Trevor was glad to see her expanding her boundaries of what might be possible, although he knew nothing about the fashion industry. Reverting to their previous topic, he asked, “When your father or his medical advisors gave you Verlaine, wasn’t there any discussion? Any guidance?”
She shook her head. “I was a kid. He was trained of course and the handlers told me what behaviors he’d do to assist me if I was having a flashback, or a nightmare or an anxiety attack. During the time I tried medicating the issues away, he was trained to bring me the medinject pack when he could tell my symptoms were escalating.” She looked Trevor in the eye. “He watches over me when we’re out in public, as you’ve seen. He’s a responsible, caring animal. And of course being a canine DNA variation, he regards me as part of his pack and wants me to be happy and safe. I’m so fortunate Tajikkas have such a tremendously extended lifespan. I don’t know what I’d do without him but I have at least another hundred years before I might have to face the issue.” She shook her finger at the hound and made a mock face of disapproval. “Although when I’m deep in the flow of painting and he nudges me to take a break to eat or go for a walk, I do get annoyed.” She fondled one silky ear and patted his head. “I can’t hold a grudge for long though because I know it’s for my own good.” Now she assessed Trevor as they entered her suite. “What about you? You said you had PTSD—did you do therapy and was it helpful?”
Verlaine whined.
“I think he believes you’re a member of his pack too,” she said, removing the leash from the hound’s collar. “I’m sorry if what I asked was a stressful question. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Sure I had all kinds of therapy,” he said evasively. “I haven’t had a problem or a flashback in years.” Don’t ask me about my nightmares or the secret I have to work so hard to keep locked down so no one ever suspects.
Gianna looked from Verlaine to him and raised her eyebrows but didn’t follow up on the subject further.
They went to the beach, this time lugging along one of her smaller canvasses and paints, and Trevor helped her set up in the fairly isolated spot she’d found so beautiful on her first trip. He played with the hound and tried not to peek at what she was doing, although she said more than once she didn’t mind. He and Verlaine took a plunge in the waves and when he splashed onshore a while later, he found the couple from the casino chatting with her.
Little alarm bells sounded in his mind as he walked up from the waterline, the hound at his side. The man and woman acted overly friendly with Gianna to him, yet he had the distinct impression the couple wasn’t happy to see him. The man cut the conversation short and walked on with his companion, soon disappearing into the holo haze of the beach display.
“Odd,” Gianna said, uncovering her canvas and resuming her work.
He got a quick adrenaline rush as her comment reinforced his own unease. “What?”
“They knew who I was, even though I didn’t identify myself in any way at the casino. I was careful not to, in fact. But of course no one knew I was going to be on the beach deck today, so it’s not likely they came to find me. Just out for a walk no doubt. Overthinking a coincidence isn’t a good thing.” She dipped her brush in a vivid shade of red and daubed it on a blank spot on the canvas. “She invited me to meet them for cocktails tonight but I refused since I had a previous engagement. And then you arrived.”
“Maeve, find out who they are,” Trevor said over the private channel.
“Sella and Dant Provimter, Level B passengers. Listed as agents for the Bostham Quandrant shipping company. No flags in the file,” she said.
Trevor stared down the beach to where the couple was barely visible to a person with his enhanced eyesight. The back of his neck tingled, the way it did in combat situations when things were about to get bad. He decided to listen to his instinct, even if he might be overreacting. “Run them through the SCIA database, would you?”
“Yes, Lt. Hanson. The process will take a few hours to complete.” Maeve did her click sound and was gone.
“Sorry, I was distracted. Ship’s business,” he said to Gianna who wouldn’t have been able to hear any of his subliminal conversation with the AI but who had obviously noticed his lack of focus.
“Apology accepted. Actually, I get quite distracted when I paint so please don’t feel you have to entertain me.” She selected another color to add to her work in progress. “I’m glad you’re here, however; this is a pretty lonely stretch of beach, isn’t it? Those people weren’t any kind of problem but what if Mr. Lanloring came up here? What would I do if you weren’t with me?”
“First of all, I would be with you because you’re my assignment for this voyage. Maeve has ganglions all through this level and monitors activity,” he said. “We have lifeguards and a patrol team on this deck as well, but response isn’t instantaneous of course. Are you worried?”
She considered while the brush dripped paint unnoticed on her blouse. “No, not really. I could string him or someone like him along for a while asking about his particular flavor of conspiracy theory, until the security team arrived.” Discovering the splotch of pigment on her clothing, she sighed. “Occupational hazard. I don’t usually paint in my good clothes.”
“Maeve’s robos can clean it, I’m sure,” he said, shaking out a towel and sitting. “We have about another hour before we should get back to the cabin so you can have enough time to get ready for dinner.”
“Oh because I’m so slow?” Her tone was teasing.
“Uh oh, I think I stumbled into a space minefield there,” he said in wry acknowledgment. “Sorry. Let me try again. Captain Fleming is a stickler for punctuality and while you’re the guest of honor and therefore exempt, I’m one of his crew and need to have plenty of time to make sure my uniform is shipshape and my shoes shine brightly. Better?”
“Much.” After a few more brushstrokes, she said, “He didn’t seem so terrifying to me.”
“You’re a passenger. It’s not that he’s overbearing—he’s a no nonsense officer, knows what he wants and expects nothing less. But he’s probably the best commander I’ve ever served under.” Trevor gave his answer from the heart. Fleming had been nothing but supportive to him. Trevor appreciated the way the captain set clear requirements for all his crew to meet certain standards. He functioned better with well understood parameters these days and he knew the captain would go to any length for the men and women who served under him. “I feel lucky to have gotten this berth frankly.”
7
Next day as she and Trevor embarked on her first self-imposed errand of the morning, Gianna reflected on her conversation at the beach with Trevor and found herself in agreement with his assessment of Fleming. The captain had been charming to her at dinner last night, easy going, a good conversationalist, but she’d sensed a certain reserve in him, as if he held a part of himself aloof, although ready for anything and prepared to meet trouble head-on. She approved. She had utterly no memory of the captain of the ill-fated Nebula Dream or any of the officers, having been only three at the time, but she’d heard her father rant about the man numerous times during the remainder of his life. He hadn’t sounded like he should have been in command of a garbage scow, let alone a passenger liner with 8000 souls aboard and unproven technology in the engine compartment.