“Yes.” He scooted closer when she pulled up a picture of a brain. Was that him?
She murmured a couple of commands to the computer, and areas of the brain lit up with different colors. Tick found himself noticing her scent, a floral blend that must be from her shampoo, and there was also a hint of orange that he’d encountered around her before. It was probably from a hand sanitizer or something distinctly unsexy, but he found it appealing, nonetheless.
“The Grenavinians receiving the alien intestinal microbiota have shown increased activity in the right posterior cortical and hippocampal regions.” She waved to what were presumably the aforementioned spots.
It all looked like blobs and squiggles to Tick. “What do those regions do? What’s this mean?”
“I don’t know exactly. The hippocampus is part of the brain’s limbic system, which regulates emotions and is associated with long-term memory. As far as I’m aware, studies in the past have suggested that there isn’t any particular area of the brain that lights up when subjects are attempting feats of extrasensory perception, and I should mention that attempts to perform these feats under observation have shown a nearly clinical insignificance. Nobody’s succeeded in rolling a pencil across a table with her mind, for example.”
Tick hadn’t tried to move anything with his mind. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to or not. What he had experienced so far made him twitchy, especially given the way the captain and that trader had looked at him. With wariness.
“Honestly,” Lauren went on, gazing at the floating brain image again, “I wasn’t paying much attention to these scans, my interests in improving human health and longevity being more somatic in nature. But I’ve been uploading my data to my drive on the network where several of my long-term scientist acquaintances have access. We often bandy thoughts about on each other’s research problems, you see. I’d forgotten that Hailey has access too—she’s had it since we studied at Novvy Novosibirsk University more than ten years ago. She saw these scans and was immediately intrigued. She’s been observing the human brain in relation to her field of study—” Lauren’s nose crinkled in distaste, “—for a long time, so maybe she’s seen research that I haven’t. Apparently, she saw something in these scans that caused her to send me a message and ask if any of the Grenavinian subjects had displayed evidence of paranormal mental processing.” Her lips flattened and she looked at Tick.
“What did you say?”
Even though Tick was curious about the research and the problem, he’d also grown aware that he and Lauren were standing close together now, their shoulders almost touching. He had tried to draw her into conversations numerous times, but this was the longest she had deigned to talk to him. It occurred to him now that he should have been inquiring about her work and her research, rather than asking what she thought about the new cook or other goings on around the ship.
“I told her that I hadn’t done any ESP tests and that I refuse to.” Lauren arched her slender brows. She had fine features, almost delicate, even elegant. Tracing the contours of her face would be appealing, or taking down that strict bun she so often wore, and stroking her hair as it dangled around her shoulders.
“Going to change your mind now?” he asked, pulling his mind away from contours and hair.
“I don’t know. Can you tell what I’m thinking?”
“Uh, that you’d like to know what it would be like to receive a shoulder rub from such an attractive fellow as myself?”
She blinked, and Tick experienced a flash of thought, one that had to come from her. It was of Striker coming up and slinging an arm around her shoulder and suggesting a night of sexual endeavors, evoking extreme distaste on Lauren’s part.
Tick backed away, alarmed that the strange insights had returned, and also worried she would feel that same distaste for him. He raised his hands in a gesture of apology. “Sorry, it was a joke.” Sort of. “I haven’t tried to tell what people are thinking. I find this very alarming. I don’t want to be a… a freak.”
“Then why did you sign up for my study?” She smiled slightly, and he realized she was joking.
He hadn’t realized she ever did that. It was nice. He tentatively smiled back while debating how to answer. Should he lie? Or tell the truth? He hoped she wouldn’t find an admission of his attraction to her as unappealing as Striker’s clumsy flirting, but given how little interest she had shown in any of the men on the ship, as far as he had observed, she might find all overtures unappealing.
“I wanted to get to know you,” he said, choosing the most innocuous words as possible. “I thought that if I was in your study, you might let me do that, and that maybe you would like to get to know me. Or at least my name.” He smiled and stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to look as inoffensive and nonthreatening as possible. Lauren wasn’t saying anything—she looked mildly stunned. He didn’t know if that meant he should change the topic or just keep nervously babbling. “I didn’t know then that you would just give me a number. Not that A27 doesn’t have a nice ring.”
Her lips pursed. “I know your name, Sergeant.”
“Oh?” He debated whether he wanted to ask her to prove it. She had never used it within his hearing. Maybe she just didn’t care enough to do so.
“I don’t think I can say it. It’s unflattering. Do you not find it so?”
“Well, I suppose. I’ve gotten used to it. I take it as a compliment to my tracking skills. You can call me Heath, if you want. Or Sergeant Hawthorn, if that’s too familiar. But, ah, I’d prefer Heath.” In fact, he wouldn’t mind at all if she used that. His mother and friends had, of course, used his name when he had been growing up, except for his brothers, who’d called him variations of Slug, Baby, and Rat, depending on the occasion. His sister’s favorite name for him had been Get Out of the Way.
“All right,” Lauren said after some consideration. “Heath. But Heath, I must tell you that I’m not interested in relationships with men.”
“Oh.” His shoulders slumped. “You prefer women?”
He remembered speculation he’d heard from the other mercenaries, that Lauren, Ankari, and their pilot, Jamie, had some good times when they flew off together in their shuttle for “business purposes.”
“No,” Lauren said. “I’m not interested in relationships with women, either.” That faint smile curved her lips upward again, though it had a bemused tinge to it. “Why do people always assume it has to be one or the other?”
“Uhm, well, what are the other options? Asexuality?”
“That is an option, though there’s typically a spectrum with sexuality, and a strict label might not work for everybody. I do tend to find the male body more attractive than the female form—” her gaze flickered toward him, “—but I have no urge to engage in coitus with anyone from either sex.”
“None at all?” He tried not to gape since she would probably consider that rude, but he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Though maybe it was promising that she found men more attractive than women? “You don’t ever, uhm, feel the urge to...” He kept himself from pointing at her nether regions—that would definitely be rude.
“I’m perfectly capable of stimulating myself when I have urges.”
“I—oh.”
She said it so clinically that he didn’t know what else to say. Tick decided it would also be rude to imagine her stimulating herself and was relieved that she wasn’t the one who was developing mind-reading techniques.
She smiled and laid a hand on his forearm. “I will call you Heath, though.”
A few of his wires crossed, and sparks lit up his brain at that touch. Dear Buddha, he did have an itch he needed scratched. He managed not to react outwardly, saying only, “Thank you.”
She lowered her hand and turned back toward the brain scan.
He should have dropped the subject, but the thought that she’d simply never experienced sex and therefore didn’t know what she was missing sauntered into his mind, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Have you e
ver had, er, coitus with someone?”
“Yes.” She poked at the holodisplay, bringing up a chart.
“Oh. It wasn’t Striker, was it? Because that would horrify any woman away from sex.”
She snorted. “No. A professor I had in grad school who convinced me that I needed to experiment, if only for scientific curiosity,” she said, her tone going extremely dry. “He knew me well enough to make the right arguments.” She sounded annoyed by the fact, which he took as a warning that he had better not try to make arguments. Besides, he didn’t know her well enough—or know science well enough—to make arguments that would likely persuade her. Still, it was very hard not to suggest that he, being rather fit and practiced in matters of sex, might be a more appealing partner than some stuffy professor.
“Well, if you ever change your mind or just want a massage, let me know. If I don’t turn into a crazy freak, I’d be happy to help out.” He wriggled his fingers in an approximation of a shoulder rub. “Probably even if I do turn into a crazy freak.” He offered a self-deprecating smirk, then turned his attention back to her display, figuring he better drop the topic if he didn’t want her to start avoiding him altogether.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she murmured, then glanced at the clock in the corner of her holodisplay. “I’m tempted to pull up some ESP tests for you, but your captain has requested that I attend this meeting with Hailey, as if I have anything to do with her ludicrous plans.”
“Do you know what her plans are?” Tick asked. Given the strange things that were happening in his head, he wasn’t ready to dismiss anyone who studied ESP as ludicrous, not now.
“Not exactly, but she mentioned finding Grenavinians of her own, and she wants some of my microflora to implant, assuming she finds willing participants.” Lauren snorted. “Perhaps even if she finds unwilling participants. My sister has never let ethics get in the way of her research needs. I can’t even start to count how many people she’s slept with to improve her odds of receiving funding.”
“That’s surprising.”
“If you think that, it’s just because you don’t know her well.”
“I meant that I’d expect her to share your disinterest in… well, I guess I don’t know if such things are genetic.” What he did know was that he was out of his element when it came to science and should shut up. She had spoken bluntly to him about her interests—or disinterests—and probably wouldn’t appreciate him continuing to bring up sex.
“I don’t know that she doesn’t share my disinterest. She’s very manipulative. It could all just be a means to an end for her.”
Tick remembered that Ms. Keys had flirted with him and apparently kissed Frog, two people who couldn’t do anything for her, as far as he knew. Unless she’d already known that he and Frog had both participated in Lauren’s experiments? Was there a reason that would matter to her? She hadn’t flirted with Mandrake, though that could have been because Ankari had been leaning on his arm. Frog wasn’t Grenavinian, but what would Tick do if Keys came up to him and wanted to run some experiments?
“She seems very different from you,” Tick said.
“Good.”
“Did you get along as children?”
“Until we were teenagers, yes. We didn’t have anyone else.” Lauren frowned and poked at the brain scan, enlarging the image.
“No other siblings?”
“No other anybody. We grew up in an orphanage.”
“Oh. What happened to your...” He hesitated. Would she think he was prying? He was interested, but it might be a painful point for her.
“They died on Galamoor 7, when a virus they had gone in to help with mutated into something extremely deadly to humans. The entire continent was quarantined, with some of the villages being outright destroyed by airstrikes to keep the virus from spreading. The government was terrified that it would get out and infect the entire system. My mom died early on—she was a doctor trying to treat people and got infected herself somehow. My dad was a research scientist. He died in the airstrikes. The government wouldn’t let anyone out. From what I later learned, the airstrikes were a cruel surprise to those on the ground. My dad and some others were still working on a solution. They weren’t told...” She shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” Tick said quietly. He hadn’t meant to dig up painful memories for her.
“I barely remember my parents now. I was eight at the time, and they were often away on humanitarian missions like that when I was younger. I have vague memories of going on a couple of trips with them, though it’s rather understandable that they didn’t take us on this one.” Her eyes had lost focus, and she seemed to be looking through the holo scans and to the wall, or perhaps to nothing at all, except her memories of the past. “The last thing my mom said to me was to take care of my little sister.” Her mouth twisted. “I tried, but Hailey became her own person and wasn’t interested in my care—or my advice.”
“Is what happened to your parents why you became a scientist?” Maybe Tick should have left instead of prying more into her past, but he found himself curious to know more about Lauren, a person who was an enigma to many on the ship, someone who rarely came out of her lab or opened up to anyone, at least not to any of the mercenaries.
“Yes. I wanted to help people. I thought I’d be a doctor at first, but you can only help one person at a time that way. I wanted to improve the lives of many and to increase the understanding of the microbes of this system. Fifteen hundred years after the colony ships first came, much of the native bacteria are still a mystery to us.”
“They’re a mystery to me, that’s for sure.”
“I also wanted to do my research from the safety of a lab, not out in the field where you get exposed to everything from mutant bacteria to horrible animals that want to eat you.” She shuddered.
“I’d be more alarmed by the mutant bacteria than the animals.”
“There are a million ways to die, some of them at the hands of something huge with teeth and fangs, and some of them invisible to all but the strongest of microscopes.”
“You’re an optimistic scientist, aren’t you?”
“Just realistic.” Lauren snorted softly, then pointed at the clock. “I need to go.” She closed her tablet, the display flashing out.
“I do too.”
“You were requested at the meeting?”
“Required, is more the term.” Tick nodded toward the door. Maybe they could walk up together.
“Interesting. You haven’t mentioned your new intuitions to my sister, have you?”
Intuitions. Tick wasn’t sure that was the right word. Oddnesses seemed to fit best. “No, I think I got invited because I’m the ship’s tracker.”
“Huh, if that means she intends to track down Grenavinians, then unwilling might have been precisely the correct word.” Lauren scowled and headed for the door. “I knew nothing good would come from Hailey’s arrival.”
Not knowing what to say to that, Tick followed after her.
4
Hailey was already in the conference room, pacing near the porthole as the captain’s crew members trickled in. Mandrake stood with Ankari to one side. So far, only one person sat at the large wooden slab table that took up much of the room. When Lauren walked in with Tick—Heath—following behind her, she chose to join Ankari rather than communicating with her sister. She was more convinced than ever that Hailey had something dubious—if not duplicitous—planned, and she wanted nothing to do with it.
“...intolerable,” Mandrake was saying as Lauren walked up.
Her first thought was that the comment had something to do with her sister, but then Ankari said, “It’s not that noticeable.”
“It’s very noticeable. My entire ship smells like chocolate chip cookies. Every day.”
Ah, yes. Lauren had occasionally noticed the scent of baked goods since the new cook had been brought on board. As far as she’d heard, the mercenaries did not mind, much preferring home-cooked meals t
o prepackaged ration bars.
Ankari grinned and inhaled deeply. “It smells wonderful. If you’re bothered, then it can only be because your Grenavinian senses are overly attuned.”
Tick stirred behind Lauren, and she thought of his concerns that he might be developing new mental talents. She found the notion fascinating, despite her previous disinterest and disbelief in extrasensory perception, though numerous tests would have to be performed before she accepted that her subjects might be experiencing enhanced paranormal cognition.
The door slid open, and Mandrake’s second-in-command entered. Commander Garland, that was his name. Commander Borage, the engineering chief, and Commander Thatcher, the highest-ranking pilot, followed him into the room. Lauren was surprised the captain was bringing in all of his department heads for this meeting, a meeting to discuss what could only be a foolish mission. She wondered who her sister had slept with this time to acquire funding. It would take a great deal of money to hire an entire mercenary outfit.
Sergeants Hazel and Striker walked in, the latter giving Lauren an obnoxious wink, though his gaze was soon riveted to Hailey, who still wore her tight-fitting clothing. Thanks to his distracted stare, he caught his hip on the corner of the table. Hazel rolled her eyes and sat down without comment.
“That’s everyone,” Mandrake told Hailey, then proceeded to introduce his people to her. “Tell us about your mission, and we’ll tell you if it can be done.”
“I’m certain it can, Captain. I’ve heard about your prowess.” Hailey beamed a flirtatious smile at him, ignoring Ankari.
Mandrake looked at Lauren, as if she had been the one to mention his prowess. Hardly.
Lauren sniffed and moved to the table. Tick had already sat down, and she picked a chair next to him. Perhaps she should have avoided him, the way she did Striker, now that he had confessed that he had a sexual interest in her, but he’d accepted her explanation easily enough, and she doubted he would be a problem. She confessed the offer of a massage had been slightly intriguing—her muscles in her neck and shoulders often grew tediously tight and tired when she stood all day, conducting experiments and peering into her scopes. But she would not take him up on it. In her experience, proffers of favors from men always led to them expecting return favors. And she doubted a massage would be all he wanted. She would consider a return massage equitable and fair, but men always wanted more. How they derived so much pleasure from inserting their penises into orifices, she couldn’t imagine.
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