Still, Beta was right. If I'd had help earlier, I might not be here right now. I might be in college, getting my double-docs like Mum, thinking about what postgraduate work I wanted to do.
'I'll tell you what,' she temporized. 'Let me look over the records and the interviews again and sleep on it. One of the things that the schools told us over and over was to never make a choice of brawns feeling rushed or forced.' She hardened her voice just a little. 'You don't want another Moira, do you?'
'All right,' Beta said grudgingly. 'But I have to warn you that the supply of brawns is not unlimited. There aren't many more for you to interview in this batch, and if I have to boot you out of here without one, I will. The Institute can't afford to have you sitting on the pad for another six months until the next class graduates.'
Go out without a brawn? Alone? The idea had very little appeal. Very little at all. In fact, the idea of six months alone in deep space was frightening. She'd never had to do without some human interaction, even on the digs with Mum and Dad.
So while CenCom signed off, she reran her tapes of the interviews and re-scanned information on the twelve she had rejected. And still could not come up with anyone she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she'd like to call 'friend'.
Someone was knocking, quietly, on the closed lift door. Tia, startled out of her brooding, activated the exterior sensors. Who could that be? It wasn't even dawn yet!
Her visitor's head jerked up and snapped around alertly to face the camera when he heard it swivel to center on him. The lights from the field were enough for her to 'see' by, and she identified him immediately. 'Hypatia, it's Alex,' he whispered unnecessarily. 'Can I talk to you?'
Since she couldn't reply to him without alerting the entire area to his clandestine and highly irregular visit, she lowered the lift for him, keeping it darkened. He slipped inside, and she brought him up.
'What are you doing here?' she demanded, once he was safely in her central cabin. 'This is not appropriate behavior!'
'Hey,' he said, 'I'm unconventional. I like getting things done in unconventional ways. The Art of War says that the best way to win a war is never to do what they expect you to do.'
'I'm sure,' she interrupted. 'That may be all very well for someone in Military, but this is not a war, and I should be reporting you for this.' Tia let a note of warning creep into her voice, wondering why she wasn't doing just that.
He ignored both the threat and the rebuke. 'Your supervisor said you hadn't picked anyone yet,' he said instead. 'Why not?'
'Because I haven't,' she retorted. 'I don't like being rushed into things. Or pressured, either. Sit down.'
He sat down rather abruptly, and his expression turned from challenging to wistful. 'I didn't think you'd hold my being late against me,' he said plaintively. 'I thought we hit it off pretty well. When your supervisor said you'd spent more time with me than any of the other brawns, I thought for sure you'd choose me! What's wrong with me? There must be something! Maybe something I can change!'
'Well, I,' She was taken so aback by his bluntness, and caught unawares by his direct line of questioning, that she actually answered him. 'I expect my brawns to be punctual, because they have to be precise, and not being punctual implies carelessness,' she said. 'I thought you looked sloppy, and I don't like sloppiness. You seemed absentminded, and I had to keep bringing you back to the original subject when we were talking. Both of those imply wavering attention, and that's not good either. I'll be alone out there with my brawn, and I need someone I can depend on to do his job.'
'You didn't see me at my best,' he pointed out. 'I was distracted, and I was thrown completely off-center by the fact that I had messed up by being late. But that isn't all, is it?'
'What do you mean by that?' she asked, cautiously.
'It wasn't just that I was, less than perfect. You have a secret... something you really want to do, that you haven't even told your supervisor.' He eyed the column speculatively, and she found herself taken completely by surprise by the accuracy of his guess. 'I don't match the profile of someone who might be interested in helping you with that secret. Right?'
His expression turned coaxing. 'Come on, Hypatia, you can tell me,' he said. 'I won't tattle on you. And I might be able to help! You don't know that much about me, just what you got in an hour of talking and what's in the short-file!'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' she said lamely.
'Oh, sure you do. Come on, every brainship wants to buy her contract out, no matter what they say. And every ship has a hobby-horse of her own, too. Barclay secretly wants to chase pirates all over known space like a holo-star, Leta wants to be the next big synthcom composer, even quiet old Jerry wants to buy himself a Singularity Drive just so he can set interstellar records for speed and distance!' He grinned. 'So what's your little hidden secret?'
