Chapter 15
Well, I fumed about that little conversation for the rest of the day, and I spent a few hours in the gym taking out my frustrations on the large bag. I continued fuming about it for the remainder of the week. By the end of two weeks, I was fuming a bit less, and by the time February rolled around, I had pretty much stopped fuming altogether, although I still wasn't happy.
But I did stay away from Padma. Let me tell you, it wasn't easy to do, given the close conditions under which we live. I mean, it was impossible to avoid her completely, but I didn't train with her, I didn't eat with her, I didn't even play cards with her. And I did my best not to talk to her. And the whole time, I felt Mike's watchful eye upon me.
She noticed, of course. Everyone noticed. It's hard to hide that kind of thing when there's only seven of you. Even Toby, who doesn't normally pay much attention to such matters, asked me why I wasn't palling around with her like I used to and whether we had had a fight. I just grunted and changed the subject.
At first, Padma was puzzled, and then she was angry. Then I think she just settled into a kind of confused hurt. It bothered me every time I saw that look in her eyes, but I didn't know what else I could do. Prime Red is the team leader, after all, and we didn't have a Prime Commander I could appeal to.
Things in general weren't going well at HQ. Enclave continued to send out two or three monsters at a time every couple of days, keeping us really busy. Thankfully, a goodly number of these were what one might call B-list or even C-list monsters -- not their top-of-the-line models. I guess even Enclave has trouble getting enough quality recruits.
There was considerable bad press over the government's handling of what was coming to be called the "Philadelphia failure", with the immediate result being that Shelley's jailers stepped up their interrogations of her big-time in January. They had already waterboarded her once or twice, covering her face with a cloth and pouring water over it to make her feel as though she were drowning.
Now, they had evidently decided to try some new techniques: stress positions, blaring rock music twenty-four hours a day, interrupting her sleep for interrogation at random times, and once, confiscating her prison garb and forcing her to walk from her cell to the interrogation room and back in the nude, and all of it just to get the "teleportation technology framework" and the various lists of names she would have given them anyway.
We helped her through it all as best we could. We were already feeding her dietary supplements to counteract the low-iron, low-protein regimen they had her on. We gave her massages to ease strained muscles; we did our best to warn her in advance of her "surprise" interrogations. Heck, even Angie pitched in; she spent one long afternoon sitting guard in the cell (and studying for a physics test) while Shelley got a few hours of blessedly uninterrupted sleep, illicit earplugs in her ears to block out the blasting music. And Wizzit dutifully kept track of everything they did to her, "for future reference" as he put it.
Regardless, things weren't all grim and joyless. Emile Zwicky, the CIA agent in charge of Shelley's incarceration, was still tearing his hair out (and alienating all his subordinates) trying to figure out just who it was that was supplying Shelley with chewing gum. And the lists of names Shelley fed her captors had produced any number of red faces, especially the day that a couple of children of certain powerful Senators were snatched off the street by the FBI and interrogated fairly intensely about their supposed connections with the Primes.
In fact, that, combined with the bad press about Philadelphia, seemed to be making some people in Washington think that the kidnapping of Prime Red had been a very bad idea indeed. Or so said some of the confidential memos that we intercepted.
The Primes Emeriti, bless 'em, gave us all we could ask for. They didn't come to live at HQ, so we only ever saw them on missions, but Primes Silver, Copper, and Steel teleported out whenever we called for them, shot up the monsters du jour, and then went back home afterward with never a word of complaint. I got to know Mayumi a little better and even got to brush up on my Japanese.
On a personal level, my older sister Joy had her baby, a boy, on Groundhog Day and I went out to Oberlin, Ohio, for a day with Toby to meet my new nephew. Turns out that Toby is a sucker for babies -- who knew? And it was on that same trip that I presented Angela with Wizzit's formal invitation to join the Primes once she graduated from high school. She read through the letter, squealed, and gave me and Toby a pair of death-grip hugs, which I took to be a "yes".
Angie tried out for her school's spring musical, “South Pacific”, and got a part. She was happy enough to get it -- she had only ever been in the chorus before -- but I got the impression that she was less than thrilled with the part she was given, the role of Liat.
In case you're not familiar with the musical, I'll just say that Liat doesn't sing or speak or even do much in the way of acting. She dances a little bit. Mostly she just stands around and looks beautiful in an exotic Asian/Pacific Islander way. And in that particular high school, when you think "beautiful in an exotic Asian/Pacific Islander way", you think "Angela Chiao, the only ethnic Asian girl in the entire school," so it wasn't like my sister got the role based on talent, just looks. But she took it all with good humor; after all, Joy had played the very same role as a freshman nine years earlier at that same high school for the exact same reason, so I guess you could say it was kind of a family tradition.
The results from Trina's art competition came in the second week of February. She hadn't expected to win it, and she didn't even come close. She did, however, receive an Honorable Mention, which, for an unknown part-time artist in her first national competition of this sort, was pretty damn impressive. Trina was satisfied, to put it mildly. Her voice actually broke, and there were tears in her eyes, as she read us the e-mail she had received.
I was genuinely glad for her. I've said before that I consider the Trina I see while she's sketching to be the real Trina -- completely un-self-conscious, completely absorbed in her work, and, I think, completely happy. I was pleased to see that some art committee in Moscow shared my view of her talents.
Naturally, we were going to hold a celebration to send her and Mike off to the banquet. Life at HQ can be a bit humdrum at times, so we seize upon any excuse for a party, and this was a big one. It was to be a fashion show, and Bill was elected emcee, since he has a talent for that sort of thing. Trina would show off the pretty new dress that she and Padma had gone out to buy for the occasion, and then Bill would bring out Mike, who would be forced to pose for everyone in his tuxedo.
It sounded like it would be kind of fun, but I decided it would be better if I didn't attend. Given the situation with Padma these days, I felt like I was a big ol' raincloud just waiting to precipitate on any parade that happened to be passing by, and it occurred to me that the rest of the team would have more fun if I weren't there. Yeah, I know; I was feeling mighty sorry for myself.
Trina came upon me as I was in the kitchen rummaging around in one of the cabinets. "Trevor!" she exclaimed, "aren't you going to join us?"
"No, I thought I would go see Shelley instead," I said, pulling a package of protein supplement mix from the shelf. "I haven't been out there for a week or so, and no one has gone to visit her yet today, so . . ."
My voice trailed off as I turned around and got a good look at her. "Wow!" I exclaimed. "Just . . . wow!"
She smiled and pirouetted gracefully, showing off her dress. "You like it, then?"
I grinned lopsidedly and nodded. "Yeah. It looks good on you." Actually, it looked more than good; it looked great. She and Padma had found this clingy little gown for her in a blue-and-white pattern that brought out the color of her eyes and emphasized those famous Trina curves quite nicely. With her face made up and the pale gold of her hair framing her face just so, she looked like a dream.
The dream reached forward and began pulling on my hand. "Well,
don't just stand there staring at me. Come and join us! Shelley can wait a few more minutes."
I let her lead me out into the common room where everyone else was, and really, we all had a good time. The guys all ooh-ed and aah-ed over Trina and Padma, who had also bought herself a new dress, and Trina flirted outrageously with us all.
Then Bill stepped forward and made a big deal about dragging Mike out in his tuxedo. Now, I'm sure that Mike really wasn't as bashful as he made out to be, but if he had just strutted out there and started showing off, it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun. So we all hooted at him and pretended like it was this horrible sacrifice to have to wear a tux, when any of us guys would have traded places with him in a heartbeat.
The hubbub died down after a while, and Mike and Trina bundled themselves into heavy winter coats (the banquet being in Moscow in February, after all) and teleported out. I went into the kitchen to get things ready for my visit to Shelley. I had just finished mixing up the protein supplement when I heard a sound behind me. I turned to see Padma standing in the doorway still wearing her new dress, arms crossed and mouth set in a firm line.
"All right, Trevor," she said severely, "you can't avoid me now. Let's talk."
Actually, I could have avoided her simply by having Wizzit teleport me out to Shelley's cell. This probably wasn't the time to point that out, though. In fact, with Mike away from HQ and likely to be busy for the next couple of hours, it seemed like the perfect chance to straighten things out. So I looked her straight in the eye and told her, "Mike says I have to stay away from you."
Her face changed from determination to puzzlement. "But . . . why?"
"Because of what happened in the stronghouse."
Puzzlement to dismay. "You mean, he knows?"
"Uh huh." And I outlined what we had talked about during the unicorn debriefing.
The look on her face changed again, from dismay to something I couldn't quite identify. Resignation, perhaps? "So now everyone knows that you and I were lovers?"
"Well, I wouldn't go quite that far. The Emeriti probably don't care much, and Toby seemed pretty clueless. Mike knows, though, and Trina at least suspects. Bill, too, maybe."
"This is so stupid!" she said, softly and vehemently. "Why can't we just -- yes, that's what we will do. Come with me!"
She grabbed my hand and began dragging me out the door. "Hey, wait, Padma!" I said. "Where are we going? I was planning to go out to see Shelley!"
"Shelley can wait. We are going to talk to Nicolai."
"Nicolai? Are you sure that's a good idea?"
Whether it was a good idea or not, it was apparently what we were going to do; Padma would not be dissuaded. In less than a minute, we were standing outside his room and she was rapping on the door. "Nicolai?" she called. "It is Padma. May I come in?"
"Door open," came the response from within.
Padma led me inside, gripping my hand so tightly that my fingers were turning white. Nicolai was sitting in a comfortable chair reading a book. As Padma moved to stand in front of him, all her earlier determination seemed to melt away. Suddenly, she seemed unsure of herself. "Nicolai," she finally said, "Trevor and I have something to confess to you."
He laid a bookmark in place, closed his book, and looked up at us expectantly. Padma went on nervously, "He and I . . . made love. Once, months ago. I-I thought you ought to know."
He blinked once, twice, and his face seemed to sag. "Are you telling me this," he said, his gaze drifting down to where our hands were joined, "because the two of you have decided that you are in love and . . . ?"
"No!" Alarmed, she flung my hand away. "Trevor and I have only ever been good friends. In fact, we have a joke that whenever someone suggests that we are a couple, we say no, we have other fish to fry. He has Lily, of course." She smiled fondly at him. "And I have you."
He chuckled at that. "I am flattered, I suppose, at being called a fish."
"Mike found out about what happened," I said, "and he decided that he had to separate the two of us for the good of the team. He told me in no uncertain terms to stay away from Padma. I guess he feels that otherwise we won't be able to keep our hands off each other."
"Ah, that explains it!" he exclaimed, nodding. "Everyone has been wondering why the two of you had stopped talking." He raised his eyebrows. "And will you be able to keep your hands off each other?"
"Of course!" Padma told him. "That one time was under extraordinary circumstances, and we have promised each other that it will never happen again."
"Then what is the problem?"
Padma stared at him, seeming surprised by his question. "You're . . . not angry?"
Nicolai sighed and got to his feet. "Honestly, I am not thrilled," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, "but I know that things happen, especially with a group so tightly-knit as ours. How could they not? People become curious, or they want to try new things, or they suddenly feel very close to someone . . . and the natural course is taken. The stories I could tell you of who has made love with whom would surprise you, I think." He shrugged. "And trying to prevent that kind of thing always does more harm than good. I will have a talk with Mike."
He suddenly smiled at her. "But the other thing I know is that you, Padma, are the most beautiful, the most intelligent, and the most formidable woman I have ever known, and if you tell me that I am the fish you want to fry, that makes me very happy."
"Aww!" Padma looked as if she wanted to melt right then and there, like someone had just shown her a picture of a bunny hugging a kitten or something. "Nicolai, you are so sweet!"
She suddenly took his face between her hands and kissed him hard. He looked surprised at first, but recovered quickly, returning the kiss in earnest. Knowing how Padma could be moved by declarations of love or loyalty (and having a bit of first-hand knowledge of how good a kisser she was), I decided to beat a hasty retreat before I could feel any more of a fifth wheel than I already did.
Attack Doll 4: Primes Emeriti Page 15
