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Tallinn had both secretly prayed that Renee would and would not call her after their evening of astronomy talk and whiskey sours culminated in Renee drunkenly demanding Tallinn’s phone number. Renee was an open spirit --too open sometimes, Tallinn felt -- but surely she wouldn’t really call, would she?
Tallinn knew she should have given a fake number. She wanted Renee to call, was the thing. So what if she watched her from up close? All the better, maybe?
No, not at all. That’s why it said in the rule book that you weren’t supposed to do that. That you were supposed to minimize contact if forced to intervene. Melt back into the scenery when it was over. Not give out your damned number and pretend you didn’t want to talk to her again.
But it had been exactly what Tallinn knew it would be, drinking with Renee; quick banter over the glass-topped bar, hasty maths sketched on napkins, and Renee, peppering her with questions, trying to understand who she was drinking with because that was her way; understanding people, knowing them, learning from them. And the mysterious Tallinn was no doubt utterly fascinating, different from most of the people in Renee’s orbit.
Tallinn had decided not to dissuade Renee from her assumption that Tallinn was ex-Mossad, which was fine over drinks, but became less fine when Tallinn had relented on the matter of giving Renee her number. Now Renee wanted a surname from her.
And Tallinn, tipsy as she was, remembered that she needed something that could sound believably Jewish, or at the very least, Jew- ish . There was a synagogue down the block from her apartment (L.A. was full of them, actually) that had a name she could remember in the moment, so she went with, “Carlebach.”
Tallinn Carlebach. Well, it did sound pretty ex-Mossad, she had to admit.
One of the first things they teach you as part of spycraft is not to tell lies. Because then you have to remember them, back them up, and they quickly become something you have to manage. So naturally, Tallinn spent the morning after her drinking with Renee tampering with the website of the University of Tel Aviv and fabricating some white papers on “Stellar Absorption Spectra Found in Dark Matter Clouds” -- high school textbook stuff on Romulus that was pretty advanced for this place and time.
But not too advanced either. She had to look intelligent, but not so brilliant that Renee ought to have heard her name.
Tallinn Carlebach was now a research adjunct at the University of Tel Aviv. Not senior enough to warrant a headshot. She tampered with search engines so that it would come up if Renee went looking for her, which Tallinn already knew she would.
That damned inquisitive girl.
It only took about three days for Renee to call her. “So I’ve read your paper on stellar absorption spectra in dark matter clouds,” she announced.
“Oh, god, that old thing,” Tallin chuckled dismissively.
“It’s quite brilliant, actually.”
“It’s all theoretical. We have no means of measurement.”
“Yet,” Renee answered puckishly. “I hope you’re going to tell me you’re working on that.”
Tallinn sighed. “Me? Aren’t you the telescope expert?”
“You’ve already stalked me, then?”
“No, you were boasting about it while half in the bag the other night.” Tallinn had tried hard not to melt at the way Renee’s face lit up when she talked about her work on the hybrid telescope that found Boudica.
“Pardon me, but I believe I was fully in the bag.”
Tallinn chuckled. “Maybe toward the end, there. So. Did you call me to talk about stellar absorption spectra?”
“I called you because you’re my new best friend and I want you to come pick me up after I get out of training on Friday and have some drinks and some food and maybe go to the Museum of Natural History or something.”
“Surely you’ve already got a best friend,” Tallin suggested, “won’t they feel left out?”
“I have lots of friends,” Renee corrected, “but no best friend.”
“How did I get that honor?”
“Crushing my would-be attacker before my very eyes?”
“Fair point.”
“Anyway, I’m going to be in a 48 hour training module starting tomorrow, and by the time I get out, I’m going to be ready to do something fun but not too tiring. I’m sure I can find some good Kosher restaurants if you need.”
Tallinn quietly smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Not necessary, I’m not terribly observant. Thank you for thinking of it, though.”
“Is that a yes, then? Spoiler alert, I won’t accept no for an answer.”
Tallinn bit her lip. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
She had lost control of this situation. But she was not entirely minding.
That Friday, Tallinn rolled up to the gates of the John Glenn Training Center on a black Kawasaki, shaded visor on her helmet pulled down. Renee was already waiting out there in the warm, hazy dusk in casual clothing: lived-in jeans and a Michael Bublé t-shirt that clung pleasingly but not ostentatiously.
The bike caught Renee’s attention. Tallinn had gotten it for practical reasons; when Watching, sometimes it became necessary to move swiftly and the bike afforded her the ability to weave in and out of traffic. But now she was glad to have it for another reason: because Renee seemed to like it.
Tallinn rolled to a stop and took off her helmet. Renee gasped with glee and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, look at this!” She jogged over to where Tallinn sat on the purring bike and ran her fingers over the shiny black chassis. “This is gorgeous,” she sighed.
“Do you ride?”
“No, always wanted to, never got around to it.”
Tallinn produced another helmet and handed it to her. “Now’s your chance.”
Renee was practically vibrating with excitement as she popped the helmet on and stood looking at Tallinn eagerly.
“Well, hop on.”
Renee stretched a limber leg over the body of the machine and slid on behind Tallinn.
“All right. Where are we going, exactly?” Tallinn inquired.
“Do you like Thai? There’s a place on Ventura.”
“Sure,” Tallinn answered, having no idea whether she in fact liked Thai. She revved the engine, felt the bike rumble between her legs. “All right, hold on.”
Renee’s arms slid around her waist and she pressed herself against Tallinn’s back. Tallinn could only speak for herself but the ride to the Thai place was the most fun she’d had in recent memory.
It turned out they were meeting a few of Renee’s work friends at the Thai place. They were all young, fresh faced, squeaky clean and precocious. Tallinn hung out at the corner of the table and didn’t talk much, only contributing to the conversation when asked something directly. There was one older fellow there, a NASA engineer who had also seemingly been coaxed out by the kids.
He slid his chair over next to Tallinn’s. “So, how do you know Renee?” He clearly was relieved that there was one other person at the table that he perceived to be a peer.
Tallinn chuckled quietly. “That’s a bit of a story.”
He offered a handshake. “Ron Coughlin,” he said by way of introduction.
Tallinn shook his hand. “Tallinn… Carlebach,” she replied, still not comfortable with the nom de guerre.
“Ohhhh, you’re the mysterious Tallinn. Renee had a lot of time in the module the last two days to tell us all about you.” He tugged at the collar of his thin, checkered shirt.
“Well then, I suppose you know how we met.”
Ron Coughlin nodded. A plate with some spring rolls came wandering down the table, so he took it, grabbed one, and offered it to Tallinn. She took one, and passed it down. “I didn’t like that Jack kid. Anyway, I guess she’s a little… fascinated with you now. Probably why she invited you.”
Tallinn was content to watch Renee hold forth on the subject of the moment, the fundamental design flaw of Thanos’s glove and how the glove itself would prevent him from snapping, thus rendering several years worth of Marvel films worthless.
“And what about you, Ron? We’re the only two adults at the table.”
He smiled wearily and pointed to a young man two seats down from Renee. “I’m keeping an eye on that one. Genius engineer, but kinda on the spectrum, you know, so he tends to wander when he drinks. I’ve got to keep him out of traffic, so to speak.”
So humans had watchers too, in their own ways. Tallinn smiled. “I understand. Watching up close.”
Renee, in the middle of her speech, turned around, seeming to look for something. “Oh no,” she bemoaned her fate, “Rav, did I leave my sweater in the lockers?”
Tallinn chuckled. Renee Picard being perennially underdressed seemed to be a theme. She glanced at Ron. “This is my cue, I believe.” She got up, without saying anything, took her leather riding jacket, put it around Renee’s shoulders, and went back to her seat.
Renee looked over at her appreciatively. “You don’t have to do that.”
Tallinn waved her off.
Ron nodded approvingly. “She’s a sweet one. She needs someone to look out for her, though.”
Tallinn sighed. “Well, we only do what we can do.”
After dinner ended, only Renee and Tallinn remained. They walked to her bike, which was parked a few blocks down. “Still feeling up to the night show at the museum?” Tallinn asked, suspecting that after all that dinner and chatter, she probably wasn’t.
“No,” Renee answered with a little yawn. “Oh, I have a little present for you.”
“Totally unnecessary,” Tallinn objected.
“Pish posh,” Renne replied, digging in her jeans pocket.
“Pish posh?” Tallinn repeated with amusement.
“Look,” Renne said, wriggling a bit to get whatever she was after unstuck from the recesses of her pocket, “here’s the thing… you… protected me, and…”
Tallinn watched, curious, smiling at the awkwardness of her tugging and the little wrinkle on the bridge of her nose.
Finally, she freed what she was looking for. It was a flat little box. She presented it to Tallinn, who took it with bemusement.
“Well, I can’t really protect you, naturally, but …” She gestured awkwardly. “Well, open it.”
Tallinn opened the box. Inside sat a little piece of metal with ornate etching, decorated in places with enamel. It had lettering on it that she recognized to be Hebrew, and there was a little hole at the top and bottom. “It’s… it’s lovely.” Tallinn wasn’t lying, it was a lovely piece of craftsmanship. She also had no idea what it was.
“Well,” Renee went on, seeming a little nervous, “I mean, you probably have got one already, but I thought this one was awfully nice, and another mezuzah can’t hurt, right?”
“Actually, I don’t have one,” Tallinn said, which was both gracious and true.
Renee looked relieved. “I just… hope that God, in whatever way you understand it, will look after you the way you seem to want to look after me.”
Tallinn smiled and slipped the box into her pocket. “Thank you. I love it. Truly. You seem like you need a strawberry ice cream and a ride home.”
Renee lit up like a little girl. “How did you know it’s my favorite?”
They stopped in front of the bike. “Because it’s the best flavor, obviously.” Renee had loved strawberry ice cream above all other flavors since the age of five.
Tallinn took them through a Dairy Queen drive through and got Renee a strawberry ice cream cone. Then she drove her home and sat smiling warmly at her as she tripped up the steps to her building.
When Tallinn got home, she looked up what a mezuzah was for. There was a lot of stuff about “writing the word of God on your doorposts” and other things, but the interesting part was that it was broadly thought of to have protective properties, like a sort of talisman. Renee was, in her way, trying to offer a bit of protection. Tallinn sighed and looked at the two holes in it.
Five minutes later, she was screwing the mezuzah into the frame of her apartment door.