"An ordnance technician at a dead run outranks everybody." -Unknown
Everything was going swimmingly. His research team had finally gotten authorization to use 914 for ordnance testing. Set to "Fine" and "Very Fine", agents were processed and tested for the stated aim of equipping Nu-7 with more capable means of containing or neutralizing hostile Keters. His team worked efficiently, and without succumbing to the temptation to abuse it for their own gain. He smiled and a plan was hatched.
The large man walked up to the machine amidst research staff engaged in their work and emptied a small canvas bag on the in side and set 914 into motion. Moments later, he quietly gathered the product on the other side of the infernal device and left without fanfare.
[Interviewer] What did you put through 914?
Returning to an isolated laboratory at the far end of a hallway and closing, but not locking, the armored blast door behind him, he prepared a large standing erection of glassware, tubing, burners and unidentifiable components off to one side. Emptying the pouch into a ball mill, he set it to pulverize the contents and waited patiently for it to finish. In the meantime, he finished filling out the requisition form for another batch of dicyanoacetylene.
The noise stopped with a soft "ding", and he rose from his desk, pouring the contents into a series of hoppers on the nightmare of glassware in the corner and opened a series of valves with hands shaking with anticipation and excitement.
[Dr. John Williamson] Beans.
[Dr. Williamson] Yes.
Slowly a ceramic collection vessel on the end massive system filled with a thick, black liquid that filled the room with a characteristic and very familiar odor, albeit one considerably stronger than he'd known. A soft smile again grew on his worn face as he closed the stopcock and lifted the collection vessel by its handle. The reservoir on the assembly continued to fill with the thick, oily black liquid as he turned to walk back to his desk, unaware of the filling reservoir that his labcoat had snagged on a handle. He dared a sip of the liquid, bringing the mug up to his lips with trembling hands. It was marvelous. Better than anything he'd produced yet. Perfection.
On his way to his desk, out of the corner of his eye Dr. Williamson saw his masterwork begin to tilt, the liquid sloshing in the almost full reservoir. Tilt and begin to fall impossibly slowly. Time seemed to drag on.
He ran for the door.
In the hallway, staff seemed to be moving in slow motion as he ran. He was almost to the end of the hallway when he heard the crash and deafening low order blast.
[Dr. Williamson] Coffee beans.