Chapter 8
"So, Wizzit gave your little sister the Junior Prime badge, did he?" Shelley said to me the next morning at breakfast.
At least, I was pretty sure it was morning and breakfast. I mean, Shelley was having cereal and orange juice. At HQ, Wizzit keeps us on Greenwich Mean Time, which means that when I come back from Ohio, it usually takes me a couple of hours to figure out what time it is. Although, oddly enough, I never get jet-lagged from all the timezone shifting. Of course, our Prime belts do all kinds of funny things to enhance our metabolisms and such, so something like the lack of jet-lag seems barely worth noticing.
"Yeah," I replied. "He wanted to keep her quiet about my being a Prime, and, I suppose, to keep an eye on her. So, where did that thing come from, anyway? I've never heard of a Junior Prime badge before."
"Wasn't it Bill Harding who made it?" Mike said.
Shelley nodded. "He was our original tech guy, Trevor. Really good at what he did, too."
"I remember hearing the name," I said. "He was Prime Red before you, wasn't he? The one that Wizzit fired because he --"
"Yes," Shelley cut in curtly, "he was." Okay, it sounded to me like that was a bit of a sore point with her. "But that's water under the bridge now," she went on. "He and Wizzit have settled their differences, and everything's cool with them. I'm not sure Bill really wanted to be Prime Red anyway. I think he was terrific at it, but he preferred puttering around in the lab, kind of like Nicolai does."
"Speaking of Nicolai," Trina broke in, "have he and Padma left yet?"
"Left for what?" I asked. "I haven't had a chance to talk with them since I got back. Are they going somewhere?"
"Nicolai and Padma," Mike said, a jaunty grin on his face, "have decided to shack up together for a few days in the lovely city of Cambridge."
"It's a math conference," Shelley explained, giving Mike a dirty look. "Nicolai is presenting a paper there, and he invited Padma to --"
"Actually," came Nicolai's voice from the doorway, "Padma and I are co-presenting a paper there." He was dressed in a real suit for once, with a jacket and tie and everything, instead of our usual quasi-uniform of shorts and a tee-shirt. He laid a sheaf of papers in front of me proudly. The top page read "Some Insights Into The Pi Function And Their Implications For Large-Number Factorization, by Nicolai Duda and Padmavathy Balasubramanium."
I frowned at the paper, trying to make out all the big, fancy words. I mean, I'm no dummy, and I studied calculus in high school, but Nicolai and Padma leave me in the dust when it comes to math. "What's the pi function? I thought pi was a number."
Padma, who had come in behind Nicolai, came to my rescue. "The pi function is a common way to count prime numbers. We have to reference it quite a lot when we build our weapons, but it is very mysterious, very hard for mathematicians to . . . I believe the phrase is, 'to get a handle on.' Nicolai has had some really brilliant insights into --"
"It's just a refinement of some of the work of Riemann and von Mangoldt," he said modestly, "and Padma helped me with it quite a bit."
"I really just played dumb," she told the rest of us, "and kept asking him over and over to explain himself in simpler terms."
"But your questions were very helpful," Nicolai insisted. "It made me think about what I wanted to say. And you handled subcases fourteen and fifteen on your own as well."
"The two easiest ones, yes. You could have done them yourself. Honestly, I don't know why you insisted on putting my name down as a co-author." She gave him a smile that the darkness of her skin made seem absolutely brilliant. "Except to get me an Erdos number."
I grinned. I didn't know what an Erdos number was, but I had a pretty good idea why Nicolai wanted to give her some of the credit, and it had little to do with how much she had actually contributed. Not that I thought Padma didn't deserve credit -- I would have no way to judge that -- but it's pretty obvious to everyone that Nicolai has had a raging crush on her since, oh, about a day after she arrived. Obvious to everyone except Padma, that is.
Partly to change the subject, I said, "It lists you here as Padmavathy Bala--" I squinted at the unfamiliar name. "Balasubramanium. I thought you told us your last name was Reddy."
She smiled shyly. She, too, was dressed in business attire, I noticed, with a white silk-looking blouse and a tailored maroon jacket and skirt that flattered her figure admirably. Man, oh man, I thought, if Nicolai was letting her make this presentation looking like that in front of a bunch of scruffy-looking, middle-aged math professors, then she was going be the hit of the conference.
"Reddy is the name of my caste," she explained. "I give it out because it's fairly easy for people outside of India to pronounce and remember, unlike my family name, which is indeed Balasubramanium. However, since this is my first professional publication, I did want them to get the name right." She looked over at Nicolai. "We had better be leaving within the hour, don't you think? That will give us plenty of time to go over our presentation before the lectures start. I checked us into the hotel yesterday night, and I put out the 'Do not disturb' signs, so Wizzit should be able to teleport us directly into our rooms." With a pointed glance at Mike, she added, "Separate rooms."
Mike grinned good-naturedly. "Whatever you want us to believe, sweetheart." He lifted his glass of orange juice. "Go get 'em, Nicolai." I raised my glass as well, and the others followed suit in wishing him and Padma well.
Unlike Mike, I didn't seriously believe that the two of them would get up to much in the way of hanky-panky; if they did, it would have to be up to Padma to initiate it, because Nicolai was too much of a gentleman, and that definitely wouldn't happen because Padma wasn't looking for a boyfriend right now. I knew that because she had told me so several times, usually right after she had given me an impulsive kiss on the lips. And after a few not-quite-so-impulsive kisses on the lips as well.
Once they had left, I turned to Shelley. "So, about this Junior Prime badge . . .?"
"Hm? Oh, that's right, I was telling you about it, wasn't I?" She leaned back in her chair. "Well, as I recall, it was originally supposed to be a Christmas present for Francesca when she was . . . about six, I'd guess. Bill did a nice job, too -- put in all the visual and audio stuff and a locater circuit in case she ever got lost, and a couple of other things besides. Dad vetoed the idea when he found out about it, unfortunately. He said it would look suspicious if she had something that realistic and none of her friends did. So it's been sitting in his desk drawer ever since. Until last week, that is."
I did some quick thinking. The badge had been sitting on top of his desk when I had grabbed it, not inside a drawer. "Did he happen to use it last week?"
Shelley grinned. "You noticed him out there, did you? Yeah, after I reported what your sister told me, he remembered that we had it. Wizzit changed the color temporarily, and he was our guest Prime Yellow. I guess it made his day; he couldn't stop talking about how much fun it was."
Toby snorted. "It made his week, I'd say. I've never seen the old man so tickled."
I got up to refill my glass and to make some toast. Trina asked softly, "Did you remember to bring the boards from home, Trevor?"
"They're in my room. You won't need them for a while yet, though. We'll just use pads to begin with."
Toby looked up from the grapefruit he was peeling. "I take it you've heard about Trina's little bet with Mike, then?"
"She told me about it before I left." I glanced over at Mike. "Sorry, mate, but this is one bet you're going to lose."
Mike shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Tell you what, I'll give you a hundred dollars not to teach her."
"A hundred dollars?" I whistled. "Isn't that a lot to spend just to win a bet over who pays for dinner?"
"Over who pays for --?" Mike chuckled. "Trina, dear, I take it you didn't tell Trevor all the stipulations of our little bet?"
Tr
ina's eyes remained studiously on her cup of tea while a slow blush crept up her features. I have rarely seen her blush, but it's a sight to behold. Her complexion is so clear and fair that you can actually watch it spreading across her cheeks; it really looks quite fetching on her. "There is . . . one other part," she said at last. "The winner gets to choose what the loser will wear to the dinner."
Ah, now that sounded more like a bet that Mike would pay a hundred dollars to win. He grinned. "And she has to show it off to everyone before we leave." He leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head. "I've been looking through some of the fancier swimsuit catalogs. You've no idea the things they're doing with dental floss these days."
Toby grinned, and, I must admit, I was probably smiling at my own rather pleasant mental picture. Then I shook myself. "So, Trina, what are you going to make Mike wear if you win?"
Trina smiled. "I haven't decided yet. Padma thought he would look good in some sort of skimpy bathing suit, and Shelley suggested a thong. Do you have any ideas?"
"Well, I was going to say a clown costume, but --"
I was cut off by the sound of Shelley choking on her orange juice. We all looked at her with concern, but she waved us off. "Sorry," she sputtered when she could stop laughing long enough to speak. "You caught me by surprise there. A clown suit . . . that's perfect, Trev."
"Now, Trina," Mike said anxiously as Trina's eyes suddenly began to sparkle, "you wouldn't really make me . . ."
"A clown costume," she murmured thoughtfully, "with a funny wig and a big red nose and . . ."
"Trina, love, listen . . . you don't want to . . ."
Trina drained her cup of tea and stood up. "Trevor," she said briskly, "would you be able to start training me right now?"
Attack Doll 2: Junior Prime Page 8
