In the Company of Others (45 page)

“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.

Lunch had been a very bad idea.

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.

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 . . .

“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 reliable 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.

“Here you go.” Handing things to the 'sider made Gail acutely aware of the placement of her own hands and his. People so rarely avoided physical contact to this extreme. Pardell seemed to do it unconsciously, but Gail judged it a very conscious act indeed, well practiced and utterly necessary.

One of the ubiquitous stools was beside his tablelike bed. She sat, then bent and twisted her head to see what was presently on the vid screen. It was a view panning low over wheat fields and forests, a type of travelogue for wide-open spaces. “This doesn't bother you?” she asked, absently biting the end from the tube and beginning to suck the juice from inside it.

Pardell chuckled. “I grew up without the boundary of an atmosphere. This just looks—cozy. And beautiful. I can't get enough of the colors. Makes me want to be there, to see if it's real.”

“Interesting from a 'sider,” Gail said curiously. “I didn't think you would want to visit a ball of dirt.”

“You've been talking to Rosalind, I take it.”

Gail could see Pardell's face quite well now. He looked relaxed, so she went on. “She doesn't appear in favor of colonizing planets.”

“True. Tell me, Gail. Have you ever met anyone whose ideas became locked down at one point in their lives?” he asked.

She grinned, thinking of Reinsez. “I've one on board right now.”

“Then you know what I mean. Rosalind and her disciples keep waiting for their ship to dock and whisk them to deep space. No, she wouldn't speak kindly of planet life. But I was raised by Aaron Raner—he loved Earth. He'd show me images . . . tell me stories about his favorite places. He planned to retire to a cottage on Lake St. Joseph, in Canada. Last I heard, it was still in his family. A great-nephew owns it. If the Quill hadn't come, that is.” His mouth turned down at the ends.

“If the Quill hadn't come,” Gail offered impulsively, “you wouldn't have had him for your father. He seems to have been a good one.” Pardell went silent at this. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“No. You're right. I've had a good life, overall.” His voice softened. “When I watched the tape of my father, Jer Pardell, I admired his courage . . . felt sorry for him. But it wasn't grief. It was just such a relief to know—” he stopped.

“To know you were undeniably human, born the way humans are born?” Gail finished for him.

“Exactly. You've no idea the things I'd imagined over the years.” Pardell paused and managed to laugh. “Maybe you do, if you think like I do at times.”

She smiled, then yawned in the middle of it.

“Speaking of sleep, Gail, why don't you get some?” Pardell suggested. “I'm fine. I'll read a bit.”

Gail shook her head. “I'm not tired.” But she stretched and found a more comfortable position, leaning one arm and shoulder along the edge of Pardell's bed. “I'm sure Malley would insist I stay and keep you company, as you asked.”

“This isn't Malley's shift,” he retorted. She thought he smiled. “Besides, he's hardly likely to approve of us spending time together—he'd be sure you were going to stick pins in me when I wasn't looking. You aren't, are you?”

“Not until tomorrow,” Gail chuckled, then let out a long, slow breath and laid her cheek on her arm. “Aaron, how is Malley doing? Besides his unflattering opinion of me.”

“He doesn't trust you,” the 'sider corrected. “Otherwise, I think he rather likes you.”

Gail rested her head a little more on her arm. Amazing how comfortable a stool could become after a while. “The feeling's mutual,” she admitted candidly, finding herself drifting free of her usual protective bubble of strategy and hoarded secrets.
Being with Pardell was like that
, she thought in the unguarded moment. He was always himself, open, kind, and trusting.
She wanted to be those things—he reminded her how.
“I trust your giant,” she told Pardell. “I trust him to look out for you first and damn anything I want. I respect that.”