Josh is eyeing, with slightly bleary suspicion, a brightly colored thimble of liquid the barman just deposited in front of him. Throbbing music is pounding from thin ribbons of speakerfilm dangling like flypaper, strung liberally from wildly coruscating light fixtures. He's found refuge in a booth at the edge of the club, taking a break from the throng of off-duty crew and intrepid station natives packing the dance floor.
He had been swiftly joined by one of his dance partners, a short woman of south asian descent, a jewel bindi glittering on her forehead. She's clad in some sort of active-mesh black dress, bodice tight, cut low in the front and very low in the back, the sleeves flowing all the way down to her glove-covered hands and a long skirt. Every time she moves odd little streamers seem to trail behind her limbs, like small colorful scarves of light, which lengthen with the speed of her gestures. Similar technology is apparently woven into her hair, an intricate black braid that hangs almost to her waist.
On the floor she'd favored spinning dances with large arm movements, concealing herself in veils of light until she'd suddenly switch to slow, undulating motion, moving her hands across generous curves revealed by the fading ribbons. The dance floor was fairly crowded, mostly by off-duty crew still in uniform, but her lightshow won her space. She'd given Josh more than his fair share of attention, despite the number of interested partners she had to choose from. Currently, one of her hands is playing with his longish curly hair, unusual in a spacer, while the other flickers in front of him, a miniature and obviously much-practiced dance of lights in its own right. In his half-inebriated, half-exhausted state it's almost hypnotic.
"It's impolite not to accept when a lady buys you a drink."
"It looks," he carefully enunciates, " like coolant. It's glowing!"
A flash of white teeth and her fingers swirl in front of his eyes, leaving streaks of light burned into his vision. "
I
am glowing," she says, pressing her not-ungenerous curves more closely against him with a shimmer of color, "don't you like glowing things?"
There is no safe answer to that but action. He drains the little thimble, which proves to be cold and more than a little spicy. "Well, that's one glowing thing."
Turning, swift as thought, he kisses her, the taste of the strange liquid still on his lips. Her surprise is brief, and her response enthusiastic, pulling herself up to meet him. They enjoy a moment of pleasant timelessness before Josh feels another presence standing beside their table. He breaks off the kiss and looks up. And up.
The woman standing there has to have fifteen centimeters on Josh, who isn't short by any human measure. She's slender for her height, Josh suspects he would still probably mass more than she does. Her features are angular, with a straight nose and light skin. Her hair, pale almost to white, is cut in a military bob, and she's wearing what is clearly a ship uniform, also white, with black-and-gold piping and a variety of small badges. She spares him a brief glance and then focuses her attention on his amorous dance partner, who, for her part, has just registered that Josh has stopped kissing her and is now turning to look at the newcomer.
Her eyes widen as the identity of their guest registers. She quickly releases her grip on Josh's shirt and scoots away from him, although his body blocks her from exiting the booth altogether. Josh, getting the sense that he might be the 'other woman' in this situation, makes to exit the booth himself to leave them to their drama.
The newcomer points a slender finger at him and spears him with a look, pinning him in place. She turns to regard the light-dancer for a tense moment, before reaching to take her dusky chin in a pale hand. As if to assert her own claim, she bends down and firmly kisses the smaller woman, who seems helpless not to respond.
The sailor breaks off the kiss and locks eyes with her prey for a moment, before again leaning in, this time to whisper something into the smaller woman's ear. She pulls back, looking again, until the other woman, eyes downcast, nods once. Releasing her grip, she takes a step back from the table and crosses her arms.
The light-dancer once more presses against Josh, leaning in until her lips brush his ear, "Come with me." Josh pulls back and looks at her for a moment, pleading in her eyes. He turns to regard the spacer, standing comfortably, staring at him. Seeing his regard, she raises one eyebrow and allows a flicker of a half-smile.
Josh stands up from the booth, his seat-mate following suit. Entwining her fingers in his, she pulls him along as they both follow the sailor out of the bar.
----
The public gardens on
Galileo
are a vast and cleverly architected series of maze-like foliage and open fields, supplemented by unobtrusive mirrors and indirect white lighting designed to help the forever-setting sun approach Earth-like levels of light.
Faith finds the entire experience delightful. It's been a long time since she's been on-planet, and she hadn't realized exactly how much she missed being surrounded by plant life. It wasn't
quite
like home, which was more savanna than jungle, but she still feels great seeing station families on a picnic, and she enjoys walking through forest paths that make her feel alone in the wilderness. She whiles away hours exploring the enormous grounds.
She's on a secluded path when she pauses beside a very fragrant flowering vine. Small genemod bees buzz clumsily and harmlessly around her hands as she pulls some of the tiny white flowers close enough to inhale. Above her, a small hummingbird feeds busily at a different clump of flowers.
"
Lonicera albiflora
, or white honeysuckle. We have to keep an eye on her, she's prolific. The scent alone is worth the trouble, though."
Grace turns to find another young woman next to her, in a station park-service jumpsuit with a friendly smile and dirt on her knees. Faith smiles. "It smells great. The whole park is wonderful. Amazing! I love it here."
The woman smiles. "This must be your first visit. It
is
amazing, I love working here. Let me show you something." She reaches past Faith's cheek and plucks one of the flowers off the vine. Showing it to Faith for a moment, she pinches the bottom of the fluted petals and slowly pulls, drawing the long stamen through the body of the flower until it pops free.
Holding it up in front of her audience's eye, she says, "See that droplet? Stick out your tongue!"
After a brief moment, Faith sticks out the tip of her tongue and the ranger touches it with the heavy droplet at the end of the stem. Immediately, a sweet, honey-like flavor spreads through her mouth, and she laughs in delight.
"That's why it's called honeysuckle! That's the nectar, what these little guys are after." She gestures to a bee crawling along her sleeve.
"That was neat, thank you so much!" Faith's stomach chooses that precise moment to gurgle,
loudly
. Embarrassed, she laughs, "Sorry, guess its almost time for dinner."
"Did you just get to the station today?"
"Yes, on a rock miner. We're getting refitted."
"I just went off shift, come with me and I'll take you to a place only the locals go for chow."
"Um, sure! That actually sounds great. My name's Faith."
"Pleased to meet you, I'm Lauren."
Faith's new friend pauses a moment to safely deposit her hitchhiking bee on the vine, and then leads Faith down the light-dappled path towards the garden exit.
----
When she steps off the docking lift into Navy country, two levels up from the
Rockhopper's
berth, Nomi is wearing a slender black dress, heels, carefully arranged hair and a pair of earrings Bill had given her as a gift years before. She halts in front of the checkpoint manned by a pair of dapper young Marines, one of them a female in utilities and well-armed. The other, a handsome male in a more formal service uniform, approaches, careful eyes taking in outfit and doubtless myriad other small details.
"Good afternoon, Ma'am. This dock is restricted to naval personnel. Civilians must be accompanied by an officer."
"Hi. Nomara Sor of the miner
Rockhopper
, for Commander Grubenski of the