"I bought tickets for the flight to Springfield," Preston announced to Antoine over lunch at the Plateau City plant. Recently, they'd returned to their old habit of sharing meals together. Rigel didn't seem to care one way or the other, and Preston enjoyed having someone to talk to.

Antoine sat on the edge of Preston's desk, wolfing down a huge but delicious looking burger he'd gotten somewhere. He had a large box of fries he'd slid to the middle of the desk for both of them. Preston was eating a peanut butter sandwich he'd brought from home.

"I thought you should know," Preston said between bites, "that Miss Vought will be accompanying us."

Antoine swallowed the large bite he'd just taken and made a face. "Why?"

"I have some business to address with Waylon, and I just felt it better to bring her along."

"Okay, that's fine," Antoine shrugged. "So where are we staying?"

"Mister Burns is fielding our lodgings," Preston replied. "We'll explain more later."

Antoine took a bite of the sandwich Preston had decided to call 'heart-attack on a bun' and chewed thoughtfully. "Have you, ah, considered the implications of that?"

Preston shook his head. "What? We'll have separate rooms."

Antoine's face fell slightly. "Oh," he muttered, head down.

Preston reached out and gave Antoine a playful jab in the ribs. "I'm kidding, Antoine! Jeeze, can't I be the one to make a joke once in a while."

The blue-haired man's face lit up with realization. "A joke? Absolutely. I thought you were serious for a moment there. Humor is out of character for you."

Preston shrugged. "Maybe I'm just feeling better."

"Well it's 'bout time for that, Preppy." He grinned and shoved Preston affectionately. "So, what day are we all flying out?"

Preston glanced at his desk calendar. "April sixteenth. The wedding's not till the eighteenth, then we'll be heading home on the twentieth, first thing in the morning."

Antoine indicated his approval. "That sounds good and all. Why so long though?"

"I want to see the Springfield plant, get a feel for how they do things there. I also have a bit of time before the final inspection for the company park. It's a good thing we were able to write this into the health insurance program. It'll cut some of the premium costs. You know those were going to go up this year, right?"

"Don't they always?" Antoine asked.

Preston shook his head. "Not like this. That risk assessment questionnaire, the one in the newsletter, the one I had to force you to respond to…"

Antoine looked sheepish and shrugged.

Preston continued. "Well, anyhow, with a few changes that the employees actually seem okay with, we'll be able to keep the rise in expenses from hitting out employees too hard. There's actually going to be a kick-back, once we have the park and fitness center on site. Employees who use the recreation facilities, or quit smoking, or start eating healthier, can be eligible for funds back from the insurance company for every year they don't have a health-related illness."

"Is that legal?" Antoine asked, curious.

Preston gestured to a stack of documents. "It's a new government program. We're not the only company eligible for it. Kind of a beta test if you will, to see if the idea catches on." Preston watched Antoine finish his burger and reach for a handful of fries.

"Did you hear that last part?"
"About the idea catching on?"

Preston shook his head. "No. About eating healthier."

Antoine gave Preston a smile that was almost condescending in itself. "Prep, don't worry about what I eat. I'm happy with myself. You still haven't put meat back on your bones yet. Once you're back up to where you used to be, then you can harass me. Maybe." Antoine ate a few fries, and washed them down with some cola from a bottle.

"How have you been doing, anyhow? You seem better? I know I should know, but sometimes I probably don't ask enough."

Preston mulled the answer over thoughtfully before replying. "It's been easier now that things are coming together here. I don't know what finally got Rhonda off my case, but it's made everything so much easier for me now that she's not lurking around."

Rhonda LeBlanc sat at her computer. She'd set up a program to scan through employee emails. It was all perfectly legal. The phrase "consent to monitoring" was part of each employees' contract, be they hourly or salary.

No one was exempt from "Ma Proton's" watchful eye.

She had been heavily dismayed by the performance of Rigel Vought as of late. If anything, it appeared the young assistant had turned traitor, and was now supporting Preston and his little groupies. Well, no matter, Rhonda thought as her fingers flew over the keyboard. All she had to do was wait.

There came a soft ping from one of the computer monitors on her desk. Her search had found something. She'd entered two queries: the phrases "North Tacoma" and "Springfield" respectively. Both had come back with positive hits.

Her patience had paid off. Young Preston Tucci had made a time request to travel to Springfield, North Tacoma later this month. So had Antoine Radson. And so had Rigel Vought. Little treacherous whelp, Rhonda thought angrily, staring at the lists. They all had tickets, they were all flying coach for that matter. Going to Springfield.

Rhonda threw the flight number into her database and came back with a list of similar flights. Two can play at that game, she thought wickedly. Rhonda quickly submitted for time off, authorized it herself, and made plans to follow them. Whatever they were up to, it would do them no good. She glanced at the crumpled manifest, the several thousand pound cargo that Dimas had sent to Springfield less than a day before his death.

I'll get to the bottom of this, once and for all.

This was even better than she hoped. Three little birds, all in one net. Rhonda congratulated herself on her cleverness, and smiled with malicious delight.