Bhagavad Gita: Science Recruitment

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Garrison returns to the mansion, with a proposal for some people, including Paige.



Well, it wasn't exactly Frankenstein's lab. There were no eyeballs floating in jars or large apparatus which extended up suspiciously roofwards for conveinent access to thunderstorms. Still, a number of custom made devices whirred and blinked LED displays from spots on stainless steel topped tables. Kane had never been one of the science crowd, beyond what he'd picked up in high school, and as part of his training as an RCMP officer. His street level pharmacology knowledge was pretty obviously outclassed in this intricate and meticulously maintained lab.

Fortunately, his job in this case was to find someone who had the kind of mind to harness this kind of material, and according to the database, the skills he needed were neatly wrapped up in a blonde-haired package named Guthrie. Garrison rapped on the table top of the closest unit as he walked in. "Is it safe to come in?"

A pair of goggles peeked over one of the taller machines, blonde hair bubbling up under the elastic securing them to her face. There was a series of muffles, dampened by a thick nose and mask that sound distinctively like "Forge" and "doorbell" before she pulled the mask down around her neck. "Hey, Garrison. Just give me a moment to secure this." Paige disappeared again, followed by the hiss of vacuum and several air sensitive doors opening and closing, before she walked around to the front area, wiping her hands on her labcoat, an odd couple with her jeans and well abused sneakers.

"You didn't touch anything, did you? I haven't cleaned the working surfaces. No, don't look at me like that, I'm kidding. What's up?"

"Nuclear explosion in a city in North India. Did you catch the news?" Kane said, entirely without sarcasm. Paige was notorious for her long absences in the labs at the mansion, surfacing only to eat and sleep, and even then only if someone hadn't brought down dinner or if another night on the cot in the corner couldn't be faced. During their hours on the road in Afghanistan, Jono had mentioned his girlfriend's work habits with a mixture of pride and irritation.

Still, in the year and a half that Kane had been at the mansion, he'd maybe had a dozen conversations with Paige outside of the Danger Room or team review sessions.

"It came through the lab filter, yeah," Paige replied, leaning with one hand on a counter. "It's not as good as when Doug and Kitty were here, but it still narrows down the speed reading. I admit, Forge does most of it, but mutations are on my list. They're being fairly vague as to whether they're still alive, though, I don't see how it'd be possible what wi-" She paused, amused by her own rambling. "Yes, I've heard a bit."

"Well, not surprisingly, the political situation is about as secure as walking through Hell in a fire suit. The UN is trying to send in weapons inspectors to try and find proof if this was an isolated incidence of terrorism or an act of war." Kane crossed his arms over his broad chest. "The FBI is sending agents in to support the inspectors. The trouble is that even the best of our forensic people are still just barely scratching the surface of mutant related forensics."

"How are they doing in the area? I mean, that level of radiation, even with the best suits possible and timed runs, every single one of those men would basically be inviting tumors in through the front door." Paige's question rang honest; it was basic fact that yes. In a lot of ways, what they did at the Institute exceeded that of the many government operations. But only because the government was too busy dealing with people who couldn't explode with thought to really get into the small percentage that could. "Have they figured out a way to access the site with the current level of radiation to determine the composition and nature of the blast material? I read Professor Anstein's article on it a couple of months ago and he's fairly in step with what's going on higher up, so it seemed possible, but Professor Walmer seems certain that it's going to take at least another three years of testing, in Ukraine if you ask me, and I'd have to agree."

"There really isn't an option available in terms of getting into the site of the explosion. At least not to the Bureau's people or the inspectors." Kane leaned back against the edge of the table. "So how would you feel about going to India with me?"

"Uh." Paige blinked once, twice-thrice-four times. "Sure? I mean. What?"

"Fred Duncan pulled me aside today. He's worried, really worried about the situation. Enough that he's willing to put his job on the line by allowing a group of mutant specialists access to the site and the investigation under fake FBI credentials. Your file says that you're the one here building off of MacTaggart and Essex' work on mutation and how it applies to the physical sciences. Your file also says you're one of the few people that can walk in and out of a radioactive ground zero without any negative effects."

Ducking slightly behind the guise of tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, Paige blushed, smiling. "That's... accurate. I mean, if I can be useful. I'm starting to get the residual scent of bleach on me, I would enjoy a field trip. Yes. Can I get an advanced copy of the notes?"

"I can get you whatever the FBI has, but I'll warn you now, it isn't going to be much." Kane paused for a moment. "Thanks. I've got, shit, less than twenty hours to get a team together for this. Have you met Adrienne? The psychometrist? If you can get fragments of any of the materials from the site, she could pull up a whole history from them."

"And I have just the person to be the one in between," Paige replied, smiling giddily. "Remember Tommy?"