11/10/08

“Can he really help us?” Virgil asked Trell when they’d left the room.

“Oh, absolutely,” Trell told him.  “Kinnet’s got the chops where it counts.  It’s just a pity that I have to twist his arm like this whenever I need his unique skillset.”

“Maybe he likes the attention?”

“Huh?” Trell looked at Virgil.  “Who likes attention that involves coercion and threats?”

“You threw a little bit of ego-stroking in there too,” Virgil pointed out.  “But regardless, for some people, attention is attention, regardless of what type it happens to be.”

“So you’re saying he gives me crap because it makes me pay more attention to him?”  Trell smirked.  “So you’re a pyschologist on top of the whole genius engineer thing?”

“I’m just speculating, that’s all,” Virgil shrugged.  “Maybe I sort of relate to it.  I’m pretty used to being ignored.  Especially by women.”

“You don’t strike me as a whiner,” Trell pointed out.

“Well, maybe I just haven’t gotten that desperate?”  Virgil offered a smile.  “Keep talking to me so I don’t get to that point.”

Trell chuckled and shook her head.  “If you were like Kinnet, I’d have probably told you to find someplace else to stay the night.”

“Ouch, that’s cold,” Virgil grinned crookedly.  “So does that mean that you liked me enough to take pity on me?  Or that you don’t dislike me enough to deny me basic charity?”

“Whatever,” Trell rolled her eyes, though there was amusement in the gesture.  “You just keep doing your psychoanalysis thing.  You must be feeling a little better about the situation, if you’re up to all that, though.”

“Well, it keeps my mind off of things not to think too far ahead,” Virgil admitted.  “I’m pretty good at worrying myself into uselessness if I try.”

“Oh cheer up,” Trell gave a half grin.  “Worse case scenario is that you end up stuck on Tarrakon for the rest of your days.  It’s not all bad here.  There are some good things about this place.”

Virgil gave her something between a smirk and a grimace.  “Name some, then.”

“Well,” Trell straightened up a bit.  “If you’re into prostitution or gambling, Tarrakon’s definitely the place to be.  Uh…we actually have decent food and music, if you know where to look.  Bonus points if you know which places have the lowest incidence of poisonings and regular brawls.   Speaking of brawls, if mixing it up rings your bell, well, not only is there a fine selection of scuffles and riots to partake in, you can also go watch, or participate in, The Arena.”

“The Arena?”  Virgil lifted his eyebrows.  “What’s that all about?”

“Come on Virgil,” Trell said.  “It’s a universal concept.  Two men enter a ring, one man leaves it.  In the meantime, people pay to watch and place wagers on the outcome.  Family entertainment at its finest.”

“And this is an…established event here?”

“Every week,” Trell nodded.  “Actually, if you want to scrape up enough to get out of here, a winning streak in the arena can go a long ways towards that.”

“Yeah, I uh, I don’t think I’ll be exploring that option,” Virgil said.  “What about you?  You seem like you know your way around a bit of violence.  Why haven’t you signed up?”

“I know enough about violence to know that it’s best exercised as a final option,” Trell said.  “Besides, it’s always best to leave that sort of thing to the people who really like to fight.  That isn’t me.  Furthermore, the big money is in the open weight division and, let’s face it, that’s no place for a skinny little human girl.”

“Skinny?” Virgil asked.  “You think you’re skinny?”

“What, are you saying I’m fat?”

“No!  Just…not skinny.”

“So…what are you saying exactly?”

“Uh..you know…” Virgil mentally grasped at a vocabulary that was rapidly failing him.  “Healthy.”

“Healthy?  What does that mean?”

Virgil was spared further explanation when the door to Kinnet’s workroom opened and the small man stepped through.

“If I had known that you two were going to be chattering the whole while,” he frowned, “I would have sent you outside.”

“What do you expect us to do?” Trell asked.  “Sit and stare at each other?”

Virgil didn’t say anything, but he wondered just how much Kinnet had heard.  He hoped that his speculation about the man’s motivations had not been made public.

“I don’t care, as long as it was quiet,” Kinett huffed.  “Now, do you want to know what I found out or not?”

“Yes!” Virgil stepped up quickly.  “I mean, please, I really need to know.”

Kinnet gave Virgil a rather satisfied smirk.  “Well, it turns out that the exact time of arrival for your ship was at 11:14 AM, yesterday.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Virgil admitted.  “And it was docking pad forty-nine, right?”

“That is correct,” Kinnet agreed.

“What about departure?” Virgil asked, after the rest of the information was not immediately forthcoming.

“3:22 PM,” Kinnet said simply.

“That would have been while we were still dealing with the cell in the basement of Gorbek’s, right Trell?” Virgil asked her.

“What about Gorbek’s?” Kinnet looked suddenly intrigued.

“Nothing,” Trell told Kinnet.  She looked at Virgil.  “Sounds about right.”

“Is that all that you have?” Virgil asked Kinnet.  “No information about who might have gotten off or on or anything like that?”

“All you asked for were arrival and departure records,” Kinnet’s tone was smug.  “Why should I tell you more?”

“Why the hell shouldn’t you?” Trell cut in.  “Stop playing these games, Kinnet.”

“Hey, you’re keeping information from me,” Kinnet shot back.  “What do you think I am, your lapdog?  You want more from me, you give me something in return.”

“Like what?” Trell looked exasperated.  “You know I don’t do the whole secrets broker deal.”

“Tell me about Gorbek’s,” Kinnet said.  “What’s this about a cell?”

“They’ve got holding cells in the basement,” Virgil said before Trell could respond.  “Apparently, they were looking to take advantage of local sentient purchasing polices while, at the same time, clearing out some of the riff-raff that were suppressed in a recent riot.  Oh yeah, they’ve also got a V-10 combat droid in their service.”

“A V-10?” Kinnet looked at Virgil.  “Do you know what generation?”

“Do you know anything else about the Winking Lady?” Virgil asked.

“I know that some people disembarked and boarded several times,” Kinnet told him.  “I don’t have specifics on who, or how many.  I also know that, at one point, a transporter truck was commissioned to move something out of the cargo holds.”

“Looking less and less like an accidental stop, hmm?  Trell shook her head.  “Anything else, Kinnet?”

“No, that’s it…  Now, tell me more about the V-10.”

“Well,” Trell said, somewhat sympathetically, as they left the metal domed building.  “At least you know a little more now.”

“Yeah, too bad it’s all the wrong answers,” Virgil shook his head.  “How could I be so stupid?”

“You might yet be stupid,” Trell said, “but that remains to be seen.  This doesn’t prove that you’re stupid…it just proves that you’re naive.  Trusting.  You don’t lose bad habits like that except by experience.”

“Wow, such a seasoned voice of experience,” Virgil quirked a smile.  “What are you…eighteen?  Nineteen?”

“Twenty-three, if you must know,” Trell rolled her eyes.  “But it’s a quailty thing, not a quantity thing.  Hell, you probably have decrepit professors who have lived all their lives in the nourishing shadow of academia.  You think they’d last ten minutes out here, despite all their years of experience?”

“Well, no…”  Virgil admitted.  “Of course, they probably would not have ended up here in the first place.”

“Probably because they get paid enough to book tickets on a real spaceliner,” Trell said.  “Anyhow, booking passage on a freighter isn’t too terribly bad an idea.  Just don’t do the ones trading in illegal goods.”

“How do you tell which ones those are?”

“The ones that tell you lies and strand you on hostile alien planets…?” Trell said.  “Those are the bad ones.”

Virgil laughed at that, in spite of himself.  “I will definitely keep that in mind!”

After the immediate mirth had faded, Virgil looked at Trell.  “So…about this long range communicator?  When do we see about using that?”

“Our next stop, actually,” Trell said.  “Right after we obtain something for lunch.”

“NutriNuggets again?”

“Nah, even I get tired of those after a while,” Trell said.  “We’ll get to a little place I know. “

They waited at the shuttle stop and boarded when the shuttle arrive.  Virgil sat by the window and gloomily stared out of it as they headed back to Tarrakon City proper.

The trip back was uneventful.  They exited at the midtown exit.  Virgi looked around.  As they disembarked, Trell started down one of the streets of the city, and waved for Virgil to follow.

“C’mon, pick up your feelt,” she told him, “we wanna beat the lunch crowd.”

Trell took Virgil to an establishment, identified by a dingy sign that read ‘Dalagon’s Cafe.’

“Looks like Dalagon managed to buy an apostrophe for two before they got scarce.”

“Huh?” Trill looked at him as if he were crazy.  “What’s that all about?”

“Inside joke,” Virgil smirked.  He leaned forward and pushed open the door for Trell, holding it for her.  “Ladies first.”

“There you go, sticking out like a sore thumb again,” Trell shook her head, but smiled and walked inside.

Inside it was shabby and dingy, but in a less forbidding way than Gorbek’s had been.  There were a good deal of patrons already there, but it wasn’t so crowded as to be stifling.  There were several circular tables set up on the floor, and stools in front of a large counter.  It was toward the counter that Trell made her way to, and Virgil followed.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” the creature behind the counter rumbled as Trell slid onto a stool.  He looked more or less human, but his body and features were extremely broad…as if stretched fifty percent or so like flesh putty.

“Hey Dokk,” Trell greeted.  “How’s business?”

“Business is business,” Dokk’s voice matched his size.  It was considerably deeper than the lowest bariton that Virgil had ever heard.  “Who’s your friend?  Or is this a business thing?”

The question actually seemed to give Trell a bit of a pause.  “This is Virgil,” she finally said, without really explaining who he was.  “I told him I’d take him someplace where the fare was a little better than NutriNuggets.”

Dokk made a face that indicated disgust and shook his head.  “NutriNuggets,” he mumbled.  “Mud would be tastier, and easier on the digestive tract.  Well, whatever.  Tell me what you want so you can eat and get out.  I’ve got other patrons waiting on those chairs.”

Trell cracked a grin.  “Virgil, you particular about anything?”

“This uh, doesn’t look like the sort of place to be particular in,” Virgil said, eyeing what appeared to be a menu on the wall behind the counter.

“Learns fast,” Dokk remarked.

“Two of the usual, then,” Trell said.  “With the dipping sauce.  And two shots of rockweed juice.”

“Rockweed?” Virgil asked Trell.  “That’s not the stuff I was drinking at Gorbek’s, was it?”

“Well, yes and no,” Trell told him.  “If you were drinking what I assume you were drinking, it was fermented rockweed extract.  What you’re about to have is fresh squeezed and sweetened.  It’s refreshing, and has lots of purported benefits.”

“Benefits?”

“They say it has lots of necessary vitamins.  It’s also supposed to boost libido.”

“Ah.”  Virgil’s eyebrows knit.  “Does it?”

“Dunno,” Trell shrugged.  “Why don’t you drink yours when it comes and let me know?”

“Hey, I’m the closest thing to a scientist here,” Virgil pointed out.  “So you should drink yours and let me know how you feel.”

“And what might be your metrics, Mr. Scientist?”

11/09/08

“Sounds like you fell for a raw deal,” Trell told him.  “You’re the one with the goods up there,” she poked one of his temples.  “They ought to be paying for you to come.”

“Yes, well, they don’t know if I’m the real deal yet, do they?” Virgil countered, though he was having a hard time disagreeing with her.  “I mean, there are a lot of grad students out there in the known universe, and determining just who has something worth hiring for is an expensive process.  The sheer number of talent available means that companies have the luxury of letting them do the legwork.”

“Must be nice to be on the other side of the hiring table, then,” Trell shook her head.  “Think about it, Virgil.  If the market’s glutted, they can lowball you on the salary too.”

“Yeah,” Virgil acknowledged.  “I wasn’t expecting much.  But anything to get out of living in student dorms and grading exams for lazy professors.  You have to start somewhere, right?”

“Even at the bottom, you have options,” Trell said.  “As for me, I’d rather live off of what little I can take, as opposed to accepting whatever crumbs somebody cares to brush off of the table for me.”

“Hm, well, I guess that’s your world and this is mine,” Virgil said.  “We all have to find our own way.”

“That we do.”

The shuttle was about half full by the time the reached the spaceport.  Trell and Virgil departed and started towards the fence-enclosed area from the shuttle stop.  Virgil had been less than impressed when he’d first seen the port, and was not impressed now.  The whole thing just looked minimalist and run down.  Gone were things like flashy banners for the latest products, convenient eateries, coffee bars and excited travellers.  Instead there were dingy vending machines, surly looking mechanics and travellers that would fit right into a typical law enforcement lineup.

“Watch yourself in here,” Trell warned him as they passed through the security gate.  “Half the folks here are probably wanted for something or another.  Almost nobody comes to Tarrakon with honorable intentions.”

“So how did you get here?” Virgil asked.

Trell looked at him.  “Another day and another story,” she shook her head.  “Do you remember the landing platform that your ship was on?”

“Platform forty-nine,” Virgil said.  “I remember distinctly.”  He pointed.  “I’m pretty sure that it is that way.”

“All right, let’s see what we find.”

As the approached Virgil could feel his insides turn to icy rocks and twist in on themselves.  The platform was completely empty, with no ship docked inside of the circular landing area.

“No…” Virgil stood, hands hanging slack at his sides.  “No, this isn’t right.  Where could they be?”

“Well, I do happen to know that you cannot misplace a galactic-travel classes spacecraft,” Trell pointed out, coming up to the side of him.  “If it was here yesterday, as you say, then the only explanation is that they’ve taken off and left.”

“Then why is there no record of it?” Virgil asked, as if Trell were responsible for the bad news that she was pointing out.  “How can nobody know where the ship is, or when they left?”

“Oh, somebody knows, that’s for certain,” Trell said.  “It’s just it appears that, officially, they were never here.”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

“It happens all the time here on Tarrakon,” Trell told him.  “Tell me Virgil…just what were they stopping here for in the first place?”

“They said that they had some maintainence issues to take care of,” Virgil said.  “They told me that they needed me off of the ship for regulations and that…oh God,” he stopped himself.  “I cannot believe how flimsy that sounds.  How could I have fallen for it?  They obviously came here for a reason, didn’t they Trell?  It must have been something shady, and they must have needed me out of the way!”

“Sounds like it to me,” Trell agreed.  “Cheer up, though.  Not the worst that they could have done.  They must have at least partially liked you.”

“How can you say that?” Virgil looked at Trell.

“Well, you’re still alive, right?  I know of plenty of crews that would just as well arrange for a accident involving your body and the main drive capacitators of the ship.  After all, it’s hard to worry about the evidence once you’re reduced to grey ash, right?  Plenty of ways to make an unwanted passenger conveniently disappear.”

“Great,” Virgil planted his hands on his hips and turned away from Trell.  “So I’m an idiot for getting on board this ship, but at least I’m a lucky idiot, because they didn’t kill me in my sleep.”  He heaved a sigh.  “So now what am I supposed to do?”

“Well,” Trell suggested.  “Before we leave here, we ought to at least find out what time the ship left.  After that, well, I did say that I’d try to get you access to a long range comm unit, didn’t I?”

“Oh, right, I had forgotten about that,” Virgil admitted.  “But wait…how are we supposed to find out when the Winking Lady left when there’s no record of them being here?”

“Oh there’s record all right,” Trell corrected.  “Just not an official one.  The trick is finding the person who’d know and convincing them to share with us.”

“Uh….how do we do that?”

“I think I know just the person to speak to,” Trell said with a small quirk of a smile.  “Follow me, let’s see if he’s in.”

Trell brought them to a small, dome-shaped building of dull metal that was tucked away in a rather obscure part of the spaceport.  She approached the door cut into the side and banged loudly upon it.

“Kinnet, open up, it’s Trell!”

There was no reply.  Virgil looked at Trell quizzically.  She looked back at him with a frown and banged again.

“Kinnet!  Open the damn door already! I know you’re in there!”

“So this is a…friend of yours?” Virgil asked cautiously.

“Close to a friend as they come here,” she said.  She hammered on the door a third time.  “Kinnet!  I do not have time for this!”

There was still no answer.  Trell huffed angrily and leaned against the door.

“I guess he’s not in today?” Virgil suggested.

“Oh, he’s in,” Trell insisted.  “He just plays these games.  Always the games with him.  Never cares that I might be in a hurry.”

“So…what do we do now?”

“Oh, we go inside.”  Trell reached into her coat and produced an electronic lockpicking tool.  She knelt in front of the door and, through a combination of mechanical and apparently computational manipulations, she soon succeeded in coaxing the door open.  When it clicked, she pushed it open and looked back at Virgil.  “If he really wanted to keep me out,” she said, slipping the tool away, “he’d upgrade his security system.”

“You have a very interesting approach to this sort of thing,” Virgil remarked.

“Hey, don’t forget whose benefit this is for,” Trell warned.

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Virgil clarified quickly.  “Just observing.”

“Hah, I see.  Well, come on.  Let’s find Kinnet.”

The door opened up into a small entryway that led to a central hallway of sorts that branched off into four different doors.  There was no indication as to where each door might lead.  Trell stood in the hallwall and stood a moment in thought.

“Any idea where he might be?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah…” Trell said, “I have a pretty good idea.”  She stepped forward and open one of the doors to their left.   The room was dark, and she immediately ran her hang along the wall until she found the control for the lights.  She flipped a switch and the room was immediately bathed in white light.

The room was apparently some sort of laboratory of some sort, as there were pieces and components of electronic equipment literally everywhere.  Perched in front of one of the workbenches was a short, skinny humanoid, who sat listening intently to something on a pair of headphones.  He had unkept white hair, but he did not look past his mid thirties in age.  He wore a blue jumpsuit that appeared too big for him.  When the lights came on, he looked up guiltily, saw Trell and made a look of unhappiness.

“What are you doing in here?” he demanded.  His voice matched his body — that is…it was high strung and quavery.  He pointed a finger at Virgil.  “Who is that?”

“Hey, relax Kinnet,” Trell folded her arms and leaned against the doorway.  “I’m just here to collect on a favor owed.”

“I don’t owe you any favors!”  The little man’s face had been fair when they’d arrived, but it was rapidly turning red.  “I didn’t let you in here!  Get out!”

“Oh, no favors?” Trell walked up to Kinnet.  “And who was it who called me a month ago and begged for my help locating that package that had somehow gone astray?  Did you forget that so soon?”

“I thought you were just helping a friend!”  Kinnet looked as if he regretted the words as soon as he spoke them.

“Well friend, here I am,” Trell smirked.  “Give us what we need, and we’ll be on our way.”

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Kinnet protested.  “You know that they don’t like me talking to people.”

“If you’d just stop complaining,” Trell pointed out calmly, “and tell us what we need to know, we’d probably be leaving by now.”

Kinnet snorted in annoyance.  “All right then.   Fine.  Tell me what you want to know.”

“Tell him, Virgil,” Trell indicated him with a toss of her chin.

“Oh…right, yes.”  Virgil cleared his throat.  “Well, yesterday, I arrived here in a D-Class Merchant Freighter, “The Winking Lady”.  I was supposed to be on the ship when it left, but, well, I’m not.  And, when I ask for arrival and departure records, they don’t have any.”

Kinnet slumped.  “So you want me to find a ship that doesn’t exist officially?”

“Don’t play stupid,” Trell said.  “You know how this works.  So they paid to take the ship off the books.  Fine.  The computer might say it wasn’t there, but you know that computers don’t forget easily, and you know how to make it confess.”

“Sooner or later this is going to come back to me,” Kinnet narrowed his eyes.  “They’ll figure out that I’m the one sifting the databanks for information.”

“Come on,” Trell sighed.  “You know I’m not that dumb or careless.  I protect my sources.  Now will you just do it already?  Time is precious here.”

“Why am I doing it for him?” Kinnet protested, pointing to Virgil.  “How can you trust him?”

“I promise, my lips are sealed,” Virgil said.

“Kinnet, just do it,” Trell rubbed her temples.  “Please?”

“Okay,” Kinnet shook his head.  “But both of you get out of this room while I work.  Go sit in the entryway and I’ll tell you when I find something.”

“You heard the man,” Trell said, already heading out.  “Let’s step out and let him work.”

“Uh, thanks,” Virgil said, as he followed Trell out.  If Kinnet heard, he did not respond.  Instead, the little man seemed to be busying himself with something on a computer terminal.

11/08/08

“Oh.  I guess it was lucky for me then, that I was paired up with you,” Virgil said.  “After all, I know that I couldn’t have gotten out of there on my own.”

“We’ll just call it mutually beneficial and leave it at that,” Trell told him.  She finished the last of her food and crumpled the packaging in her fist.  “You need me to hydrate another pack of those for you?”

“No thank you,” Virgil looked into his own packet.  “This should be plenty.  Though, do you have anything to drink?  Even water would be fine, but I’m close to parched.”

“Oh, right, of course.”  Trell walked back to the kitchen area and returned with an aquasac, that she passed to Virgil.  He took it and popped open the end and sucked water from it.

“Ahh, thank you.”  He wiped his lips with his arm.  “Didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”  He took a few more of the nuggets and chewed on them.

“I grabbed a drink while I was heating those up,” Trell explained.  “I’m not used to company, so my abilities as a hostess are extremely lacking.”

“So…have you lived here on Tarrakon your entire life then?” Virgil asked after washing down the food with some more water.

“Oh no!” she laughed.  “No, no, no…I’ve only been here for the past two years.  You might call it a long streak of bad luck.  I’m slowly saving up enough to buy passage on a ship out of here.”

“So…the fare’s pretty steep?” Virgil asked cautiously.  He hoped that he would not have to deal with that, because he was pretty much close to broke.  If his ship had abandoned him, finding passage on another vessel was not going to be an easy endeavor.

“Very much so.”  Trell gave him a grim smile.  Perhaps she could see in his eyes what he was thinking, because she thumped his arm to get his attention.  “Hey, don’t get ahead of yourself, all right?  We’ll just take it one step at a time.  I think the current step for us is sleep.”

“Oh, yes, right.”  Virgil hurried to finish his food and water.  As he did so, Trell got up and walked to the closet.  She opened it and found something that was made of fabric and neatly rolled into a bundle.

“Only have the one mattress,” she said, “so we’ll just go tandem.  Here’s a sleeping pouch for you.  Afraid I don’t have any extra pillows.”

“This is more than enough,” Virgil assured her.  “You don’t even have to share the mattress.  I can just sleep on the floor.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” she told him.  “I’m pretty sure you’re going to behave yourself.  And you’ll have your own sleeping pouch, so I don’t think personal space is going to be an issue.  Besides, I don’t want you stiff tomorrow morning.”

After dinner, the sleeping preparations went fairly smoothly.  Trell, it turned out, had no issue with stripping down to her underclothes in order to get into her sleeping pouch.  Virgil had a little apprehension, but eventually did the same and got into his.  Soon, they were both lying side by side on the mattress, each enclosed within the warmth and privacy of their own sleeping pouch.

“Good night Virgil,” Trell said, closing her eyes as she put her head down on the pillow.  “Wake me if you need anything, or if anything seems wrong.  If you need to use the bathroom, you know where it is.”

“Good night, Trell,” Virgil replied.  “Thank you for everything.”

“Sure, don’t mention it.”  And with that, Trell fell silent.

For a while, Virgil lay with his eyes open in the dark room.  He felt uneasy and uncertain about almost everything right now.  The whole day was unfolding like a nightmare scenerio and yet. something about Trell being there with him was strangely calming.  His last thoughts before his eyelids began to get exceedingly heavy revolved around how fortunate he was that she had found him when she did.

When morning came, Virgil awoke first.  At first, he wasn’t sure that it even was morning, as the tiny apartment had no windows to speak of, and the lights were still dimmed.  He blinked in the darkness and became aware of a weight against his side.  He looked and discovered that Trell had, sometime in the middle of the night, made her way to the center of the bed and was now curled up against his side — to the extent that the sleeping pouch allowed her to.

For a while, Virgil lay still and just stared and listened.  The experience of waking up next to another person was a new thing for him.  There was nothing suggestive about the way that she lay, but something about the closeness thrilled him.  He lay there for a while, just staring off into the darkness.  He considered returning to sleep, but then remembered where he was and what had transpired the previous day.

He was out of bed rather quickly, exiting the sleeping pouch and making his way to the bathroom.  As soon as he had fulfilled his immediate physical needs, he went directly bad over to the communicator and slid the headset over his ears.  He entered the frequency for his ship again, told the communicator to connect and then waited.

Once again, the efforts at locating the ship were fruitless.  He decided to try the spaceport again and called the frequency that went to the automated help system.  As he had before, he asked for information on his ship and, just like the previous night, he got nothing.  With a sigh, he removed the headset and set it down upon the desk.

“Cute boys in underwear sitting at my desk?”  The question made Virgil jump, as he hadn’t heard Trell wake and walk up behind him.  “That’s a sight that might be worth getting used to.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, his face feeling very warm at the possibly-complimentary remark.  “I just uh…wanted to see if anything had changed.”

“Since you’re not talking with your crew about where to meet,” Trell ventured, “I’m going to assume that nothing has?”

“No,” Virgil said glumly.  “Nothing has.”

“Looks like we’re headed for the spaceport then,” Trell said.  “Let me go wash up, and then you can do the same and we’ll be on our way.  We’ve got an hour before the first shuttle arrives.”

“Is it always on time?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she nodded.  “One of the benefits of a robotic driver, I suppose.”  She patted his shoulder.  The gesture surprised Virgil, because, as his only shirt was a sleeveless undershirt, her hand came in contact with bare skin.  “I won’t be long.”  He watched her go into the bathroom, and then looked down at the communicator and sighed softly.

True to her word, she didn’t take long, and emerged fully dressed from the bathroom.  Virgil scooped up his clothing and went to wash and change.  When he finished, Trell had hydrated a breakfast consisting of more NutriNuggets and instant coffee.  They ate quickly and in relative silence and then left the apartment to walk to the shuttle stop.

“You’re going through a lot of trouble on my account,” Virgil told her after they’d boarded the shuttle and settled into seats near the back.  “Just food and shelter alone goes above and beyond anything you think you might owe me.”

“I like to finish what I start,” Trell replied.

“What about your work?” Virgil asked.  “Do you not have any current assignments?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until this evening,” she said.

After a bit of time had passed, Virgil asked her.  “What are your current assignments?  Or is that something you can’t talk about?”

“Very much the latter,” Trell answered.  The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.  “It’s for your own good as well as mine.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your planned original destination?” Trell suggested.  “What were you going to be doing on Fexar Five?”

“I had a project from grad school that had attracted a bit of attention in the proper circles,” Virgil said.  “I got an interview offer from Forsyth Industries, stating that they’d like to meet me and see for themselves.”

“So…they wanted to meet you…possibly hire you,” Trell recounted, “but weren’t able to pay your travel fees?”

“It sounds really bad when you put it that way,” Virgil admitted, “but they did at least provide a signed contract for employment if I could prove to them that the technology worked the way I claimed it did in my thesis.  The approach is becoming more common lately.  With no way to verify claims, a lot of companies are offering prospective candidates the opportunity to prove their work.  The contract also says that if I can pass the test, my travel fees do get refunded.”

“Huh,” Trell remarked.  “Interesting approach.  So…you get the ‘offer’, scrape together your limited funds and buy passage on a cargo frieghter?  Is that how it happened?”

“More or less, yeah.” Virgil grimaced.  “If I’d waited another six months, I could have saved the money for a real passenger liner, but I was just so desperate to get out of there.”