Transformations: Direction

When the door slammed shut, Olyver jumped to his feet. “We’re heading back to the stars.” Caitlin sighed, burying her head in her hands. “That’s not what Lambert told us, Olyver.” Olyver sat on the desk’s edge and glared at her. “Lambert said they completed the structure. Last month, the frame needed four weeks before anyone could survive outside of the space dock.” “A projection based on borrowed crews and atmosphere processors.” Caitlin plucked a pen off her desk as she rubbed her brow. With a steadying breath, she whirled it about her fingers. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “Isn’t that right?” “Those workers bought us time,” Olyver objected as he gestured with his hands. “So why are you treating progress like a problem?” “We have to reassign them.” Caitlin slammed her pen down, punctuating her words. Olyver sighed as he gripped his desk’s edge. “When did Quinn enter the office?” She jumped to her feet and leaned over her desk. “You knew this measure wouldn’t last. Every extra week on the ship delays important planetary infrastructure, not to mention vital tools for colonization.” “Such as?” “The eastern anchors,” Caitlin said, rising to her full height, “and the processors Lambert says will miss calibration if their crews don’t return before the next supply cycle.” “Fine,” Olyver waved at her as he paced about their shared office. “The loan ends before it becomes theft.” “We drafted a schedule for shifting the workers’ focus.” Caitlin nodded her head and withdrew a document from a drawer. She walked to Olyver’s desk and laid it down. “Please review and sign the official transfer.” Olyver lifted it and reviewed the words. When he finished, his gaze rose to hers. “When did you and Quinn find time to draft this?” “Soon after arranging for the influx of workers.” She turned and returned to her seat. Caitlin reclaimed her pen and pointed at the document resting on Quinn’s desk. “Lambert warned us that the loan had a hard edge. Keep them longer, and the first colonists may have a ship before they have somewhere safe to settle.” Olyver looked away as he dropped the transfer. “But why didn’t you talk to me about it?” “We did.” Caitlin’s smile warmed as she thrust her pen at the document. “You’re voicing your concerns now.” Olyver’s knuckles whitened as he forced a question through his sneer. “Why not bring this kind of decision to me earlier?” “Because you were talking with your constituents,” Caitlin said. “Sign it. Then you can tell them the ship gained three weeks without stealing six from the platforms.” Grumbling Olyver plucked the pad off his desk and read through the proposal again...