Being of the Field (2 page)

What seemed like seconds later, Taren awoke. Everything was white.

‘Welcome to AMIE,’ said a woman with a velvetty voice that was immediately calming. ‘You have arrived safely and are in fine health. The perception of white light will pass as your eyes adjust to being open. The lighting in this room is very dim, but to eyes that have been closed for weeks, it’s blinding.’

‘Who are you?’ Taren asked, all her other questions having been answered.

‘I am AMIE’s medical practitioner, Dr Madri. Call me Kassa.’

Taren loved the sound of Kassa’s voice; it was warm and friendly. Normally she’d probably feel more distressed at being blind in an unknown place, speaking with a total stranger who could have been an alien creature with six heads for all she knew.

‘And you are the infamous Dr Lennox,’ she chuckled, though not in an offensive way. ‘I’ve been telling Lucian to get you on the AMIE project for years!’

‘You’ve known about my work for years!’ Taren was surprised. ‘I didn’t think my work had been that well publicised…my reputation, yes, but my actual theories? I thought they were only read by those who had to assess them for further funding.’

‘Ahh…but they kept giving you funding,’ Kassa pointed out. ‘They knew you were onto something.’

Taren didn’t know what to say as she was flattered speechless. She had judged from the voice that this was a mature woman of middle age…maybe a couple of hundred years old. Taren was a relative baby at
fifty. Still, she’d done a lot of living and learning during her short life. But a woman and fellow scientist of true importance was excited about her work! Taren had to wonder if she was still in stasis, dreaming.

‘People in stasis don’t dream,’ Kassa informed.

‘Because they’re in a suspended—’ Taren gasped so deeply she nearly choked herself. ‘You read my mind!’

‘I did.’

‘You have the Powers,’ Taren stated surely.

‘Well, one of them,’ Kassa replied.

‘So do I!’ Taren blurted out, instantly realising she was telling her deepest secret to a stranger she couldn’t see.

‘I know,’ Kassa replied. ‘That’s why I’ve been watching you.’ She sounded a little excited. ‘If anyone is going to prove that we heretical psychics have been right all along, it’s you.’

A flush of pride made Taren smile broadly. ‘I had no idea there was another psychic on board.’

‘That’s because no one else knows,’ Kassa explained. ‘Although I think some crew members might suspect.’ There was a smile in her voice. ‘I wasn’t as brave as you, Taren. When I was a student, all theories and investigations regarding the supernatural were strictly taboo. It was bad enough being one of the few females actively involved in the interstellar space program.’

‘Well, up until a few weeks ago, I was beginning to think my open aspirations were a bad idea, but lately they seem to be paying off.’

Her sight was registering shadows, and after blinking for extended periods, the recovery room finally began to take shape. Taren looked around until she spotted Kassa, still something of a blur to look at. Kassa appeared, at first, to have short auburn hair streaked with grey, but upon gaining a slightly better focus, Taren realised that the bulk of the doctor’s hair was twirled into a roll at the back of her head. She was tall and slender and her face had a very pronounced bone structure.

‘Your persistence has most certainly paid off,’ Kassa agreed, with a warm smile of greeting. ‘Welcome aboard, kiddo.’

When Taren felt recovered enough she was taken to a change room with a shower tube. A small-size crew uniform hung on the wall and looked as if it might be the right fit for her. Taren knew that no one was required to wear the uniform. It was more a memento of a stay on AMIE, a gift from the project management. The three-piece wet suit—pants, a vest and a jacket—were all deep blue at the bottom fading into aqua blue in the middle and then black at the top. A zip ran all the way down the outside of both legs of the pants, making them easier to put on and take off when wet. The singlet top and the jacket bore the project emblem of a dolphin jumping over a planet.

There was a pair of fairly heavy-duty work boots that would certainly come in handy—even a sun hat and spaceglasses.

Showered, changed and suited, Taren felt a little more human, but the uniform fitted her slender body rather more tightly than she was normally comfortable with. She didn’t like to advertise her femaleness when she was working—it was hard enough being ridiculed for her theories, so she actively tried to avoid being hit on as well. She also wore glasses she didn’t need just to appear more like a scholar and less like a potential love interest.

The truth was, she just hadn’t met that many wonderful men. All the men in the MSS were self-involved bastards, and a majority of her fellow scholars at the Astro-Marine Institute on Maladaan were narrowminded buttheads. She’d had a few short relationships, but her obsession with her work seemed to leave all her men in the background.

‘Ah, bugger men.’ She finished braiding her long dark hair back and gave her reflection the once-over in the mirror. She loved the way the two new purple streaks at her temples intertwined with her black braid; it made her look all the more the mad rebel scientist. She missed her dark-rimmed glasses though, as they were with her luggage, which would have been taken to her quarters.

She was suddenly hungry for solid food, having been on fluids for weeks. Taren looked at the electronic map on the wall. ‘Map me a path to the closest eatery,’ she requested.

As her path from the change room lit up on the map, she listened to a set of verbal directions.

Outside the door, Taren headed right as instructed and nearly collided with a dark-haired girl who was even shorter than she was. ‘I’m sorry—’

‘Dr Taren Lennox, I presume.’ The petite lass straightened her zany iridescent glasses over which passed a rainbow of soft vibrant colours every time she moved her head. ‘I’m LG’s personal assistant, Aurora DeCadie, but folks around here just call me Rory because I’m so vocal.’ She smiled warmly. ‘I was just coming to get you. The captain and some of the guys you’re on the star shift with are having dinner—or, rather, their breakfast—in the mess. LG thought you might like to meet them and eat, as you’re probably hungry after your trip.’ Aurora finally took a pause, although she wasn’t out of breath in the slightest.

‘That would be great.’ Taren felt overwhelmed by this small bundle of energy. Rory oozed a vibrancy that was almost exhausting and had little short pigtails sprouting all over her head—so short that there was barely anything to attach the hair elastics onto.

Rory noticed Taren admiring her hairstyle. ‘I got the shits, cut it off…big mistake!’ She rolled her eyes—heavily made-up with black eyeliner—and moved off, indicating Taren should follow her. ‘I’m trying to encourage it to grow again. Your hair is amazing! I like the purple. You’ll fit right in around here.’

At the far end of the Mess Room was a group of men seated around a table arguing, jeering and laughing at the top of their voices.

‘Aren’t there any females on the night shift?’ Taren was a little taken aback about the prospect of working with these guys; she’d expected a lot of cerebral scientists not a bunch of mavericks.

‘Nope,’ Rory advised. ‘Besides the Doc and me, there are only two other females on board. They’re both in the Marine Department, and they’re staying on the daylight side of the planet this evening. The star shift boys aren’t this bad when they’re working, but at mealtime the pilots and the technicians meet and that’s never good. Most of the scientists on board eat early and avoid this ugly, ugly scene.’

‘I’ll remember that.’ Taren felt really uncomfortable in the uniform now and rather naked without her spectacles.

Rory led her by the food dispensers, which had quite a good variety of pre-packaged and fresh foods. Taren managed to get herself a salad.

‘Hello.’

Taren found a stocky, handsome young fellow waiting to make her acquaintance.

‘Just couldn’t wait, could you, Starman?’ Rory jeered.

‘You must be Dr Lennox, the anomaly specialist we ordered.’ He held out a hand to Taren, ignoring Rory’s comment. ‘I’m Zeven Gudrun, the pilot of this fine vessel…we’ll be working together for a bit.’

‘Oh…’ Taren wondered why she would be working with a pilot. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’ She shook his hand briefly, whilst juggling her tray. ‘And we’ll be working on?’

Zeven smiled and shook his head ever so slightly. ‘I’m on strict instructions from the captain not to disclose that information at present, although I will tell you that I think you’ll find it’s pretty impressive.’

‘Starman meant the project is impressive, not working with him,’ added a second man who had wandered over to join them. ‘Leal Polson, co-pilot and navigator.’

‘You guys!’ Rory objected to their eagerness to meet the latest female addition to the crew. ‘I was bringing her over.’

Taren could feel her face becoming flushed from the attention and she really hoped it didn’t show. ‘I’m very excited to be on AMIE and I look forward to hearing about whatever it is I’m here to investigate, although I do have many of my own experiments to conduct.’

‘It’s rumoured that you have the Powers. Is that true?’ Zeven queried, and Leal served his younger, shorter crewmate a jab with his elbow.

‘Give her a break. I’m sure she’s sick to death of being asked that.’ Leal gave Taren a friendly smile after coming to her defence.

‘You have
no
idea,’ she emphasised, deciding to take her tray of food to a table and put it down before anyone else wanted to shake her hand. ‘I’ll just be focusing on the pure science side of my work while I’m here, if it’s all the same to you guys.’

‘Fine by me,’ the blue-eyed co-pilot assured her as the gathering followed Taren to the table.

Leal may have been approaching middle age, but he had a very pleasant face and demeanour, and was still in fine form—as everyone she’d met so far seemed to be. Taren thought the active, stimulating lifestyle must be what kept them all twinkling so. Leal’s blond spiky hair was only slightly tinged with grey and the lines on his face seemed more from a happy life in the outdoors, than age.

‘So that would be a “yes”, then,’ Zeven concluded, unfazed by Taren’s reluctance to discuss the matter of her Powers.

Normally, Taren would have been annoyed by his persistence, but Zeven, too, had a disarming manner, full of cheek and fun, and she really didn’t want to put her crewmates offside just yet. His wide, light brown eyes expressed warmth, and when he smiled broadly a dimple appeared in his left cheek—Taren just loved men with dimples…it just made them seem more innocent somehow. Zeven’s hair was dark, fairly straight and long enough to keep falling in his eyes. He had traces of a wee beard and a moustache growing around his mouth, which was obviously being cultivated in the hope it would make him appear older.

So, instead of being rude to him Taren fixed him in her gaze. ‘Would it bother you?’ she asked, staring deep into his large clear eyes.

‘Hell, no!’ He laughed at her implication, although he did take a step backwards and break eye contact with her. ‘I’m just interested in that kind of stuff.’

‘I see.’ Taren didn’t for one second believe his claim. This was an attempt to flirt; she could sense his amorous intent. ‘Just because I study the supernatural doesn’t make me a psychic, now does it?’

‘A sci-chick,’ one of the technicians said as he walked past on his way back to work. ‘I like it! New nickname, people.’ He pointed both his index fingers towards Taren.

Please no!
Taren thought to herself, pretending she hadn’t heard the comment. Here she was, supposed to be keeping that side of her life under wraps, and she gets nicknamed sci-chick—that would go down
really
well with Swithin Gervaise.

Rory saw Taren cringing, and leaned close to whisper: ‘Don’t worry.
His
nickname is blockhead.’

Taren smothered her amusement, while Rory did not, and so they managed to keep the tech from pursuing the conversation in their company.

‘Who was that?’ Taren asked once he’d disappeared from the room with three other men in tow, all agreeing that sci-chick was a good name for their new crewmate.

‘That’s Bonar Colbers, head systems tech,’ Rory informed her. ‘You won’t have much to do with him. These two, however,’ she glanced at Leal and Zeven, ‘you are stuck with.’

‘Oh, like you’re such a pleasure to work with, Miss I-have-to-get-a-paragraph-out-in-every-sentence,’ Zeven ribbed Rory.

Rory appeared ruffled by the jest. ‘At least I’m sure of my own mind,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘I’m gone,’ she announced, seeing the displeased look on Zeven’s face. ‘If you need anything just call. I’m contact thirteen.’ Rory slapped a communicator in Taren’s hand, waved and headed for the door.

The tension between Zeven and Rory seemed to suggest a failed romance? Or perhaps it was just workplace tension? Taren got a vibe on the former.

‘Don’t worry about them.’ Leal took a seat so that Taren might feel at ease to do the same. ‘They’ve had a longstanding love-hate relationship.’

‘She started it,’ Zeven pointed out in his own defence. ‘Why is she always trying to make me look bad?’

‘It’s called attention seeking.’ Taren sat and opened her dinner package. ‘Or energy sucking. I’d say she likes you.’ She stuck her fork into the salad and mixed it around as Leal chuckled, amused by the insight of Taren’s statement.

Zeven was immediately intrigued by Taren’s reply and sat down on the chair beside her. ‘But I don’t want her to like me.’

Taren grinned, knowing that wasn’t true. ‘Then why were you trying to suck her energy too?’

‘I wasn’t!’ Zeven defended. ‘I was just defending us.’ He motioned to Leal to include him in the equation.

‘Really?’ Taren said flatly and looked to Leal. ‘Did you feel threatened or insulted by Rory’s jest?’

‘No,’ Leal confirmed, smiling broadly.

‘Did you feel compelled to retort in any way?’ Taren further questioned.

‘I did not.’ Leal and Taren both looked to Zeven.