“At it again? Do you ever rest?”

She floats into the room, past a table crammed with all sorts of junk, setting her coffee cup down amidst a sea of discarded pens, crumpled up pieces of paper, and strewn spare parts, most of which are already broken.

I glance up from my workbench distractedly. “Hey Mari.” I immediately go back to my tinkering, despite feeling her stare hitting me from across the room. “I’m a bit busy right now.”

She snorts dismissively, plunking herself down on the stool besides me. "You're always busy."

"Yeah, well, I have a lot to do...."

"I know, I know, the upcoming release and all that. But I miss you. I haven't seen you in days."

Sighing, I finally tear myself away from the circuit board I had been attempting to repair. Getting this conversation over with was the quickest way to get her out of here, and we both knew it. "Mari, I'm under an incredible amount of pressure. Mr. Dracone ordered me to figure this out by next week; you know I'll be in a world of trouble if I don't."

Hurt shining clearly in her eyes, she asks, "I know that. But can't you even pretend that you miss me too?"

I shut my eyes and take two deep bracing breaths. "Of course I do. But I can't deal with this right now. Or anytime soon, realistically, if the war keeps up at the pace it's at." I hold her stare, force myself to keep eye contact as her beautiful, deep blue eyes slowly fill with tears. "You just can't be my priority right now. There's too much at stake."

"And losing me?" She says, softly. "You don't think that's at stake too?"

My voice is pained, but I make myself say, "If that's what you think has to happen. If you can't wait this out."

She laughs coldly, the sound entirely devoid of mirth. "I think I'd be waiting forever."

Snatching up her coffee cup as she goes, and dislodging a fair amount of the junk on the table in the process, she storms out. Scowling, I bend down to pick up the scattered papers and parts.

I straighten the pages out, sorting through the junk and tossing what I want to save back on the table, the trash into the bin besides it. Realistically, I should have gone through this stuff months ago; it's just been piling up as the deadline creeps closer. Maybe she did me a favor.

A flash of blue catches my eye from one of the pages. I scoop it up, laying it flat out on the table. A blueprint I'm positive I've never seen before lays in front of me.

My blood chills; not only is it a blueprint, but it's a blueprint to the rebel's famed nuclear tanks. This information....could change the entire course of the war.

How did this get here? My brain wracks itself frantically, trying to remember when this particular crumpled up piece of paper landed amidst the others on the table. Who put it here? And why? Why me?