What the fuck did he think he was playing at? Now I remembered Kal’s warnings over the years. Now I realised I was sixty-seven million years from home with someone I couldn’t trust at all. Not a good feeling. I grabbed my pepper spray and made it personal.
He fled around the pod, sneezing, crying, coughing, and trying to grab his clothing. I wedged myself into a corner to protect my back and stopped. The aircon had packed up or maybe it was me, but the sweat poured off me, running down into my eyes. I shouted at him, shaking with rage and adrenalin, unsure what to do next.
It’s always been a question of trust. You take two people of the opposite sex and throw them together in a small pod thousands or millions or hundreds of years from anywhere and trust to luck. And, as far as I knew, it had never been a problem. Kal and Peterson, Lower and Baverstock, all my predecessors, I’d never heard even a rumour of any problems. I mean, obviously you do see each other naked from time to time, but it’s not an issue. It’s brisk and business-like and let’s get on with it because it’s our job. Of course, most of the unit was at it like rabbits anyway; but not me and not with my partner. And then the built-in female guilt kicked in. Had I somehow given him the impression …? Was it all my own fault?
No, it wasn’t. I refused to go down that road. I wiped the sweat out of my eyes and said, ‘Get out.’
He started to stammer something.
I said, ‘No, don’t even bother. Get out. Get back to Number Three and stay there until I call you.’
‘But …’
I pulled down a blaster from the locker. I’d meant just to cover him as he made his way back, but he misinterpreted the gesture, shouted, ‘Door!’, and was gone. I stood in the doorway and watched him run. He lost his footing on the narrow bit, but picked himself up and got to Three intact. Back in Eight, I closed the door, put the blaster away, sat down heavily, and considered my options.
I could send him home. This would mean finishing the assignment alone which would be hard work, but it could be done. No, the Boss would have me recalled. This was no place for a solo mission.
I could take us both back, maybe returning with Kal or Peterson. But we wouldn’t have records for ninety consecutive days. We’d have to start again, maybe. But we don’t come cheap and Thirsk wouldn’t pay for the extra time. They’d want reasons and it would make us look so bloody unprofessional. Not only would they want a permanent presence at St Mary’s, but they might even want to accompany us on future jumps.
Or I could continue and complete the assignment. No matter how little sharing any sort of time and space with that bastard appealed to me, this had to be my favourite option. I could banish him to Three and we could just meet outside during daylight hours. Our relationship would be on a purely professional basis. It would be awkward and embarrassing, but that was his problem. My problem would be deciding what course of action to take back at St Mary’s. He was my partner; we’d been together nearly four years. And I had no proof. And nothing had actually happened. It would be my word against his. The age-old female dilemma. I sighed. I’d think about that later.
Of course, I could just shoot him.
I showered the sweat off, dressed, and tidied the pod. Keep the hands busy while the brain ticks over. I was laying out stuff for the day’s programme, when my com crackled. ‘Max? Are you there? Can I speak to you?’
If he thought he could smarm his way out of this one, he was mistaken. Having no idea what I would say to him, I said crisply, ‘I’m busy at the moment. Remain where you are. I’ll speak to you later.’ It only occurred to me afterwards that he might jump to the conclusion I was logging the incident.
I looked at that day’s programme. Nothing unusual, collect the meteorological disks and enter the info, ditto for the geological records, and insert new disks for the star map. We were scheduled to explore and map the northern end of the valley. Priority work. We’d spent so much time filming dinosaurs for the holo we’d got behind on other things. Time to catch up. Maybe I could work him to death and that would solve all my problems.
I knew, deep down, I’d decided to continue the mission. Returning to St Mary’s with Sussman’s tail between his legs was not an option. But I could take reasonable precautions and at the same time send out an unmistakable message.
I said, ‘Computer, restrict access to this pod. Access Maxwell only. Authorisation: Maxwell five zero alpha nine eight zero four bravo. Confirm.’
‘Restrict access to this pod. Maxwell only. Confirmed.’
I opened my com. ‘Report to me, please. At once.’