In the weeks after Kris’ dramatic medical emergency and Elliott’s even more dramatic argument with her boss, things in the compound had been tense. It seemed that everyone had found out about what had happened, not that it was particularly a secret, and the narratives somehow painted both of the main antagonists in a positive light.
Elliott was raised up as a fearsomely protective academic mother hen, first saving the life of and then seeking justice for an insult to her student. Nik was viewed as the tragic administrative hero, doggedly adhering to the legal requirements of his position and selflessly casting his own reservations and turmoil aside.
Everyone had initially chosen a side, but they had all eventually come to the same conclusions: Nik shouldn’t have dismissed Kris but he couldn’t do anything about it, and Elliott was righteously angry but couldn’t do anything about it either.
Elliott wasn’t sure what the fallout of her rare explosion of temper was going to be, but she certainly hadn’t expected it to make her into some kind of hero. The students who had initially suspected her of dismissing Kris were apologetic to the point of annoying. The rest of them seemed to take a fearsome pride in the fact that it had been their field school instructor who had gone to the mat for one of their cohort. Elliott knew from experience that this strange event had forged a few lasting bonds amongst her young charges.
She’d made plenty of friends through the petty dramas of her own field schools as a student, but nothing this serious had happened then. Field schools had all the same energy and excitement of childhood sleep-away camps mixed with all the hormonal urges and inhibitions of a frat party. Depending on the makeup of the cohort, field school was a self-contained drama storm with the potential for soap-opera level catastrophe, and that was just within the students.
Many of them were dedicated to their aspirations to be career archaeologists and were mature enough to view their learning as collaborative, but some still held on to the adversarial ‘the teachers are out to get us’ views from childhood.
Elliott had perhaps reinforced this view in some of them when she had indeed given the students a quiz on first aid practices and procedures. She also insisted on integrating one unit per week from a Wilderness First Aide and Rescue course into their already packed schedules. Several of them had grumbled and complained, but the rest seemed to understand that Kris’ collapse had been seriously life-threatening.
The rest of the week of Kris’ collapse, the dig had been somber and quiet and everyone had taken extra sun precautions and hydration breaks without being asked. One of the students had recalled a skin cancer awareness ad campaign from his childhood and taught the accompanying jingle to his cohort.
It was silly and childish, but it made Elliott smile to hear the occasional student randomly sing out Slip!, and to then answered by a chorus of Slop! and then Slap!
It made her smile even more to see them stop to put on more sunscreen.
By the 4th week of the dig, the students had formed a comfortable camaraderie, and life had taken on a pleasant routine. The scorching weather had broken, but the rains that accompanied the cool change had been light and non-damaging. Elliott had even started eating dinner with the students some evenings. She was walking home from such a dinner late one summer night when she suddenly felt strange.
Summer twilight in Sweden was bright, eerie, and neverending, even as far south as Öland, and the strange filtered light played with her senses. The sun didn't set until 10pm, and true dark took another couple of hours beyond that. It had gotten later than she’d realized.
She was on high alert as she rounded the familiar bend that gave way to a view of her cottage, and with good reason.
There was a light on inside her cottage, and she immediately drew up short and stepped to the side of the path, out of line-of-sight. Elliott never left anything on when she left in the mornings.
For all her fastidious nature and first aid insistence on the dig sites, Elliott had never been particularly cautious about her personal safety outside of work. This realization came crashing into her as she stood silently beside the path, mired down and nauseated by her own vulnerability.
Sweden wasn’t famous for violent crimes, but it was famous for violent crime fiction, a fact that Elliott was now examining in a new light.
As she watched her home from the path, feeling exposed, a figure moved in front of a window and Elliott nearly collapsed in relief. It was her boss.
But what in the world is Nik doing in my cottage at this hour? she thought as she resumed her walk home. It can’t be anything good.
Elliott approached her door and didn’t bother with her keys, or even a knock before she swung it open.
“Jesus, Elle,” Nik exclaimed as he whirled toward the door.
“Jesus yourself,” she replied angrily, “You’re the one in my cottage. Lucky I saw you from the path or I might have clocked you!"
“Oh, right,” he responded sheepishly, “I guess I should explain. I just made tea, would you like some?”
“Sure,” Elliott sighed, her anger and fear dissipating as she stepped out of her boots and hung her jacket by the door. Nik was a difficult person to stay angry at.
“You have an excellent kettle, Elle,” he said appraisingly, “where did you get it?"
“Oh, from the usual places,” she said with a little bite. Ok, so maybe I’m still a little mad, she thought.
Nik sighed and sat down at Elliott’s table. “Look, Elle, I came here because we need to talk. There are going to be some changes soon, and you’re not going to like all of them.”
“Then why don’t we have an all-team meeting?” Elliott asked, annoyed and more than a little alarmed.
“We could do that, definitely, but most of these changes are only going to impact you,” Nik said solidly. Elliott’s heart began to sink.
“And,” he continued, “because I wanted to apologize to you in person. I put you in a really difficult position. Even I hadn’t considered just how difficult until later. It was unfair of me, and I could have handled it better. You, however, have handled it brilliantly. Your team is more productive and cohesive than ever, and it’s very clear from their presentations that many of them are going to become fine archaeologists and brilliant colleagues someday. You’ve done that, Elle. You have a knack for cultivating young minds.”
Is this real life? Elle thought, When was the last time any of my superiors was this complimentary? She shrugged and said, “They’re a good group."
“Also,” Nik ignored her hedging as he started rustling through the satchel hanging from his chair and pulled out a paper, “It has not gone unnoticed that you have gone above and beyond the typical duties of your position lately. Namely the WFAR training that you have incorporated into your curriculum. For this reason, the board has approved my request that you be given a raise. Here is the official notice for your records.” Nik slid the paper over to her.
Elliott stared at the figure on the paper in disbelief. Now I know I’m dreaming, she thought.
“Where’s the part I’m not going to like? And when did you meet with the board?” Elliott was concerned. A new, different dread was building in her gut.
“Last night, on Skype,” he replied, “They’ve set the annual budget review for next month in Stockholm. We’ll be expected to give a presentation, and they have expressed their… desire to see more results from the wreck.”
“Oh,” said Elliott quietly. Her stomach churned and she began to feel light-headed.
“Weekends just aren’t going to be enough any more, Elle. I… I don’t want to take you away from the field school, but I’ve got to have you back in the water every day until that meeting.”
“So what are you suggesting?” she asked, but she already knew what he’d say.
“I’m taking over as instructor for the remainder of the field school. You are still nominally the site manager and all credit for your success remains with you, both practically and on paper. You’re so good with the students; I still want you to get them ready and take them out every morning, but I need you in the water in the afternoons,” he said with finality.
She didn’t respond. He waited for a long moment before saying, “I’m sorry, Elle, this was the only way I could think of to let you do both. You’re the most experienced diver and the quickest digger. Just pull everything you can out of that wreck and I’ll do the story-telling for the suits.”
She still hadn’t responded.
"There will always be more field schools,” he said gently. “If we impress the board next month, we can start planning a marine field school next season. Think of how much more fun that would be!”
I’ve just been bribed, she thought sullenly, And he knows it too.
“Yeah. Sure,” she said finally, “I’ll re-work the schedules tonight and get them up first thing in the morning."
“That’s our girl,” he said with a smile, “I knew when I hired you that I could always count on you to see the bigger picture.” With that, he took a big gulp of tea, stood, and began gathering up his things. Elliott tried to look grateful for the compliment as he patted her shoulder and moved toward the door.
“Wait,” Elliott began suddenly, “I want something. Two things, actually.”
“Of course Elle, anything,” he said, trying to hide his surprise.
“I want to bring a few students to the wreck now. Not next season. I know that a few of them have a diving certificate, and I could use the grunt work. Can you get Anders to amend their health and safety agreements?”
“Yes,” he responded, without hesitation. Elliott was heartened and continued.
“Second, as you may know, Dr. Harrison has been having some trouble lately with Collarey,” Elliott began.
“No one listens to that foppish little weasel,” Nik said with genuine annoyance, “And she certainly shouldn’t either.”
“I agree, but it’s starting to affect her conference acceptances and publications, and I think that’s just the start. She’s just a junior faculty member… I think he’s trying to influence her tenure application,” Elliott said slowly.
“You’re probably right, if his previous behavior is any indication. But what can I do about it?” Nik seemed genuinely concerned for the young academic.
“Well, if I was to fill you in on the particulars of her current projects, could you co-author a couple of papers with me? Just a quick survey paper, or some kind of position lamenting the lack of research in her area, and another one in response to her next publication? Or maybe even a few quick case studies from the field school that we can tailor to heavily influence her citation impact factor.”
“Why Elliott, you cunning woman! I never would have taken you for an academic lobbyist,” his voice was amused and tinged with approval, “If lending my name to these papers will help get Collarey off our friend’s back, then I’m glad to do it. Just don’t lose sight of the goals of our projects.”
“Of course not. Thank you. I’ll draw up a work-plan and send it to you tonight. I’d like to have these out by the end of the year,” she said with determination.
“Then don’t let me keep you. Goodnight, Elle.” As he closed the door, Elliott allowed herself one small fist-pump before getting up, washing out their mugs, and refilling the kettle. Her loss was Pike’s win, and she wasn’t going to wallow. It was going to be a long night and she had a lot to do.