Supernova (9 page)

“It was
the Nym who kidnapped me,” Lily said.

“Not
surprising,” Taz said. “It would be easier if we could just go into their space
and blow up the whole planet, but that’s not likely to happen.”

Lily was
going to ask him why, but he pointed to the remains of her stew. “Are you going
to eat that?” he asked. The dishes on his tray were empty. She pushed the bowl
across the table to him, wondering if people now had faster metabolisms than at
home. Taz caught her pensive expression and set down his spoon.

“I know
this is really terrible for you,” he said. His voice had taken on an unusually
serious tone. “But I think—I hope, anyway—you’ll like living here.”

Taz was
shaping up to be a friend in all this, after all. “Thank you,” she said.

Chapter 5

At 2200
hours, Rian finally went off duty at the insistence of the
Defiant
’s
executive officer. Aside from a short nap in his office chair, he had gone
without sleep for almost two days, and he felt every moment of wakefulness.
Shortly before his summons to sick bay, he had taken a pep pill for the first
time in years and unhappily discovered that they now gave him a splitting
headache.

He had
had meetings with his key staff a few times throughout the day in between
conferring via vidlink with his commanding officers at Fleet. It had taken
nearly an hour for Dr. Ashford to explain that Lily was who she claimed to be,
transmitting his medical reports to them twice. It had taken careful manipulation
on the parts of Rian and his first officer, Kostin, to convince the admirals
that the best idea was to keep the
Defiant
on course.

Then
there was the hair-raising news that a tabloid on Rubidge Station had picked up
a story about a time traveler in Fleet.

Rian
swore before he could stop himself and was quickly reprimanded. “How could that
happen?” he demanded.

“It’s
your ship,” Admiral Kentz replied frostily. “Someone tipped off the media.”

Rian
took a deep, cleansing breath and saw that Commander Kostin was doing the same.
Possibilities ran through his mind. The ship wasn’t bugged or under
surveillance; Rian knew that for a fact. “So you’re telling me I may have a
traitor on board,” Rian translated.

“It’s a
strong possibility.” The admiral glowered at him through the vidscreen, as
though it were Rian’s fault. He hadn’t had any say in his crew. If he had, the
seven weeks they had all been together would have been very different.

Rian
scrubbed his hands over his eyes. Why the hell couldn’t that pep pill kick in?

He hated
to ask his next question, one he had asked far too often since his posting to
the
Defiant
. “How do I handle this?” Fleet hadn’t prepared him for time
travelers, crew feeding classified information to the media, or Taz Shraft, for
that matter. Rian had a sinking suspicion the ensign was behind the office
replicator’s coffee turning green.

“Your
ship will be checked for invasive communications devices,” the admiral assured
him, a smirk on his face. Rian prayed he hadn’t accidentally turned in his
captaincy. Admiral Kentz was looking for any excuse to slap him down to
commander. “We don’t think it’s likely,” Kentz continued. “But we still have to
consider it.” He changed the subject. “We’ve already taken care of the cargo
manifest for the museum. Your guest will be listed as ‘irreparably damaged in
transit.’ For once, it’s a good thing that your ship’s gravity isn’t working.”

Rian
ignored that last comment, knowing the admiral was trying to bait him. Rubidge
Station’s museum was opening in a few short days and the historical society was
anxiously awaiting the shattered remains of their artifacts in the cargo hold.
He said a silent prayer of thanks to the gods for the damaged artifacts; the
faulty gravity would provide a good cover.

There
wasn’t any information to be had about the Nym’s explorations in time travel,
but they still theorized back and forth. Much to his frustration, the admirals
wouldn’t release any intelligence reports to Rian pertaining to that quadrant,
only to say that they had been quieter than normal. The enemy faction hadn’t
tried to invade the Fringes in almost five years, and that was troublesome. “All
we can tell you,” Admiral Kentz said, “Is that from our observations, their
planet’s atmosphere and surface are beginning to break down. We were wondering
if they had finally died off.”

Rian
schooled his features into what he hoped was a neutral expression. Admiral
Kentz hadn’t been aboard a patrol ship or battleship in over twenty years and
had never engaged in war with the Nym. If he had, he would know that their
dying off was a pipe dream.

When he
finally returned to his cabin for the evening at the insistence of Commander
Kostin, he thought about the solution he had proposed for Lily. Chances were
low to impossible that she could return to her own time; the possibility of
time travel notwithstanding, it was abhorred in civilized space. Cryonics for
the purpose of resurrection, genetic engineering in conscientious beings, and
slavery had been outlawed in the Commons since it was formed. He had dealt with
the last two on several occasions in his sixteen years with Fleet, but there
was nothing in their guidelines that could tell him what to do about Lily. He
and Admiral Kentz had had a particularly aggravating discussion over that.

The
admiral was initially keen on the idea of leaving her on Rubidge Station. “It
would be perfect,” the older man had proclaimed over their vidlink. “Rubidge is
its own community and has a Fleet base to protect her. She could find work,
friends, settle there. A patrol ship isn’t an appropriate place for a time
traveler. She’ll get in the way.”

Of
what?
Rian
wanted to ask, but didn’t. At this point the
Defiant
could hardly patrol
anything with its antiquated weapons array, but he refrained from saying that.
The defenses were going to be overhauled at Rubidge; Kentz had assured him as
much, and then they could traverse closer to the sketchier areas of the
Fringes. “With all due respect, Admiral,” Rian had replied, “she doesn’t have
any coping skills, and she isn’t likely to learn them on station. It won’t be
as though she can explain herself to anyone there. It’s been agreed that it’s
best we don’t advertise her discovery for security purposes, which is why I’ve
suggested that we carry on as scheduled. Miss Stewart has been completely
cooperative during this whole ordeal,” he added. “Another course of action to
consider would be training her for a useful, non-visible position.” Rian had
been thinking of a pharmacy position, dispensing medication.

“Fleet
doesn’t look well on civilians aboard military ships,” Kentz said.

“And
that regulation is in place for a reason, I agree. But these are special
circumstances, and moving her around won’t let her acclimate to Commons
culture. She can study aboard the
Defiant
or anywhere else with Fleet’s
correspondence program. I also think we need to look towards the eventuality of
the Nym finding her. She doesn’t know how to protect herself.”

“Why
wouldn’t they have found her already? They lost her over eight hundred years
ago.”

“Admiral,
twenty-first-century cryonics could only preserve tissue up to a thousand
years,” Rian said. “That was the best-case scenario, and we know now that those
preservations were never successful. My theory is that the Nym kidnapped her in
her own time, brought her back, and somehow lost track of her. After a few
centuries, they stopped caring and figured she was dead for good. If the media
find out, the Nym may hear of it and put two and two together. That’s simply
too large of a risk to take.”

She had
told him what had gone wrong in her life before she was kidnapped; she didn’t
think her circumstances could get worse. Rian knew they could.

The
admiral was quiet for a moment. “Noted, Commander,” he finally said.

When
Rian signed off, he had a bad feeling.
Commander
, not
Captain
.

Now, in
the privacy of his cabin, his exhaustion melted away and he felt almost
energized. He had to report for duty on the bridge at 800 hours, and he should
get some sleep, but he didn’t want to. And he knew the reason why, and she was
only a deck below him.

It
wouldn’t hurt to see what she was up to. She was still adjusting, and as the
acting captain of the vessel she found herself on, it was his responsibility to
see to her comfort. He tapped his comm badge. “Captain to cabin 16-4.”

He didn’t
get a response.
Damnation
. He hadn’t shown her how to use the comm badge
he’d issued her. He had thought they were self-explanatory.

Then a
soft, feminine voice sounded, “Hello, Captain.”

Well, it
wasn’t
that
difficult, after all.

She waited
for his reply. “Did I wake you?” he asked. Twenty-two hundred hours wasn’t late
on a patrol ship, but she could have been sleeping.

“No,”
she said. “Just reading.”

“Would
you like to get some tea?” he asked. Great, now he sounded desperate. He was
aiming to be distantly supportive. He had to be.

“I
would,” she replied, surprised. “Mess?”

“I’ll
meet you there in five.”

He
thought about changing into civvies and decided not to. Best to be
professional.

He
arrived at the mess first and was relieved to see only a couple of off-duty
engineering officers sharing a pitcher of beer at the bar. He picked a table in
the corner, beside a viewport. An old satellite beacon hovered in the far
distance, reminding him of times gone by.

She
entered minutes later, saw him and smiled. His heart stopped for a second, and
he stood up when she hurried to the table. He started to circle around the
table to pull out her chair for her, but she made it there before he could.

“Hi,”
she said brightly. She looked better-rested than she had that afternoon. Her
hair was damp and her clothes wrinkled. “This is a nice surprise. What are you
having?”

“Tea,”
he replied. He led her to the replicator. No serving bots on the
Defiant
,
of course.

Lily
flipped the screen through the menu. “What’s the tea like?” she asked. “Is
there anything herbal?”

“All tea
is herbal,” Rian pointed out.

“I mean
decaffeinated. If I have anything else right now, I’ll never get to sleep.”

“Oh.”
Rian understood, and selected a blend popular on his home world. They took
their cups back to the table.

“This is
probably really boring, but I figured out the shower.” She giggled. “I really
wasn’t prepared for the blow dryer. I think the default setting is meant for a
mastodon. I nearly got sucked in. But it made doing my laundry convenient.” She
gestured to her wrinkled dress and sweater.

“I’ll
have some towels delivered to your cabin,” he offered. “And we’ll be at Rubidge
in three days, so you can buy new clothes.”

“They
take Visa?”

Rian
stared at her blankly.

“I
thought not. God, Rian, brighten up a little. I have a credit card that expired
in 2021 and forty dollars and change somewhere being decontaminated. Does this
station allow bartering?”

“We’ll
give you some credits,” he promised. “Currency,” he added.

“Got it.
How long will we be there?”

“Two
days, maybe longer.” He sighed. “You know about the ship’s problems.” He
remembered his conversation with Admiral Kentz. “I have to tell you something.”

Fear
flickered in her eyes.

“We may
very well be walking into a media frenzy soon,” he said. “Fleet is very worried
about the Nym finding out about you. There was talk of leaving you on Rubidge
to settle and start over, but with all due respect, you’re...” He held out his
hands.

“Completely
helpless. You can say it.”

“Exactly.
You’re staying here for the time being. You’ll always have someone with you on
station, and you will say as little as possible to anyone you don’t know.”

“That’s
limited to you and Taz.”

Ensign
Shraft was
Taz
now? He tamped down a small stab of jealousy. He was
Rian
,
after all. He forged on. “We’ll disguise you as medical personnel on station.”

“Great
idea, except you’ve forgotten I can’t even use the shower without nearly
killing myself.”

“That’s
why you’re going to act as a med-assistant. No one bothers them on shore leave,
like officers.”

“Do
you
get bothered on shore leave?” she asked.

“No,” he
said. “Not really.” He tended to stay to himself or meet with another officer
or two in a quiet, familiar pub, usually in civvies, when he left whatever ship
he was assigned to. “I find most stations too noisy,” he admitted. “I’ve spent
my adult life in space. I prefer the quiet.”

They
sipped their tea in silence for a few moments, but he knew she wanted to ask
him something. “What does ‘acting captain’ mean?” she finally queried.