Week two came with high anticipation, both for the project team and the investigation. Peter's idea to bait out the saboteur hadn't yet borne fruit, but it was just a matter of securing the prototypes and analyzing the data once the trial period was done. He'd told Silver about m113—Guillame's predictive algorithm—and how it factored into the auto-fire issue she'd hired him to fix. While it was possible someone was manipulating the algorithm to cause the "glitch," nobody knew the inner workings of m113 like René.
Time would tell if the bait data reflected his guilt.
More concerning was the perimeter breach Silver had told him about days ago. They still hadn't found anything dangerous or out of place, which was somehow even more worrisome. A bomb or an EMP would be bad enough given how reliant the castle's security system was on tech. But if the saboteurs had infiltrated something worse...well, they had to keep looking either way. At the moment, Peter was doing his weather best to look like he was focusing on the remote prosthesis project while keeping an eye on their two main suspects.
René was getting increasingly irritated with the lag from the drone-based system, while Erina was troubleshooting and trying not to laugh.
"Still a two-hundred millisecond lag with each movement," René said. "It
shouldn't
affect the weld except to slightly delay the input. Yet somehow the accuracy keeps falling with each iteration." He sighed and threw down a tablet pen in frustration. René scowled and glanced Peter's way. "Parker, have you been fiddling with m113?"
Peter stared at him with an arched eyebrow. "No?"
René glared. "Is that a question or statement?"
Peter's jaw clenched as he forced a smile. "Statement. Just a little confused why you'd think
I
was causing the glitch."
René sneered a bit and turned back to his monitor. "Wouldn't be the first prosthesis you've turned to
merde
."
Peter's blood went cold. He glared at Guillame's back while Erina visibly cringed.
"You have something to say to me?" Peter asked coldly.
René barely gave him a glance. "Nothing worth discussing."
"Then keep the snide comments to yourself. Ms. Sablinova wanted me on this project for a reason."
"Yes...one must wonder what reason that might be."
"Let's all take a breath," Erina interrupted.
"And I have to wonder why someone as brilliant as you feels so threatened by a newcomer," Peter shot back. "Especially when my only function here is quality control as a second pair of eyes."
René laughed. "You think I feel threatened by
you
? A glorified boy-toy with no valuable accomplishments to his name?"
"If all you can do is hurl insults without any logical reasoning, then yeah, that seems like pretty 'fragile ego' behavior."
Guillame just about shot from his seat when Erina gently pushed him back down.
"All right," she said, "let's all just...take a breath." She turned to Guillame. "This is pre-alpha testing, René. It's not going to work right the first hundred times. Nobody's
that
smart." She shifted attention to Peter. "You
are
a fresh hire; try not to provoke someone who's been here from the start."
Peter cocked his head a bit. "Provoke? I'm sorry, I wasn't aware pointing out obvious harassment was provocation."
"Peter—"
He waved her off. "Don't worry. I got it."
Peter turned back to his station and pulled up another cluster of code as Erina sighed. The room went quiet. Peter frowned at his own biting tongue. That was...very unlike him. It was like he'd started becoming a completely different person since taking this job. He wasn't sure he liked it. Still, getting that arrogant prick flustered over being called out on his abrasive attitude had been
immensely
satisfying. Peter had always hated bullies, and maybe the worst kind were the borderline/not-so-borderline narcissists who thought they were the shit and unfortunately had the intelligence to back it up.
But...in all honestly, that wasn't the worst part of that exchange; it wasn't what had set Peter off so badly.
"Implying that my hire was anything but professional is an insult to Sable's integrity," Peter said after a while. "You can say whatever you want about me, but don't you dare insinuate that she doesn't care about this work. If you've really been here from the start, then you should know better."
The silence was deafening until the end-of-day alarm went off and everyone packed up. Nobody said a word as they clocked out, and Peter trudged his way to the elevator in sullen contemplation. For the first time since he'd arrived in Symkaria, Silver wasn't there to greet him when he reached the penthouse. Peter frowned and looked around the suite. No sign of her anywhere. He hummed and went to the back room where she kept her tactical gear, finding his own new suit. He pulled the earpiece out and activated a line to hers.
The tone shifted to a click. "Yes?"
"Hey, did something come up?" Peter asked.
"Maybe. We've cleared the lower floors and anything structural. Nothing amiss. Whoever infiltrated our security isn't aiming to bring down the castle."
"Well...that's good, I guess."
"The next point of concern is the R&D labs. We're sweeping for bugs and the computers for spyware. Last thing we need is a backdoor into our military designs."
"Right. Good thinking."
"Hm."
"...hey, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"What's Guillame's story? How did he come to work for you?"
She sighed. "René's past isn't unlike your own. He worked for the wrong people, got into some trouble, was blackballed by the industry for it."
"Define 'wrong people.'"
"Dr. Victor Von Doom."
Peter was struck silent for a full five seconds. "And he's bitching about
me
working for Otto?!"
Sable sighed. "I know, I know. René isn't known for his empathy, but his contribution to Doom's technology was anything but harmful—primarily improvements to Latveria's infrastructure. Despite that, the association alone was enough to sabotage his career, and so I was the only one who saw his potential. He has worked for me ever since."
"Do you think he'd ever betray that show of trust?"
"...I suppose anything is possible."
"But you doubt it."
She didn't answer immediately. "The benign nature of René's involvement with Doom may be a reflection of his scruples or it could simply have been coincidence that he was not assigned anything malicious. That has always been the one question I have never asked nor he offered to clarify. He lives for the work, and I pay him well—both monetarily and with interesting problems to solve."
"So his allegiance is to his work, not to you."
"That has been my understanding."
"What about Erina?"
"She is native Symkarian, a little younger than me. She grew up in an age when our nation was in turmoil after the death of my father—and the early years of my administration. Now that our borders are secure, she can focus on pursuing her passions without fear or interruption."
"And you're sure we have no other suspects?"
"I could be wrong, certainly, but...those two have the most immediate access and know-how to affect this sabotage."
Peter frowned. "Okay. How are
you
?"
He heard shuffling and a bit of shouting from the other end. Then everything got quiet, including her voice.
"Tired," she said. "This tension has me on edge, and that we've found nothing amiss is somehow even more concerning. It's the uncertainty that's the worst part."
"Yeah, I've noticed you tossing and turning a lot more lately."
Silver sighed.
Peter bit his lip. "Hey, why don't I cook us dinner tonight? Chicken curry, my treat." He looked around and headed for the suite's kitchen. "I'll uh...get it started while you're wrapping up."
She chuckled. "I...would
love
dinner."
Peter grinned. "Okay! It's a date."
"I'll see you soon."
"See ya."
With that, he set upon the pantry like a wolf. Silver had given him access to the porter communication system (essentially fancy royal room service) so he could request anything he wanted. It didn't take long for him to put everything together, and then it was a labor of love to get the curry to the right consistency and taste. Time passed with his eyes off the clock, and at last, it was ready. He set the table and put out a few electric candles, then on a whim asked the porter to gather up a bouquet of something native to the nearby mountains. Peter grinned when the table was finally set and checked his phone while he waited.
No messages, no calls. He texted Miles to check up on him. If he remembered right, Miles should've been visiting his mom right about now. Ten, twenty minutes passed with Peter scrolling the web. Silver still hadn't showed. Peter frowned and called her. No answer. In fact, it went straight to voicemail. He huffed and dialed a different number.
"Parker?"
"Hey, Commander Hartzik, it's Peter."
"I know."
"Right, yeah, you said my name, uh..."
"...do you need something?"
"Yeah, have you seen Si—uh, Ms. Sablinova? We were supposed to...go over a few progress reports over dinner."
"She is occupied with a security matter. I will let her know you called."
"Right. Thanks."
Peter frowned and sighed as he hung up. He stared at the pot in the center of the table, spacing out as the steam slowly vanished. Peter sighed and stood up to serve himself when the elevator doors finally opened. He stopped mid-scoop and stared as Silver stomped her way into the suite.
"Uh..."
She stormed past him into the bedroom. He ditched the serving spoon and followed. The shower came on before he caught up. Peter cleared his throat and gently knocked on the bathroom door.
"Um, Silver?"
"Not now!" she shouted.
The frustration in her voice bordered on rage.
Peter swallowed. "Okay."
He went back to the table and waited in silence. A few minutes later, she emerged with messy wet hair and a faint scowl. As soon as her icy blue eyes locked onto his confused features, she softened.
Silver sighed and strode over, sitting in his lap. She buried her face in his shoulder. Peter held her gently.
He swallowed. "Long day?"
She groaned. "The longest." A moment passed. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."
Peter frowned. "What happened?"
Silver drew back and glared at the wall. "René was...uncharacteristically testy about submitting his workstation for review. Made a very big deal about it delaying the work."
"I can't imagine that would've set you off that badly. I mean, 'disagreeable' is pretty much his whole personality."
She scoffed. "If it were that alone, no. But then he also accused me of saddling him with a...how was it he put it? A 'talentless hack too wet behind the ears to notice he's a pisspot.'"
Peter's eyebrows shot skyward.
"And he said it in
public
."
