Robert Crane - Omega

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.”

The day goes slow, agonizingly so , Janus thought, even with the unexpected pleasure of company . “This is how it always was before the big moves, the big operations,” he said. “Time slows to a ticking of the second hand, when you want it to speed up. Waiting is interminable, acting is preferable, but patience is all there is at this point. This waiting will be the death of me. Thousands of years of life, and I’ll die waiting.” The old man’s smile crested on his face, then receded. “I suppose that’s what we all do, though, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know,” came the soft voice of the female who had slept in his bed last night. “I haven’t died yet.”

“I’ve seen enough of it, you know?” He let the words tick out, spill out. “Seen it from humans, seen it from our kind. No one really faces death any differently. No one is ready when it comes, not really. You can go in your sleep, I suppose, and it won’t distress you like the other kind does—in your face, obvious, looming. But if you’re awake?” He held up his hands. “I’ve never seen anyone go gracefully awake. Not if they know it’s coming, anyway.” He turned his head to look at her, the blond curls, her smooth curves and unblemished skin. “How did your brother take it, when he went?”

A shrug. Tanned skin hiding up to the waist under the blanket. “Gracefully. I don’t know if he knew what he was in for, at least not at first. Maybe at the end, though.”

“He wanted it to be over, didn’t he?” Janus stared out the gap in the curtains. “I spoke to him, you know, before he went to the Andes. He was a man slipping, obsessed, trying to get hold of whatever was left for him, focused on one thing and that only.” He looked back at her again. He’d seen a million like her in his life, perhaps more, yet had never lost his appetite for them. Blonds. Brunettes. Redheads. Yes, please. The younger the better, though at a century, this one is older than my usual taste…and yet delicious nonetheless .