“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.
Rian rarely ventured out of military bases when he was on a station, and a quick look around the barracks deck meant he was going to. He knew that the Solar Flare and the Constellation were popular nightspots for Fleet officers, so he took the lift up to the commercial sector. Immediately after stepping off, he was hit with the noise and smells and crowds of Rubidge Station. There was the usual assortment of station residents, tourists and military personnel, and he took his time looking for the tall, blond ensign and redheaded nurse he knew Lily was likely in the company of.
He followed a group from another Fleet ship and stepped around throngs of people staring in rapt fascination at a game of three-star monte being dealt by a man wearing a ridiculous top hat. He ducked into the Constellation, a quieter pub with a higher-priced menu that deterred junior officers, spotted a couple of the admirals who had eviscerated him in conference, and left before anyone saw him. The Solar Flare was a level down and his next guess.
There he found what looked like half the Defiant’s crew, mingling with one another in various states of inebriation. A lieutenant from navigation yelled a hello from the patio and held up an empty beer glass. It was the warmest greeting he’d received since taking command.
He worked his way around a few tourists and potted palm trees until he was inside, and he scanned the interior for Lily. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he narrowly avoided being run over by a serving bot loaded down with drinks. Ensign Shraft was at the bar, getting lectured by a woman covered with tattoos, and he was nodding clumsily over his glass.
He saw Lily at a table by the window, looking out at the corridor at an aggressive perfume hawker. She didn’t notice him until he rested his hands on the chair across from her, and sh
e jumped a little. A smile bloomed across her face. “Hi,” she said. “Sit down. Do you have time for a drink?”
He was grateful for the invitation; it saved him the trouble of having to ask her if the seat was taken without sounding like a fool. “Yeah,” he said. “Finally.” A server made a beeline for their table to take his order. Coffee was at the tip of his tongue, but he was in a pub, and he had had a trying day. “Kashaff whiskey, please.”
“How did everything go?” Lily asked when the server left.
“So-so,” he admitted. Horrible, he thought. He had a feeling if he told her how the meetings had gone she would listen, but he didn’t want to bore her. “Long and short of it is, I’m still the acting captain, and the ship is getting some repairs and upgrades while we’re here.”
She nodded. “What kind of upgrades?”
“She’ll be able to handle the newer torpedoes available, and the cannons will be refurbished,” he replied, thankful for a topic he knew something about. “We had adequate weaponry before, but this is what’s used on newer ships.”
The server returned with his drink and asked Lily if she wanted a refill. She declined and took a sip from her half-empty beer glass. Rian gave the server a couple of credit pieces.
“Is that what you’re used to back home?” he asked.
“Beer? Yeah, we have that,” she said. “This is just a lot stronger than what I used to drink. I won’t be able to finish a glass. Mora ordered it for me.”
“Where did she take off to?”
Lily shrugged. “I think she has a thing going with one of the guys here.” She pointed to the bar, and he saw the nurse’s short cap of red hair. “She took me shopping. It was quite the experience.” She grinned. “Better than back home.”
Rian raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
Lily told him about racks and described changing rooms and Mora’s reaction to how things were done in her time, and Rian’s reaction was much the same. It was horrifically unsanitary.
“I have enough stuff to tide me over until I find my own place,” she finished after giggling at the look on his face. “It’s nice to have something to wear besides my work clothes. Dresses were never my thing.”
“No?”
“I grew up on a farm, Rian. I spent my life in the dirt until I met my ex, then returned to it until I moved to Toronto.”
An ex. Interesting. He had never got around to asking if she had a partner back home who would miss her, and he was guessing now that she hadn’t. For some reason he was dying to know about the ex, but forced himself not to pry. “The dirt? How so?”
A faraway look crossed her face, and he wondered what she was remembering. “I was an only child, and my dad was a single parent. We played ball hockey in the driveway and climbed trees. Not the ones we sold for the holidays—they were too small—but there were trees all around our property that had been there for decades. So my clothes were always bound to end up stained or torn.”
“What about your mother?” It was a more polite, professional question to ask instead of one about an ex.
“She died when I was a baby—a car accident. Um, land vehicle. Dad remarried when I was four, and he and Sandy stayed together until I was in high school. She was my mom, really, but she remarried before my dad died and we didn’t stay in touch besides the occasional e-mail.” She looked at him curiously. “You know, every time we talk, we discuss me. What about you?”
“I’m pretty boring, Lily.”
“I want to know, anyway,” she said. Warmth spread through him at her interest. “What about your family and where you come from?”
“Career Fleet,” he said. “Most Fleet kids grow up in boarding schools and I’m no exception. I went into the academy at eighteen and I’ve been on a ship ever since. Sixteen years.”
“But where are you from?” she pressed.
“Repub-2, a planet in the original Commons space. It was the second planet established as a republic, but it joined the Commons when it was formed.”
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Brothers or sisters?”
“One sister,” he said. “Nalia. She’s my twin.”
“That’s so cool! She’s an officer, too, I take it?”
Nalia was as spontaneous and carefree as Rian was quiet and disciplined. Their parents had actually been relieved when the academy balked even at the mention of her applying. “No, she’s a teacher at a primary school on Repub-2. She’s married, with a two-year-old.” He missed her.
He also envied her for her relationship with her husband, a ship mechanic. They had an easygoing, loving relationship, the kind their parents didn’t appear to have and Rian wished for in his weaker moments.
“So you’re an uncle and a spaceship captain. What else do you do?”
“Being a commanding officer takes up a lot of time.”
“You must have hobbies and interests,” she insisted. “I used to read a lot. It’s harder here, but I’m getting used to it.” She caught his raised eyebrow. “The language has changed. ‘Y’ and ‘C’ aren’t used as much, unless they’re talking about the Commons. My ID spells my name as L-I-L-I, for instance. So tell me, what do you do?”
“I read, too, but mostly military theory and history.” He thought of one of his pastimes that he missed. “Climbing. And horror vids.”
“Movies?” she translated.
“I don’t know what they are,” he admitted.
“Shows,” she explained. “You watch them on a screen.”
“Then movies, yes.”
“Me, too,” Lily said.
There were cinemas on station, although none showing any decent vids, otherwise he would have invited her to see one. Strictly to show her Commons culture, of course.
There was a small commotion at the bar as the blonde woman slid out of her seat next to Shraft and left. He gave the noisy, dramatic sigh of the moderately drunk and ordered another drink from a serving bot. Rian shook his head. “What’s wrong?” Lily asked.
“I’m not used to this kind of atmosphere,” he admitted.
“You’re not a bar-hopper, then? Want to go somewhere?”
Rian tore his gaze from the bar to look at Lily, slightly stunned. “Sure,” he said. He thought quickly. “The station has an aviary, botanical gardens, a zoo. Where do you want to go?”
“Wherever you like,” she said, rising from her seat. “This is all new to me.”
* * *
Any ideas in Lily’s mind about whether Rian was naturally quiet or if that was his professional appearance evaporated. He was quiet, giving him a mysterious air that she liked. She had asked an amused Mora back at the pub before his arrival if he had any girlfriends, and Mora had giggled in reply. Like everyone in Fleet, the nurse said, he had had a couple of discreet flings along the way but nothing serious. “Do you have a thing for him?” she yelled over the roar of the crowd.
Well, yes, Lily did, but she wasn’t going to proclaim it in a noisy pub.
He was intelligent, thoughtful, and, she was learning, irritating Fleet with his unorthodox ways of leadership. He hadn’t spoken to her about it directly, but she had sensed as much when she asked him how his conferences went, and guessed that when the boss wanted to deal with him privately, it wasn’t to play golf and talk shop. Still, he had made enough of an impact to be first officer on a battleship by the time he was twenty-six, a feat even the most vocal detractors on the Defiant admired.
And he was good to look at. Lily wasn’t about to discount that, or that she was a sucker for the tall, dark, and handsome type. Deep blue eyes that had kept her focused and almost lucid when she came out of stasis, and ink-black hair that he appeared to have forgotten to have trimmed lately, but Lily liked it. It made him more human and less the intimidating, distant captain. He was the polar opposite of Cameron, who could draw a roomful of people around him just by walking in, and made friends wherever he went. It was all an act, as Lily later found out when he told her that he was real
ly in love with her best friend.
She was starting over. She wouldn’t think of that now. Cameron’s desertion had occurred long before her move to Toronto and she had already put it behind her.
Rubidge Station’s commercial sector was still busy even at this late hour, but the attractions he brought her to were quieter. There was a large group of tourists oohing and aahing over the aviary, a cavernous, sweet-smelling room full of small colorful birds that resembled parrots. They flew through the room freely, accepting pieces of fruit from onlookers’ hands. They were loud, too. Their high-pitched screeches bounced off the walls as they dive-bombed heads. One bounced off Rian and poked its beak at his neck, and he asked if they could go.
“Where to next?” she asked. He rubbed his neck.
“We could go to the botanical gardens,” he replied. “Or the library. As long as a bird doesn’t try to kill me.”
“Let me see.” She pushed his hand away and peered at his neck. There would be a small bruise, but no lasting damage. “They’re not poisonous?”
“Not that species.”
She touched a fingertip to it to assess the damage and quickly drew away before Rian could, remembering his reaction the other night in the mess. Rian turned his head to look at her, one eyebrow raised in an expression that she was sure he had a patent on. “The gardens,” she said.
Was that disappointment on his face?
The botanical gardens were two decks up from the aviary, and Lily had to remind herself she was on a space station. There were more familiar plants here than she expected, and a wave of homesickness washed over her, as strong as the artificial sunlight pouring over the gardens.
“Rian,” she breathed. “This is beautiful.” They wandered through a dirt pathway lined with shrubs and flowers, plaques in front of them explaining their species and origins. She pointed to a copse of trees in the distance, a few hundred feet away. “Those are similar to what we grew at home.” She pointed to another, closer group of trees. “Those are oak trees! But they’re small.” She wandered over the grass to the oaks, full-grown but standing a scant nine or ten feet up.
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