“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.
“It means a temporary promotion,” he explained. “They’ve handed me a shitbox and they want to see how I handle it.” He paused. “Excuse my language.”
“Excused. I’ve said worse.”
“Officially, I’m still a commander. There will be two captaincies opening in the next few months, and I want one of them, on a battleship.” For Rian, this was babbling. He shut up. “Apologies,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to bore you. You have more important things to be thinking about.” He curled his fingers around his cup.
“And those things scare the hell out of me,” she replied.
Her eyes met his, and her hand slid across the table to touch his hand that was gripping his teacup. He almost jerked back out of surprise, but held still. At the touch of her skin against his, he felt a spark, a near-tangible sensation of understanding and something else. Want?
What was she doing? She wasn’t supposed to be offering him comfort. It was disconcerting to him, and he averted his eyes before she could see his reaction or he hers.
He pushed any thoughts not concerning her safety and well-being from his mind and let go of her hand. He had to. She was not a woman from the Commons or even the Fringes; she was itching to go home and couldn’t. Any other kind of entanglement was the last thing either of them needed.
Chapter 6
Lily stayed close to Dr. Ashford and a young nurse around Lily’s age named Mora Kharn when the Defiant docked at Rubidge Station. As Rian feared, there was a group of journalists waiting for their arrival, having already harassed another docked Fleet ship and not getting the story they were looking for. They were clustered in a public corridor outside the airlock access way.
“Just ignore them,” Mora whispered to her. Lily nodded and walked faster to keep up with the taller woman’s long stride. She clutched a Fleet-issue overnight bag holding a change of clothes borrowed from Mora, who had promised to take her shopping. “It’s just in case,” the nurse said. “None of my stuff will fit you anyway.”
The Defiant was being taken out of service during its repairs at the station, which meant everyone had to stay off ship. Lily alternated between the thrill of being on a real space station and the terror of being caught unaware by a predator. She wished she at least had the option of returning to her cabin, the only sanctuary she had.
You wanted to start over, she told herself.
The media shitstorm began that morning. Rian had called her in at a crew meeting in one of the ship’s conference rooms and explained that somehow the tabloids had learned of a time traveler, and every action was being taken to find out who had blabbed. He talked about ship-wide invasive scans and comm audits, and Lily tried and failed to keep up with the terminology. It didn’t look like the Defiant had been mentioned by name in the media, but Rian was still furious. He was calm, but she recognized the ticking in his jaw and his fists clenching and unclenching.
Fleet had had no choice but to confirm that time travel had been made possible by an enemy faction, but gave no other details. Mora had downloaded one of the tabloids to what looked like an e-reader and had shown it to her before they were cleared to leave the ship. “They all have exclusive stories with insiders at Fleet, and one says that the time traveler is only from a couple of years in the future and another says five hundred. I think you’re safe.”
The crew had to walk through a series of security checkpoints to the inner area of the Fleet outpost after leaving the public corridor. They passed through a huge circular doorway and everyone was subject to palm and retinal scans, and then through something that reminded Lily of an airport security scanner. Her curiosity was piqued when one of the men in uniform whistled. She turned her head, ready to tell him what he could do with his whistle, but Mora rolled her eyes.
“Go to hell,” Mora shot back.
Taz forced his way through the scanner, and the grunt said hello to him. “You’re holding up the line,” he said, and caught the look between Mora a
nd the security officer. Mora glared at his amused face. “Let’s go,” Taz said, and pushed them both.
“What was that?” Lily whispered.
“Too much sala a couple of years ago,” Mora said, and left it at that.
She was issued a station badge and assigned to a room in the Fleet barracks. She looked around for Rian, but Taz said he was probably in a meeting. “You’re a popular topic of conversation,” he grinned. “You’ll probably have to go, too.”
As if on cue, her new badge trilled and she jumped. She tapped it. “Hello,” she said sunnily, as though she were answering the phone. She couldn’t help it; it was an old habit. Mora and Taz snickered. Lily didn’t see what was so funny. She didn’t have a rank or title like they did, and it felt weird referring to herself as Stewart.
Rian’s voice—purely professional—requested her presence in conference room four at her earliest convenience. “I can go now,” she answered. It wasn’t like she had anywhere pressing to be, unless she counted Mora promising to take her shopping. She didn’t have a clue where the conference rooms were, but Taz was already leading the way. Lily barely got out a “See you soon” to Mora before she had to take off.
“Lucky you,” he said. “You get to meet Admiral Kentz. He runs Fleet in this quadrant.”
Lily almost had to run to match Taz’s longer strides. “I don’t like the way you said ‘lucky.’”
He slowed down and shrugged. “I’m not good with authority.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“It’s why I’m still an ensign on a garbage scow after six years in Fleet,” he continued. They walked through a maze of hallways and security points before turning down another corridor lined with glass-walled rooms. They headed to the end of it, and Taz said this was where the bigwigs at Fleet met for high-security issues.
The door opened before either could press their hands into the palm lock, although Lily doubted it would have worked for either of them. A tall, dignified man in his sixties with short white hair stood in the doorway, his Fleet uniform decorated with gold braids and medals. Rian stood at his side, looking far less pompous with his simple insignia. “Ensign Shraft, thank you for escorting Miss Stewart,” Rian said. “Dismissed.”
Taz saluted and turned back down the corridor, and Lily was sorry to see him go. His presence would have made dealing with the suits a little less intimidating.
The windowless conference room was overtaken by a huge table running down its center, with small inset computer screens at each chair. The walls were decorated with pictures of stations in deep space and officers in varying styles of uniform. More than a few had features that weren’t quite human—elongated eyes there, light blue hair here, an occasional greenish cast to the skin. There was a replicator along the back wall, and a few people inside had cups in front of them.
“Sit down, Miss Stewart,” said the white-haired officer. She met Rian’s eyes, and he looked at a pair of empty seats near the head of the table. The older officer took his place at the head and Lily followed Rian, sitting next to him.
She didn’t know what to say, and all eyes were on her. There was an assortment of men and women in uniforms as decorated as the one at the head of the table, and despite their polished military stances, they regarded her curiously. “Hi,” she said self-consciously. Their eyes never left her. Did any of them have a friendly bone in their bodies, or was it programmed out of them in boot camp? A few of them shifted in their seats, but no one returned her greeting.
The white-haired man finally spoke. “Good afternoon,” he said. “I’m Admiral Donn Kentz.” He quickly introduced the others around the table, a mix of admirals and senior captains from nearby zones and stations, many with names Lily would have trouble pronouncing later.
Well, they probably thought Lily Stewart was a weird name, too.
He then emphasized that everything said in the conference room was top secret and had to remain that way, with a pointed glance at Lily. When all was said, Admiral Kentz steepled his fingers and tried to smile. She quickly figured out it was a gesture the admiral was unused to. “How are you faring, Miss Stewart?” he asked in an artificially bright voice.
Lily sighed. “About as well as anyone would expect, considering I’ve been vaulted ahead more than eight hundred years,” she said. She hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic, but it was a stupid question she was tired of hearing. “I’m fine,” she clarified. “Wonderful.” She caught Rian’s startled expression in the corner of her eye. “Actually, Captain Marska and the Defiant’s crew have been very supportive.” She deliberately placed emphasis on Captain.
The fake smile didn’t leave the admiral’s face. “Commander Marska has told you about your chances of returning to Earth?”
Jerk. “Slim to none,” Lily replied.
“Correct. We’d like to hear your version of the events, Miss Stewart.”
Lily suppressed a sigh and told the admirals about her last day at Lazarus Cryonics, her creepy employers, and the kidnapping. Waking up drugged and disoriented in the cargo bay, and finding out she had been sent to the year 2867. She left out her conversations with Rian.
“How do you know these Nym people haven’t done this to others?” she finally asked. “I could be one of hundreds.” It was something she had mulled over when the Defiant was docking at the airlock.
The officials around the table glanced at one another. “Unlikely,” a woman said. Lily tried to place her. Admiral Brynn, Brynon, something like that. “We would know about it. The Kurran Empire and the Commons have always been on friendly terms, and we would have told one another.”
“Who says any time travelers got stuck in only your jurisdictions?” Lily asked, and then regretted it. Rods up their asses or not, these people had to know what they were doing, and she was hardly an expert in intergalactic diplomatic relations. For all she knew, civilized space was limited to just this Commonwealth, Kurran Empire, and the planets they called the Fringes.
Rian elbowed her slightly, and she shut up.
“Our surveillance in Nym space shows no actual indication of time travel,” Admiral Kentz pointed out. “They have been more active outside the Fringes, though, and this is probably related to it.”
“Exactly. That’s why I think I may not be the only time traveler.”
“You are,” the admiral told her. “You don’t yet understand your new home. Believe me, we would know if this had happened before.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. She couldn’t keep the frustration from coloring her words. “I’m a little stressed out about this whole situation. I think anyone would be if they found out they were a traveling exhibit for 850 years after waking up drugged in a strange place.”
“You haven’t been an exhibit that long,” Kentz said, as though that made everything okay. “The artifacts being unloaded from the Defiant right now before she goes into the repair bay are being thoroughly investigated and documented. The original manifest has been scrutinized and so far the artifacts’ whereabouts have been confirmed. You were added to the exhibit only three years ago, which corresponds to the Nym’s activity close to our territory.”
“So I’ve only been stared at for three years instead of eight hundred,” Lily snapped. “Fabulous.” Beside her, Rian let out a very strange cough behind his hand.
“Miss Stewart, I assure you that you were always treated with dignity,” Kentz protested, his voice dripping with condescension. “The Commonwealth Space Historical Society was very excited to discover such a well-preserved specimen for its traveling collection, and you were going to stay in the new museum here permanently.”
“I’m not a specimen,” Lily shot back. She was really starting to resent being treated like an idiot.
“Lily,” Rian hissed through his teeth.
“Commander?” Kentz raised an eyebrow at him. Rian looked down at the table.
Curiosity got the better of Lily. “Where was I all that time, anyway?”
“O
n Darcan-2, a small planet close to Earth, mostly used as a mass crypt for cryonic remains,” another admiral replied. He looked at Kentz, and the older man nodded consent for him to speak. “Earth began storing them there in 2150. It was forgotten about when cryonics was finally abandoned due to its failure rate, and the planet was finally cleaned out a few years ago by an archaeological team. You were there.”
“Why were all those bodies left on Darcan-2?”
“Earth was well into an environmental crisis at the time,” Kentz interrupted. “Its non-renewable resources had been depleted and it was badly overpopulated. Earthlings were looking into other habitable planets. Darcan-2 was one of the planets considered for colonization by the Interplanetary Relocation Committee and they decided to test its habitability factors using the remains. That was the experiment that finally killed any lingering faith in cryonics. None of the bodies reanimated, of course, but it was discovered that the crude preservation techniques were toxic when exposed to air. So the IRC decided to turn Darcan-2 into a cemetery and it was, as Admiral Betner said, pretty much forgotten.
“A few years ago, the shipbuilders on Earth decided to test out a synthetic fuel based on petroleum,” he continued. “It was one of the resources depleted hundreds of years ago.”
“Gas,” Lily interpreted. “Oil. It fueled my car. Wars were fought over it in my time.”
“A compound similar to petroleum that could be created in a lab was found on Darcan-2,” Admiral Betner interjected. “Teams were sent out to clean up the remains and harvest the compound. What they came up with was an unusable fuel that was expensive, difficult to produce in large quantities and potentially unsafe for space travel. But they also found you, perfectly preserved and uncontaminated, which we know now happened because you weren’t interred with Earth techniques.”
“I also wasn’t dead.”
“That, too. Your coffin was donated to the historical society, and you were set up as a twenty-first-century Earthling exhibit.”
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