Pairing Up

Pairing Up

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Pete started as George poked him in the ribs, waking him up during the assembly after a long first day.  “You might want to pay attention here.”

“There will be forty students selected for the crew of the Santa Maria, on its mission to Alpha Centauri,” Captain Grimes announced, “but they will not be selected individually.  Instead, we will select twenty Pairs of students.  Pairs may be of any sex, but each Pair will be sharing a DeepSleep capsule and sleeping quarters during the trip to Alpha Centauri.  We are selecting by Pairs because recent scientific studies have shown that crews on long missions who are selected as Pairs perform better and have fewer conflicts than those chosen individually.  A link to those studies will be sent to your ecomms now.”  A chorus of chimes and tones, including Pete’s harp arpeggio, indicated the link had been received. Another link, that you’re receiving now…” another chorus of chimes, “will take you to the internal Institute site for registering Pairs and listing both Pairs and available singles.

“Let me say this once again.” Grimes intoned, “If you are not part of a Pair, you will not be selected for the Santa Maria.”  He paused as a buzz filled the air.

What the yatz is this? Pete thought, heart sinking past his shoes.  No one told us about this when we applied! I’ve spent the last four years sacrificing a social life to get the grades I would need to get into this place, and now you tell me that I have to come up with what amounts to a life-partner?  Scenes of unhappy dates and depressing half-drunken one-night stands fast-forwarded through Pete’s head.  I’ve met perhaps three women I would have liked to spend serious time with, none of them wanted me, and now one of them is married to the guy sitting next to me.

Pete glanced over at George and Janet, his friends, the only people he knew at the Space Institute, and married. “Well, at least you two are set,” he muttered.

“So we are,” Janet replied softly.  “I don’t envy you, however.”

Mercifully, Grimes finished, and the assembly broke up.  “Outer Limits is open for another hour!” someone shouted, and there was a ragged cheer as a large group of Pete’s fellow students pushed toward the exits towards the bar below the cafeteria.  Most of the guys wore the sleeveless metallic shirts that were the latest craze this month, and a surprising number of them wore pig-tails dyed yellow or green, in imitation of a popular animated vid character.  Many of the girls had skimpy blouses and short skirts, also of metallic material, and many of them wore their hair in short, stiffened horns coming out of either side of their heads  All were in the mid-20’s, slightly younger than Pete.  Of course, everyone were reasonably fit, else they would never have gotten into the program.  After all, Space Force needs their poster children to be handsome and beautiful, Pete thought cynically.  But it seemed to Pete that they resembled most of the students back in college; more interested in a good party than in studying seriously. Pete, dressed in his usual single-color shirt and pants and with a military crew-cut, clearly didn’t fit into that crowd.

For a moment he stared at their backs.  Maybe I should join them. Why not start tonight to get to know some people? He shook his head.  That’s fine. Let ‘em party.  I may not be brilliant, like them, but I can outwork them. And I will.

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Two days later, having finished the assigned problem a bit early in Professor Solomeyev’s space navigation class, Pete checked the Pairing site on his ecomm.

TOTAL STUDENTS: 198 |          TOTAL PAIRS: 63 |  UNPAIRED: 72

What?  One hundred twenty six students are already Paired? Pete felt an ominous chill in his gut.  He had worked his tail off to do all his in-class and homework assignments for all five daily classes, but that effort had left him little time to do much else than eat, sleep, and go to class. Granted, studying intensely for class was a routine Pete knew well, having done it for most of the past four years in college.  Pete knew that a lot of students spent their evenings at the Outer Limits, and he had felt superior to them.  But maybe they know something I don’t? And why only 198 students, instead of 200?

The panic spread, and Pete took a few deep breaths to help calm it.  This isn’t college.  It’s an eight-month program, and it just started. You’re better off getting the hang of the classes here and worrying about girls later.

Pete had entered college three years after most other students because he had joined the Army to get money to pay for college . Pete wasn’t sure whether it was his military experience, the fact that he was older, or the fact that he worked hard on his grades that separated him from most of his college classmates, but he had felt for most of his time there like an odd man out. Most of his encounters with girls had been both brief and, except for the one-night flings that both understood as such, unsuccessful.  He had always told himself that he had better things to do than go to college parties, which featured a lot of random noise, weak legal drugs, and lousy beer.

Well, there’s a party on Friday night. Certainly can’t hurt, and I can sleep in the next day…

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By Friday noon, Pete’s panic over Pairing had started to transform into a black cloud hanging over him.  As of 3PM, or 1500 hours, as the school preferred to call it, the count was:

TOTAL STUDENTS: 197  |  TOTAL PAIRS: 76  | UNPAIRED: 45

The first week is not even over, and, assuming an even male – female split, over three quarters of the women are already Paired!

“I wouldn’t worry, Pete,” George assured him after Solomeyev’s class.  “I’ll bet that most of those Pairings won’t last a month, much less to the end of the program. If you do well in your coursework, I’ll bet that girls will find you.”

“Easy for you to say,” Pete muttered. “You and Janet are already set.”  And that sure didn’t work for me in college. I graduated with high honors, but I was still a social zero. 

“Yes,” George laughed, “and we’re both grateful for that.  But give it time, Pete. Besides, someone who is desperate for a relationship is just asking for a bad one.”

Yeah, but even a bad Pairing could get chosen for the mission.  Without a Pair means without a chance.

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         The slight girl with attractive eastern features paused as her ecomm buzzed.  Pete flinched at the sound. She pulled it out, listening to it for a moment.

         “I’m sorry,” she announced, standing up.  “Something has come up that I need to check out. I need to go now.”

         Pete, completely flummoxed, stood up also. He had met her at the Friday night party at the Outer Limits, and, after an attempt at conversation in the loud, poorly-lit bar, he had convinced her to come with him to a noise-dampening conversation nook on the far wall. They had talked for almost ten minutes, Pete mostly listening.  She was smart, witty, and attractive.  “I’m sorry,” he said lamely.  “Is everything okay?”

         “That’s what I need to check out.”

         Pete’s mind scrambled for something to say, some way to salvage something. “Can we talk tomorrow?” was all that came out.

         She considered for a moment.  “Please?” Pete added. Did that make him sound too desperate?

         “Okay,” she sighed.  “Here, tomorrow, for lunch.  But I’ve got to go now.” And, with a swirl of her long, black skirt, she exited the noise-dampening conversation nook and disappeared into the crowd at the bar.          

         The First Friday party was everything Pete hated about parties; popular music played way too loud, shouted conversations, dim lights, and the sour odor of spilled drinks.  It had been half a miracle that Pete had met someone, much less someone genuinely interesting, and her departure plunged him into a deep funk.

What happened here?  We seemed to be getting along. Or did I say something wrong?  Did she trigger her own ecomm to get out of it? Pete could feel his personal black cloud loom around him.  He glanced around at the mass of people dancing, the large knot of people near the bar.  Just like the ‘mixers’ back in college.  Not my scene. Depressed, he left the conversation nook, working his way through the loud crowd back to the bar.  Maybe the beer here will be decent.

Maybe if I drink enough, I won’t care.

Suddenly a mass of curly hair crossed his path and bumped him.  Pete looked down and, in a brief flash of light, glimpsed green eyes, unexpectedly close to his own.  “I’m sorry,” he apologized.

The green eyes swept over him.  “I’m not!” she declared, clutching his arm for balance.  “Wanna dance?”

“Sure,” Pete shrugged, and allowed himself to be dragged to the dance floor.  He couldn’t identify the song that was playing; it seemed to consist of a rhythmic scraping and a chorus of which the only words Pete could make out was “your mama,” echoed by some of the dancers.  They reached the dance floor and she began hopping up and down, shaking her head.  Her hair, teased into a mass of curls spread over her face, concealing it. She was thin, long-legged, and, judging from the energy she put into her dancing, very fit.  It wasn’t the kind of dancing Pete liked particularly, but he could bounce along.

Suddenly Pete realized that she was not just bouncing; she was doing a step Pete recognized from his traditional dance club in college, a type of step-bounce-step.  Pete imitated that for a moment, earning a surprised glance from under her hair, then he did a hop-slide and stomp move. Another glance, and she followed suit, then she did a shuffle that Pete was unfamiliar with. Pete answered with a simpler step in the same rhythm, then grabbed her hand and twirled her.

.  “Cos!” she exclaimed, following his lead, and he did it again, and followed it with a quick two-step. “Rad cos!” she shouted, and unexpectedly grabbed his hand, lifting it high in the air. She’s trying to twirl me! Pete ducked under her arm, and off they went, trading dance steps, ending with a chorus of stomps, which earned them a scattering of applause from those around them.

“Totally cos!” she shouted, shaking her hair from her eyes. Her face with thin and her eyes glittered in the uncertain light of the bar.  “I need a break!  Get a drink?”  Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the bar.

Two or three dances, perhaps four or five words shouted at each other, and another round of drinks later, she was still clinging to his arm.  “What’s your name?” she shouted over the next song.

“Pete MacDonald,”

“Megan O’Malley,” Pete barely heard her.  “Can you walk me to my room?”

Guess I get lucky tonight.  Pete nodded, and she leaned on him as they made their way out of the party, Pete’s ears still ringing from the music.  The August night was muggy, as they walked down the steps of the common building, but the air seemed almost cool and refreshing after the bar.  Megan’s hand snaked around Pete’s waist and held tight as they mounted the steps and entered the student dorm.  That motion reminded him of one of the licensed prostitutes he met while on his Army tour.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?” Pete asked, as they approached the elevator.

Megan pressed the elevator button, hugging him tightly around the waist with her other arm.  “Dance class back home,” she said dismissively, but in a lovely low-pitched lilt. Irish, perhaps?  “How about you?” she said touching his nose with her finger, and then resting her arm around his neck.

“Traditional dance club,” he replied lightly.  “Back in college.”

The elevator came, and Pete and Megan maneuvered themselves into it. Megan pressed a button.

“They taught you well,” she breathed softly, then she tightened her hand around his neck and kissed him, a long, seductive kiss that only ended when the elevator chime rang. She pulled him unresisting out and to the second door on the right, then she turned and kissed him again, slow and unhurried.

“Come on in,” she whispered, opened the door, and pulled him in.

Her room, like Pete’s was a concrete block cube with a bed, table, and chair. She led him to beside the bed and turned to face him. “I think you’re totally cos,” she whispered.  “How about it?”

“Sure,” Pete agreed, and tightened his grip on her waist.

“I mean Pairing,” she whispered back. “I mean the other thing too, but first things first.”

Pete tilted his head to get a good look at her.  She’s pretty and dances well. And what else do I know about her? Not a thing. Do I care? I need someone to Pair with me.  She’s here and available. And, even if things don’t work out, at least tonight will be fine...

Megan smiled at him, green eyes flashing in the light. “Well?”

And why not?  Beats being unPaired. And Pairings can be cancelled at any time by either party.  “Okay,” he said. 

“Only ‘okay?’” she objected mildly.

In answer he kissed her, thoroughly.  “I’m sure,” he whispered as their lips parted, “that I’ll have more to say once I get to know you.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Megan whispered back, then turned to her computer and spoke a few code phrases.  The screen came to light with a form, which she filled in with a few taps.  She then indicated the finger ID slot. 

Why not?  Pete placed his index finger in the ID slot, the computer beeped, then Megan pulled him over to her bed.

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“Pete, you’re late!”  Megan pouted a week later at lunch in the cafeteria.  “We’re already finished!”

“I had to talk to Dr. Solomeyev after class,” Pete sat down.  “That last problem on the quiz-let was a doozy.”

“Quiz-lets are hardly worth anything,” drawled Steve Campbell, one of Pete’s fellow students in Solomeyev’s class and a friend of Megan.  Steve liked to fancy himself a cowboy, though Pete had it on excellent authority that he was born in Detroit.  Apparently the fact that Pete was Megan’s Pair had made Pete acceptable company to Steve, but Pete didn’t think much of him.

“Questions on quiz-lets turn up on tests, and those count for a lot,” Pete retorted. “I learned that one in college.  By the way, we missed you in class.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got there a little late, and the shoufhead had locked the door.” Dr. Solomeyev was the living definition of ‘old-school,’ and he locked his classroom door once class had started to motivate students to be there on time.  “By the way, we missed you last night.”

“There was a costume dance at the Outer Limits,” Eva giggled.  Eva was Megan’s best friend and Steve’s Pair.  “We had a great time!”

Pete looked them over.  Today, Steve Campbell had matching purple hair, much of it sculpted into three horns on his head, and purple metallic shirt with French-cut sleeves.  I wonder if he was late because he was doing his hair?  Eva was similarly attired in lime green.  Megan, hair sculpted into two horns, but at least in her natural red color, was positively sedate in comparison.

“Look, I explained this before,” Pete waved his hand for emphasis. “You all have specialties that are clearly wanted on the mission.  Steve, you’re a pilot,” Steve nodded in acknowledgment, “and Eve, you and Megan have backgrounds in plant biology.  I don’t have a specialty, so I’ve got to work harder to make this mission.  That means going to class and doing the assignments.”

“But you study every night!” Megan whined, albeit with her lovely Irish lilt.

“Every weeknight,” Pete corrected her. “That’s what it takes for me to keep up.  Besides,” Pete turned and looked Megan in the eye, “they pick Pairs for this mission.  If I don’t keep up, neither of us go.”

“I think,” Steve stretched his arms, “that’s she’s trying to say that all work and no play make Pete a very dull boy.  I can’t imagine the best friend of my Pair wanting to be with a dull boy.”

Pete gritted his teeth.  Steve Campbell and Eve were the kind of party-first students Pete had despised in college. 

And Megan? She seems to enjoy her parties. .

“Guys,” Megan asked, “Can you give Pete and me some space?”

“Sure can,” Steve and Eva stood up. “See you later, folks.”

Megan wasted no time.  “Pete, I hate to fight, “ she looked at the floor, “but it’s hard when we don’t see each other much during the week.”

“You’re welcome to come over my room anytime,”

“Watching you study,” Megan frowned, “isn’t much fun.”

“There’s a dance tonight, and no school tomorrow.” Pete paused, and added. “I’ve been looking forward to it the last few days,”  That won a brief smile from her.  “Nobody said,” Pete looked her in the eye, “that these eight months were going to be easy, but once we make the mission, we’ll literally have years together on the ship.”

“But are we a good Pair, Pete?” Megan’s face, normally lit with a smile, had become somber. “How will we find out if we don’t get to know each other? And how can we get to know each other if you’re studying all the time?”

That’s not accurate, Megan.  We spent Tuesday night in town at dinner and a dance. We see each other at lunches.  We’ve got the weekend.

Pete took a deep breath. “We’ve got the dance tomorrow, and how about you come with me Saturday night to meet Janet and George, my best friends?  They’re excellent cooks, and they have their own apartment.”

“But…” Megan shook her head, her hair bobbing, “they’re so… weird.  They dress so funny, and there is this God thing they believe in. I know,” Megan went on, as Pete was about to speak, “they’re your good friends, but I’m just not ready to meet them. Maybe later.” Megan paused, then her face brightened. “How about we take in a movie with Steve and Eva?”

Another deep breath.  “I’m happy to take in a movie, and I know Eva is your friend, but I think we’d get to know each other better without the extra company, don’t you think?”

Again the pout.  It was a pretty one, Pete had to grant. “I like spending time with Eva. I wish you got along with Steve. He’s really not a bad sort.”

“We’ll be at the dance with them.  How about we do the movie on our own? Get to know each other, remember?”

“We’ll see,” Megan stood up. “Got to run.  Have to make my class. See ya’”

“See ya’ “ Pete looked down at the unappetizing sandwich he was going to have to bolt down in order to make his class.  And, somehow Steve and Eva will come with us to the movie, just like we always sit with them at lunch. 

One-hand grabbing his sandwich, Pete pulled out his ecomm and pulled up the Pairs site.

TOTAL STUDENTS:  196          |    TOTAL PAIRS: 96  |    UNPAIRED:            4

Maybe George was right; those desperate for relationships can get bad ones as a result. This one doesn’t seem so great. Yet what choice did I have?