Free Supernova by Jessica Marting Page A

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
culture. She can study aboard the Defiant or anywhere else with Fleet’s
correspondence program. I also think we need to look towards the