Supernova (12 page)

Lily
half-listened to the question as she took in the store. There were no clothes
racks or shelves of folded sweaters, just mannequins attired in the wares and
holograms suspended from tablet computers that customers turned around. Every
so often someone would change the image, and another blouse or dress would
appear. “You pick out something in your size,” she explained. “Then go to a
dressing room and try it on.”

Mora let
go of the skirt long enough to gape at her. “Then what did you do with the
clothes?”

“Well,
if they didn’t make you look like a manatee, you bought them. And if they did,
you gave them back to a clerk and they went back on the rack.”

Disbelief
crossed Mora’s features. “So you could be wearing pants that a total stranger
wore. No wonder you got so many vaccines.”

“Despite
what you seem to think about our hygiene, we weren’t crawling with mutant
strains of ass fungus.”

“That’s
disgusting.”

Lily
laughed. “No one ever died from trying on khakis at an Old Navy. Do you even
know
what whooping cough is?”

“It
sounds like slang for a venereal disease.”

Lily
laughed again. It felt so good. She was enjoying herself for the first time
since waking up in the cargo hold, and chatting with a girlfriend for the first
time since her own best friend poached her boyfriend two years ago. Although
Katy had never made suggestions the way Mora was now, who was trying to
convince her to spend her credits on something low-cut, short, and, as she
described it, fun to wear on a night out.

“Mora, I
just need some clothes for everyday for now,” Lily protested. “All I have is
this uniform and the dress I woke up in.”

They
flipped through the holograms on a table, and Mora grumbled about her
unwillingness to experiment but pulled up the store’s offerings of more
conservative clothing. Lily breathed a sigh of relief. Blouses and T-shirts
were still available.

“So how
does this work?” Lily asked.

“We’ll
find a clerk with a datacorder and she’ll take your measurements,” Mora said. “Then
you pick the stuff you want and it’s replicated according to them.”

“This is
ingenious,” Lily breathed.

“Exactly.
Everything fits the way it’s supposed to, which is why I really think you
should consider that.” Mora pointed to a mannequin wearing a filmy black lace
number that almost resembled a nightgown. “I think I might order it, but in blue.”

“Mora, I
can’t wear that.”

“Why
not?” She looked at Lily patiently for an explanation.

She
fumbled for one. “It’s not really me. It wouldn’t fit right.”

“Yes, it
would. Datacorder, Lily.” She pointed to a clerk with a handheld scanner,
remotely measuring a customer.

“It’s
just...not me. It’s too feminine. It’s what you wear when you want someone to
hit on you.”

Mora
stared at her. “Well, yeah, that’s kind of the point.”

“It
would fit you better.” The nurse was tall and slim.

This
earned an eye roll from Mora. “Why?”

“You’re
tall. Athletic,” Lily finally said.

“‘Athletic’
is the kind term for not having boobs or an ass,” Mora said. “I don’t worry
about it anymore. Much. You actually have a figure. You’ve been blessed.”

Mora’s
compliments made Lily smile. Petite and curvy like the mother she knew only
from photos, she had always felt a compulsion to lose ten pounds or at least
grow a few inches, especially after Cameron left her. Katy had been tall and
auburn-haired, with perfect skin. No matter how diligently Lily had applied
sunscreen growing up, spending all that time outside on the tree farm had left
freckles on her arms and across her nose. She swallowed those old insecurities
and regarded the black dress again.
Why not?
It was guaranteed to fit. “Okay,”
she said. Mora gave her a devilish grin. “But that’s it for any sexy stuff. I
need practical clothes.”

Mora
keyed in the order, and a sales clerk with tawny skin and blue hair that Lily
suspected was natural immediately sped over with a datacorder at the ready. At
the sight of it, Lily’s gut clenched and she remembered her appendectomy. Mora
saw her apprehension, and leaned down to whisper, “Don’t worry. It isn’t
medical.”

She
relaxed and let the clerk scan her while cheerily filling her in on the boutique’s
sales. She recognized Mora. “Are we indulging today?” she asked brightly.

“Definitely.
Fleet’s posted me to their worst ship but at least they gave me a transfer
bonus. I deserve a treat.” She pointed to the black lace dress. “Can I get that
in red and blue?”

The
blue-haired clerk tittered and keyed in the order. “Is it true you have a time
traveler? That’s all anyone’s talking about.”

With
shaking fingers, Lily spun around the suspended hologram and tapped the
touchscreen to bring up the shop’s pants and skirts. “They’re keeping us in the
dark, too,” Mora replied smoothly. “I read about it in today’s
Rubidge Rumor
,
but they’re always talking out their asses.”

The
clerk agreed, and left them to their shopping. Lily settled on a few shirts and
pairs of  pants that would have been acceptable back home. “I need shoes and
underwear, too,” she told Mora.

“We’ll
go somewhere else for underwear,” Mora promised and brought up another
hologram. She picked out a sensible pair of boots that everyone wore on the
Defiant
,
and flats that would suffice as something more formal after Lily talked her out
of sky-high heels that would have left her with a broken ankle.

The
clerk tallied up their orders and clicked on their credit cards with the
datacorder. They left the shop empty-handed, and Mora explained that their
purchases would be sent for pickup at the barracks. “How convenient,” Lily
said. “I like shopping now.”

Mora
laughed, and escorted her to her favorite lingerie place, where Lily ignored
most of her suggestions and picked out underwear. “This is the best part,” Lily
exclaimed over the holograms. “No more looking sickly and jaundiced in a
fitting room, struggling with bra straps.”

Mora’s
reaction was both comical and a relief to Lily. “Okay, so you actually tried on
underwear
? That’s of one of the most revolting things I’ve ever heard.
Shopping in your time just sounds worse and worse.”

“Look at
this from my perspective, at least. I’m just glad bras still exist.”

“They do
indeed, and they can do miraculous things for women like me.” Mora pulled a
small digital watch from her pocket and checked the time. “We should go to the
Flare and see if they’ve kicked out Taz yet.” They summoned a clerk and made
their purchases.

They
went back into the darkened foyer, strings of tiny lights wrapped around
support posts that twinkled like stars. “He’s that bad?” Lily asked.

“Horrible.
He gets drunk, makes an idiot of himself, and then hits on anything remotely
female.” Mora shook her head. “Although he tends to do the last two things
without alcohol anyway.”

They
ended up in a dim, noisy pub called the Solar Flare, already populated with
half the
Defiant
’s crew. Mora ordered a couple of beers at the bar from
a human server, but the floor was packed with robots. Serving bots, Mora
explained. Lily looked around for Rian but didn’t see him. True to Mora’s
prediction, Taz was seated at the bar, a half-full glass of something red in
hand and talking animatedly with a heavily-tattooed blonde.

Mora and
Lily took seats at a table inside with a few other infirmary staff, including
Dr. Ashford. He introduced the middle-aged woman at his side as Pelly, a
curator at the new museum. Lily politely listened to Pelly’s chatter about the
exhibits and noted that she didn’t say a word about the missing Earthling. The
curator was more excited about the huge crate of a prehistoric animal’s bones
from some faraway planet, and lamented how long it would take to assemble them.
Lily nodded and let her mind wander to Rian and when she could see him again.

* * *

Rian was
finally dismissed from an unending series of meetings at 2100 hours, with the
unfortunate promise of more to come in the morning. Things were not boding well
for the advancement of his career.

Fleet
was only marginally impressed with his leadership of the
Defiant
, to put
it generously. Since he took over as acting captain, there had been an
assortment of complaints from the crew and the higher-ups at Fleet, ranging
from criticism of his handling the ship’s near-tragic encounter with a star unexpectedly
going nova to simple human resources issues. Rian tried to argue that it wasn’t
his place to mediate petty squabbles over alleged ownership of tables in the
mess, but his points fell on deaf ears. As to the dying star, he pointed out
that if he had followed Fleet regulations—engage the hyperspace engines and get
the hell out—the
Defiant
wouldn’t be anything more than space junk now.
There had been no warning of the star’s death; he’d had no choice but to cut
the power to the engines and use the reserved fuel to bolster the shields and
ride out the explosion. It had been risky and under normal circumstances
downright stupid, but he’d had no other option. What was embarrassing was
having to be towed to the nearest station by
Bishop’s Pride
, helmed by
the fearsome Captain Ursuline Jena, for refueling and repair.

The bots
that Ensign Shraft had reprogrammed to dance had been damaged, some beyond
repair. Admiral Kentz claimed that he had received dozens of complaints from
the crew who now had to do a lot more manual labor. Due to the
Defiant
’s
advanced age, there wouldn’t be as many replacements as Rian had hoped for,
because the newer bots weren’t compatible with the ship’s antiquated computer
systems. He didn’t know which was worse: the lack of bots or Shraft not being
transferred.

Then the
museum curators had a litany of complaints about the condition of the artifacts
on arrival at Rubidge. Rian wouldn’t worry about the altered cargo manifest,
and it didn’t look like anyone noticed the missing Earthling exhibit. No, the
staff on Rubidge was upset about damaged pieces, damage that wouldn’t have
occurred in the first place if the
Defiant
hadn’t been forced to
transport their crap when Fleet knew about the problems in the cargo hold. Two
priceless statues had chunks broken off, and the hot temperature had altered
the chemical elements of some artwork, causing paint to change hue.

There
was that mocking transmit from a known fuel smuggler in the
Defiant
’s
assigned territory, who saw the aging ship lumbering through space on patrol.
The message consisted of the smuggler laughing for five minutes. The
Defiant
hadn’t responded to it. What was the point? Rian wasn’t sure why that message
that was his problem, and Fleet didn’t offer any solutions, but it was still blamed
on him.

Finally,
there was his handling of Lily Stewart’s discovery in the cargo hold. For once,
Ensign Taz Shraft wasn’t the cause of a disaster on the
Defiant
, and
Rian resented the pain in the ass even more for it. The complainant wasn’t
named, but Rian would have bet a week’s salary it had been Lieutenant Steg.

Lily
should have been treated as a spy or a terror suspect from the beginning,
Admiral Kentz lectured. Hindsight is always 20/20, but someone in his position
should never rely on the possibility of living to see it. She should have been
transported to the brig immediately and treated by the doctor with a security
detail, not carried through a vulnerable ship by the acting captain. Kentz,
once again, stressed
acting
. Then he should have interrogated her
properly, not asking her questions and escorting her to a cabin like a
godsdamned concierge.

Rian’s
hands clenched under the table at the thought of Lily being kept in the brig
like a criminal. Its cells were made up of charged force fields, and they
offered a hell of a shock, sometimes fatally to smaller prisoners. He saw her
being shocked and burned, and closed his eyes briefly to block out the images.

“Something
wrong, Marska?” Kentz demanded.

“No,
sir.” Rian had been right to treat Lily the way he had.

On top
of the litany of complaints about his job performance, he was still stuck on
the
Defiant
indefinitely, and when they left Rubidge Station, he had to
haul a science team halfway across the galaxy to some godsforsaken uninhabited
planet. The only bright side to it all was that Lily could stay for the time
being; in addition to the reasons addressed when she was present, the media had
no idea the
Defiant
existed and wouldn’t think to bother a dilapidated
patrol ship. Thank gods its cargo manifest was private and encrypted.

At least
the old girl was being repaired on station. Deck fifteen and the cargo hold
would have fully functioning gravity, and her weaponry was being upgraded.

Best of
all, he could keep Lily around a little while longer. When he left the
conference room, he wondered how her excursion in the commercial sector had
gone. There was only one way to find out.