Supernova

by Jessica Marting

  “It’s not so defiant, is it?” she cracked.

  He made a face. “If I had a credit for every time I heard that...”

  “You could probably retire. Oh, come on, Captain, I’m teasing.”

  “Rian,” he said automatically. She had given him permission to use her given name, he should offer likewise, shouldn’t he? Since when do you think like that?

  “Okay, Rian, I’m teasing,” she said. She caught his raised eyebrow. “Oh, I get it. You’re not Rian in public.”

  It wasn’t that, although he nodded as if he agreed with her. He just liked the way she said his name.

  * * *

  Captain Rian Marska had left to do whatever it was spaceship captains did, and in the hours since he had left, she found herself bored. It was preferable to crying, although she had done her share of that, too.

  She played around with her cabin’s computer and after a few false starts found a small library available. Most of it was books about military theory and Fleet history, which she read a little of, but there was a modest fiction collection and she downloaded a few serial novels. Reading was a bit of a challenge at first; the English language had undergone some modifications over the last few centuries. All of the fiction was sci-fi, but she doubted it would be considered as such. Space battles really were waged now.

  Rian had issued her a comm badge, which was clipped to her sweater’s collar, but she was unsure how to use it. He hadn’t given her any restrictions, and if she spent any more time prowling around the cabin she would lose her mind. She damned her purse being stuck in a decontamination unit; she’d been halfway through a drugstore novel and wanted to finish it.

  There had to be somewhere to get a proper meal, at least. Maybe Rian could show her where, but she didn’t have a clue where to find him.

  She left her cabin and went back in the same direction she and Rian had taken from the elevator. Stepping into it, she recalled his verbal commands, but she didn’t know which deck was what, so she looked around the walls for a directory of some kind. Nothing.

  The doors closed and the elevator began a smooth ascent. Maybe someone would get on and help her.

  It stopped and the doors whooshed open. A young officer in a rumpled navy blue uniform stepped in. He looked familiar.

  “Mess,” he commanded. He glanced at Lily and did a double take. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed.

  Evidently the Defiant didn’t see a lot of people dressed for the office. “Nice to meet you, too,” Lily snapped.

  “No, I just didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” the officer explained. “Especially on the lift.” He examined her face. “You don’t remember me. I’m the guy you scared the crap out of in the cargo hold. I thought you were a zombie and tried to shoot you? Ring any bells?” He smiled expectantly, as though they were casual acquaintances who had bumped into one another at a movie theater.

  Lily remembered now and glared at him.

  “Ensign Taz Shraft.” He stuck out his hand and grinned broadly. “Call me Taz.”

  He was younger than her by a few years, in his early twenties, and gangly, as though he were still growing. His dark blond hair stuck up like he had just tumbled out of bed and his eyes were an odd shade of lavender, a color Lily had never seen before.

  Lily shook his hand. “Lily Stewart, but you already know that. As you can see, I’m not a zombie.”

  “I’m really sorry about that. It’s just a little unsettling when someone you think is dead wakes up. Just so you know, I think dead bodies in museums are creepy and disrespectful. I was going to put you in the corner of the cargo hold where the gravity always works.” He said this as though it somehow justified pulling a gun on an unarmed woman.

  The elevator doors opened. “Where are you headed to?” he asked.

  “Somewhere I can get some food,” she said. “My cabin has only soup and coffee.”

  “You’re in luck,” Taz said cheerily. Catching her dark look, he backtracked. “Well, not technically, but I can help you with dinner.”

  He led her through a set of doors into a large mess hall, half its tables occupied. He waved to a few people and Lily noticed some curious looks in her direction. At the replicators, he tabbed through the menus. “What do you feel like?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she answered. She looked at one of options scrolling past. “I was looking for tomato soup in my cabin, but that doesn’t seem to exist anymore.”

  “All you can get in the cabins is basic stuff,” he explained. He flicked through the soup selections. “No tomato soup, whatever a tomato is.”

  “It’s a vegetable.”

  “What about vegetable stew?” he suggested.

  She would have to get used to this. “Okay.”

  He ordered a bowl of something fragrant and spicy for her and a huge tray of unfamiliar dishes for himself, helping himself from a pile of dishes stacked next to the replicator. He didn’t look like he could eat all that, but maybe men had evolved with an extra stomach.

  They took a table near a window, and Lily was again struck by the stars drifting past. She saw a large silver cone-shaped structure floating in the distance, and asked Taz about it.

  “Old satellite beacon,” he explained between mouthfuls. “From the early days of space travel. They were used for communication way back when. They’re all over the Commons, but no one uses them anymore.” He stirred a bowl of casserole on his tray, half of it already eaten. “So you’re really from the twenty-first century?”

  “I really am.”

  “You’re the hot topic of the day on the Defiant,” he added. “I should thank you, because before you woke up, it was me trying to wine and dine someone who turned out to be Lieutenant Steg’s sister when we were at Golfell.”

  “You’re welcome, I guess,” said Lily. She had read a blurb about Golfell in her cabin. Military base and small commercial center

  Footsteps behind her chair halted the conversation. Taz set down the remains of a piece of bread, stood up and saluted. “Captain,” he acknowledged around a mouthful of food.

  To her surprise, Lily’s heart fluttered at the sound of his voice. She stood up and turned around to face him.

  “At ease,” Rian said smoothly. “Ensign, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Lily and Taz returned to their seats. He turned to Lily. “I see you’ve found the mess.”

  “Accidentally,” she said. “I got stuck in the elevator.”

  “It’s true,” Taz confirmed.

  Lily caught the look of surprise that peeked through Rian’s professional demeanor at the sight of the two of them. “I remember him,” she said. “He apologized. I can’t blame him for reacting the way he did.” She smiled. “Want to join us?”

  Taz choked a little and coughed to cover it up.

  “No, thank you,” Rian replied. “I just stopped by for some tea. The replicator in my office isn’t working again.”

  Lily had heard over and over about the state of disrepair on the ship, and it alarmed her. “You sound way too relaxed about broken things on board,” she said. “We’re in space, and you’re not freaking about gravity malfunctions?”

  Rian’s mouth quirked up in the tiniest of smiles. “No, we have fail-safes.”

  “I once got stuck in a ditch off a highway with a flat tire,” Lily said. “At night. It was snowing and my phone died. It scared the hell out of me, but at least I was still able to breathe outside.”

  “The Defiant’s life support is at optimum levels, Miss Stewart.” The tiny smile disappeared under his professional captain mask. A shame, because a smile would have transformed his face.

  “So there’s no chance of one of the windows blowing out and everyone being sucked into space?”

  “None.”

  “Good to know.” She searched his face for any sign of the Rian who had spoken to her so reassuringly in her cabin and found none.

  She’d heard him referred to as an acting captain. Maybe that had something to d
o with his shift in attitude. Or maybe he didn’t like stupid questions, even when they came from an ignorant time traveler

  Rian excused himself and Lily watched him get his coffee. “Did I insult him?” she asked Taz.

  “No, he’s been acting like there’s a stick up his ass since he took command,” Taz answered. “Although he was never the kind of guy who went out with the crew on shore leave. He’s not the chattiest officer out there. That’s probably why he’s almost a captain already.”

  “So he’s ambitious,” she translated.

  “To a fault. Everyone knows he wants a permanent captaincy.”

  “Is he married?” The question slipped out of Lily’s mouth before she could stop herself.

  “Hell no.”

  A thrill coursed through her at this information, and she immediately chastised herself for it.

  “Hell no, he isn’t married?” she echoed.

  “He’s thirty-four, thirty-five years old. You don’t make commander, then first officer on the Bradlaw, and then acting captain at that age unless you have no social life,” Taz explained. He raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you care if he’s married?”

  She ignored the question. “Dumb it down a shade. What’s the Bradlaw?”

  “One of the premier battleships in Fleet. It blasted a couple of Nym ships out of the star lanes when they were trespassing in Commons space.”

  “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 cultu
re. 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.