Port Casper

Chapter Thirty-One

Tim Trouncer waited on the open circuit for Raj's reply. Nothing. He shifted impatiently. Grace would need help getting out of the pod, and his dog form--which he initially thought the perfect hiding place--was now a nuisance. He wondered if he could at least get some altered digits.

"Hey! Are you coming over or what?" he said.

Still no answer. The pause was longer than Raj's usual mental distractions, but Tim wasn't concerned. None of the alarm systems had tripped. Most likely, it was Raj's normal caution with public carrier channels. If he saw too much signal change, he would cease and re-encrypt. Raj was probably on his way.

The PodPooch jumped from the stool and padded over to the medical pod. The floor was cold. He complained, but Raj had never installed carpeting in the loft. Raj just didn't understand the experience of resting four feet and your butt on a cold floor for an extended period.

Eight hours later, the medical pod beeped and clicked open with a rush of air. Tim sniffed at the ever-widening pressure seal circling the pod. It reeked of humid air and human habitation, but no sickness. Inside, Grace's body twitched as the tubes retracted.

"Help me out of this thing," she said in a voice both hoarse and unsteady.

Cursing Raj for his lateness, Tim grabbed a pod handle in his mouth and pulled. Grace's head wobbled up, her hands clamped on the pod edges. She feebly kicked at the hatch, and it fell to the floor with a loud thud. Her legs dangled over the side. She looked disoriented, and she was shivering.

"Raj left clothes for you on the table," he said.

Tim pressed up against Grace, steadying her as she tried to stand. Though he could not take her weight, he provided the illusion of balance. She rested her hand on his back.

They reached the table and Grace pulled on a red shirt. She considered the pants and sat down rather than trust her balance. The pants were orange. Red and orange. Tim snorted. Raj had no sense of style.

"Am I better?" Grace asked, shuffling on her pants.

"Better," Tim offered. He hoped she didn't mean the clothes.

"Got any food?"

The food wasn't as hard for Tim to retrieve. Soon Grace was eating ravenously. She had shrugged off his suggestion of broth, and was devouring full beef rations, unheated. As she ate, Tim tried to reach Raj, but to no avail. Tim worried. Raj had known when Grace would be exiting the pod. He should have been here by now.

"Why Simone?" Grace asked.

Tim startled, taken off-guard.

"What?"

Grace shrugged. "I dreamed, and in my dream you kept calling me Simone."

"I didn't call you Simone." Tim was sure of that. "I probably thought of her, though," he amended. "Since I linked with you--and I am sorry for that--"

She waved off his apology.

Tim jumped up on the other chair, nosing over a fresh ration.

"You remind me of her."

"How?"

"Tough cookie."

Grace laughed, her mouth full of beef.

"How'd you know her?"

"She was a friend."

Grace stopped eating and stared at him, probing. "Just a friend? Not the way you were in my dream."

"You're right. More than a friend."

Tim jumped off the chair, avoiding her gaze.

"Tim." Grace put down her fork with a clink.