Lily had already read about the common implants and medications in her text and had been amazed at the contraceptive and VD implants, both so much better than what she was used to. They beat condoms for sure. If this was to be her new home... She nodded.
Mora prepped another locan and tiny implant and painlessly inserted it under the skin in her right shoulder. “It has to be changed every four years,” she cautioned. “It’ll show up on medscans, and a doctor or nurse can tell you when it’s time.” She picked up her mediscan and flicked it on, hovering it over the length of her body. “Everything looks good,” she reported, tapping at the screen. “In a regular check-up, no one will be able to pick up your old vaccines unless they were looking for them. Your appendix and broken ribs are still showing up, but if you find yourself under the care of a doctor who isn’t Fleet, just tell them you grew up in the Outer Fringes. Their medicine is pretty primitive compared to what we have in the Commons.” She turned off the mediscan. “All set. The new series of Lightning’s Luck is only a month away. Are you sure you’ll be able to get through the next two series by then?”
“Definitely.”
“And think about what I said.” She winked.
“I am already.”
Mora offered her a saucy wink as a goodbye, and Lily smiled.
Chapter 11
Lily bit her lip as she surveyed the mess of clothes blanketing her bed. There wasn’t much to choose from. She had played it safe in the shops on Rubidge Station, selecting clothes that were the most familiar to her and could blend in anywhere. Half a dozen pairs of unadorned black pants, simple shirts in plain colors, and a few sweaters did not make for an exciting wardrobe. She missed her worn-in jeans and T-shirts from home.
There was that black dress Mora had picked out for her, hanging out of an open dresser drawer. Lily had discovered by accident that none of her clothes wrinkled, and had tried to guess what the fabric was before giving up. She had scrunched up a few blouses and stepped on them, left her pants twisted up on the bathroom floor, and hadn’t seen as much as a crease. So there was another unexpected perk to living in the future. Her blue linen dress was still crumpled in a ball in the corner of the room; she’d get around to cleaning and pressing it another time, although God knew where she could wear it. Wearing it here would be like wearing overalls to a corporate board meeting. Everyone would know she didn’t belong.
She picked up the black dress and held it up, critically eyeing herself in the mirror bolted to the bedroom wall. There was no question that it fit better than anything she had owned, but it wasn’t something she could wear around the ship. She didn’t even own a bra that would work with such a dress. It was held up with a profusion of thin straps and was cut low in the back. It had taken her almost ten minutes just to try it on and figure out where everything was supposed to go. She sighed and tossed it back in the open drawer.
She fiddled with her hair, making a note to find out where to get it cut as she scrubbed her bangs out of her eyes. She had been planning on getting a haircut in the next day or two when she was still on Earth, and had spent some time on her computer at Lazarus Cryonics looking for a decent stylist in her area. If she could find a pair of scissors on the Defiant, she would just trim her bangs herself.
Lily touched up her makeup a little—850 years ahead of her time, and at least she could still get mascara in a tube—and again surveyed herself in the mirror. Aside from the weird seals on her shirt and pants in lieu of buttons and zippers, she looked the same as always.
She couldn’t believe how irritated she was at her wardrobe. It should be the least of her concerns after waking up in a spaceship’s cargo hold centuries out of her own time, only to find herself a top-secret military project and forced into going back to school, to boot. If anything, the exam she had written that afternoon should be on the forefront of her mind, and it wasn’t. Even though she had scored 91% on an exam whose subject matter was dry as chalk, and she hadn’t earned an A-plus in anything since her first year of university. The Napoleonic Wars, she recalled wryly. Her knowledge of that era was even less relevant now than it was at home.
Lily had never been very fussy about her appearance; as she had told Rian back on Rubidge Station, she had grown up in the dirt. She put effort into looking presentable, but she hadn’t gone through a phase where she had to look like a model leaving the house. She had never dressed to attract male attention specifically, so why was she sighing over a bunch of clothes now? She was especially aggravated with herself because the one man she wanted to notice her already did, and he never seemed to care what she was wearing. All of this worry was for nothing. Still, it would be nice if she could look special for once.
She knew Rian would be off-duty this evening; he had told her during an afternoon coffee break. Lily had asked if she could see the bridge. She wanted to know if it looked like the ones on TV, and then she had to explain again what TV and Star Trek were. It turned out that that the modern equivalent involved 3D and holograms in the middle of a living room floor. There were 3D movies, too, but Rian said he preferred the old-fashioned ones on a screen. It was reassuring to know that not everything had changed.
Rian had promised to show her the bridge when it was quiet and he was on duty with a couple of officers he trusted not to go tattling to the higher-ups. “Why would they get upset?” she had asked.
“You don’t work on the bridge,” he explained. “The admirals tend to get bent out of shape when someone who doesn’t work there goes poking around.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” she protested.
“I know you wouldn’t, but Fleet doesn’t see it that way. I will take you, I promise.” He’d looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup, the hint of something more than a bridge tour in his eyes.
She wanted to talk to him without the time restriction of a coffee break or curious glances from other crew members. Her comm badge was lying on the nightstand, and she tapped it lightly. “Stewart to Captain Marska.”
His voice was crisp and professional. “Captain here. Is everything all right?”
What if she had caught him at a bad time? “Everything’s okay,” she replied. “I just—are you busy right now?”
“No, I’m in my cabin.”
“Oh.” She felt a little awkward and berated herself for it. Where else would he be? He had said the Defiant didn’t have much in the way of entertainment. “Could I see you?” she asked bluntly.
There was a pause. “Of course,” he finally said, surprise edging into his voice. “Do you know where the captain’s cabin is?”
Oh, dear God, he was inviting her to his apartment. Cabin, she corrected herself. “No,” she admitted.
“Deck seventeen, cabin one. I’ll see you in a few minutes, then?”
She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “I’ll be right there.”
There was a staircase beside the elevators at the end of the corridor, and she took them, grateful that there wasn’t a total reliance on technology these days. Cabin one was directly beside the elevator, and she pressed the small doorbell set into the wall beside the palm pad. The doors slid open and she stepped inside.
Rian was waiting, a look of mild shock on his face. The door closed behind her as she stepped forward. “Hi,” she said, damning the breathiness in her voice. This was the first time she hadn’t seen him in a Fleet uniform. He wore a dark blue shirt and what looked like this century’s version of jeans, well-worn and faded at the knees. Behind him, in the living area, a TV played a news broadcast on low volume.
“Hi,” he echoed.
She smelled food in the air, something unfamiliar but good. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know you were having dinner.” It was around eight in the evening, she remembered. Not a good time to just drop in. “I should go.”
“No,” he immediately protested. “I want you to stay.” Finally he moved and crossed the room to the small kitchenette. He stirred a pot of something. “There’s eno
ugh for two, if you want some.”
Lily found herself nodding. “Okay,” she said. “Can I help with anything?”
He shook his head. “No, you arrived right on time.” He gave her a small, conspiratorial smile, and she felt her heart turn over. He set out plates on the table and dug around the fridge. “I think I have a bottle of wine in here,” he said. “Do you want a glass?”
“Yes, please.”
He produced a pair of glasses and a clear bottle of the same pale blue wine she had had in the mess with Taz. “Sit down,” he suggested and pulled out a chair. She obeyed and watched as he spooned a thick stew of meat, vegetables, and rice on the plates. He took the seat across from her and poured the wine.
“You don’t use your replicator?” Lily asked.
“Not much,” he admitted. “I don’t have a big repertoire of recipes, but I can cook a few things.”
“I’m a good cook,” she told him. “I’ll figure out how to when I move.” Something flashed in his eyes at the mention of her leaving, but it was gone when he blinked.
He held out his glass in a toast, and she raised hers. “What’s this to?” she asked.
He touched the lip of his glass to hers. “To not feeling awkward,” he said. “You keep looking around like something’s going to spring out and bite you.”
She laughed and felt some of the tension ebb away. “It’s just different seeing you out of your element,” she explained. “In your home.”
“It’s not what you were expecting?”
“I didn’t know what to expect.” She looked around the space, not much larger than her own cabin. It was lived-in but tidy. A few framed pictures graced the wall opposite the viewport, and there was a makeshift workspace set up beside the TV stand. A computer screen jutted out from the desktop, like the one in Dr. Ashford’s office. A few feet from the TV, there was a couch flanked by end tables bolted to the grey-carpeted floor. An open doorway off the living area led to what Lily guessed was his bedroom. She felt herself flush thinking about it. “I like it,” she said finally. “It’s a lot homier than mine.”
They finished their meal, and she asked him a few questions about him and his career in Fleet. He was thirty-four and had known he wanted to command his own battleship since he could walk. Until Lukas Kostin had been assigned to the Defiant, he had held the record for being the youngest executive officer in Fleet history. He and his twin sister were very close, and he laughingly described how she always knew exactly where to find him whenever he was in deep space.
Lily told him about her upbringing and described the tree farm. She hadn’t attended church in years but told him the religious origins of the holiday and what she had gleaned from Dr. Ashford and her datatab’s files in how it was now observed on Earth. “It doesn’t seem as commercial as it used to be,” she explained. “It’s more about the family and food, like it should be.”
When they finished, Rian stacked their plates in a wall-mounted dishwasher. He explained the complicated process of their cleaning and sterilization with particle light, and she tried to understand. It still beat washing dishes by hand, and she told him so.
Rian hovered by the TV. “Do you want to see a vidshow?” he asked. “I downloaded a few, and I haven’t made any time to see them.”
“Sure. You like scary ones, right?”
“I do.” He pressed a few buttons on the console, and they took seats on the couch. He was hardly two fingers’ width away from her, and she was very aware of his presence. This was the first time they had truly been alone. The attraction she felt between them had grown into an electric current, keeping her pulse high and catching her breath in her throat. She chanced a glance at him as he brought the half-full wine glass to his lips. He was gorgeous. She swallowed. He caught her looking at him and smiled, setting the glass on the nearest end table. He leaned back on the couch and slid an arm around her, drawing her closer to him.
Lily sank against him. Her senses were on high alert, and she felt every intake of breath, smelled the soap he used, and underneath it, him. His hand rested on the curve of her hip; his breath lightly ruffled her hair. Immediately her body responded, and her body tightened in anticipation. She wanted his hands everywhere.
As if he could read her mind, Rian’s fingers edged under the hem of her blouse until they rested on her skin. She gasped audibly. It was maddening—who would think that a light touch could have such an effect? His hand crept across her hip to caress her abdomen, and she bit back a moan. He had made no other advances to her, and she had to fight herself from climbing into his lap.
Shouldn’t she?
She turned her attention back to the TV. A science team was excavating an uninhabited planet that was supposed to be cursed and had uncovered a gigantic scaly alien, motionless in green sand. One of the scientists leaned over it, exactly the way someone shouldn’t do in a movie, and the alien opened yellow eyes and snapped its jaws at the scientist, latching its fangs into his skull.
Lily started a little; Rian’s arm tightened around her and he laughed softly in her ear, sending a shiver through her that had nothing to with aliens playing possum.
“Now you see why I picked this vid,” he murmured, and she felt his lips graze the skin below her ear.
Now they were getting somewhere. That small kiss set off something in her that she didn’t know existed, and she turned to face him. He looked caged, like he was ready to jump at her if given half a chance. Lily wanted him to.
“You really don’t know the effect you have on me,” he said softly.
Her breath caught. He reached for her again, pulling him to her until she was almost in his lap. “Tell me,” she whispered.
He held her head in his hands and brought her face down in a slow kiss. “You’re all I can think about,” he murmured against her mouth. “I don’t care about what the crew complains about; I don’t think about how much I want to get off this ship.” He kissed a slow line across her throat. “All I can think about is your smile, and how we can talk about anything.” His fingers slid down her back and dipped into the waistband of her pants. She gasped. She wanted him to touch her without the restriction of clothing.
“So you’ve found a new friend,” she tried to tease. She adjusted herself until she was straddling him. She could feel his erection through their clothes, and it sent a primal thrill through her.
“I don’t think about doing things in my office with my friends that would get me demoted,” he corrected.
A surge of heat shot through her at that admission. “You think about that?” she breathed.
“I think about a lot of things where you’re concerned.” His hands found the fastening on her blouse and he slowly unsealed it, revealing the plain black bra beneath. He pressed his lips against her collarbone. “I don’t think about...” He trailed off, as though he were about to let something slip that he shouldn’t. Instead his hands crept lazily up her torso to softly cup her breasts, her nipples beading into his palms through the fabric of her bra. She arched into his hands, wanting more, but he slid them back down her body and over her hips, slightly pushing down the waistband of her pants. He noticed the flower tattoo on her hip and ran his fingers over it. “I like this,” he said. “It’s sexy.” His blue eyes caught hers, full of uncharacteristic mischief.
Lily had regretted getting inked within a year, but Rian’s reaction made her glad she hadn’t had it removed. Her hands slid over his chest and shoulders, feeling the expanse of slim muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. She slipped her hands under the hem, and his breath constricted as her fingers touched his skin.
He kissed her fiercely, a harsh, possessive clash of lips and tongues, and she impatiently shrugged out of her blouse. She tried to pull up his shirt, but his hands lightly clasped her wrists, stilling her.
An exaggerated, high-pitched roar blared from the TV. Lily couldn’t help but giggle.
“And that just reinforces it,” Rian muttered. He released her wrists and his a
rms circled her waist. “I hadn’t planned on doing this on my couch,” he confessed.
“No, you were thinking about your office,” she pointed out, a wicked grin spreading across her face. He lightly nipped her earlobe, and she squealed in response.
“It would be difficult to get there without anyone noticing,” he admitted. He slowly kissed a trail down her neck to her throat. “My bedroom’s a lot closer.”
Their lips met again, but Lily pulled away and stood up. “Race you,” she teased, and bolted.
The open door beckoned to her, and its dim illumination was as bright to her as the proverbial light at the end of a tunnel. She barely made it through to the doorway before he hauled her against him, her backside pressed against his front. His breath tickled her ear. “I think I won,” he said, and his fingers brushed against her abdomen. She unsuccessfully bit back a giggle.
“I’m ticklish!” she protested.
His touch immediately shifted to a light caress. “It would kill the mood if I had you in hysterics, wouldn’t it?” he asked. His hands moved to tease her nipples through her bra.
“Anyway, I call a tie,” she gasped.
His teeth grazed the back of her neck. “Are we really going to argue about this?” Before she could answer, he turned her around so she faced him, and looped his arms around her waist. His mouth descended on hers, and he reached for the seal on her bra.
“Wait,” she chastised him.
His hands stilled, and he looked at her like she had lost her mind.
She felt like a dolt for having to ask this, completely ignorant of the protocol. “Um, I have my VD and birth control implants,” she said.
“Uh-huh,” Rian said, and reached for her bra’s seal again. Catching the look on her face, his hands froze at her back and he asked, “Is that a problem?”
“I just wanted to let you know. So you don’t have to...worry about anything.”
“If you didn’t, I do.” His fingers found the seal again.
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