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I don't know why I'm standing here when my last time talking to Stratt ended with a slap my the face. No, literally. I look around her trailer, and apart from the size difference it's the same as mine. Loose furniture got knocked about by the shockwave pushing the portable several feet back. Obviously, there are more important things to do in the aftermath of the explosion than redecorating. The window next to and slightly in front of her desk shattered as well, and the shards have been hastily swept up, smaller pieces left right below the opening, that has itself been covered up with an opaque tarp.
After dropping off the stack of resume papers square among the other piles, I stay standing at her desk for a long moment. "These are the replacement candidates for the science officer position," I add finally, though it's obvious, anyway. I had to go back over all of the applications we took last year. It's not the least, simply all I could do. She still doesn't look up. "Good," is the response I get.
I am still upset that she asked me to do this in pretty much the same breath as she told me that our friends had died. DuBois... Shapiro... I want to cry, thinking about them again, but I'm also still fuming.
At long last Stratt looks at me out of the corner of her eye. I take this as my cue. "That's it? That's all you're going to say?"
"Investigations into the incident have not concluded," she tells me, impassively. I slam my hands on her desk, beside myself. How can she— "That's not what I mean!" I shout.
Now she looks up, but not to say anything herself, just as if she's waiting what else I have to say, if anything. I do. Yes, she's in charge of the entire Hail Mary Project, but I'm still so angry at how she reacted.
I decide right then and there, that as soon as we have our new science specialist, I'm quitting. I'll walk out into the Kazakhstani desert, probably, and then I'm just going to watch the sun dim like everyone else. I'll suffer like everyone else, I don't exempt myself from that, with the famine and the wars and whatnot, but this I can't do.
"Our friends are dead!" But just like earlier I feel helpless, facing her. Her expression doesn't change at all and I don't find it in myself to say it's just because she needs to maintain her hard exterior in front of other people. For God's sake, right now, it's just me and her!
Unexpectedly, she doesn't go for telling me to man up, swallow my tears, this time. Instead she asks, entirely too calmly, "And you want me to do what, exactly?"
"I..." As I stand there, I have to admit I don't even know, now that she does ask. But I blurt out, "Someone has to be responsible."
I don't like that I say this. Assigning blame never goes well, doesn't help anyone. Not in the classroom, not here.
Then Stratt just sighs. "I already told you that the investigation hasn't finished." And beyond that she obviously thinks I'm just burning daylight. "I don't have time for this. If you need to blame anyone, blame DuBois and Shapiro."
My mouth hangs open. "What?" I stammer. I knew Stratt was strict but I didn't realize she was heartless and cruel.
"They were handling the astrophage, and obviously knew what they were doing since you trained them well." "I... You can't seriously think that-" "Or do you suppose I should be blaming you?"
I feel all the blood leave my head and a pit in my stomach. "No... I..." No one even knows what happened yet, but I've thought this, too.
We knew the astrophage were dangerous to use in the capacity we did and planned to, basically from the get-go, but... I tried to be safe. DuBois and Shapiro had worked with the astrophage in the very manner I demonstrated to them. Had I failed to instill the same caution in them? Was it something I said off hand, one time, that would eventually come to a head in this huge, devastating explosion? Between each line I read on the old candidate resumes I've had time to think about this...
Stratt cuts me off in my thoughts, "Like I said, I don't have the time. In fact, none of us do, Dr. Grace. I suggest you remind yourself of that, too."
She leaves me standing there without the courtesy of saying 'I do blame you.' That she doesn't is no absolution to me. Without a hand gesture or telling me I'm dismissed, she simply gets back to her paperwork.
I slam the door behind me as I storm out of her trailer.