“You worked on them both at the same time?” Heather asked, ignoring Trisk’s obvious desire to get Daniel onstage.
“Uh, yes,” Trisk admitted, and Kal jerked when she knocked his ankle a little too hard to have been an accident. “They share some of the same developmental techniques. The Plank tactical virus is one of Global Genetics’ larger projects. Almost everyone had a hand in it.”
“I see.” Turning to the camera, Heather resettled herself. “When we come back, we’ll head into the kitchen with Mr. Saladan to see how tasty these fuzzy tomatoes are.”
Heather held her breath for three seconds, then stood when the tech with the clipboard pointed at them. “Four minutes!” he shouted. Immediately the three men rose as well, but Heather was already moving, unclipping her mic and striding toward the ring of darkness.
“Excuse me. I’ll be right back,” she said, and then the black took her. “Makeup! Where’s my makeup?” she shouted, heels clicking. “I feel like a cow out there,” she said distantly, and Kal stifled a smile. “I thought geneticists were dorks in black plastic glasses, but even the woman scientist has a better tan than me. Gwen! I need a touchup.”
Rick unplugged his mic and handed it to the nervous technician who’d come forward. “Excuse me,” he said faintly. “Heather?” Rick almost floated off the raised platform, following her. “You look fa-a-a-abulous, darling. Don’t change anything.”
Trisk stood, and the three of them edged off the stage as the lights dimmed and the camera and Saladan were chaperoned to the kitchen set. “Why did Rick bring up Daniel’s virus?” she said, fingers touching a strand of hair that had escaped her bun. “Daniel should be the one to talk about it, not me.”
Kal took her hand to stop her fussing. “Trisk, stop fiddling with your hair. You’re one of the beautiful people.”
She looked at Daniel watching the monitor playing eight seconds into the past. Her expression went blank as she saw her group next to the host. It wasn’t so noticeable when they were in ones and twos, but with four Inderlanders under the spotlight with one human, it was obvious who was who. “It is Daniel’s project,” she said, her cheeks a soft red.
Daniel turned, his attention going from Kal to his fingers still twined with Trisk’s. “I, uh, left my coat in the greenroom,” Daniel said, then strode away.
“He should have been up there, not me,” Trisk whispered, pulling her hand from Kal’s.
“It was your day in the sun, Trisk.”
“For my project, sure, but not his.” Trisk took two steps after Daniel. “Excuse me,” she said over her shoulder, her pace never faltering. “Daniel?”
Kal unclipped his mic and handed it to the waiting tech. Tension made his steps light and silent as he wove through the thick cords on the floor, finding he liked the silence and dark of the back rooms as he followed her. The door to the greenroom was open, and he hesitated, listening.
“Jeez, Trisk. I don’t care that I didn’t get a chance to talk up my virus. It will be forgotten in six months and Rick knows that. He’s just grabbing publicity before the government slaps a gag order on him.”
“Then why are you upset? Don’t lie to me, Daniel. I know you better than that.”
There was a silence, and Kal held his breath.
“Kal tells me he’s pushing you to put in your application at NASA.”
“And?” Trisk said, her tone holding a wary lightness.
“And I don’t think you should. NASA is a fabulous opportunity, but I don’t trust him. I’ve worked with men like him before. He’s had everything handed to him, and he uses people like tissues.”
“Did you know he was the one who convinced the government to put your name on your virus?” Trisk said hotly, and Kal felt a smile curve up the edges of his lips.
“It was my work!” Daniel exclaimed. “Thanking him for that is like thanking the man who pulled me from the rapids after he shoved me in! If he’s pushing you to go, it’s because he’s working an angle to help himself, not you.”
“So you’re saying I’m not good enough to work at NASA? That the only way he’d recommend me is because he’s ‘working an angle’?” Trisk said, and Kal stifled a quiver.
“Trisk,” Daniel said softly, persuasively, but Kal knew it was too late, and his palms tingled with anticipation. “I don’t like him. Every time he makes you laugh, his eyes crinkle like he’s moved a chess piece.”
“You don’t like him because he makes me laugh?”
“Can’t you see he’s using you? I thought you were smarter than that. Trisk, wait,” Daniel pleaded, his tone suddenly changing, and Kal backed up several steps. Even so, Trisk almost ran into him as she strode out of the greenroom.