Page 8 of Real Scale Blazer
“Quinn?” Her mother’s voice was sharp with concern. “I just got the strangest call from Professor Harrison. He said you quit your job? In the middle of a board meeting?”
“It’s a long story, Mom.”
“What were you thinking? Do you know how hard it is to build a reputation in your field? Your father and I didn’t pay for MIT so you could throw tantrums in board meetings!”
Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose. “They stole my research, Mom. Again. James Foster put his name on my entire monitoring system proposal.”
“Well, sometimes that’s just how things work in professional settings, dear. You have to pay your dues?—”
“No.” Quinn’s voice came out sharper than intended. “That’s not ‘paying dues.’ That’s theft. And I’m done accepting it as normal.”
“But what will you do now? You can’t just?—”
“I’ve accepted a position somewhere else.” Quinn cut her off before she could launch into a lecture. “A research opportunity. Very prestigious. Very... remote.”
“Remote? Where? When will you be back?”
“I’m not sure yet. But it’s an amazing opportunity, Mom. A chance to study completely new geological formations, to make discoveries that could change our understanding of seismic patterns.”
“But what about starting a family? Meeting someone? You’re not getting any younger, Quinn.”
SIX
And there it was. Quinn fought the urge to bang her head against the window. “Good-bye, Mom. Don’t worry about me. I’ll call when I can.”
She hung up before her mother could protest, then turned off her phone entirely. The city lights blurred as she stared out the window, but for once, the tears weren’t from frustration or anger. They felt more like release.
A knock at her door made her jump. She opened it to find Lydia, armed with two bottles of wine and a determined expression.
“I figured you could use this.” She held up the bottles. “Also, I may have panic-packed seventeen different outfits and need you to help me narrow them down.”
Quinn laughed, stepping aside to let her in. “How are you planning to fit seventeen outfits into our weight allowance?”
“That’s future Lydia’s problem. Present Lydia needs wine and her best friend’s advice.” She looked around at Quinn’s methodically packed boxes. “Of course, you’re already organized. Did you color-code your packing list?”
“Maybe.” Quinn grabbed wine glasses from a box markedKitchen - Essential. “And before you make fun of me, may I remind you of the Great Camping Disaster of 2019?”
“One time! I forget proper hiking boots one time, and you never let me live it down.”
They settled on Quinn’s living room floor, surrounded by Lydia’s explosion of clothing and Quinn’s precisely labeled boxes. The wine flowed freely as they sorted through what to take to another planet—a task that kept striking them as increasingly absurd with each glass.
“Okay, but seriously,” Lydia held up a sweater, squinting at it critically, “what’s the fashion situation on Nova Aurora? Are we talking Star Trek uniforms or Game of Thrones fantasy wear?”
“Because those are definitely the only two options.” Quinn sorted through a pile of Lydia’s shoes. “Why did you pack six pairs of heels?”
“What if they have fancy alien parties? I don’t want to be underdressed for my first intergalactic social event.”
“Your priorities continue to astound me.” Quinn took another sip of wine. “We’re going to study potentially revolutionary geological phenomena on another planet, and you’re worried about party shoes.”
“Someone has to balance out your all-science-all-the-time approach.” Lydia tossed a sparkly dress into themaybe pile. “Speaking of which, how many rock samples are you trying to smuggle with you?”
Quinn glanced guiltily at a box labeled “Essential Research Materials.” “They’re for comparative analysis.”
“Uh-huh.” Lydia crawled over to the box and opened it. “Quinn! This isn’t ‘essential research materials’—this is half your rock collection.”
“You never know what might be relevant for cross-planetary geological comparison.”
“We’re going to another planet. With actual dragons. And you’re packing rocks from Earth?”