7

I like games. As part of my programming and training, I was taught hundreds of them. I’ll tell you right now, I have no use for Duck Duck Goose; I got no legs, which means I get killed every time. I’ll stick with the cerebral games, thanks.

Not only do I enjoy poker, but I love the way poker’s colorful language works its way into human relationships. Playing something “close to the chest,” or “vest,” comes from the way poker players hold their cards close so that no one else can see them. Well, it’s the same with budding relationships: neither side seems to want to reveal too much to the other.

Plus you seem to always try to “keep a poker face”; you keep important information in reserve, which means you have “an ace up your sleeve”; and you never want to “tip your hand.” I’m telling you, poker players and budding romances have an uncanny amount in common.

Triana and Bon have been playing a kind of poker game for months … and I still don’t think they are ready to “lay their cards on the table.”

*   *   *

It was late, the ship’s lights had dimmed for the night, and the Dining Hall was almost empty. Triana sat in her customary spot near the back, facing the door, and picked her way through a plate of mixed vegetables. She had not eaten since breakfast, and yet found that she was forcing herself to take in the nourishment. In the four hours since their encounter with the vultures, she had been unwilling to break away from the Control Room, although no new information was forthcoming.

They had indeed picked up some uninvited guests; seven entities that they described as space vultures had apparently latched onto Galahad. A report from crew members indicated that one of the vultures was firmly attached to the outside of Dome 1 like a leech. Its dark color would normally have camouflaged it against the black background of space, but following Triana’s warning message many of the farmworkers had been peering upward through the domes. Several gasped when a dark shape blotted out a small section of stars.

The other six could not be seen, but Roc assured Triana that they were there. He was busy programming many of the ship’s external cameras to begin a sweeping scan to locate the remaining vultures.

Triana poked at a piece of carrot before opting for a hunk of green pepper. One of the last groups of crew members in the room began to clear their table and make for the door, which opened and admitted Bon. He quickly picked up a tray and filled it with fruit and vegetables, an energy block, and a cup of water, before turning and making eye contact with Triana.

She watched him hesitate, and knew what thoughts were tumbling through his mind. He would ordinarily have chosen to sit by himself, but the absence of other people in the Dining Hall would have made it rude—even by Bon’s standards—to ignore her completely. With what appeared to be a resigned sigh, he carried his tray to her table.

“I can’t remember the last time I ran into you here,” Triana said.

“Then you must not usually come this late,” he said, pulling out the chair across from her and sitting down. “I always wait until things have cleared out.”

“Surprise, surprise,” she said with a smirk. “You? Avoiding people?”

He fixed her with his blue eyes. “I work late. This is more convenient.”

“Uh-huh.” She picked up a wedge of cucumber and took a bite, then held up the remnant. “In case I haven’t told you in a while, this is all delicious. You do know your stuff, I’ll give you that.”

He didn’t respond, his usual style in dealing with compliments. Instead he concentrated on quickly eating. Triana waited a moment before changing the subject.

“Did you happen to see the blob hanging outside Dome 1?”

Bon nodded. “Not much to see. A black triangle.” He took a bite from his energy bar. “What are your plans now?”

She shrugged. “It’s one of the things we’ll talk about in the Council meeting tomorrow. As of right now they don’t seem to be doing anything. Of course, we don’t know that for certain.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Bon spoke up. “I suppose we could ask our friends about it.”

Triana had been lifting a glass of juice to her lips. She stopped and stared at him. “You mean the Cassini.”

He nodded.

She set the glass back on the table, took the napkin from her lap, and wiped her mouth. All of this allowed her to process the thoughts that were tumbling through her head.

“I guess this is as good a time as any to talk about this,” she said. “I have some thoughts about your connection with the Cassini, and I’d like for you to hear me out.”

She took his lack of response as permission to continue.

“I’ll just come right out and say it: I’m concerned about your recent … fondness, I guess, for making that connection.”

His eyes never left his tray. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you seem much too eager to link up with them, especially considering the pain that it causes. The obvious comparison would be the drug addict who needs his fix.” She moved her tray to one side, clasped her hands together, and leaned forward. “I know you, and I know you’ll brush that off, but think about it. The link is agonizing for you, and yet you are beginning to crave it. Talk to me; what is happening during this connection that has you so … addicted?”

He looked up at her. “You didn’t have these concerns when I was getting the information we needed to escape the Kuiper Belt.”

“Yes, I did. I shouldn’t have waited this long to talk about it with you.”

He set down his half-eaten bar. “The pain isn’t nearly as bad as it was in the beginning.”

“You mean you’re building up a tolerance.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

“So it won’t be long until you feel nothing at all? Just a quick high, with a side of orange eyes?”

He grunted. “Listen, this conversation is ridiculous. I’m not a Cassini addict.”

Triana looked back and forth between his eyes. “You’re avoiding my question. What happens to you during the connection? There’s obviously something that attracts you.”

Bon sat back and pulled a strand of his long dark hair out of his face. “I didn’t ask for this responsibility, remember? In fact, I seem to recall a time when you begged me to make contact with them. Why are you pestering me?”

“Because I—” She broke off at the sound of her own voice, surprised at how loud it had burst from her. The handful of crew members on the other side of the room looked around, then returned to their own discussion. Triana felt a flush creep into her face, embarrassed at her sudden lack of control. Bon appeared to study her.

“You mentioned responsibility,” she said in a calmer voice. “Well, don’t forget that I have a few myself, including the well-being of the crew. That includes you. If I have concerns over your mental connection with an alien force, it’s my duty to discuss those with you, and if I feel it’s necessary, make any command decision that I believe is required.”

A sneer spread across Bon’s face. “I see you’re able to recite the manual.”

Triana choked off the impulse to lash back at him. She felt anger rising in her, reminiscent of the emotions he had brought out of her for so long, emotions that had lain dormant recently. For months she had battled confused thoughts about Bon, drifting back and forth between anger, frustration, and …

And what? Could she even put a name to all of the emotions he triggered? If he irritated her so much, why did she sometimes find herself thinking about that one moment, sealed in her memory, when they had kissed? Why during Council meetings did she keep her gaze on him longer than normal? Why did his new association with Alexa cause an unfamiliar ache?

She let his words settle a moment, then pushed back her chair and stood. Gathering her tray and her composure, she said, “We’re essentially out of the Kuiper Belt. If we mutually agree that another connection is necessary for the safety of the ship, it will happen. If not, it won’t. Any questions?”

He looked up at her, his eyes cold, and slowly shook his head.

“Good,” she said. “See you at the meeting.”

*   *   *

The images on the Rec Room wall had been dialed in by a crew member from South America. The montage included scenes from the Amazon, complete with the subtle soundtrack of jungle life, followed by the sweeping majesty of the Andes. That image would dissolve into a video clip of a crowded beach in Rio, then shift to the wonder of Machu Picchu. The backdrop was different each evening, depending upon whose turn came up in rotation.

Channy barely noticed. Of the thirteen people who had attended Game Night, all but three had said good night and trundled off to bed. Besides Channy, that left Ariel Morgan and Taresh. Under normal circumstances, Channy would have enjoyed having Ariel to chat with; the spark plug from Australia was always good for a laugh because of her sarcastic wit. But tonight Channy wanted more than anything to spend a few minutes alone with Taresh. The fact that he had also stayed gave her hope that he felt the same way.

Or, more likely, he wanted to respond to her email. Channy was desperate to hear his reaction. Or was she? He had not sent a reply; did that mean he was angry about it? Was he embarrassed by it?

Was it possible that he loved it, and couldn’t wait to tell her?

The answer would have to wait, because Ariel seemed to be in no mood to leave the Rec Room. She perched on the end of a table and dangled her feet over the side, a wide grin covering her face.

“I have a great idea,” she said. “Airboarding.”

Channy lowered her chin and raised her eyes. “What? Now?”

“Of course! We’re obviously the diehards in this party group. If the others want to go to bed, fine. But we should go make a few turns while the adrenaline is still pumping.”

“Uh, my adrenaline has just about sputtered,” Channy said, looking at Taresh for some backup.

He was sitting against the wall, tipped back on his chair’s rear legs. A look of alarm streaked across his face.

“Uh…” He looked between Channy and Ariel, not sure which of the two required his answer. “I don’t know, I’m a little tired … I guess.”

“Oh, come on,” Ariel said, swatting at one of his legs. “What’s thirty minutes? It’ll be fun.”

“I’ve only done it twice,” Channy said. “And I’ve been up since five this morning, you know, in the gym. I think I’d like to be completely rested when I—”

“Of all people,” Ariel said with a comic scowl. “I would have thought you’d be with me on this.” She glanced back at Taresh. “And your excuse? You weren’t in the gym at five, were you?”

Taresh offered a faint smile. “If I said that I was, would I still have to go Airboarding?”

Channy could barely suppress the grin that forced itself onto her face. She studied Taresh, suddenly aware of a glint in his rich brown eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. The look he leveled at Ariel was at once both challenging and good-spirited, and when he broke that link to fix his gaze upon Channy, she felt a catch in her breath. His smile broadened and seemed to imply that the two of them were somehow conspirators, partners in a private game.

Now, more than ever, she longed to be alone with him; if that meant being obvious to others, it was worth the attention and ribbing.

“Ariel,” she said, “you should go ahead without us. I think I just want to relax here for a few minutes. Besides, there’s something I’d like to talk to Taresh about, anyway.”

The girl from Australia sat silently for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, I see.” She stood up and pushed back her chair. “If you wanted to be alone, you should have just said so.” As she strolled toward the door she added, “You kids be good.”

The door closed behind her, and Taresh eyed Channy. “I hope she doesn’t think we’re rude. I’m just really not in the mood for boarding this late.”

“I don’t think she thinks that,” Channy said. She lowered her eyes and her voice grew soft. “Of course, she only has to mention this once or twice and people might start talking about us.”

Taresh remained motionless, his chair still propped against the wall. His face was impassive. “I don’t know what they would have to say. We haven’t done anything. You simply said that you wanted to talk with me about something, right?”

“Right. But you know how people are.”

A touch of playfulness coated his voice. “Well, I know how you are.”

She grinned, and her gaze darted up to briefly meet his before dropping again. She felt her pulse increase and a flush dance across her face. She considered and then rejected several possible replies to his comment; she didn’t necessarily like the fact that he might think of her as a gossip, but at the same time she enjoyed the attention he was paying to her. How would it look if she corrected him, especially when they both knew that what he’d said was true?

Then, in a heartbeat, her giddiness turned to alarm when he said, “So, you wanted to talk with me alone. Is it about your email?”

His manner had not changed, the tone of his voice was steady, and he still appeared relaxed as he leaned back in his chair. Channy wished that she was able to project the same image of ease, and yet at the moment every signal she gave off was dripping with tension. She knew that every instant she waited to respond to his question only added to the awkwardness of the situation.

She scrambled for something that would strike a balance between a lighthearted reply and one that would not completely dismiss what she had sent as frivolous. Why, she wondered, hadn’t she hit Delete instead of Send?

As if to soften her distress, Taresh finally brought his chair back down to all four legs, then leaned forward with his hands resting on his knees. He gave her a sympathetic look.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I feel like you’re someone special, too.”

Channy felt a rush of air escape from her chest, and only then realized that she had been holding her breath. “Really?” was all that she could manage to say.

Taresh nodded. “I do. All of your responsibilities, and yet you keep everything so … I don’t know, so loose. You’re always laughing, always having fun. It makes it fun to be around you. So, yeah, I think you’re someone special.”

“Oh,” Channy said. She quickly tried to digest what he was saying. It certainly was not what she had in mind when it came to being “special.” Was he being coy? Was he guarding his feelings? Did he really only think of her as special in that way, or did he harbor other feelings as well? She couldn’t read him well enough to know.

It dawned on her that since he had broached the subject, she had managed to say all of two words: Really and Oh.

“Well,” she said, attempting to sound as relaxed as possible, “that’s very sweet of you to say. I try to have fun, you know? Everyone’s under a lot of stress, and I think it’s important to have a release, more than just a workout in the gym, right? I know we all have different ways of blowing off steam, and for some people it’s running on the treadmill, and for others it’s doing something completely different, like reading, or just sitting up in the domes watching the stars, kind of like meditating, I guess. I like to laugh, and so…”

With a start she realized that she had gone from saying nothing at all to babbling uncontrollably. Taresh was staring at her, his eyes wide, trying to take in everything that she was saying. He nodded politely.

Channy couldn’t recall ever feeling so clumsy. Her years of training in gymnastics, her grace and balance in dance class, her natural charm in front of large groups … all of it had deserted her. She twisted her hands together.

And yet, from somewhere deep inside, she at last tapped into a reservoir of courage. Swallowing hard, she reached across and laid a hand on his knee. “Okay, so I’m not very good at this, all right?”

Taresh remained silent, either unsure of her direction, or unable to think of a way to make it easier for her.

“I know I talk a big game when it comes to romance on this ship,” she said, chuckling. “I know that I have developed a reputation as a bit of a Cupid character, or something like that. And I know that I tend to stick my nose into other people’s business on a regular basis.

“But I think you’re finding out firsthand that I’m really not all that good at this kind of stuff. I’m sorry if my email made you … uncomfortable.” Taresh began to shake his head, but she kept going. “I’m not trying to put you on the spot, or anything like that. I just thought it was important that I share those thoughts with you, that’s all.”

She paused, then slowly pulled her hand off his knee. “I don’t expect you to respond, and I certainly don’t expect you to automatically feel the way I do. I … I just wanted you to know that, even though we don’t know each other all that well, that I think you’re pretty special. That’s all. And that maybe … well, maybe we could spend some time getting to know each other.”

By the end her voice had dropped, and was barely above a whisper. She had broken eye contact, and now stared at the floor between them.

Silent seconds passed before Taresh reached out and slowly rubbed the back of her hand, a gesture that Channy couldn’t decipher. When he spoke, his voice was soft and gentle.

“I didn’t mean to dismiss anything you said in your email, Channy. I appreciate everything you wrote to me, and everything you’ve said tonight, too. I guess I just don’t know exactly what to say. I mean…” He paused. “I do think you’re a special person, and I really do enjoy the time we spend together. Any other feelings I might have…”

She kept her gaze on the floor, until he eventually finished his sentence.

“I just have to think about everything, that’s all. There are things in my life that are … complicated. It doesn’t mean that I’m not attracted to you, or that I don’t like being with you. It’s just complicated, that’s all.”

“I understand,” she said.

He smiled, and used his index finger to raise her face to meet his. “No,” he said, “you couldn’t understand, actually. But hopefully I’ll be able to explain it to you soon. In the meantime, can we do what you requested, and just get to know each other a little better?”

She felt tears begin to collect in her eyes, and willed them away. “Yes, of course,” she said. “I think that would be perfect.”