Chapter 3, part 2
Alice woke with a start, blinking in the darkness of her cabin, for a second unsure of where she was. Then it came back to her; she was in her room aboard the Prometheus. She flicked a switch to turn on the lights and looked at the clock. That didn't tell her much at first. She couldn't remember what the hour was when she went to bed, and so she didn't know how long she slept. The clock was showing six fifty; but was it six fifty in the morning or in the evening? They were operating according to the Greenwich Mean Time, because they had to have some indicator of time; but of course anything like day or night didn't exist on a spaceship. It was all artificial ways to make the life aboard easier for the crew. She finished her shift at eight o'clock in the evening; the power loss happened at around nine, and then they worked for about five hours… which meant that she slept for around three hours. They would be nearing the Earth now. She wondered idly if they had found the saboteur.
She got up and headed to the shower. It was nice to feel the warm water on her skin; it washed away some of the residual tiredness and grogginess. After she put on her uniform, she finally felt more like a person again. She wondered where to go from there and figured she had the best chance of finding out if anything new happened in the mess.
There were always people in the mess, if not eating, then socializing. It was a big hall filled with long dining tables and lined with counters and stands full of different kinds of food. The name mess was another loan from the Navy terminology; although as often as not, airmen called it a "chow hall" in a proper Air Force fashion. The difference was that aboard a Navy ship, there was always a separate wardroom for officers; here everybody ate together. That was mostly due to civilians' presence on board – who could not be counted neither as officers nor enlisted, after all. Of course naturally different groups were spending time together; even amongst officers there was a clear division between, say, 302 pilots and bridge crew.
The mess was surprisingly full; Alice would have thought that with less than an hour in space, people would have gone to their quarters to pack, expecting a few days of shore leave. But it looked like everybody not currently on duty was here. And as she made her way through the hall, Alice noticed that few people were actually eating, but it seemed like everyone was talking at once. That piqued her curiosity.
She grabbed herself a plate of cold lasagna and a soda can and made for the table where 302 pilots sat; it looked like almost everyone was there, even those who were officially still on duty now. Their animated discussion died down as she approached them. She felt vaguely awkward and slowed her pace, almost hovering nearby. Then Spinner moved to the side and waved her to take a seat next to him. She smiled hesitantly at him and sat down. Everybody was looking at her with varying degrees of interest.
"Hey, LT," Spinner greeted her, breaking the sudden silence at the table. "We were just talking about you."
"Oh?" She looked down at her soda and pretended that she was struggling to open the can.
"Yeah, they say you were there when they discovered the sabotage," someone else said. "What happened?"
She looked up.
"So it was sabotage?" Even though she suspected as much, it was still kind of shocking. They were on a ship filled with people who went through the most severe background checks, people their government trusted with the biggest secret ever, a true elite amongst both military and civilian personnel. To think that one of them might be a saboteur, a… traitor? It was mind-boggling.
"That's what they say," Fowles confirmed from the opposite side of the table. "Although they still don't know who did it."
"How can they not know?" Alice was surprised. "What about the security footage?"
"It was tampered with. Someone erased it."
"You're kidding."
"Nope," Spinner's head bobbed left and right emphatically. Alice wondered if it was something he picked up from Bolton. "They've launched a full investigation…"
"But they have no evidence," Vasquez interrupted, surprising Alice again. He was talking to her now? She glanced at him; he was looking at her with a sour grimace on his face, but there was something strange about his expression. She couldn't exactly put her finger on it, but he was almost… hopeful? How odd.
"I would not cast any judgments yet, Captain," a new voice joined the conversation from behind them. All heads snapped around or up to look at Bolton. "Lieutenant Boyd, I need you to come with me now."
Alice sighed and shot a longing look at her lasagna. She couldn't remember how long it was since her last meal. She ate just after her shift ended so… eleven hours? Her stomach rumbled at the thought, but she stood, leaving the untouched food behind, and followed her commander out of the mess. He led her to the briefing room.
"Sit down, Lieutenant." He gestured to her and took a seat opposite her. "How do you feel?"
"Dead tired, sir," she admitted. "Is it true? Was the security footage erased?"
"Not exactly. The feed was interrupted about half an hour before the incident in the engine room, and for ten minutes the cameras showed only a frozen frame. Saunders is beside himself because nobody noticed."
"They can't look at all the cameras all the time," Alice said. "It's just physically impossible. I wouldn't be too harsh on his guys."
"Well, either way, the cameras inside the engine room and outside on the corridor weren't operational. The problem we're now having is that half of the crew on this ship has the skills to do this."
Alice nodded thoughtfully.
"Whoever accessed the camera controls must have used someone's login. Did you check the logs, sir?"
"We did." Bolton nodded empathically again. "Lieutenant Arley's credentials were used."
"But Arley had a shift at that time, she was on the bridge, so she couldn't do it, could she?"
"No, she couldn't. But apparently she wasn't as careful with her access codes as she should have been. She wrote them down in her diary." The words came out almost in a low hiss. Alice grimaced. She liked Arley and she was sorry for her; there was no way this would be overlooked. Such a colossal breach of security! Didn't she know better? How could she be so stupid?
There was a flip side to that bit of information, though. Who would have known where to find her codes?
"She's being questioned now," Bolton said with a gesture that looked like a halfhearted attempt at swaying at an irritating fly. "Sooner or later we'll find out who's behind this."
Alice didn't respond for a moment, still deep in thought. She didn't know Arley all that well – they only spoke the few times Alice made it to the bridge in her quest for knowledge. She always seemed very friendly, though. Maybe she got too friendly with someone? Someone who then betrayed her trust and used her to get the access codes they needed?
But what was the point of it all? Once you got the access codes required… there were many more effective ways to sabotage the Prometheus than to switch the two crystals. It was very odd that a saboteur would be satisfied with such a small feat, with so little damage… which reminded her.
"How is Doctor Novak and her crewmen?" She asked, suddenly anxious. Novak, she did know pretty well. And liked very much; the engineer was always nice to her and shared her knowledge with Alice freely.
"They'll be alright," Bolton answered. "Novak got the worst of it, so she's still in the infirmary, but the doc says she'll make a full recovery. The two other engineers were already checked out, they're fine, if somewhat shaken."
"Can't blame them," Alice agreed.
There was a bout of silence that followed. Bolton was looking at Alice in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. She looked down.
"There's one other thing," he said gravely after at least a minute of quiet staring. "We found your fingerprints all over the computer that was used to tamper with the camera feed."
Alice's head jerked up.
"Excuse me, sir?"
"You've heard me. There were also your fingerprints on the crystals in the engine room, though you've touched them after the incident so that's not so important. How did they end up on the computer, though? Care to explain?"
Alice looked at him in disbelief. Was he really accusing her of doing this?
And then it hit her.
The expression on Vasquez's face as he said that there was no evidence. Evidence. The first thing that came to mind when she heard this word were always fingerprints. That was the number one forensic evidence used in court, wasn't it? Even the courts-martial relied heavily on them. And now her fingerprints were found on the computer used to commit sabotage? Could that be a coincidence, a strange happenstance, that of all people, Vasquez should use this word, evidence?
Suddenly an image flashed before her eyes: Arley and Vasquez at the entrance to the mess, him letting her go first, her returning smile, shy but friendly. Very friendly. Could it be? Was that a coincidence as well?
So was it his ploy to get back at her? He could have damaged the entire ship. He put all of their lives in danger. What was he thinking?! And the answer came to her as soon as she asked that question: he wasn't thinking. He was still being a frat boy, working to exact some sort of revenge on her.
This was ridiculous. It couldn't be about her. Could it?
The hatred in his eyes. The grimace of disgust on his face every time he looked at her.
Maybe it could.
So what was she supposed to do with this newfound knowledge? Should she say something to Bolton? Or Pendergast? Would they believe her? She didn't have any proof. Nothing tangible, at least; just a vague speculation based on his expression and choice of words, and his too-friendly attitude towards Arley. There was no doubt in her mind now that he was to blame; but they didn't know him the way she did. They didn't know about the weeks of hostility – even Bolton didn't realize the extent of it. They had no idea about the childish pranks Vasquez put her through before; she never told anyone. There was no proof, no evidence. Just her word against his.
"Boyd?" Bolton interrupted her reverie.
"No, sir, I can't explain," she said, blinking hard, coming back to the present moment. "Except that I have touched a lot of things during my tour aboard the ship, sir. It's possible I have left my fingerprints on the computer before that incident."
He nodded, as if he expected this answer.
"There is only one small problem. This computer has been wiped clean. We didn't find any other fingerprints, except yours."
Alice stared at him for a few seconds, unable to mold her thoughts into words.
"Do you really think so little of me, sir?" She asked eventually. "Do you really think I'd be so stupid as to wipe clean all other fingerprints but leave mine?"
"Not really," he acquiesced. "But you are one of the people who have the skill to pull it off."
"What possible motive could I have, sir?"
"You tell me."
They looked at each other in silence for another moment.
"The way you handled yourself in the engine room, Colonel Pendergast was very impressed," Bolton said casually. "Is it really such a stretch to say you might have framed it up?"
"Yes, sir, it is. How would I have known that Pendergast would call on me to follow him there? It was his snap decision to take me with him."
"True."
Bolton continued to bore her with his eyes, for once not fidgeting the way he usually was. It was very uncomfortable. Shit, does he really think I'm to blame?
Whatever he was looking for in her reactions, he must not have found it, because after a minute or so he started to relax and a small smile appeared on his lips.
"Of course I never thought you were the saboteur." He looked up to the ceiling and then sighed. "But I was ordered to question you nonetheless."
Alice raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything.
"Don't worry, you're in the clear. But we will find whoever did this, and they will be court-martialed." The smile faded on his face. "Do you have any idea who that might be? Any inkling?"
Alice pulled her lips in a tight line and then shook her head. She wasn't going to start throwing unfounded accusations based on pure speculation, no matter how positive she felt about them. It could only harm her in the long run. If it really was Vasquez, they'd find out pretty soon. Arley'd talk. She would have no other option if she wanted to avoid a court-martial herself.
"Okay," the lieutenant colonel sighed and then checked his watch. "We'll be entering the Earth's atmosphere in a couple of minutes. I suggest you go and pack your things. Once we're on the ground, there will be an official debrief for you. After that, I guess, your shore leave will start. Any plans?"
Alice was still too disturbed to smile, but she let her face relax a bit.
"Not much. I'll go visit my mom, my brother promised to come home for a few days as well."
"A family reunion. Nice." Bolton nodded and then stood up and left without another word.
Alice stared into space for a moment. What a fucked up situation, she thought to herself. She still had a hard time believing that Vasquez would do something so stupid, but what other explanation was there? Coincidence… maybe it was a coincidence. But Alice was rather sure that, sooner or later, she would be called to bear witness at Vasquez's court-martial.
Not that she would be sad to see him go, but the fact that he would do this, risk so much, just to get back at her… the very idea was incomprehensible to her.
People would never stop surprising her. They were just so hard to understand. Not for the first time, she thought she would never fully grasp human psychology. She wondered fleetingly if aliens were easier to decipher. Maybe she should stick to machines, though. Machines were logical. They operated on reason. They didn't have pride that could be hurt.
It was dark when she drove up the familiar lane and pulled onto the driveway. The house looked empty and desolate, lights off, shutters closed in the windows. The lawn was yellow – nobody was watering the grass anymore. She should have some sprinklers installed. Of course nobody was living in the house now, but she should do it at least for the sake of the neighbors who cared about the overall appearance of the street.
Alice picked up her bag that was sitting on the passenger's seat and got out of the rental. The car beeped loudly when she shut the door and turned on the alarm. In the house on the other side of the street a window lighted up and someone's silhouette appeared behind the curtain. Alice skipped over to the front door and flicked the switch of the porch lamp. She then turned around and waved to Mrs. Hootfield, the watchdog of the community. She could almost hear the indignant huff of the old lady as she turned the light off again, pretending that she went back to sleep. Alice knew her neighbor too well, though. She'd be watching for a while still, tonight, and then start over in the morning.
The door opened without a sound, softly. Alice went through the corridor to the living room, flicking switches as she went. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. Most of the furniture was under protective covering, though: big, transparent plastic bags lay over the couches and tables, the TV set and mom's grand piano in the corner. The same was true of every room in the house. They should have sold the place, but mom was just too attached; if she found out, it would break her heart. Well, Alice would just have to do some cleaning. Jake would join her the next day and help – even if she had to coerce him to do it.
She went up the stairs to her room. Here, too, the plastic was covering every surface. She dropped the bag on the floor and started unwrapping the furniture. She had to have a place to sleep, after all, and sleep was one thing she needed. It had been such a long day.
After they docked in the BC-303 hangar near Groom Lake, Alice had been called to the main facility to give her deposition about the events of the day. It took almost two hours to recount everything to her questioner's satisfaction – an Air Force JAG major (dedicated to Stargate program). Then, finally, she had been released and her shore leave started. Of course, she still had to get to Los Angeles. She took a commercial flight from Las Vegas to LAX, got a rental car there and drove straight home. It was now almost midnight.
Finished with the coverings, she sat down on her bed and looked around. She hadn't been in here for months. No, more – it was now over a year. This was the place she dreamt her dreams as a child, before she outgrew it and went away to make those dreams a reality. She was barely fifteen when she started college, but this room didn't look like it had belonged to a child, or even a teenager, she now reflected. The walls were pale green, the bed cover a richer shade of the same color, matching the dark browns of the furniture; it made it feel like a forest. She had insisted on such colors, she remembered. She must have been seven or eight and she'd read somewhere that green was good for your eyes and that it had a calming effect. So very her to think of such a thing instead of just picking her favorite color – which was blue.
There wasn't that much stuff in the room. A bed, a desk, an old-fashion wardrobe and a low cabinet. And shelves; taking up every bit of available space on the walls, everywhere - shelves full of books. It looked now like there were more than she had remembered. There was even a couple cardboard boxes stashed in the corner of the room and under the bed, also containing books. An old PC sat on the desk, as well, but that was pretty much it; no musical instruments, no toys, not even a favorite teddy bear. She wondered idly what had happened to Mr. Fluffy who had been her companion for the first three years of her life. She didn't know; it just disappeared from her memory and she couldn't seem to even place when exactly that was. Despite her near-perfect photographic memory, the first few years of her life were fuzzy in her mind, like a bad picture on an old TV screen.
No posters, no diary, not a thing that would indicate that a little girl used to live here. There was a tiny corkboard over the desk, below some more shelves; she used to have postcards from places her dad had visited pinned to it. She took them off after he died. They were somewhere in a wooden box on the bottom of the wardrobe, along with other memorabilia she couldn't bear to look at in that short period after he was gone and before she went away. She sighed at the thought. She missed him more than usual today. Maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe it was because she thought he would have been so proud of her. He would have loved the fact that she joined the Air Force, but was more of a Navy aviator now, based on a ship. He would have appreciated the irony.
She sighed again and then suddenly slid down to her knees next to the wardrobe. There was quite a lot of junk on the bottom of it; old shoes and clothes, and more books. She dug out the small wooden box and put it on her lap, pausing for a moment before she opened it. The memories came to her strongly as she took out the stash of postcards. Each of them was addressed in her dad's messy handwriting, and the messages were kept short, but warm.
Sweetcake, he'd write. He'd always find the most ridiculous nicknames for her. I wish you were here to see this! We totally blew the feathers off the other guys' backsides, though it was close for a while. Which only reinforces the age-old adage: the loser is the one who stops fighting first. Never stop fighting, sweetmeat. Yours forever, Daddy.
She bit her lip. She felt as if some great weight were crushing her heart. Why did he have to go? Why did he have to leave her? I miss you, Daddy. She felt lonelier than ever before. Why it was hitting her so hard today of all days?
Other things were in the box, too. Dad's reading glasses, his favorite crossword pen, an old cassette with his favorite album. And his dog tag. It wasn't the one he was wearing when he crashed; those were reissued after he had given his original tags to her and Jake, one for each of them, when they were very little. She couldn't have been more than three then. Now she put all the other souvenirs back into the box, keeping the tag. She hid the box again in the bottom of her wardrobe, under some clothes, and hauled herself back onto the bed. She stared at the piece of metal in her hand.
It couldn't have been the first time he was leaving for a tour aboard the carrier, but it was the first time Alice was aware that he would be away for an extended period of time. As soon as she understood that, she threw a temper fit – she could be pretty volatile when she was small. And then she ran away and hid in an empty closet in the spare room upstairs. There, she sat on the ground and sobbed, thinking to herself that if she wouldn't say goodbye to Daddy, he wouldn't leave. And of course he didn't; he found her, and held her and comforted her. And he promised her he'd be back. He always promised he'd be back. An impossible, unkeepable promise. But she didn't know better back then. She believed him because she trusted him. Because he was her Daddy. And that's when he took his tags, unclipped one of them and gave it to her – for safekeeping, he said. One day I'm gonna take it back.
No, you won't, Daddy.
Jake got the other tag. He cried, too, and threw a similar tantrum that day. Well, there was no denying that they were related; the sibling rivalry only accentuated the similarities between them.
There was a muffled sound of a car outside. It stopped right in front of the house, she thought. Jake wasn't supposed to arrive until the next day, but who else could it be? Nobody had a reason to be here except the two of them.
Alice sighed deeply yet again, hearing the front door bang as her brother shut them with much too much force, as usual. Yeah, definitely Jake.
She looked again at the small piece of metal that was a vivid reminder of her dad's passing. No, she suddenly decided. Not of his passing; of his life. That was what she was supposed to do: celebrate his life instead of endlessly mourning his death.
She fished out her own tags from under her shirt and clasped her dad's ID onto her own chain. Now she had three. An odd number; that suited her just fine. It wasn't strictly regular, but who would ever know? She always kept the tags hidden under the shirt. And even if not, it's not like anyone would like to be caught staring at her chest.
She stood and walked out of the room. She bent over the railing to look at her brother who stood in the hallway, just depositing his backpack onto the floor.
He didn't change much. He was just as huge and imposing as always, even from her vantage point above. If anything, he looked even more muscular than the last time she saw him. What were they feeding them marines? His auburn hair was a bit longer than usual, too, and there was a ghost of stubble on his cheeks.
"Hey, brother," she greeted him with a weary smile.
"Hiya," he replied. His voice was almost as tired as hers, but he managed to sound enthused. "Long time no see."
"Ain't that the truth," she agreed and descended the stairs. "You're home early. I thought you were supposed to get here tomorrow?"
"Changed plans. Got some extra time off after last mission. Doctor's orders." He chuckled as if it was funny. Alice frowned.
"Are you alright? Were you hurt?"
"Not really, just banged my head pretty hard on the floor," he admitted. "The doc thought it'd be a good idea for me to take it easy for a couple of days, and I had this vacation time coming up anyway, so…"
"I see." She glanced him over; now that she was on the same level with him, he was towering over her by nearly ten inches. Was he always so fucking tall? Of course, he was, but she hasn't seen him for so long that it felt like he grew in this time. Maybe her memory was not as perfect as she had thought. She chuckled to herself. "Wanna grab a bite to eat before we turn in for the night?"
"Sure, sis, but is there anything here to eat?" He raised his eyebrows.
"No, but I came prepared. Go to the kitchen and get rid of that wrappings covering everything, I'll need the microwave."
He nodded and turned around. She went back upstairs to fetch the pre-made tacos she'd picked up on her way home; one package was supposed to be for breakfast the next day, but Jake's arrival changed that. They needed to be reheated, though. She grabbed two cans of soda, as well.
"Healthy stuff," Jake commented when she entered the kitchen. The coverings were all laying neatly folded in one corner of the room. "But I'll take that over nothing."
"You better. I don't have anything else. Will have to run to the grocery store tomorrow morning if we want anything for breakfast."
He looked at her doubtfully as she unwrapped the tacos and laid them onto a plate.
"Judging by the rings under your eyes and the state of your voice, morning meal will not be an issue. I think the first one we'll have will be lunch."
She smiled, putting the plate into the microwave, and then tossed him one of the soda cans.
"Maybe a brunch, then." She threw him a dubious look of her own. "You don't look so good, either."
"Long day." He shrugged. "The drive up here kinda sucks. I mean as long as you're on the Interstate, it's fine, but as soon as you get in the populated area… I mean, come on, it's not like I was driving in rush hours…"
"Oh, brother, you've apparently forgotten the reality of LA," Alice chuckled. "But I'm glad you're here now. This place gets eerie when there's no one else…"
Jake laughed.
"You're easily spooked for an officer!"
"Hey, I can face anything when I'm in my F… 16." She almost said "F-302", stumbling over the number. "No spooky apparition is going to survive a meeting with one of my AMRAAMs."
"One day I'm gonna teach you how to properly defend yourself in close combat," Jake promised with an impish smile. He was no doubt devising a way to throw her around some. Sadly, even with all the special training she's been through as part of her preparation before joining the 302 program, Alice knew she would never be able to compete with Jake.
"One day I'mma teach you how to shoot straight," she teased in reply. To Jake's eternal chagrin, Alice's shooting skills were just slightly better than his, especially with a sniper rifle, but she beat him most of the time with any kind of gun. Dad used to say that she had a crazy eyesight; after she got into the Air Force, it turned out that even for a pilot, her eyes were indeed exceptionally sharp.
The microwave pinged, announcing dinner ready. Alice took out the plate and put it in the middle of the kitchen counter, where both of them could easily reach it. Jake was first to grab a taco; it burned his fingers, but he didn't even wince too much, just stuffed his mouth with a blissful half-smile. He must have been really hungry. Alice waited until it cooled enough to eat normally.
"So where are you based now, actually?" Jake asked just to fill the silence.
"Ha! If only I knew that," she answered, smiling crookedly. "Just finished training. I'mma get my assignment after I get back."
"But where was your training?" He pushed.
"Oh, here and there…"
He frowned.
"Alice," he said reproachfully, as if she's done something wrong. She supposed she did. They've never had secrets they couldn't share with each other before. But this wasn't her secret and she wasn't the one to decide to whom it could be revealed.
"Sorry, Jake, I can't." She shrugged and took a bite of taco. She avoided his eyes boring into her.
"Classified?"
"You know how it is…"
"Yeah," he groaned. There was an edge to his voice now. It made her look up at him. His expression was sour as he chewed his taco. It took a minute for the frown to go away. "How did you like the training?"
"It was… different," she admitted. "Mostly routine stuff, once you got a hang of it, but there were a couple more racy moments." Like when she almost crashed the damn plane. Twice. "Mostly I learned a lot."
Now he laughed out loud.
"You would." He wiped his hands on a paper napkin and took a sip of soda. "Made some friends, did you?" There was definitely a mocking undertone in his question now.
"I did, actually," she replied, thinking of Archer, Espinoza and Dr. Novak. "Though I also made enemies."
That got his attention.
"You? Enemies? How come?"
She sighed.
"Basically this one guy decided to make my life miserable after I pointed out to him that he was in breach of orders. He's ranking, but the orders came from way above," Alice clarified. "Lots of small things. He got half of the group to shun me. Played some practical jokes on me as well, fratboy-like stuff."
"Really?" Jake was visibly amused with her exasperation. "What'd he do?"
"Oh, he would fill my locker with junk or empty my toothpaste tube, things like this." She shrugged again. "Like I said, fratboy stuff. But I'm pretty sure he did something much worse, something that could have put people in danger. I can't tell you what, but it was pretty serious."
"Did you tell on him?"
"No." Alice shook her head emphatically, only a second later realizing that she was unconsciously mimicking Bolton. It made her smile for a second. Then she frowned. "I just don't have any proof, so it would boil down to the word of a Captain versus Lieutenant's."
"I see. Oh, and by the way – congrats on making First LT." He grinned at her. "Sorry I couldn't be there."
"No problem," she snorted. "Even if you could, I wouldn't have been able to tell you where I was. It was a nice celebration, though. People mostly acted like they cared."
He looked surprised.
"Why wouldn't they care? Their leader got promoted, isn't that a good thing?"
She had to remind herself that he was used to a completely different structure and culture.
"I don't lead people, Jake." She sighed. "In fact I am the lowest rank in my entire squadron. And the youngest, of course."
"What else is new?" Jake rolled his eyes. "I don't blame all those other people for getting annoyed at you. It must be terrible to have a genius like you in the team."
He was mocking her again, looking if she would bite, but she was too tired for that. She didn't reply. For a while they sat in silence, finishing the sodas. Finally they were done and Alice swept the taco containers and the cans into a plastic bag and Jake put the plate into the dishwasher.
"I forgot to turn on the water," Alice remembered. "We'll need that tonight. Do you mind…?"
"On it." Her brother unlocked the kitchen door and went out to the backyard, where the water switch was located. Alice went up to her room, moved her bag onto the bed and opened it, looking for her pajamas and toiletries. She heard the kitchen door close and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. It was nearing one in the morning. She could feel the tiredness like a crushing weight on her shoulders. It was the bad kind of fatigue; not like after a physical exertion, but the kind you felt after a long and stressful day.
Jake was sitting on her bed when she came back to her room. He was in his pajamas, too.
"One more thing," he said with a grin and handed her a haphazardly wrapped box. "Happy late birthday. Open it."
She smiled and pulled the wrapping away with one decisive movement. It was a book, of course. The surprising part was the author and title. Alice Boyd, it said on the elegant dark violet cover with silver letters. Schrodinger's cat realized, or superpositioning quantum states as a way to obtain a measurement on a system. It was her senior thesis, edited and printed in a form of a book. It looked pretty thick, though, and it shouldn't because it wasn't all that long.
"Wow, Jake. I don't know what to say."
"A thank you will do." He was still grinning at her and she replied with a smile, too.
"Thank you. It's beautiful."
"Not that anyone will understand it," he mused, getting off her bed and standing in the doorway. "I mean I tried to read it and it sounds like gibberish to me."
She rolled her eyes.
"Goodnight, Jake."
"Goodnight, Allie."
He closed the door behind him and Alice walked slowly to her desk. She sat down and opened the book. There was a handwritten dedication on the cover page.
Sorry for all the genius jokes, sis. I'm proud of you.
She flipped through the pages. She quickly realized why it seemed thicker than it should; the paper was glossy, more like for a photo or an artbook. There was also a foreword, written by Professor J. Pierce, one of her teachers at CalTech. Wow. This took some time to prepare.
It was nice to see her name in print, even if only on a single, lonely copy. She was always particularly proud of that thesis – and it was what has gotten her the summa added to her cum laude when she graduated. Of course, it was but a theoretical position paper; she never gotten to the actual research part. But it got some attention, mostly from some professor from France Alice never heard about before. Maybe he'd carry her idea into fruition.
She sighed, closed the book and left it on the desk. Then she turned off the light and crawled into her bed; she was asleep barely a minute after resting her head on the pillow.
