“Good news!  The government just said they can’t liberate all the cities!”

Seren lay draped across two chairs.  She looked up from her phone.  “And this is good news?”

“Yes!”  Petros paused and visibly mulled over what he had just said.  “Well, no, but also yes!  Good for us, anyhow.”

Seren sighed and motioned for him to continue before going back to her game.  “Explain.”

Petros took a seat across the table and took a deep breath.  “Well, with all those portals opening everywhere and monsters streaming out, the government hasn’t got the manpower to-”

As he talked, Seren rolled her eyes.  She put the phone down and sat upright, fully facing the man.  “Petros.  I haven't been living under a rock- explain why this is good for us.”

Petros sat back.  “Oh, right.  Yeah, that makes more sense.”

Seren narrowed her eyes and reminded herself that Petros was, despite his many, many faults, her friend and a good guy.  “And?”

“Right! They- the government- announced they’ll be awarding grants to teams who can clear out the monster infestations.  We can be one of those teams, Seren.  We can finally make something real.”  He shoved a tablet with the announcement across the table.

Seren laughed and didn’t even look down.  “So, we’re going to go into a place that the actual military can’t clear out, and fight a bunch of monsters with, what?  My old rifle and a couple steak knives?  Such good news.”

Petros froze, mouth agape.  “What?  No!  I’ve got- just wait here a second.”  He dashed into his room.  Moments later, he burst back into the kitchen, arms laden with several large rolls of blueprints.

He cleared the table with such haste that the only reason nothing broke is Seren had been around the Petros hype train a time or three before.  Petros spread a sheet in the middle of a table with a flourish.  “We’ll make this!”

Seren looked down.  “Your automatic coffee pouring robot?”

Petros flushed and grabbed another sheet, slapping it down.  “I mean, this!”

This one.  This one might do.

On the sheet was a detailed schematic of a walker- bristling guns and clad in armor.  “Can you do this?” Seren asked.  

The answer wasn’t ‘yes’, or at least not technically.  A string of technobabble followed- specs, resistances, something about refresh rates?  Not her thing.  Her job would be to use the thing.  And, as she scoured the announcement and requirements, to keep track of the details that Petros missed.

Petros was winding down, “...so, you see, all we need is the resources and a bit of time.” 

“Not quite,” Saren said as she tapped the screen.  “Resources, time, and a project manager.”

Petros frowned for a moment then shrugged.  “I’ll be project manager.”

Saren shook her head.  “Then we’d need a head engineer.”

“I’ll be that too!”

Saren sighed.  “You didn’t really read this, did you?  They need to be dedicated roles- specified in the requirements.”

Petros looked away and scratched the back of his neck.  “I might have gotten a bit distracted before I got to that.  No problem though- you be the project manager.”

Saren shook her head again.  “Nope.  Project managers are, ‘not to leave the foothold base in order to ensure proper reporting and maintaining of project timelines’.  We’re going to need someone else.”

It was Petros’ turn to shake his head.  “Nope.  Absolutely not.  We are not getting him.”

*    *    *

Seren and Petros stood in front of a tall office building.  Petros grimaced as if this glass and steel structure was ethically repugnant.  And, in a sense, it was to him.

Seren held open the door and gestured Petros inside.  “So, I didn’t ask earlier, but how’s Kathy taking your little scheme?”

Petros looked pointedly away and mumbled something under his breath.

A dread crept into Seren’s gut.  In a desperate attempt to overturn fate, she said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.  What’s she think about it?”

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Petros mumbled again.  Louder this time, but no more decipherable.

Seren groaned and turned Petros to face her.  When he tried to look away, she grabbed his chin and made him look at her.  “You haven’t told her yet, have you?”

Petros looked panicked.  “You know how she gets.  What if I told her and weathered that storm and it fell through?  I have to be prepared.  Or maybe, you know, you could-”

Seren stepped back shaking her head.  “Nope.  No way.  Your problem there.”

Petros sighed.  “I had to try.  I guess we better get this over with then?  Christain’s waiting, and we need to get the project manager squared away before Kathy catches wind.”  He squared his shoulders and marched up to the elevator, a soldier resigned to his fate.

The elevator ride was thankfully short, with the only sound being the soft whirr of machinery and elevator music that was getting just a tad too good for Seren’s taste.  Was she starting to get old?  Elevator music was supposed to be for the old folks.  Though, on the other hand, she was in her 30s now, and, as her niece had informed her, practically dead already.

Petros might not be the only one who had a hard time dealing with family, she mused.  And anyhow, fighting monsters in a mech automatically made one young and hip, right?  More importantly, why was she worried about the opinions of an 8-year-old?  She shook her head.

Pulling her attention back to the matters at hand, she saw them stopped at an office door.  Petros glared at the name plate: Christan W. Hillford.  He looked at Seren, a question clear on his face.

“Sorry,” she said.  They’d been friends for far too long for there to be any misunderstanding on what that question was.  “It has to be him, unless you can convince someone else to sign on in short notice to an untried group, with a untried plan and risky results.”

Petros nodded and faced the door.  He grasped the handle, and let himself in, Seren following right behind.

Inside was, well, exactly what Seren would have guessed Christain’s office would look like.  He didn’t rate a corner office, but he did have a window to his back, the full wall of a window filling the room with a natural light.

The furniture was solid wood and dark.  Probably mahogany. It was always mahogany.  Diplomas and awards hung on the walls.  A bookcase was tucked to the side, chock full of books with impressive titles and uncreased spines.

Christain wasn’t behind his desk, but to the side at a not-at-all-discreet minibar.  He threw his arms open wide as Petros entered as if it was an unexpected surprise rather than a meeting they scheduled a week ago.

“Petty!” he called.  “Good to see you!”  

“Petros.  For the millionth time, my name is-”

Christain engulfed Petros in a hug.  The hug was firmly one-directional.  He released the hug as abruptly as it started and turned back to the minibar.  “Drink?”  He grabbed three glasses and poured golden liquid into each without waiting for an answer.  He sat down at the desk and held out the two glasses.  “Sit, sit.  No need for formalities here.”

Seren tried to hide a smirk and she grabbed her seat.  Everyone here knew she was mostly at this meeting for appearance’s sake.  This was all about Petros and Christain, and, well, it wasn’t like she’d turn down a ring-side seat anyhow.  She grabbed the proffered glass and took a sip.  Whiskey, and not bad.

Meanwhile, Christain had not stopped talking.  Questions and pleasantries rained down in unending torrents.  Petros looked like he was ready to bolt rather than continue the barrage.

“How’s the families?  Good, I hope.  We’re doing just fine ourselves- Tanya has gotten herself elected to president of the PTA.  How she manages that and the fostered duck clinic, I’ll never know.  Darren is top of his class, and I hear rumor there will be scouts at his next game.”  He threw them an elaborate wink.  “They better be, I sure paid them enough!”

The polite chuckles of Seren and Petros were drowned out by the sincere laughter of Christain.  Petros seized his moment, “We’re doing quite well, also.  I have recently-”

Christain cut in, either ignoring or perhaps simply not noticing someone else daring to air words during his preamble.  “Anyhow, enough small talk.  You didn’t just come here for the pleasure of my company right?  Though, I wouldn’t blame you if you had!”

“We’ve had this setup for a week, of course I- you know, never mind.  We have a proposal of sorts, Christain, and I think you might be interested.”

Christain positively beamed.  “I knew I’d rub off on you, Petty!”

“Petros.”

Christain continued, unfazed.  “So you’ve finally decided to start your own business and make a man of yourself?  I told Katherine that you’d grow up eventually, you know.  And here you are!  A few years after I had expected, to be sure, but here all the same.  I’m so proud of you.”

Petros shot Seren a look.  Seren shrugged and shook her head.  They did need a project manager, at the end of the day.

Petros grit his teeth and smiled a pained smile.  “It seems you have, indeed, rubbed off on me.  We, Seren and I, are planning to apply for the city liberation grants that are starting up soon.  We need a project manager for the application, but you don’t have to do anything besides sign-”

“Oh, Petty!  I’m honored.  Of course, I’ll help you on your very first business.  It’ll be a pleasure to teach my brother-in-law the ways of a true leader.”

Panic filled Petros’ eyes but he pushed on.  “I brought the plans we’ll be proposing to the committee.  As you can see, it’ll be a mech, piloted by Seren.  We’ll be using arcli-”

Christain waved the words away.  “Oh, I don’t need to know any of that.  A leader mustn’t get bogged down in the details, lest they miss the forest for the trees!”

Petros looked down at the plans and back to Christain.  “Are you sure?  This is the crux of the entire endeavor.”

Christain nodded in a rather patronizing manner as he gathered up the plans and put them in his desk.  “And I’m sure the committee will be very impressed when I present it to them.”

“Wait, when you present?  You don’t know a thing about it!”

Christian grinned.  “And that, dear Petty, is why we will win.”

Petros groaned, and said nothing more.

Christain refilled the still mostly-filled glasses for a “celebratory drink”.  Petros downed this one rather alarmingly fast.

Settling back into his seat, Christain sipped at his own drink.  “By the way,” he said.  “How did Katherine take the news?”