Sam cursed and yanked his hand away as shards of the small vial flew in every direction. He doused the flames on the workbench and crossed yet another additive from his list of possible ingredients, while shaking his head. His dissertation, his graduation, and his whole career depended upon getting this right.
He heaved a sigh and began clearing the debris.
"These vials are getting expensive." Professor Mallory Kerrigan, his advisor, strolled into the lab. "And the end of term is approaching."
"I know, Professor."
"Have you considered this just may not be the right experiment?"
"I don't know what else to do, and I've already spent so much time on this one."
His advisor peered at his open notebook, her lips forming a thin line. "You may want to start thinking about going in another direction. As it stands, you still don't have anything to publish."
Sam deflated. Clearly, his advisor believed he was wasting his time. He opened his mouth to respond when the outer doors flung open and two more professors entered, one in his late thirties and the other an older man with white hair.
"We've got it," the younger man said, holding up a bundle of papers.
"Sam, this is Professor Jacob James, head of the language department, and Professor Albert Brunelle, history professor. Jake, Albert, this is Sam Thorne. Sam is my grad student."
"Will you be joining us?" the older gentleman, Professor Brunelle, asked.
"Tell him what you found," Professor Kerrigan directed toward Professor Brunelle
"Well, Albert and his students found the ancient text, and I translated it: Krasfol Eskradi, Exploding Fireball. From the description, it seems rather potent, indeed." Professor James beamed as though deserving of all the credit. "This could be just the thing to win us that military contract." He passed a copy of the translated potion recipe to each person, including Sam.
The historian's face lit up. “We found it in an abandoned temple in the western range.”
The linguist tapped his papers. “There were terms here we had not yet encountered in the ancient language. It took longer to decipher than I’d have liked, but I’m confident this is correct.”
“Is it though?” All eyes snapped towards Sam, and his ears burned under the glare of Professor James. Sam wished he could rewind time and keep his big mouth shut.
“And what, exactly, is wrong with it?” the language professor asked.
"I... I don't know," Sam muttered. He shrank back from the intensity of the man’s stare and looked down at his copy of the translated recipe. The long ingredient list included rare and expensive items, some of which were clearly volatile, but that was to be expected given the nature of the potion they were trying to brew.
Doubt gnawed at him. He could not pinpoint any one thing that seemed wrong. And while he understood some Ancient, having learned it from his grandmother, he did not dare compare his understanding of the ancient language to the professor's. He shook his head, unwilling to meet anyone's eye.
"Well, Sam," Professor Kerrigan's voice cut through the silence, "This is the potion you should be working on. If we can manage this successfully, you'll have one hell of a dissertation, and the interdepartmental collaboration will give you an edge. That military contract would bolster the status of our departments and the entire university, while pumping much-needed funds into the school. And I imagine you'll find job offers much easier to obtain. Imagine being on the team that reproduced a potion of the ancients." Professor Kerrigan stopped and waited for Sam to look up at her. "So what do you say? Are you in?"
Sam looked around at the others. Professor James frowned.
"Necros needs this if we're to protect ourselves while the country rebuilds." Professor Brunelle's quiet voice shook.
Sam looked back down at his papers. This was a chance of a lifetime. He knew it. So why did this decision feel so difficult? He would have to give up his current research. Though truth be told, he wasn't really making progress there, and this was his chance to do something important.
"I'm in."
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