“You’re not the one who needs forgiving, Buzz. God help me, I’m a heartless bitch. Here I am joking and fixing these silly balls of goo, after I killed a man.” Erica’s chest heaved.
“Enough of that,” Buzz ordered. “Forget what I told you back then. Zerk Peterson did himself in. You failed to help him. I failed to help him. His co-workers failed to help him. But we’re no more to blame, and probably less so, than those lawyers who cleaned him out, and those consultants who came up with GO—oops, almost said it.”
Erica looked up, a trace of a smile showing at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks. You can say it. I’d have counted it as derisive.”
Buzz grinned. “I’ll play it safe until I find out what the second offense brings.”
Erica plucked a pair of fresh marshmallows from the mold, while thoughtfully considering the issue. “Hmm, I wouldn’t think there’d be too much need for additional punishment. I’ll have to give it some thought. A punishment to fit the crime, and one as ridiculous as GO… whatever. A pillory, perhaps?”
Buzz arched an eyebrow, then nodded. “Both equally effective in keeping us from doing our work, I suppose. Speaking of punishment fitting the crime, Erica, you were awfully rough on yourself in that memo. Do you really think firing yourself was called for?”
Erica laughed. “Oh, God, Buzz, I can’t tell you what a relief it was to have an excuse to quit! Once we got past the design stage and down to the nuts and bolts, I was absolutely miserable. I belong in a lab, dreaming up stuff the mundanes think is impossible. I was working on something on the Supercollider so wild it would knock your socks off. Time to get back to it.”
“OK,” Buzz conceded, “but you took the blame for everything that went wrong. That’s not fair.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m to blame for enough of it, and I don’t mind shouldering the rest, especially when I only have to carry it to the nearest airlock and dump it. Poof, its gone! The only aftereffect is that hopefully I will never be asked to take such a job again.”
“Yeah, but those bastards—”
“Are at least as much to blame as me. Yeah, I know. But what I’m trying to do is put this mess behind us by ignoring them. I don’t want to encourage the crew to grouse about dirtside management. I want them to take charge of their own destinies. Which, by the way, they failed to do, making the fault a little bit theirs, too. All in all, I’d rather everyone just nod, agree that I’ve done the right thing, and pick up where we were in our innocent glory days.”
Buzz thought about it for a moment, then nodded agreement. “While we’re on the general subject of the memo, I was sort of wondering about some of those rules. One, two, and the last five are easy enough to understand. Forced vacation, sure, to prevent burnout. But can we get the ship built on time with just forty hour work-weeks?”
“Nope. We’ll be about a year late according to Raul’s original schedule,” Erica said with an evil smirk. “Serves the greedy sons-of-bitches right. Their way would have probably taken fifty years, if Raul’s prediction was right. Besides, down the road, I think they’ll get the rest of the ships sooner than we’d originally projected. Rules three and six are intended to encourage improving productivity, something this crew should do exceptionally well.”
“OK” Buzz acknowledged, “but what does this rule about outside business have to do with building the ship?”
“Not one damned thing,” Erica replied. “It’s a promise I made when I invited my co-workers at the Supercollider to join me up here, and which I conveniently forgot. It has to do with building a life. It has to do with rewards we can touch, instead of fat bank accounts with vultures hanging over them ready to take them away. It has to do with living in a reasonable facsimile of a home, instead of a shoebox in a numbered habitat module. Except,” she winked and touched her right index finger to her temple, “just maybe things like that could perk the enthusiasm factor up a notch or two.”
Erica sliced off a generous sliver of wood, then turned the lights off. The lab was lit only by the glow of the burner and the display and indicators on the analyzer. “Ah, there, I knew part of the effect was missing.” She held her confections over the sweet spot of the burner.
“I wonder if I have time to come up with a credible chocolate bar?” Buzz mused aloud. “And Kara knows how to bake. Maybe some graham crackers?”
“Mmmm.” Erica smiled contentedly. “Life is good, Buzz. Everything is so perfect.”
Buzz cocked his head slightly. “I don’t know. There’s light at the end of the tunnel, but perfect?”
Erica nodded. “Perfect. I’m in space, learning to build spaceships. I’m exactly where I should be when I need to be there. Kara told me about your concerns. It reminded me of why I took this job. If you promise not to tell, I’ll let you in on a very special secret.”
Buzz crossed his heart.
“I didn’t exactly fry part of the Supercollider, Buzz. I damned near blew it up is what I did,” Erica continued. “I was testing a theory I’ve been working on since junior high. Lost all my data except for the most important part. I found a new form of energy. Just when it was becoming obvious that my tests, on any useful scale, would have to be continued in space, I received this job offer. I figured I might just get a chance to continue my research up here, away from prying eyes and interference, and use my discovery to build a much faster ship.”
Buzz looked up from the marshmallows, just beginning to form a faint golden crust. “Criminy, Erica, the thing we’re building will already drop transport time by a factor of six. How much faster do you need?”
Erica leaned over the burner, watching for exactly the right moment. “Depends on where you want to go, Buzz,” she said, pulling the sweet morsels away from the burner. “Instead of months, what if we could make the trip in minutes?”
Buzz frowned. “Come off it, Erica. Even at nearly the speed of light, it would take around an hour.”
“True, Buzz,” Erica said, smiling slyly. “But that limitation doesn’t apply any more. There is a faster form of energy.”
Dr. Santi’s jaw went slack, and he stared at Erica, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what she was saying. She slipped a marshmallow from the skewer and into his gaping mouth.
“Don’t bite down, it’s still pretty hot,” she warned. “No promises, you understand. Hell, I have my doubts I can build a ship that can withstand it, much less if the people in it can. Like I said, I’ve only run one good test, and it demolished the detectors. But stick around. Things could get interesting up here.”