In the Company of Others (32 page)

Sazaad was older, closer to station average, Malley judged, though he suspected the well-nourished Earthers appeared younger than they were. The scientist arrived, not in pajamas, as the unfortunate Temujin had earlier, but dressed in a tailored jacket and pants that were probably current fashion back in Sol System, dark hair immaculately in place. Obviously, he hadn't taken Gail's summons as overly urgent.
Or his pride required the clothing
, Malley speculated to himself.

No doubt about Earther arrogance here. Sazaad hadn't shut up since arriving, mainly delivering a diatribe about how techs panicked at the least irregularity and he needed his rest. Some of it had been interesting—Malley hadn't realized the cog screen was based on neural-speak technology, with living neurons within the device analyzing the voltages from cells in Aaron's brain. Sazaad's speech included numerous, and quite probably true, protestations of how his machine was beyond anything ever made before. Malley was prepared to be impressed by the technology, if not its creator.

The stationer disobeyed Grant's “suggestion” he stay out of the way and came to stand beside Gail Smith. She shot him a warning look, and he smiled. It didn't make her look happy, but little would, given she was taking the brunt of Sazaad's ire.

“My machine is perfect,” Sazaad was saying, loudly and in a guttural accent new to Malley's ears. “I am incensed you've disturbed me—me!—to answer questions on its reliability, particularly for something as straightforward as this. Your own techs should have assured you there can be no doubt of such results. Bah!”

Give her credit, Gail Smith kept her voice calm and reasoned. “If I didn't need your expertise, Dr. Sazaad, be sure I wouldn't have had you brought down in the middle of the night. I wouldn't be here myself. We have reason to believe the patient may still have higher brain function—”

“The reading is obvious even to an idiot.” Sazaad glanced at the tank and said, dismissively: “Your freak is dead.”

Tall.
They'd meet eye-to-eye if Sazaad bothered to look his way, Malley noticed, coldly and automatically assessing the man as a target. He moved like someone who didn't just keep in shape, but worshiped his body. Probably trained in some exotic martial art, like Grant and his people.

If Malley let himself touch the Earther, it would be once, with a knife in low to the rib cage and up.

Two cold-as-ice fingers rested lightly on his arm. Gail Smith didn't acknowledge him otherwise.
It wasn't to control him
, Malley realized abruptly, seeing how she looked at Grant at the same instant, almost imperceptibly shaking her head. It was a collecting of resources. At some point, she'd added him to her side of the equation.

“Then, Dr. Sazaad, it won't take you long to refute that finding,” Gail told the scientist in a commanding tone that suddenly and completely belied the fact she had to crane her head back to look the other scientist in the eye, “—since I'm the idiot who knows our patient, Mr. Pardell, is alive and your precious machine is grossly in error.”

Sazaad's face suffused to an alarming shade of red. Malley watched, less concerned than Grant seemed to be. The commander really should rely more on Gail's Machiavellian gift with people, he thought, and spend less time preparing to leap in her defense.

“Very well, Professor,” with a bow, no less. Sazaad settled himself onto a stool and laid his long-fingered hands on the control panel of the cog screen with the same air of an artist preparing to perform that Malley had seen Sammie use when decanting his latest batch of beer. He hoped the results would be more remarkable.

Apparently, Sazaad also shared Sammie's ability to tune out observers. Gail turned her back on him after watching for a moment, putting a hand up to cover a yawn.

“I'll stay,” offered Grant. “Any change, I'll call.”

Gail shook her head and pushed some errant hair back behind her ears. “The minute I leave, Sazaad will find some excuse to wander off. Go while you can, Commander. I've got your people and Malley here if I need help. If all goes well, things may be—interesting—in the morning. I'll need you fresh.”

The last came out as an order, whether she'd meant it to or not. Grant, Malley observed, didn't argue or even bother giving him one of those cautionary looks before he nodded and left. He did, Malley noticed, stop to talk briefly, and very quietly, to all four FDs before going out the door.

Malley followed Gail as she stepped up on the platform. Together, they stood looking down at Aaron. He might have been in suspended animation, but for the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“This guy's the best you've got?” Malley questioned very quietly.

Gail snorted. “In his field? Yes, when he's not thinking with his gonads.”

“Pardon?”

She dipped her head so he couldn't see more than the curve of a cheek. It looked pinker than usual. “Let's just say the good doctor is a man who doesn't take interruption particularly well. Or rejection, for that matter.”

So.
While he could appreciate the attraction, Malley's estimation of the neurologist lowered, something he'd thought impossible.
On a project like this, with stakes like this?
Sazaad was six ways a fool if he thought he could annoy Gail Smith with unwelcome advances, and not pay—when she was ready. He could almost feel sorry for the man.

The lady in question ran one hand along the tank rim, as if the movement helped her make up her mind, then looked up.
Yes, both cheeks were pink.
“He mistook which of his qualifications I was interested in for this mission,” she told him. “Why I'm telling you this, Malley, I don't know.” This last was delivered with a slightly annoyed toss of her head.

He knew he had a good smile and used it deliberately, deepening his voice at the same time. “Because of
my
qualifications?”

Malley hadn't expected a flash of dimples—or that the now-warm fingers running along the rim would lightly brush over his own. He found himself trapped in a lingering, too-knowing look from bottomless blue eyes, and felt his breathing quicken involuntarily. “I admit it's—refreshing—to have someone to talk to who doesn't report everything I say to someone else,” Gail said with a sincerity he suddenly wanted to believe.

And dared not.
“Oh, if I had someone to report you to, I would, Earther,” Malley said with deliberate harshness. “Bet on it.”

She didn't look offended. “Circumstances are what they are, Malley,” she told him. “I think, had we met otherwise, we might have been friends,” suddenly deeper dimples, “or rivals. But we are neither of us fools. Unlike some,” this with a seething glare to where Sazaad was now shouting at Benton for no apparent reason. “Excuse me.”

Malley stared after Gail Smith, no longer wondering why rooms felt so much smaller when she left them.

“I LEFT the lab to read a message?” Gail glared at Manuel Reinsez and was ready to turn around and walk off the bridge, but Tobo beckoned her over. She continued glaring at Reinsez as she obeyed. Tobo's value to her was more than old friendship; she knew the measure of the man and depended on his calm, understated competence. Gail, who hated being a passenger at the best of times, had long ago paid Tobo the ultimate compliment of completely ignoring his ship. In return, Tobo did his very capable best to make sure she could.

So the captain's unusual call might have been low on specifics, but it was clear on the urgency. She'd hopefully been equally clear with Sazaad about his responsibilities. At least there should be no confusion about her instructions to the FDs: Sazaad wasn't to leave the lab unless Malley had broken his neck. They'd looked a little askance at the big stationer at that.
Fine. A little respect where it was owed.

She'd owed Malley her attention to his friend, but Tobo had used those key words:
ship's security.
When she told him she had to go, Malley had simply picked up a stool in one hand and walked over to sit behind Sazaad, who'd looked around in shock at this intrusion.

Hopefully, they'd both be there when she'd cleared up Tobo's emergency. Even better, that Malley was right and she'd have a living Pardell to question about his ship.

“Looks like station business,” she began, scanning the top of the message printout Tobo put in her hand. It had been sent to Station Admin, but copied to them. She read further and stopped protesting. Tobo had been right.

“In case you haven't noticed, Dr. Smith, we are still partially attached to the station these terrorists are proposing to damage,” Dr. Reinsez said, wiping his forehead with a cloth. He didn't usually venture on the bridge—or Tobo was usually quicker to seal the door. Obviously, the situation had deteriorated while she was busy in the lab. “Call Commander Grant,” Gail ordered. A nod from the grim-faced FD stationed beside the comm operator.

There were three of Grant's people on the
Seeker
's bridge, at any time. One was his designated Second-in-command—this shift, Tech Specialist Kelly Aleksander. The other two, presently the Miller sibs, Matt and Jana, monitored FD equipment, as well as comm chatter and the vid feeds from the public areas on the ship, including the main lab in the science sphere. The less public areas were watched from another location, an illusion of privacy for the bridge crew. Aleksander stood within easy reach of the control that would disengage or disconnect the science sphere. No doubt all of the FDs had been thoroughly briefed on the procedure.
They could probably
, she reminded herself,
operate the
Seeker
without her crew.

“The commander's on his way up, Dr. Smith.” Gail wasn't surprised. Grant had probably been on alert since she'd left.

Gail nodded absently as she sank into Tobo's command chair, rereading the terse message and trying to make sense out of it. Malley had sounded confident the station was stable—at least until yesterday's troublemakers were back in charge and making their demands. She seriously doubted anyone on the station would threaten their only home, no matter what they wanted.

Which left the Outsiders.

And Rosalind Fournier.
Damn.
Gail had assumed—wrongly, she now judged—that the woman had been at the
Seeker
's air lock to check on Aaron Pardell, one of her own in the hands of Earthers. “Where are these ships?” Gail asked, handing the note back to Tobo.

His almond-shaped eyes crinkled in worry. “They're docked in sequence from us—there's a gap in between the
Seeker
and the first, the
Journeyman II
, but not more than two ships' worth.”

“She was here to scout those ships—we were an excuse so Thromberg wouldn't suspect.”

Reinsez dropped into the first officer's chair. “Who was here?” he demanded anxiously. “We had visitors and no one informed me? That's—”

With an effort, and most likely a frown, Gail focused her attention on Titan U's representative. “What are you doing up so early, Manuel?”

He attempted to look doleful and wound up simply more wrinkled than usual. “Couldn't sleep. Too worried. Too much risk and uncertainty. This isn't how you were supposed to run this mission, Gail. Not in the least—”

“You've been on the comm to Titan, haven't you?” she accused him abruptly, now having no problem whatsoever paying attention to her resident nuisance. She could have asked Aleksander for the confirmation she was bound, by the command chain, to give her, but didn't for good reason. The more autonomy Reinsez thought he had, the more he revealed to her.

At least he didn't bother denying it. “It's my duty to report—

” “It's your duty to report complete and accurate information, Dr. Reinsez. Since you haven't been briefed on last night's events, I'm going to assume you based your report on eavesdropping and guesswork.”

A puffer fish couldn't assume that pompous, offended-dignity look any better. “Events were moving too quickly to leave for your convenience, Dr. Smith. We were facing life-threatening circumstances—”

Gail surged to her feet. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe Malley had infected her with something of his rebellious stationer attitude, but she'd had enough. “You haven't faced a life-threatening circumstance—until now, Dr. Reinsez. I suggest you voluntarily confine yourself to quarters and get the rest you need. I'm willing to keep you informed on a need-to-know basis. Or you can refuse to get out of my face—in which case I will have you escorted off this bridge and kept in isolation. Am I clear?”

“You don't have the authority—” he blustered.

Gail lifted her right hand and bent one finger slightly. Aleksander and another of the FDs came to her side, where they stood at attention, staring impassively at Dr. Reinsez. “Am I clear?” she repeated very softly.

He was clutching the arms of the chair, doubtless leaving sweaty palm prints Tobo's fastidious first officer would dislike intensely. “Titan will—”

“Go,” Gail told him. “One way or the other.”