Cooler Heads

Posted on 07 Feb 2024 @ 8:40pm by Commander Calliope Zahn & Lieutenant Commander Christophe Leblanc

Mission: M4 - Falling Out
Location: FTL Lab 1
Timeline: MD19 late afternoon
1797 words - 3.6 OF Standard Post Measure

Quintin Grant was a genius, and he made sure everyone knew it. The technicians and junior engineers who milled about the lab annoyed him, so he sent them all away early that morning. He often preferred to work alone, or at least with someone who could keep up. As the number of other people in the station he felt could do that was suddenly reduced to zero, he pressed on by himself.

Lieutenant Commander Quinn was still able to access the Research and Development offices, although the labs would no longer admit him, and so he found himself rapping a knuckle on the adaptable glass of the inner lab, attempting to draw the attention of young Mr. Grant.

Quintin rolled his eyes at the interruption before looking over at the glass. He moved a hand quickly over a simple control which made the barrier transparent. As soon as he saw who it was, his irritation flashed away. Pressing another button, the glass slid aside.

“Commander Quinn. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I hardly expected to still find myself here either,” he griped, glancing over the calculations Grant was making. Without asking he absentmindedly put a reciprocal set of symbols on the end of one of the equations and swapped one of the solutions. “But here I am.”

Quintin watched as the older man input the symbols and frowned.

“I would have figured that out myself, sir.”

“I’m sure you would have.” Actually, if there was one person in the department who could have continued research on the Quinn Navine Drive, it would be Grant, but he was a few years away from fully grasping some of the hybrid concepts in the alien Xec technology Lance had begun working with.

Quin pushed the irritation he felt aside and turned his gaze back to Lance.

“What keeps you here, sir? I would have thought you would be on the first shuttle off of this intellectual void to Daystrom.”

“I had some packing and shutting down of projects to attend to and so have stayed for longer than would be ideal. Operations has not seen fit to make any of my arrangements a priority. I expect my wife has developed sympathies within the department.” He further evaluated the hypothetical sequences as he spoke, his chin resting in his thumb and forefinger. Reviewing the math was a salve to the rest of his frustrations. “You can combine all of these coefficients if you apply the Langessi sub particle bounding principle.”

Quintin looked closer at the functions and squinted slightly. With most others, he would have responded insultingly, but Quin had taught him more in their short time on the station than many of his academy instructors.

“Ah, I see. I didn’t notice that before.” He said, his voice lilting with interest. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Your wife had a way of getting her tinfoils into people, it seems. It makes me wonder, to be perfectly honest.”

“Oh?” Lance was both irritated that Grant had any opinion of Calliope whatsoever and yet…

“How does she manage to win such loyalty?” Quintin asked, surpassing a smile. He was aware it was a rude thing to insinuate, but he barely cared, despite the respect he had for Quinn. “I have not been swayed, of course. What could the difference be?”

Lance swallowed, obviously refraining from responding immediately to the younger engineer’s assumptions. For a moment he remembered being that young, and miserably outcast… and the kindness of Calliope befriending him in spite of himself. “She does have a certain way with people,” he admitted quietly, feeling a fool now for having allowed her in so easily.

Quintin didn’t respond to that, but the smile became more obvious on his face. He turned his eyes back to Lance, displaying a brief moment of actually noticing the other man’s mood.

“Did you come down to check my work one last time, or do you have some other…purpose, sir?”

“While it is revitalizing to see someone applying themselves meaningfully to advancement, rather than lounging about in their offices, you are correct in concluding I have intention in calling upon you. Part of the difficulty in my departure is a matter which the incoming Chief of Engineering has made personal. I believe he also has… made the acquaintance of my wife and this is an unfortunate factor in his behavior. It’s possible you may be able to rectify the situation, as the project in question is currently housed in your subdepartment.”

“I can only deduce you are referring to the Arrow Runabout in Special Projects? The one with the Quin-Nadine Drive?”

“You deduce correctly. QND development at this early stage must remain in my own purview. Commander Leblanc has no appreciation for this and has seized on Mr. Saulis’ paper trail of complaints about resource allocation to make a case with station Operations, who we already have established have biases against me. Leveraging this, Leblanc is tying the project to Obsidian Command on technicalities.”

“You’re serious?” Quintin asked, “can’t you just talk to the Captain about it? This is clearly an unfair and biased slight against you.”

DeHavilland was entirely a dead end, and while Lance was tempted to divulge to Grant how that avenue of recourse came to be closed to him, he decided it was a far more complex situation than necessary to address the QND project at issue. “Leblanc has articulated that he intends to ‘go-toe-to-toe’ over it in the administrative process. I have reached out to a contact in Daystrom to see if a superseding claim can be issued. And I am confident that in the end I could have all of these petty matters overturned, but in the meantime, I will have to either miss my flight, or leave without the QND project, and there is no telling what actions Leblanc will order over the project while under his claim. ”

“I haven’t even met with the man, for the record. All I know of him is what I’ve heard my technicians say; at least the ones more prone to prattling about gossip instead of actually applying themselves to our work.” He said, a tone of superior irritation coloring his voice. “I don’t think he has any respect at all for what you were doing from what I hear. He’s been putting his silly French hands on every status report that comes from the department, sending them back with notes and additional questions. Either he’s studious or he’s prone to meddling beyond his station or his comprehension. Either way, I have avoided him. There’s no telling what he’ll do with your project.”

Lance nodded in sullen agreement. That there was one soul who remained sensible was an encouragement to him. “I suppose I could simply move it myself, under private contract and personal denotation.” Lance said. “Once under warp, it’s unlikely to be a matter over which to change course. And then, safely underway, the rest of the paperwork can be settled after the fact.”

“If you were out with the ship before he noticed, it’s possible the man would simply give up and set his mind to some other mundane project.” Quintin commented. “Or he wouldn’t, and might pursue charges.”

Lance chuffed and gave a smirk. DeHavilland couldn’t touch him over her claim of insubordination, what with the black ops silencing order. She’d hardly want him in her brig with nothing to do but talk, and plenty of friends in high places to have him released as they were expecting him returning to his Daystrom office and would find it none too amusing that something as petty as a dispute over a move requisition was at the bottom of it. There was no end game for Lablanc in charging him, as far as Lance was concerned. “Let him try it and find where the chips really land.”

As eager as Quintin was to see Quinn get a break, he wondered what it might mean for him if he offered his help. He was staying here, unfortunately, and would be under the thumb of the man Lance was planning to defy.

“Do you suppose a position at Daystrom might open up soon?” He asked, attempting to hide the apprehension presenting itself on his features.

“Should you apply to any, you may expect my good word.”

Quintin licked his lips, his eyes moving down as he considered. He wasn’t stupid, and he knew their camaraderie wasn't a friendship.

“Suppose this Leblanc is a bit more crafty than we estimate. Suppose he notices that I’ve helped you.” He said, inhaling sharply through his nose. “I may not like it here on Obsidian Command, but a poor recommendation from my department head could ruin a promising career.”

“Your capacities are indeed ill suited to this post, as were my own. Whereas I allowed myself to be talked into it, you have been assigned under no fault of your own. It should be rectified, and if the QND project does return with me, I should request competent research partners in further developing the drive under the auspices of Daystrom’s laboratories. Already being familiar with it in principle, you would be more qualified than most.”

His youth became obvious as his eyes lit up at the prospect. To say that would be a spectacular opportunity for him would be a serious understatement.

“That would be wonderful, Commander. Wonderful!” He said, and then took subtle steps to return himself to his typical stoical status. “What shall I do then?”

“All that I require is access to the bay. You might simply forget to lock the door behind you. Leblanc may draw some other conclusion, but it would be unsubstantiated, and officially he could hardly level anything more stern than a wrist slap. In fact, let us come to no conclusion. I shall simply check the access some time this evening.”

“Yes, that seems wise.” Quintin said with a nod. “I’m planning on visiting the lab right after my duty shift. I am known to be aloof at times, who knows what I might forget, hmm?”

Taking one final glance at the board of equations, Lance hummed a note of satisfaction. “There’s always a solution when one applies some thought,” he surmised, pleased to have found another way around Leblanc’s roadblock. If only others could be as reasonable as Grant. “I’d best not keep you any longer from your figures. Good day, Mister Grant.” Lance showed himself out the way he had come. He had, afterall, arrangements to make by the end of Grant’s shift.