“Oh. Um, hi.”
I admittedly was hoping to get a little more than a bemused expression and a few syllables from Vanessa Theriault once she had triggered open the sliding door of her temporary quarters on board the station. She stood before me barefooted, her petite frame draped in loose-fitting house clothes and her red hair disheveled enough that it appeared I had just awakened her. As she took a sip from the ceramic mug she cradled in two hands, she created an awkward silence that I wanted to fill quickly.
“Hi, Vee,” I offered, hoping I did not sound overly familiar. We had spent some time together following my trip to Jinoteur and our subsequent hairbreadth escape as the planet disintegrated around us, but not enough for me to feel comfortable seeming too buddy-buddy. “Relaxing afternoon?”
“When you drop by without calling first, you kind of get what you get with me.”
“I never intended that as an editorial comment. Sorry about that,” I said. “I just wanted to see how your time off was going. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Vanessa looked up from her mug and smiled a little. “You didn’t. I’ve just not been around people for a while. Do you, um, want to come in?”
Despite what struck me as a halfhearted offer, I accepted and followed her into the living area of her quarters. Aside from a few scattered pieces of clothing and a rust-colored blanket wadded up at one end of a couch, the place appeared no different than when I joined her here on the first night she had occupied it. She had accepted an offer of some time away from her duties as science officer aboard the U.S.S. Sagittarius, but it was not leave time in the true sense of the term as she merely deferred her requisite debriefing and medical exams to facilities on the station rather than on her starship. Given what I knew of her activities on Jinoteur, including her conversations with an actual member of the Shedai race, she certainly had a lot to talk about with her superiors.
Vanessa turned into an area adjacent to the living room that served as a kitchen. She mentioned on that first night how much she appreciated even a brief chance to prepare her own meals rather than subsist on whatever came from the food slots on board Sagittarius, and from the appearance of a small basket of fresh vegetables on the countertop and the open shelves stocked with what appeared to be spices and condiments, she seemed to be making use of the space as she had hoped. At the moment, however, she was stopped along a wall in front of the standard-looking synthesizer. “I’m warming up my coffee. Can I bring you something?”
“Sure, please. A tomato juice would be fine, thanks.”
“Tomato juice? You’re not carrying a flask of something to pour into it, are you?”
“You’re confusing me with the other guy.”
Vanessa smiled a little again as she shuffled through a handful of colored data cards before selecting one to slip into the device’s corresponding slot. “And how is your friend, Mister Quinn?”
“Evidently well. I’ve not had the pleasure of his company of late. I’ve been a wee bit busy.”
“So I gathered,” Vanessa said rather flatly as she emerged from the kitchen carrying our drinks. She took a seat on the couch and set my glass on a low table in front of it. I took that as an invitation to sit down as well. “How are your ribs?”
“Better, thanks. The medic running the bone-knitting laser evidently knew what she was doing. Not a twinge left,” I said, running my hand flat along my torso in some need to illustrate my words. “And how are you? You look well.”
“Despite what you said at the door?”
“I did apologize.”
“You did.” She drew her legs up and under her as she nestled into her corner of the couch, facing me. “I’m sorry I’m not quite myself, Tim. I’m still sorting a lot of things out.”
“I can appreciate that you’re feeling a little detached,” I said as I reached for my juice. “So how did your interviews with Starfleet go?”
She stared again into the mug she cradled in her lap. “You must know that’s something I cannot discuss with you.”
“Oh, of course. I wasn’t meaning to pry.” I took two swallows of the thick, salty liquid and set the glass back on the table, all under her silent gaze. “I wasn’t.”
“I believe you, in a way.”
“In a way,” I repeated. “But in a way that’s not too trusting.”
“Tim, we shared a lot on Jinoteur,” she said, looking into my eyes. “You saved my life. I won’t ever forget that. But I know that I may never be able to talk to you like you might want me to.”
“I’m not sure where this is coming from, Vanessa. I just wanted to see how you were.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because we went through a lot together. Because I like you and want to know more about you. Because we’ve already shared so much.”
“Because you need more information about what happened to us?”
“I don’t know how that would help me sort it all out, maybe ever.”
“I guess I didn’t mean specifically for you.”
I smiled a bit as I got a better idea of her meaning. “Ah, you mean for work.”
“You did write in great detail about what we did the first chance you could.”
“What I did, not we. I held up my end of an agreement with Commodore Reyes and wrote only what I witnessed myself and what I was told on the record.”
“And look where it got him.”
I paused, trying to gauge the defensiveness I felt sure would creep into my voice. “Anything you shared with me has stayed between us.”
“It didn’t feel like that when I read your story.”
“Be fair and read it again.”
“I got enough out of it the first time.” Vanessa set her coffee cup on the table, not having once sipped from it, and ran one hand through her red hair. “I’m sorry, Tim. I do like you. And if the circumstances were different, I might like you a lot.”
“That’s, um, comforting,” I said, “as I sit and wait for the ‘but’ you’re about to say.”
The smile I had hoped to elicit did not surface on her soft face. “I might like you enough to wish that I could share everything with you. But I can’t. And I don’t want to walk around kicking myself in the ass every time I start to.”
“Or every time you slip and do it, anyway,” I said, getting a silent nod in response. “Because I’m too damn charming to resist? That’s it, isn’t it?”
Vanessa let a chuckle loose through her nose. “Something like that. And please go to hell for making me laugh.”
“I get it,” I said as I rose from her couch. “It’s not as if you’re the first woman to shoo me away like this.”
“And go to hell for saying that, too.”
I caught her gaze and I smiled—and most of it was even sincere. “I didn’t say it had stopped stinging to hear.”
“I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m still sorting this out. And I need to do it on my own, at least for a while.”
“It’s fine, really. The last thing I want to be to you is a nuisance.” I crossed to the door. “Should you have something you want to share on the record, then, you’ll think of me?”
“Of course.”
“Or anyone you might know?”
“You’re pushing, Tim.”
“Right.” I moved close enough to the door that it slid open. “So it’s friends, but I reserve the right to check on you now and again.”
“And I reserve the right to change my mind.”
“A function of biology, as I have learned.”
“Go to—”
And as the door slid shut, I muttered to the empty corridor, “Oh, I’m well on my way.”