Read Beyond Varallan for Free Online Page A

strange-looking concoction of vegetables and protein for himself.
    “No kidding.” I gave the educators a little wave.
    We sat down and I eyed his meal. Whatever he had programmed resembled organic refuse. It smelled worse. It couldn’t be a Jorenian dish. Their noses weren't as sensitive as mine, but they still functioned .
    “What’s that?” I asked.
    “Serada baked with shredded nyilophstian root. A favorite of mine from childhood.”
    “Your childhood where?” I leaned over and sniffed. Yep. I’d smelled nicer backed-up disposal units. “A waste-recycling facility?”
    “No.” He didn’t elaborate. Reever was an expert at that.
    “I need to program a meal for you sometime, Reever. Remind me.”
    My own selection smelled great, but was too hot to eat immediately. While it cooled, I sipped my herbal tea and nibbled on a synwheat cracker. The silence went from there to noticeable.
    I tried again. “So, what’s the problem?”
    “There is no problem I am aware of.” he said, giving me another of those enigmatic looks.
    “You just felt like having a meal with me?”
    “I desired your companionship.”
    “Uh-huh.” I tasted my dish once more. The prep unit had successfully incorporated my recipe program. It was delicious. He still wasn’t talking. “Well, here I am.”
    “Yes.”
    This was going to be as challenging as performing open cranial surgery while wearing a blindfold. “Did you have a particular topic you wanted to talk about?”
    “Yes.”
    Make that a blindfold and one hand tied behind my back. “What is it?”
    “I would like to know your impressions of the Jorenians.”
    That was innocuous enough. “They’re an interesting people. Great to work with. Extremely friendly. Why?”
    Reever lifted his server of tea and gazed over the rim at me. His eyes were nearly as dark as mine today. I didn’t look into them for very long. A soul could get lost in there.
    “Would you prefer less attention from the crew?”
    I shrugged.
    Reever swallowed. Replaced the server. Took a bite of his baked garbage. He chewed it and swallowed again. A faint line appeared between his light brows. “This is not as I recall. My data must be in error.”
    “At least. Here, try mine.” I held out my spoon.
    He looked like a man being asked to sip hydrochloric acid.
    “Liquified synprotein, reconstituted vegetables, and carbohydrates. A dash of sodium chloride. Go on, Reever. Try it. It has to be better than that stuff.”
    Cautiously he tasted it, and his eyes widened.
    “Good?”
    “What do you call that?”
    “Chicken noodle soup.” I gestured toward the prep console. “Go dial some up for yourself. I left the program on the main menu.”
    He left and returned a moment later with his own bowl. The serada was summarily disposed of. I was glad I didn’t have to smell it anymore.
    My turn to initiate polite conversation. I noticed his skin tone was paler than it had been on K-2. No botanical gardens for Reever to dig in on a ship. At last! A neutral topic. “What have you been doing these past weeks, Reever?”
    “Extending the linguistic database. Exploring the ship. Interacting with the crew.” He finished his soup in record time. I was impressed. Not one slurp. “And you, Cherijo?”
    “The same, work, finding my way around, making friends. Though I keep getting lost and everyone wants to be my friend.” The intense way he watched me made me self-conscious. I lifted a hand to smooth my hair, then dropped it. “Stop doing that.”
    “Stop doing what?”
    “Staring at me.”
    “I’ve missed you, Joey.”
    The words hung between us. His fair head inclined as one of the crew greeted us in passing. I tried to think of a witty reply. Encountered a blank wall.
    “Reever, I—” I downed the rest of my tea in one gulp. “You always do this to me.”
    “What do you mean?”
    My lips thinned. “We get to a certain point in the conversation, then you get enigmatic and call me Joey.” And here