“Which is pretty much us and no one else,” I said, feeling glum again.
“To work, J.J.,” Ariadne said with about as much enthusiasm as I had for it. “How long will this take?”
“Depends on how long he’s been in the country,” J.J. said. “If he’s entered in the last twenty-four hours, it’ll be fast. If he’s been in the country a week or less, I can have this done in a couple hours. Two weeks will take the rest of the day. Longer than a month…” He cringed. “Could be a while.”
Ariadne waved her hand. “Get to it.” She hesitated. “Can you set it to run and do your work from off-site?”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, nodding. “Our servers are pretty much set up for me to do just that, so I can push data wherever it needs to be. I usually use it to work late from the computer in my apartment. Why?”
“Because I want you to do this from the computer in your apartment,” Ariadne said, taking off her reading glasses. “Can you do that?”
“Yessum,” he said, mostly serious. “And you want me back here when?”
“I’ll let you know,” she said.
“Shore leave approved,” he whispered to me, then turned and vanished out the door. I watched him go and I didn’t feel bad about it at all. The campus was no place for humans right now. I felt the tension in my stomach pick up as I pondered that.
Ariadne leaned back in her chair, studiously ignoring Eve, and then looked back to me. “I’m glad you’re here. I had something to tell you, anyway.”
“Oh?” I said with exaggerated brightness. “You’re approving my vacation to Bora Bora, all expenses paid?”
“Hah,” she said with no mirth, head resting on the back of her chair as she tossed her glasses onto her desk. “I’d pay for your trip myself right now if I thought you’d go to Bora Bora. No, I wanted you to know I had Scott Byerly sent home.”
I felt a tingle of loss I couldn’t define. “Yeah, I know. I caught him on his way out.”
“Wait, you let the waterboy leave?” Eve looked down at her. “Why?”
“Dr. Perugini said he couldn’t form enough water pressure to wet an envelope,” Ariadne said. “He’s emotionally distressed and completely wrecked at present. Per her recommendation, he is to take two weeks of emotional leave.”
“For a breakup?” Eve said with obvious disdain. “If only my employers had been so generous with paid time off every time I had a difficult relationship.”
“If only,” Ariadne said. “He’ll be out until further notice. He’s back to his parents’ house in Minnetonka. And you,” she said, looking to Eve, “could show a little sensitivity to his plight.”
Eve snorted. “Teenage romance and heartbreak. He has the emotions of a baby. He doesn’t know heartbreak, and even if he did, a real man would continue to work, ignoring the pain. This is courting weakness, inviting it into your sitting room and giving it tea—”
“Noted,” Ariadne said, cutting Eve off. “But he still has the time off.”
“He’s useless to us right now,” I said. “Better to get him out of the way.”
Ariadne smiled weakly. “That was the idea.”
“This is all ridiculous,” Eve said, and Ariadne gave her the look again. Exhausted, mixed with exasperated. “I’m due to meet with Bastian and Parks anyway,” she said, and with a subtle bend she tried to kiss Ariadne on the lips. Ariadne turned her face to the side and gave her the cheek. Eve shot me a wicked smile and leaned into her neck, causing Ariadne to squirm and curse under her breath, and giggle unintentionally from the tickle of it. I averted my eyes, trying not to pass judgment on what Eve was obviously doing to get a rise out of me. She slid past me a moment later, same cool smile, and pulled the door all the way open before she left.
I waited a moment for Ariadne’s embarrassment to fade before I spoke. “Is it my imagination or is she getting more provocative by the day?”
Ariadne averted her eyes from me, focusing instead on her computer monitor. “It’s probably not your imagination.”
I let that hang for a beat. “She got a buzzsaw in her g-string or what?”
“I don’t know,” Ariadne said. “And it’s not really a conversation I want to have with…well, anyone, actually.”
“I’m glad you added that little caveat because otherwise I might feel like I was being excluded or something.”
“Have you checked on Kat recently?” Ariadne said, back to business, her eyes on the stacks of papers around her desk, organizing as she went, trying to avoid looking at me.
I grimaced. “No. Kind of um…embarrassing, I guess.”
“You’re the team lead,” she said. “You could at least try and show some concern for her, even if you don’t like her.”
“I like her fine,” I said, folding my arms and leaning against the door. “Why does everyone always say that? I like Kat, she’s always been nice to me. I’m just not always sweet in return; it’s who I am. It’s not like I’d throw her into a pack of wolves if I got the chance. We hang out outside of work, you know. And I would go visit her, but it feels…awkward.”
“Awkward?” Ariadne paused what she was doing, and the sun shining through the windows behind her glinting on her red hair. “It’s awkward for you…to visit her in the medical unit?”
“It’s awkward for me,” I said, drawing out my words, “because when Kat woke up, she remembered me, but not her boyfriend. Which is fairly weird, as far as such things go. And a little creepy, you know, forgetting the person you supposedly love and remembering a co-worker? Kind of made me wonder if she might have been harboring a little crush or—” I paused, stricken, watching Ariadne’s eyebrow raise, her expression implacable. “It was just an expression. I didn’t actually wonder—I mean, I haven’t wondered, you know, about anyone else—”
“Whatever,” Ariadne said, and turned back to the folder in front of her, opening it.
“‘Whatever’?” I stared at her, getting no reaction. “You been cribbing notes from me on how to talk?”
“Just trying to express my disinterest in your mind’s wanderings in a way you’ll intuitively get,” she said, not looking up from what she was studying.
“I take it this conversation is over?” I pushed myself off the doorframe where I was leaning, felt the line of the wood against my back as I did it, felt the weight go back to the balls of my feet, light, agile, ready to move. When she didn’t say anything, I turned to go out the door, letting my hand brush the frame. I paused, let myself do a half turn, a question eating at me. “You could have left, you know.” She didn’t look up, fixated on the folder. “I know it feels like you’re essential, but when it’s all hands on deck for defense, I don’t see you picking up a gun and wading into all hell—”
“I have nowhere else to go,” she said, looking up, her tone crisp and impatient, her glasses balanced between her thumb and forefinger. She put them on her face, then broke eye contact with me.
“Bora Bora,” I suggested. “Your complexion could use it as much as mine could, and we are heading into another Minnesota winter—”
She didn’t interrupt me with words, just a half-snorted laugh of mirth. “I’ve got work to do,” she said, but more gently this time. “Take care of yourself, Sienna. Don’t be a hero. You’re important. Remember that.”
“So when it all comes down, you’ll be taking shelter like the assistant director should be, right?” I asked, watching for her reaction.
“Point taken,” she said. “Just don’t do anything stupid to put your life at risk.”
“I won’t,” I said, and started toward the elevator, leaving the open door behind me. “After all,” I said, wending my way across the sunlit rows of cubicles, “odds are real good that with what Omega’s gonna throw at us, even if I just stuck to doing smart things, it’ll be plenty dangerous enough to kill me.”