Chapter 36
Both Clarke and Lennox are holding travel mugs in both hands. Lennox laughs. “You asked Thierry, too?”
“He mentioned what you drink in the morning at one point.” Clarke looks at the beverage in her left hand. Beverage is a generous term; the cup contains a pile of multicolored bite-size blocks. “Caff cubes are horrifying. Your order stuck in my head.”
“Interstellar rallying habits are hard to break.” With a practiced motion, Lennox tosses a cube from one of her mugs into her mouth. There’s a crack and a gush as she breaks the shell with her teeth and the liquid inside rushes out.
Clarke shudders, remembering how she’d felt like her teeth were buzzing in her skull the one time she had caff cubes. “Thierry knows we’re meeting?”
“I told him about it yesterday,” Lennox says easily. “Asked him not to talk to you until I had a chance to.”
“It’s not his seat that we’re here to talk about, is it?”
Lennox’s face is impassive. “Would it make a difference if it was?”
Clarke’s been thinking about it. “Thierry’s a friend.
He’s also an amazing pilot who’s performed incredibly well for you so far, despite having all the pressure of maintaining Enclave’s place in the rankings dropped on him after Raff left.
Thierry’s contract is good for another two seasons.
If you’re the type of principal who’s going to cut him early after all of this, I’m not sure you’re someone I want to work for. ”
Lennox studies Clarke for another tense heartbeat. “We’re not here to talk about Thierry’s seat. But to be honest, Clarke, I’m not sure you’re someone I want working for me. Let me explain,” she continues quickly when she sees the look on Clarke’s face, and leads the way to a nearby bench.
Clarke tries to rapidly readjust her expectations as they sit and juggle their drinks (Lennox sets the ones she brought by her feet). It stings, but Lennox is here, and Thierry would’ve warned Clarke even against Lennox’s wishes if this was just going to be another Atreus situation. There’s hope.
Lennox takes the cup of caff cubes from Clarke, pops one, and goes on.
“When I decided to put my professional piloting days behind me and move into team leadership, I wanted to go somewhere I could build. A team where I’d be able to see the difference I made every day, so that when we win our first championship, I can look at my name on that trophy and know I earned it. ”
Clarke feels that in her soul, but wishes and philosophies are one thing and actual performance is another. Tentatively, Clarke asks, “You plan on Enclave Alpha being able to challenge for first place, then?”
“Within three years. You’re seeing it already with some of Thierry’s results; we’ve closed the machinery gap to Martian Motors. If we finish third this season, we’ll have the funding we need to go after Provenance and Chronicle next, and after that it all comes down to race strategy and…”
She tilts her cup to Clarke. Clarke takes the cue. “Pilots.”
“Exactly.” Lennox hits Clarke with hard focus.
“A few months ago, I would’ve said you had everything I look for in a pilot except backbone.
I’ve watched you let Yves grind you down.
I’m not heartless, but I’m also not a therapist. Enclave is not rehab for pilots who aren’t strong enough to make it on other teams. I figured you’d wash out in a season or two, and it would be a shame to lose someone with your potential, but I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. That’s the business.”
Clarke’s hackles go up. Before she can launch into defending herself, Lennox raises a hand, palm down, and goes on.
“That was my perception of you months ago, I said. Then you told Julian Casperi that the only reason he’s beating you is because his team’s richer than yours, and I thought, ‘Huh. Maybe there’s more to her. ’ ”
Clarke thinks she can see where Lennox is going with this. “And then at Hanoi press, I—”
“Made me spit up twice in five minutes by eviscerating that reporter and then checking Atreus Skordi publicly? Yes. And there was also you dragging your ship across the line at Tempe Terra after your suspension failed, and your P3 at Hanoi.” Lennox shrugs.
“You either aren’t as beaten down as I thought, or you were and you’re clawing your way out of it. Either way, I’m interested.”
“But not interested enough to offer me a seat at Enclave next year?”
Lennox turns her gaze outward, to the lit-up track and the stars beyond. She’s quiet long enough that Clarke looks, too, easily finding the marble-size swirl of blue and green that is Earth. She can’t see Luna, which must be in opposing orbit right now, and Mars is on the other side of the sun.
“I don’t promise championships,” Lennox says after a minute or two.
“I believe Enclave will win one day, but I don’t make promises, and I don’t hire people who need them.
Enclave’s a relatively new team. If we take home the trophy in the next five years, we’ll be the youngest team that’s ever done it.
I hire people who want that. Who want to fight for that.
You’ve been impressing me recently, but I’m not convinced yet that who you’ve been for the past few months is who you’ll keep being. ”
It twinges, but Clarke gets it. Lennox doesn’t know her, doesn’t know that this is Clarke coming back to herself after an unintentional hiatus being a people-pleasing shell.
The thought reminds Clarke of earlier conversations with Val, about Clarke being lost. There are similarities in what Val and Lennox have talked about, but it’s like their frameworks are different.
Val told Clarke she wanted to help; Lennox wants Clarke to show that she’s helping herself.
Val has been sympathetic and encouraging; Lennox is direct and uncompromising.
Val creates space for Clarke to talk about why she’s struggling at Elemental; Lennox isn’t asking about Elemental, she’s explaining Enclave.
“Clarke?”
Clarke’s let the conversation lapse. She sits up straighter. “Sorry, was just thinking about something Val said.”
Lennox freezes, a here-and-gone absence of movement. “You talk with Val Dumond?”
Shit. Val and Lennox don’t get along; Engel mentioned weeks ago that they’ve been cited by the FIC for public disagreements. Of course Lennox won’t be thrilled that Clarke counts Val as a friend/mentor. “Sometimes. Not often.”
“You can talk to whoever you want, Clarke, but at the risk of sounding cliché, be careful with Val.”
Clarke frowns. “What do you mean?”
Lennox breathes in, holds it, and breathes out through pursed lips. It’s the same technique Clarke uses mid-race. “This is all public record, why not? About two years ago, Delphine and Oliver’s marriage was falling apart. Val encouraged her to stay, to keep trying.”
Clarke doesn’t know the details of Delphine and Oliver’s divorce, just that it got nasty toward the end. “And you thought they should just split up?”
“People’s interpersonal relationships are none of my business unless they impact what’s happening on the track, but they started to.
When Oliver and Delphine were fighting to keep their marriage together, they were distracted.
They flew like shit, and Provenance suffered for it.
They fell behind Chronicle in the team bracket.
And Val was right there in Delphine’s ear, telling her to stay with him. To drag out that uncertainty.”
Clarke’s mind skips around, theoreticals and half-formed conclusions blurring into each other. “Provenance ended up taking the lead back, though. They still ended up winning.”
“Not by much. It would’ve been a lot more of a gap if they’d had their heads on straight, the way they might have if Delphine had done what she initially intended and ended things earlier.
And Val hadn’t so much as glanced in Delphine’s direction after Delphine left Chronicle, until then.
I asked about the timing of her getting involved. She didn’t appreciate the implication.”
No, Clarke can’t imagine she would have. But she can’t imagine Val messing with someone’s marriage to throw a competitor off their game, either. Some things are more important than the leaderboard, that’s what Val had said.
Clarke needs to think about this. Later, when she’s alone and can process, and maybe get Julian’s take on his team principal. Not when she’s due at team breakfast in ten minutes. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll, uh—I’ll be careful. For Enclave, though, what can I do? How can I prove myself?”
Lennox looks like she maybe isn’t done talking about Val yet, but she checks the time and finishes her last caff cubes quickly.
“I’m not going to give you a playbook. I don’t want you molding yourself into who you think I want you to be.
” She retrieves the mugs she’d brought from the floor, sets Clarke’s second beverage on the bench, and slots her own into the empty cup of the first. “The window’s closing on major design decisions for next year’s ship, and I’d like to know who’s going to be flying it besides Thierry sooner rather than later.
If you want it to be you, show me it should be. And hey, good luck this weekend.”
“You too,” Clarke manages, feeling somewhere between detached and disappointed as Lennox walks away.
It wasn’t like she thought she’d come out of this conversation with a firm offer, but she did think it’d be more solid than this.
It’s not Yves telling her that she has to get first to keep her seat, but at least that was specific.
There was a clear expectation, however unrealistic.
This is Lennox asking who Clarke is, not what she can do.
How can she show that?