Chapter Text
Cassie
My leg is jiggling so violently it’s shaking the flimsy plastic chair I’m sitting in. I had picked a low spot on the floor to glare at for the past half hour, and I’m surprised there isn’t a hole burnt into the carpet yet. My jaw hurts from how tightly I’ve been clenching and unclenching the muscles, and time creeps by so slowly I have to constantly check my watch to make sure it hasn’t stopped. I’d be anxious if I didn’t know exactly what this little meeting is about. Well, I am anxious, but I could be more anxious.
I’ve been summoned into the Admin building for a meeting with Diana Masons, overseer of all scientific divisions of Outpost 3 and Certified Kicker of Asses. She’s got a good three inches on me, and the build of an Olympic wrestler. Her ability to burn a hole through sheet metal with her gaze only ties a neat little bow on top of her terrifying head. Diana has been my friend since landing day, but that’s outside of work. She steps foot into this building and it’s all business, and boy howdy is she scary.
The Admin Building is a five story stick of concrete that takes up two whole blocks in Outpost 3, and I’m sitting on the third floor waiting to be called in. I feel like a delinquent student summoned to the principal’s office.
To my front are rows and rows of manilla-colored cubicles, full of accountants typing away. Their combined noise would make for pleasant background static, but I just know they’re taking more funding away from my division. They have no time to waste on frivolous matters like Knowledge and the Combined Growth of Humanity. Plus the whole floor smells like cheese.
Maybe I’m just bitter. I definitely don’t want to be here in this stuffy office. I’d much rather be outside with the plants. Ferns don’t ask you hard questions like “Why wasn’t this delivered on time?” Or “You need how much more money?” I could just water them and they’d uncurl their leaves as if to say “Thank you so much Cassie. We love you!” And that’d be it. Easy-peasy.
Yet the more time I spend in the greenhouse, the more trouble I seem to get in. Like turning in reports late. Six weeks late.
The door next to me swings open and a man in a navy blue suit steps out, not giving me a second glance before he’s off to the elevators.
“Dr. Rowland,” comes Diana’s voice from inside. Oh she’s using her Scary Commander voice, the one she uses to talk to new recruits and people in trouble. Namely, me.
Should I reject my fate and run? Do I go for broke and just walk out the door? Or should I book it straight through her office and bust out the window? That’s a bad idea, Diana would come after me. Besides, the glass is bulletproof.
I stand up, and trudge into the Room of Doom.
Diana’s office is covered floor to ceiling with pictures, all of various recruits and scientists as they landed on Summanus. My picture is somewhere on the East wall, right at eye-level. At the end of the day, Diana really cares for all of us here with her whole heart. It just unfortunately includes reaming us from time to time.
Diana sits at her desk, a picture of management perfection, typing away on her computer and completely ignoring me. Her dark hair is pulled into a low bun at the nape of her tanned neck, looking like she took glue to it so not a single strand was out of place. She’s wearing the company standard jumpsuit in dark navy.
I sit down in the chair across from her. “Is this about 325–A?” Even when I’m 99% positive, I never have full confidence until it’s confirmed.
Diana nods. “And 614–G, and 298–Y , and—“
“I get it. I’m slow.”
“And over-budget by,” she pauses to click on her computer a few times. “23 percent. What’s the issue Rowland?”
“Maybe if I had more assistants—“
“Assistants aren’t the problem here, this is all on you.”
Anger rises in me like the tide coming in. I’m not a child, I’m not an undergrad, I’m a respected scientist on an alien planet who does damn good work. It’s just…not always on time.
Some of my assignments have been so massive I went into double overtime just to meet the Benchmarks. But the people assigning them don’t care about me, they just want timely, cost-effective results. Usually, Diana is sympathetic to my plight, but not today it seems.
Diana turns back to her computer and types a few more things while I seethe. She takes a long, annoying sip of her coffee and I want to smack it out of her hand.
“You’re being audited,” she says simply, like it isn’t the heart-stopping news I’d been dreading since I got her email to come in this morning.
I practically jump out of my chair. “What?!”
The last thing I need is some high brow accountant breathing down my neck, passing judgment on how I do my job.
“Technically it’s a Formal Review,” she continues, like that makes any difference. “We need some accountability from you, and this is the way to do it. It wasn’t my decision.”
“But—“
“Dr. Rowland,” she interjects. “Please try to understand. We’re aware that what you do is very important work, but concerning the schedule and budget…”
I throw my arms up. “I can’t control how fast the plants grow!”
Her neutral expression turns to one of modest sympathy. “I understand that, but like I said, this wasn’t my decision.” She hands me a paper off her printer and taps the bottom with one long, manicured nail. “I’m sorry to do this to you Cass, but if this next experiment fails,” she pauses, looking away from me. “Your lab will be repossessed.”
My stomach drops to the floor.
I snatch the paper back and skim over it. Yep, right there at the bottom. Should Cassandra Rowland fail to deliver on all Milestones, control of laboratory space shall be relinquished to high command, effective immediately after Formal Review.
My blood runs cold, the paper crumpling from the force of my grip. They’re going to take my lab away from me. I’d had it for barely a year.
My head swirls, the room tilts, and I can feel my breathing pick up from the force of it all. A formal review, an audit. I know my stuff is late a lot of the time, but so are plenty of other people’s! I’m far from the only scientist to deliver things tardy.
My brain goes back to the Formal Review and I crumple the paper in my hands. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “Apparently you do.”
I plant my hands on my hips, switching tactics. “This was Stephen’s idea, wasn’t it? He’s been trying to get me sent back to Earth for two years.”
“One review will not get you sent Earth-side, I promise.”
“But it gets my lab taken away! And if this goes tits up—which it will—whatever pencil-neck accountant they send—“
“Actually, your shadow is a scientist.”
“That’s even worse! We all suck!”
Diana’s facade of the perfect commander cracks as she rolls her eyes. “Cass, work with me here.”
Like the mature adult I am, I cross my arms and pout. “This isn’t fair. I can’t control the plants.”
To my credit, the past two experiments were technically successes, they just took an extra two weeks to germinate, well past my initial assessment and what would have happened on Earth. I was happy we got anything to break the soil at all. But these guys in the corporate office were all about results, and science didn’t always deliver on time.
Diana pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. After coming to some sort of conclusion, she pushes her glasses up and levels me with a hard stare, not quite a glare, but close. She uses her Scary Commander voice again to say, “Suck it up, and stop acting like a child.”
In the face of her stern persona, my resolve crumbles. “Fine.”
She straightens in her chair. "Good, glad we have that settled.”
I huff a breath through my nose instead of responding, staring off to the side. My focus lands on one of the hundreds of pictures on the wall, a short trainee overshadowed by Diana’s tall and imposing frame. They’re both smiling at the camera, and I wish I’d ever felt that happy in this office.
***
“So how’d it go?” My lab assistant, Jillian, skirts up next to me as I exit Diana’s office.
I sigh for what feels like the millionth time. “We get a babysitter, but not one of these guys,” I gesture around to the cubicles we pass on the way to the elevator. “It’ll be internal.” Diana had told me the review would last until the end Experiment 271.8-A, over a year, because the universe loves to see me suffer.
I slam the elevator button for the ground floor and tap my foot like my mom used to do whenever I’d come home with a bad grade.
Diana had given me a cursory glance at the file of my new babysitter–I refuse to call them anything else– before slamming it closed. No picture, but I got a name, Khri'asxu. They were a botanist like me, and from the long list of successful experiments they’ve headed I know I’m in for a hell of a ride.
I relay the details of the meeting and information to Jillian, each of my sentences making her eyebrows crawl closer to her hairline.
“Whoever this babysitter is has the equivalent of, like, three doctorates, so this is gonna be fun,” I say with a sour face. The name suggests they’re Summanian, a native of the planet Summanus. More commonly known as entos because of their insect-like appearance, they’re a species that values hard work and logic. So I’m in for a world of boring lectures and condescension. Yippie.
Jillian looks at me with wide eyes, “Wait, they’re coming today?”
“Nothing you do reflects on me,” I say, a little too curt, but I’m not in the mood. I think of the biohazard that is Jillie’s desk, covered in half-empty cans of energy drink and Miracle-Gro that I never had reason to make her clean.
We walk out of the building, and Jillie stays quiet next to me. I can tell she has questions knocking around in her head, but my Murder Walk down the courtyard and across the street to the bus terminal probably acts as a deterrent.
I knew this review was coming: three past due, over-budget reports saw fit to that. But it didn’t mean I had to like it. I hated the idea of being watched all day every day for the next year. The arguments that could unfold, the condescension, the undermining, I could see it all now. I have enough trouble navigating the politics of Outpost 3 as a woman in a “soft” science, this was just going to add to the pile of shit I deal with on a daily basis. Whatever this other scientist has in mind for my experiment, I’m going to steamroll every decision they make. I’m not here to play games, I’m here for results, damn it. And this experiment is my baby.
Experiment 271.8-A that I’d nicknamed Project EVA is humanity’s first attempt to grow Earth crops in Summanus soil. A year and a half of pitching it to the board before it was approved, and it’s all mine. Importing crops from Earth takes a lot of time and is very expensive, so the outpost (and every company that sponsors it) could save a lot of money is this is a success.
The smooth bus ride serves to cool me down slightly, to the point where I’m less snappy and more jumpy with nerves. My leg won’t stop shaking, my hands continually clench and unclench on my thigh. We need to stop by the lab before going to the communal greenhouse, and no doubt that reviewer is going to be there. The paper notice is crumpled in my hand.
A long walk and we make it to the lab. I open the door and my stomach jumps. They’re already here, currently rooting through my desk. It’s weird seeing a creature so large bent down over such a low surface.
I quickly set my box of supplies down and stomp up to meet them.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
The ento pauses, half-way through picking up a stack of papers, and finally looks at me. This one possesses a coloring I haven’t seen before, dark blue shot through with streaks of gray and flecks of purple, and the pale gray portions are equal on either side like vitiligo. Ento are covered in chitinous plating with glimpses of dark skin beneath, they have large digitigrade legs and two sets of arms, and large, insect-like wings that allow for flight.
“I am your auditor,” they say in a deep voice with a hint of an accent.
“Yes I gathered that,” I hiss. “With all due respect, get out of my desk.”
They straighten up, so tall their antennae nearly touches the ceiling. At an average height of seven feet most ento tower over us.
They offer a standard greeting, a bow with both arms outstretched, and I’m tempted to refuse it just for the insult it brings. But I don’t want this one to potentially punch me in the chest so I return it.
“I am Khri’asxu. Kri will suffice,” they say. “I am male. And your desk was—is—atrocious,” Kri enunciates each word like he’s talking to a toddler, then gestures to all the things he had set out like that explains it. I grit my teeth. Most ento cultures operate under non-gendered language, but after meeting us they’ve started to pick up it.
“That doesn’t give you the right to–“
"It is in our best interests for your workspace to remain tidy.”
I wish I had a box or something to stand on so I could glare directly into his beady little eyes. “Have you ever seen another scientist’s desk before?”
Kri folds his upper arms over his chest, a very humanlike gesture. “I am not reviewing other scientists, Dr. Rowland. I’m reviewing you. And I will take note of your indiscretion.”
I balk, my blood at full boil. “Indiscretion—!”
“Your refusal to keep a tidy work area,” Kri says, writing something on his clipboard. I step forward, fully intending to snatch the damned thing out of his hand, and he steps back out of my reach, holding it up. I reach for it again, but with his arms nearly hitting the ceiling, I have no chance. But I’m not going to let this alien boss me around.
“Give it here you–”
Jillie steps between us, hands placating. “O-kay that’s enough of that!”
Kri is so tall his glare at me literally goes over Jillie’s head. Ento don’t have much range of expressions, only really able to narrow or widen their eyes, leaving most non-verbal communication to their body language.
Jillie turns to me, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Cassie, what was first on the list today?”
My blood is still boiling, every brain cell is geared towards an argument. If I back down now, he’ll see me as weak and write that in his stupid report. I can’t afford to look weak in front of him.
Jillie makes eye contact with me and gives me a meaningful look, and my anger flags. We have a lot to do today, and this is just delaying my progress. She’s right, I need to focus. I breathe heavily through my nose, taking a few steps back. This isn’t the military, but it won’t look good if I get written up for insubordination.
As I pull the small folded piece of paper out of my pocket, shame wells up like a balloon filling with helium. I shouldn’t be arguing with a brick wall of an alien, I shouldn’t be arguing at all. I need to be running my experiments, getting results so I don’t lose my lab. I need to get this done. I need to–
Focus Cassie. Paper.
I look down. First on the list: Samples
I walk past Kri, ignoring the mess on my desk despite the bubbles of anxiety that well up in my chest. My fingers itch to reorganize it. I knew where everything was, where everything needed to be. Everything was perfectly placed where I needed to reach it, and now it was all messed up.
“We need to set up samples,” I say instead. “Jillie, can you do—what could you possibly be writing down now?”
Kri doesn’t stop writing as he casually replies, “It’s a conflict of interest for me to inform you of my report.”
A muscle in my eye twitches.