“Fine.” His tone is curt. No one speaks as he opens his laptop and enters his password.
Anya and Leon lock eyes. He mouths, “Grumpy butt,”to her. Anya closes her eyes and shakes her head minutely.
“I hope you lot have been productive while I was gone,” Theo says. Lifting his chin, he scans the room. A small wrinkle appears in his brow as he looks at me, as if he’s wondering,Why is the freshman sitting at the senior table?
My palms go damp again, and I school my face so it’s politely neutral. Ofallthe engineers in the world, it had to be him.
“Don’t worry, we were,” Leon says. “The mice didn’t play too hard while the cat was away.”
That earns a few dry laughs from the team and drops the room’s tension by a fraction. It’s enough for Anya to lean toward me, her voice pitched low. “Don’t let him rattle you. Theo Riverton tends to have that effect on people.” A faint, knowing smile curves her lips. “I wouldn’t have brought you in here today if I didn’t think you could hold your own.”
I nod, though I’m not entirely convinced. My jaw is stilltight. If our last meeting was any indication, I’m sure he’ll want to test me again.
Theo clears his throat, ignoring Leon. “Let’s get started.” His voice comes out steady and commanding, getting straight down to business. “We’ll begin with project updates. Sharma, you’re first.”
Anya stands and clicks to the second slide in her PowerPoint presentation. “The Meadowbrook project, Quantum Leap, is moving forward on schedule. My team has been running the analyses on the propulsion concept, and I’d like to highlight some early promising results.” Then she turns to me, giving me a small, encouraging nod. “Kaori, the floor is yours.”
Every eye turns in my direction.
Theo’s gaze settles on me too. “Let’s hear it,” he says.
Great. I’m going first. I guess it’s better to just get it over with.
I force my shoulders back and clear my throat, meeting Theo’s eyes. “The simulations show that the Quantum Leap’s vertical-drop capsule remains well within safety margins for the projected g-forces,” I begin, my voice sounding steadier than I feel. “I ran stress-testing models across a full range of passenger weight distributions. Even under maximum load, the structural pressure points remain stable, provided the welding tolerances meet our standard specifications.”
A few heads nod. Anya gives me a tiny, encouraging“you’ve got this”smile.
Theo studies the chart on her slide, then focuses on me. “And what about possible failure cases? Construction error, material variations. Did you model anything outside the ideal conditions?”
“Yes.” My jaw clenches. “I tested some misalignmentscenarios. Even with a variance, the capsule remained stable and only failed under force levels that passengers would never realistically?—”
Theo lifts a brow. “Define ‘variance.’ One millimeter? Two? Because that difference may decide whether our guests scream in delight or utter their last words.”
A flush burns up my neck. “I based the deviation off the range listed in the design specs.”
“Those specs are written for the ideal conditions,” he cuts in. “That doesn’t exist in the real world. Welders sneeze. Materials warp. Equipment malfunctions. You can’t solely trust what’s on paper. You have to stress the system until it snaps and uncover itsreallimits.”
My mouth goes dry. I grip my pen until my knuckles protest, brain scrambling for words that refuse to show up.
Anya steps in. “Minami’s first pass is strong. She’ll expand the range and rerun it as we advance the draft.”
Theo returns his attention to the screen. “You shouldn’t have to rerun the analysis. You know better than to assign a rookie a task beyond their depth.”
The words hit like a slap. My stomach twists. Did he really just say that in front of everyone?
He continues. “If we start lowering the standards because someone’s new, we may as well shut down the project now.”
My instinct is to bow my head and apologize for causing trouble even though I haven’t. Years of palace etiquette tug at my spine. But I bite it back and keep my expression perfectly neutral. I willnotgive him the satisfaction.
“Everyone starts somewhere, Theo,” Anya says, her tone hardening. “Training wheels are part of the process. You don’t rip them off in week two and hope the kiddoesn’t face-plant. I know you’re exhausted from traveling, but don’t take it out on our newest team member.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, not bothering to look at Anya. “She’s your responsibility. If she slips,youanswer for it. We can’t afford babysitting on a deadline.”
“She’s not here to be babysat. She’s here to learn from us and one day become a senior engineer. That requires trust and exposure, not gatekeeping.”
Anya’s right. The weight of what we design and build is for real human bodies. Mistakes aren’t theoretical anymore. I steal a glance at her. She meets my gaze with a look that reads,“Stand your ground. No one here will hand you respect—you’ll have to take it.”
I nod, curling my fingers around the arm of my chair and breathing slowly through my nose. I keep my back straight, chin up, and eyes forward.
