dig, how deep, and what you will find.”
“It doesn’t take all the
Similar Books
