In the Company of Others

by Julie E. Czerneda

  “My aunt shot a man for hiding a day’s ration in his pants,” Malley claimed, straightfaced. “You can imagine how she found it.”

  Pardell shot a quelling look at his friend. “These days, it’s the thought that counts.”

  “I’m glad of that, Mr. Pardell,” Gail replied demurely, “considering I’ve no intention of searching Malley’s pants.”

  They both looked stunned, then burst out laughing—Malley loud enough to attract attention from most of the lounge. Gail shrugged mentally. There were worse ways for the staff to notice her. “Thank you for explaining the ceremony, gentlemen,” she said, when they’d calmed to the point of wiping their eyes. “And for including me in it.”

  “It means more than the sharing of resources, Dr. Smith,” Pardell told her, his expression turning serious again. “After the terrible battles and riots on the station, people needed a way to return to normal, to think about survival instead of grudges and revenge. Thromberg wouldn’t be here, otherwise. The Rule is that adversaries, old and new, must come together at the table, show all they have, share all they have. As we’ve done.”

  “Making the best of what remains,” Gail said, thinking back to that night and Pardell’s words with new understanding. “No blame; no apologies. It could stop a lot of needless conflict if more people ascribed to that philosophy, Mr. Pardell.”

  “Aaron.”

  “Aaron. I hope, like Malley, you’ll start calling me Gail.”

  The stationer almost choked on a pierogi.

  Pardell nodded easily. “Thank you.”

  From that moment, Pardell, and to some extent Malley, set themselves up as her hosts, complete with an entertaining series of stories which were about as believable as anything Tobo might come out with after a few brandies. If Gail hadn’t known she was on her, own ship, she’d have thought they’d taken her into their own homes on the station. She wasn’t sure exactly how they managed it—perhaps because the lounge was a strange setting to her as well—but the fact remained she’d quite literally lost any control of the situation or conversation from the moment she’d sat down.

  Something, Gail told herself, still waiting for the reason they’d sought her company, something Pardell could well have planned.

  That something was still unclear after they’d finished eating. Gail didn’t need to look at her chrono to know she was overdue to be anywhere but sitting here, no matter how diverting, if unpredictable, her companions. It would be nice, she thought rather grimly, to gain something other than food from all this, if only information. “What do you think of the dining lounge, Aaron?” Gail asked, running her fingers down the stem of her glass. “I imagine it feels something like Thromberg—so many people together.”

  “This place?” Malley looked amused. “It’s almost deserted.”

  Pardell had taken her question more seriously and turned in his chair as though to examine the entire room. He stayed like that for a moment. A very long moment. Gail was about to ask what fascinated him so, when Malley leaned back in his chair with a creaking sound and shook his head. “You shouldn’t have set him off, Gail. Trust me.”

  “Set him off?” Gail looked at Pardell, whose head remained turned away from them, as though he could see something beyond the near bulkhead. He wasn’t staring at anyone in particular—there wasn’t an occupied table in that direction—but the ’sider seemed to be completely focused. Gail thought he was unaware of being talked about. “What’s the matter with him?” she demanded in a whisper, trying not to alarm the nearby FDs.

  Malley put his large hand over hers on the table, effectively capturing it unless she pulled it free with force. “Nothing to worry about,” he said, leaning close and speaking just as quietly. “Aaron gets spacey at times. Tunes out the universe. He calls it thinking. I couldn’t tell you if it is or isn’t—he doesn’t talk about what he thinks, that’s for sure.”

  “How long does it last?”

  “Never know,” Malley replied with a slow smile, his fingers wrapping warmly around hers. “But look at it this way, Gail. We don’t get much time alone. ...”

  Gail didn’t bother fighting for her hand or smiling. “Do you want me to clear the room, Malley? Or is it enough to have everyone here see how helpless he is at the moment?”

  “I’m only being friendly, Gail.” Malley’s lips twisted wryly and he released her fingers. “Hey, Aaron,” he said, at his usually forthright volume. “You in there?”

  Pardell shuddered and turned, as though Malley’s voice had given him the ability to move again. When Gail saw his face, his eyes were at first dilated and startled, then returned to normal. At the same time, the high bones of his cheeks colored, as though the ’sider realized what had happened and was now thoroughly embarrassed.

  Another difference his friends ignore for him, Gail concluded, feeling a mixture of curiosity and triumph. It wasn’t necessarily a favor. She dropped her eyes to her glass and kept her voice casual. “What did you see, Aaron?”

  “See?” The word faint, as though Pardell didn’t believe the question. Or that she’d asked it.

  She lifted her eyes to hold his gaze. “You saw something, didn’t you?” Gail said, aware Malley was bristling beside her. “My question to you about the lounge—it made you see more than this room. What was it?”

  “Leave him alone,” Malley warned. Pardell raised his gloved hand to stop anything further.

  “No, it’s all right,” the ’sider said, his expression flashing between puzzlement and something closer to relief “Seeing. Yes. That’s what it’s like. How did you know?”

  “I—” Fair was fair. Gail pressed her lips together then admitted: “I didn’t know. I guessed. I—” She took a hasty swallow before going on, afraid she was about to blush herself. “I lose myself sometimes . . . when ideas come at me faster than I can absorb them. It’s like seeing the same, everyday things, but they appear strange—reconnected differently than before. While I’m like that, the world unfortunately tends to keep going without me, especially in meetings.”

  She might have grown antennae, to go by Pardell’s expression. Then it softened into something closer to awe. “That’s it. Exactly it. But I can’t stop it,” he told her in a low, intense voice, eyes sliding to Malley and back to her again. “I can’t keep my mind on what’s real sometimes. It’s—it can be inconvenient.”

  Inconvenient? Gail suspected that wasn’t the word Pardell wanted to use, but a lifetime spent trying to fit in with others couldn’t have made it easy for him to confess either the depths of his differences or his feelings about them. “That’s unusual,” she told him honestly, “but not unheard of. We have a couple of cog function researchers on the Seeker. If you like, I can have them look into how you could gain more control.”

  “Aaron isn’t nuts.”

  “I didn’t say he was, Malley,” Gail countered. “Everyone needs training to get the most from their abilities. Don’t you agree?”

  Gail wondered if it was the startling idea that his affliction might be an ability that drained the color from Pardell’s face. He swallowed, his throat working. There was a nakedness to his face, a depth of hope surely beyond anything she’d implied. Gail had a moment’s doubt—what did he think she’d promised to do for him?

  Before they could pursue it, the steward reappeared to collect their trays. Hers was almost full, but Gail waved it away. It didn’t matter what Pardell thought—what mattered was getting him back into the lab this afternoon, fit and ready for the next trials. Definitely some new possibilities to consider—

  “That’s all you’re eating?” The sneer from Malley interrupted her thoughts. No more polite host—the stationer was back in full attack mode. Gail guessed he hadn’t liked either her admission, or Pardell’s reaction to it. Sure enough, he didn’t stop there. “Oh. I forgot. You’re probably riding another boost by now.”

  Gail folded her napkin and put it beside her bowl. Coming here, allowing herself to interact on a social lev
el with them? A mistake. She stood. “I’ll see you gentlemen back at the lab,” she said tightly.

  Pardell stood as well. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “As you wish.”

  She didn’t see whatever signal Pardell used, but Malley remained seated, glowering at them both, but silent at last.

  They walked out side by side, Pardell keeping his distance from her and those they passed. Three FDs followed, her two and one for Pardell. Gail didn’t bother arguing that one wasn’t enough to leave watching the big man with the temper.

  “I want to apologize for Malley,” Pardell said quietly as they reached the relative privacy of the corridor.

  “You’d need a few days,” Gail snapped. She suited the pace to her own impatience. The ’sider, whose legs weren’t much longer than hers, kept up easily, but she slowed after a minute, contrite. She was supposed to be looking after his health, not running him down before the next tests. “I’ve grown used to your friend,” she admitted reluctantly, “Don’t let it trouble you.”

  “But it troubled you—what he said about the boost.”

  Pardell tended to a bit too much honesty for comfort, Gail realized, then shrugged and matched it with her own. “I used it, once, the day following the riot. A lot was going on that I couldn’t delegate. My own people didn’t know, but Malley picked up on it and, well, it was embarrassing at the time. I’m not in the habit, no matter what he said back there.”

  “Malley used to be. That’s how he recognized it in you.”

  Gail found her feet stopping at that. She faced Pardell. “Malley? An addict?”

  “Years ago.” The ’sider raised hands in a helpless gesture. “When he lost his mother, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—live with me on the ’Mate. He had the choice of moving in with another family, but he wanted to keep his quarters. Personal space costs dibs. He was just a kid—not strong enough to earn much, not back then. So he took extra shifts as often as he could get them. The supervisor,” the word came out of Pardell’s expressive mouth as though having a foul taste, “gave Malley boost to keep him going. He was hooked in a week . . . eventually, he couldn’t move without a shot.”

  Gail tried and failed to imagine the giant stationer weak and drug-ridden. But, looking up at Pardell’s lean, passionate face, she thought she knew what had happened. “You cleaned him up,” she said.

  It was Pardell’s turn to shrug. “I helped. Malley’s too smart to let something like boost own him for long. He’s fine now—but touchy on the subject. He wouldn’t want you to know, but, after what he said, I thought you should. He’s a good person, Gail. For all his noise and protest to the contrary.”

  Gail raised a brow at this, but nodded graciously. She looked back at the FDs, standing at attention several paces behind them, and lowered her voice. “While we’re exchanging confidences, what had you wanted to talk to me about? I know that’s why you asked me to lunch.”

  The warmth of his smile surprised her. “Nothing, Gail. I thought it was time we shared rations, that’s all. Make a fresh start. Get to know one another.”

  “Get to know one another?” she echoed, wondering if she was astonished or appalled. “My job is to take you apart, Aaron, and find out everything possible about you—hopefully without causing you harm and perhaps helping you, if I can. But the project doesn’t require us to be friends. Frankly, it may be easier on both of us if we’re not.”

  Pardell nodded. “I understand what you have to do to me, Gail. That’s my job on the Seeker.” His lips pressed together for an instant, as if to rein in some emotion. “What you did the other night—that wasn’t part of your project. I want to thank you for giving me my past.” He appeared suddenly almost shy, then smiled down at her in a way he hadn’t before. “I won’t tell Malley—but I believe you’re a good person, too, Gail, no matter what face you need to show for your work. I’d be pleased to call you a friend.” With that, he bowed and went back to the dining lounge, his FD shadow following behind.

  Gail stared after Pardell, unable to think of anything for a moment except that her test subject had a remarkably charming smile.

  And wanted to be friends.

  Lunch had been a very bad idea.

  Chapter 50

  FRIENDSHIP. Gail did her rounds of the night-dimmed lab, pondering the word with all its ramifications. She had friends, here and on Earth. She wasn’t isolated by her position and ambition.

  That wasn’t the point, she admitted to herself, nodding to the bright-eyed techs at those workstations still operating. Anything nonessential or unrelated to the Quill was to be dismantled and stored—orders straight from Titan U. But there was room in this new configuration of the lab space for some interesting nonessentials. Besides, Gail knew it would take longer to persuade the physicists to pack up than it would to let their work run its course.

  The point, Gail knew, was that until recently she had been sure of herself and her work. She’d made decisions, some difficult, without hesitation or doubt—when they dealt with numbers on a screen, or genetic samples. But now the subject of her investigation was lying on a slablike bed at the far side of the room, a vid player mounted so that he could see something other than ceiling.

  Now she had to deal with a charming smile, an intriguing personality, and worst of all, someone who wanted to be friends.

  She couldn’t sleep anymore.

  It took longer to walk around the lab tonight. They’d reconfigured the space to accommodate the rising pace of investigation, enlarging it threefold, adding a second floor over half that, not incidentally, provided a ceiling from which to suspend new equipment. Malley’d been fascinated, Gail remembered, smiling to herself.

  Pardell had been too busy in his own corner of the lab to see much of the changes, but there’d been no breakthroughs yet. In spite of all the measurements she’d made over the last three days, she was no closer to understanding what Pardell experienced when someone touched him, beyond discomfort. There was something more. There had to be.

  Gail watched Pardell when he didn’t know she was there; she shamelessly reviewed lab vids made when she wasn’t—shamelessly, because she was honest enough with herself to admit there was no scientific justification for invading what little privacy they’d left him. She couldn’t seem to help it. It was as if the more she saw of Pardell, the more she heard his voice, saw him move, the more fascinated she became.

  The ’sider might not have Malley’s breezy friendliness, but he had something else, less definable. For safety’s sake, they’d had to brief everyone on the Seeker about Pardell’s condition, giving him a reputation that should have made people at least cautious of being near him.

  But it hadn’t turned out that way. Pardell did most of the work of avoiding contact himself. He moved among the mainly taller, heavier-built Earthers with an easy, unobtrusive grace, always keeping his distance, but with a quiet attentiveness that seemed to put others at ease. His face changed expression like mercury, often thoughtful, but at times amazed, delighted, and usually intensely curious.

  Intensely sad. She’d caught that twice, when he hadn’t known he could be seen.

  Everyone liked Malley. Well, Sazaad couldn’t stand being in the same room, so they’d moved his workstation to as remote a location as possible, but that only added to the stationer’s popularity within the rest of the science sphere. Aisha seemed particularly smitten, taking Malley under her wing to help with the now-named anti-Quill suits.

  But everyone cared about Pardell. That was the difference, Gail decided. It wasn’t pity or curiosity. There was something about him that grabbed your eye and held it, that made you want to ask if he needed anything, if he was happy . . .

  If he thought about her.

  “Dr. Smith? What do you think?” Gail blinked, realizing she’d heard the woman’s question once already.

  “Sorry, Kai,” she said contritely. “Must have been daydreaming. Why don’t you pull up a new sensor from stores—we aren’t getting reli
able calibration from this one anyway.”

  Kai O’Shay, a tech who’d been with Gail since both arrived at Titan U, grinned broadly. “Daydreaming? Maybe you should get some rest that isn’t standing up, Dr. Smith. I replaced that sensor half an hour ago.”

  “My apologies,” Gail said. “What’s the question, then?”

  “I was asking you about bringing Aaron something to drink when the next readings are complete. There’s nothing from Dr. Lynn on the charts stipulating it.”

  “I’ll look after it. Thanks, Kai.”

  Gail went over to where Pardell was supposedly sleeping, moving as quietly as possible. She stopped tiptoeing when she saw the glints of light reflecting from his open eyes. “Hello, Gail,” he greeted her. “I thought this was ship’s night.”

  “It is,” she nodded, checking the leads to the various probes. “Having trouble falling asleep?”

  Her eyes had adjusted enough to the dimmer light at this side of the lab to see he was smiling. “I’ve been asleep. Sound asleep. Now I’m awake. I’m afraid that’s it for tonight.”

  Gail glanced at the datastream. “Three hours?”

  “Full night for me,” the ’sider asserted. “I don’t need much rest. Can I get up now?”

  “No. You’ll have to stay put until morning, or Dr. M’Daiye will have my head on a platter. She wants a full night of readings.”

  “Then will you stay a while?” he asked. “I’ve been through all the vids they gave me. Twice. I could use some company.”

  Gail’s lips twitched. She didn’t care for being bored either—which was why she hadn’t stayed in her quarters, staring into the dark and trying to sleep. As for why she couldn’t sleep? It had nothing to do with knowing Pardell was trapped here by her orders, strapped to a bed and hooked to machinery. Nothing at all.

  “A short while. Are you thirsty?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  Gail grabbed two drinking tubes from the nearest storage fridge. These looked to be Aisha’s, but she read the labels and made sure the seals were intact. There’d been some interesting additions to the supply after Tecka had left his party supplies chilling in every cold storage in the lab.