evasion maneuvers and for their lack of attachments in human space.
Oh, and because they were smart.
Being smart, it took them about five minutes to realize that having a nifty app to move Smart Metal TM around on their jobs also let them make doors in their rooms to next door. Attachments formed with the speed of hydrogen mixing with oxygen.
Back in human space, people could be reassigned to other ships or to base facilities. Here, Kris had almost no base facilities, and her ships had to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice.
She could not reshuffle her crews constantly.
So Kris decided to treat her crews like grown-ups. What you did on the Navy’s time was the Navy’s business. What you did on your own time was your business if it didn’t get carried back to Navy time.
There had been some restrictions. No dating across the officer-enlisted barrier without permission. No dating more than two ranks or rates up or down. Again, permission could be granted for exceptions, but they were looked at real hard.
Admiral Kitano had already relieved one captain for cause while Kris was out traipsing around the galaxy. Kris had endorsed the relief and assignment to the bird-guano mine. An enlisted young woman should not have to tell her captain no more than once.
Kris had not had to make more than one example.
So, there were a lot of officers dining as couples. Kris glanced around. Most of the couples were male-female. There were a smattering of single-sex pairs.
Kris wondered about the tables seating four and six. Where they just friends, or were some berthing spaces connected now in larger groups.
I CAN GET YOU AN ANSWER, Nelly offered.
IT’S NONE OF MY BUSINESS, AND YOU ARE DEVELOPING A DIRTY MIND, NELLY.
NO DIRTIER THAN YOURS.
Jack picked that moment to start making gentle circles on Kris’s palm. He did that when she’d wandered off someplace on business or otherwise. It usually brought a smile to her face and her attention back to him.
It worked tonight.
“I’ve got plans for this evening,” Jack said.
“And I’m so glad you do, my husband.”
10
Next morning, Kris waited until Jack was in the shower before she pulled the pregnancy test out and did her thing on it.
It was pink. As she counted to five, it turned blue.
Kris’s mind spun.
She pulled the instructions out and read them again . . . slowly. Then read them again. The words seemed to spin around in front of her. She could make no sense of them.
Finally, she put one finger over the writing and read it one word at a time.
Pink was negative. Blue was positive. Blue meant you were pregnant.
Congratulations, the instructions said.
“You going to join me in the shower?” Jack asked.
“Yes. Just a second.” Kris wiped down the test and slipped it back into the box it came in and the box back into her purse. She went through the necessary actions step by step. That was what she always did when she was in a fight.
Only I’m not in a fight. I’m pregnant!
The test has a .5-percent error rate, some part of her warned.
Yes, yes, yes, another part of her answered as she slipped into the shower.
Jack greeted her with a kiss and began soaping her front.
Kris smiled back at her husband and relaxed into the sensuality of his touch.
Careful, girl, or you’ll be late for chow.
Who cares? I’ll just throw it up again.
You going to tell him? brought Kris’s wandering mind to a halt.
No. Not now. Not until Doc Meade says it’s for real, not 99.5 percent likely.
Kris washed Jack down, then rinsed him off. Sadly, he was in full business mode, and they were not late for breakfast.
She again had to dismiss herself from breakfast to hurriedly deposit her meal in the toilet.
Jack flashed her a worried look, but she managed a smile and an “I’m fine” lie that he usually accepted at face value if not as fact.
Ten hundred hours could not come soon enough.
The nurse took Kris’s vitals and accepted “intestinal distress” for
Oh, and because they were smart.
Being smart, it took them about five minutes to realize that having a nifty app to move Smart Metal TM around on their jobs also let them make doors in their rooms to next door. Attachments formed with the speed of hydrogen mixing with oxygen.
Back in human space, people could be reassigned to other ships or to base facilities. Here, Kris had almost no base facilities, and her ships had to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice.
She could not reshuffle her crews constantly.
So Kris decided to treat her crews like grown-ups. What you did on the Navy’s time was the Navy’s business. What you did on your own time was your business if it didn’t get carried back to Navy time.
There had been some restrictions. No dating across the officer-enlisted barrier without permission. No dating more than two ranks or rates up or down. Again, permission could be granted for exceptions, but they were looked at real hard.
Admiral Kitano had already relieved one captain for cause while Kris was out traipsing around the galaxy. Kris had endorsed the relief and assignment to the bird-guano mine. An enlisted young woman should not have to tell her captain no more than once.
Kris had not had to make more than one example.
So, there were a lot of officers dining as couples. Kris glanced around. Most of the couples were male-female. There were a smattering of single-sex pairs.
Kris wondered about the tables seating four and six. Where they just friends, or were some berthing spaces connected now in larger groups.
I CAN GET YOU AN ANSWER, Nelly offered.
IT’S NONE OF MY BUSINESS, AND YOU ARE DEVELOPING A DIRTY MIND, NELLY.
NO DIRTIER THAN YOURS.
Jack picked that moment to start making gentle circles on Kris’s palm. He did that when she’d wandered off someplace on business or otherwise. It usually brought a smile to her face and her attention back to him.
It worked tonight.
“I’ve got plans for this evening,” Jack said.
“And I’m so glad you do, my husband.”
10
Next morning, Kris waited until Jack was in the shower before she pulled the pregnancy test out and did her thing on it.
It was pink. As she counted to five, it turned blue.
Kris’s mind spun.
She pulled the instructions out and read them again . . . slowly. Then read them again. The words seemed to spin around in front of her. She could make no sense of them.
Finally, she put one finger over the writing and read it one word at a time.
Pink was negative. Blue was positive. Blue meant you were pregnant.
Congratulations, the instructions said.
“You going to join me in the shower?” Jack asked.
“Yes. Just a second.” Kris wiped down the test and slipped it back into the box it came in and the box back into her purse. She went through the necessary actions step by step. That was what she always did when she was in a fight.
Only I’m not in a fight. I’m pregnant!
The test has a .5-percent error rate, some part of her warned.
Yes, yes, yes, another part of her answered as she slipped into the shower.
Jack greeted her with a kiss and began soaping her front.
Kris smiled back at her husband and relaxed into the sensuality of his touch.
Careful, girl, or you’ll be late for chow.
Who cares? I’ll just throw it up again.
You going to tell him? brought Kris’s wandering mind to a halt.
No. Not now. Not until Doc Meade says it’s for real, not 99.5 percent likely.
Kris washed Jack down, then rinsed him off. Sadly, he was in full business mode, and they were not late for breakfast.
She again had to dismiss herself from breakfast to hurriedly deposit her meal in the toilet.
Jack flashed her a worried look, but she managed a smile and an “I’m fine” lie that he usually accepted at face value if not as fact.
Ten hundred hours could not come soon enough.
The nurse took Kris’s vitals and accepted “intestinal distress” for
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