Free The Far Time Incident by Neve Maslakovic Page A

sequences. “Hmm? What’s that, Julia?”
    “You’re sure there’s nothing wrong with the equipment?”
    “What? Yes, yes. Absolutely.”
    “The researchers who’ve been deluging me with messages asking if STEWie is back online will be glad to hear that. But, Dr. Rojas—”
    “Hmm?”
    “What went wrong, then? With Xavier Mooney’s run?”
    “The equipment does what we tell it to do, Julia,” he answered a bit testily, as if my presence was distracting him from more pressing matters. “Now, where—”
    It seemed to me that he was hinting that Dr. Mooney had goofed up in programming a run, like Dr. Baumgartner had suggested. I decided not to push him for now, figuring that he would let Dean Sunder and me know as soon as he found anything conclusive. “So we can restart the runs? As I said, a lot of people are eager to—but you already know that. I came by to ask if you’ve seen Dr. Mooney’s didgeridoo—no? Also, I need you to fill out one of these.” I set the blank Supply, Laboratory Space, and Office Space Request form on the table, next to the computer monitor. He glanced over at the form, said, “Oh yes, we need a couple of extra desks in the grad student office for incoming students,” and returned his attention to the computer, muttering, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone had—yes—but
where
—?”
    “Dr. Rojas?”
    “Hmm?”
    “The form?”
    He gave a vague wave without looking away from the screen. “Yes, yes. Just leave it anywhere. I’ll get to it later. There are more pressing matters at the moment—I wasted a week—could it be that simple—?”
    I picked up the form again, deciding that maybe I
did
need to push him if I wanted to finish my day’s work. “Dr. Rojas, is something wrong? You seem a bit distracted. And where are your students?” I looked around the lab, noticing for the first time that it was studentless. Unlike undergrads, who stuck around during the holidays only if traveling home was too expensive or too hard to arrange, grad students usually stayed on campus to work on their research and dissertations. Abigail had no family to visit, Kamal had been home to Egypt over Thanksgiving, and Jacob’s parents, I’d learned, lived in town. The three of them should have been around.
    “The students went to get something to eat. I took the opportunity to test an idea—” He brought his eyes closer to the monitor and squinted in concentration. “Have I been looking at this all wrong? But that must mean—”
    I moved closer, budget form in hand, until my arm was almost touching his shoulder. Whatever was on the screen meant nothing to me, but his demeanor did. I felt a shiver travel down my spine. I brought my voice down an octave.
    “Gabriel, what is it?”
    His fingers had frozen above the keyboard.
    “Gabriel?”
    “Julia—we need to call Chief Kirkland back.”
    “You’ve found the cause of the accident?”
    “It wasn’t one.”
    “Not an accident? Gabriel, are you saying—you can’t possibly mean—”
    He ran his fingers through his hair, like people sometimes do when they’re fighting disbelief, then turned and locked eyes with me.
    “I hesitate to say this, but no other explanation befitting the facts has presented itself. Julia, we’re looking at foul play.”

6
    I reached Chief Kirkland in the middle of Sunniva Lake, where he and Officer Van Underberg were dealing with a pair of first-year grad students unaware of the no-snowmobiling-on-campus rule. (The lake was especially off-limits, whether the ice was firm or not.) Some fifteen minutes later, Oscar guided the chief and Officer Van Underberg into the TTE lab. They strode in through the propped-open doors and over to where I waited by Gabriel Rojas’s workstation. I had sent the professor to freshen up and get something to eat. We needed him at his best for what was to come.
    Sabotage
.
    I imagined the word spreading by word of mouth and the beep of electronic gadget through