Piece Simul ✔

Chapter 42-Samuel-Paid

--B.T.L.: Before the Launch

--Dura-Chamber Archive Scan * 083266

'Thorough' was Samuel's middle name. And his first and last, as his mother had often noted. Playing board games, being thorough muddled things by dragging out the playing time. He always agonized over the next move. Please just go, became his mother's refrain. She even threatened to stop playing. That forced him into quicker decisions, and he lost.

In adult-life, being thorough was a respected superpower. Thanks to his mother, Samuel knew not to conflate thorough with slow. As quickly as possible, he signed off on major decisions for the upcoming mission. But only because he'd been through this twice.

Failed twice.

He had failed through this both times. The inner rebuke urged caution. Outwardly, he knew risk was unavoidable.

During the workday, he fielded decisions with confidence. At night, he re-played multiple scenarios, files from the last two missions splayed across his bedspread.

"Fuck it," he told his assistant, who had balked at the cost of printing on paper.

Every move mattered. Samuel feared sending another group to their doom. He wasn't much worried for himself. The only connection he had was Rotsberg, and she would fare just fine. It was the fate of another twenty souls, plus a couple billion, that kept him tossing and turning.

Seven nights before launch, and his snipes at his assistant steadily increased. No one at the Institute liked him. That was fine with him. They didn't need to like him. They just had to let him save them.

On the sixth night, files spread in an arc on his pillows, a particular page drew Samuel's eye. It was from the first mission, on a section describing the mechanical failure. Where there should've been more information, the line stopped, followed by a series of asterisks. Follow the tiny stars he did, and they read: Classified on main-frame.

He scoffed. Classified didn't apply to him. Samuel, along with Forster, had the highest level of clearance. Nothing on the sheet should've been left off. The only person with greater clearance was---

An awful twisting sensation wound and unwound in his gut. He thought he knew, but he had to be sure.

A quick search on the interface and his fear was confirmed. Not only had the first mission file been redacted, but so had the second. Both were missing vital details concerning supposed mechanical failures.

EVA ROTSBERG.

The name of his superior, mentor, and sometimes fuck-buddy flashed on the clear screen. Samuel couldn't access the full mission files because she had made it so.

His mind went back and forth concerning all the whys. Technical glitch, administrative error... either one or a dozen other excuses. Samuel didn't want a excuses. He wanted the truth.

Eva had always been honest. That's why the file issue was all the more unsettling. He couldn't trust what she might invent, however plausible.

To be sure, he made a call, but not to her. The woman on the other end was grumpier, but professional. She begrudgingly promised swift results, unlike most investigators he had hired. She knew he had an important due date.

That night, Samuel slept deeply, even as he was plagued by nightmares. He had been thorough, and it would pay off.