Chapter 80: Clothing Shenanigans

He leaned forward in the command throne and rested his forearms on his knees, and his dark brown eyes moved across the six of them with a calm iron-hard weight.

The friend who’d teased them about roasted potatoes was gone... The man sitting in his place was the Master Captain, and on this ship his word was the law.

"Jin-Ah is right," he said, his baritone low and firm. "We got through today because we caught them by surprise and the rocks were thick enough to break up their lines. We won’t get that lucky twice... From this second on, our routine changes."

He pointed at the center of the deck plates.

"Daily drills. Every morning at oh-eight-hundred ship time... Battle stations, emergency power rerouting, manual fire control and simulated hull breaches. Harper, you’ll run reload cycles on the slug feed until you can clear a jam blindfolded... Elena, you and Camila will drill the auxiliary life support cutoffs until your transfer times drop by half... Aoi, I want tactical evasion scenarios on the hololith every afternoon, asteroid corridors mapped until you’re spinning your rings in your sleep while Jin-Ah, you’re going to run those eleven simulations again every night and tell me which of us got everyone killed, by name."

Jin-Ah inclined her head once.

"Understood."

Harper scratched the back of her neck and gave him a lopsided grin, the same one that had gotten her out of trouble her whole life.

"Every morning, Cap? Even on rest days? Come on, we just took down three ships. Give us like a week to..."

"Every morning," Leo said, without missing a beat.

He didn’t raise his voice, and that was the frightening part... The words came out quiet and level, and they landed on the bridge like a bulkhead door sealing shut.

Harper’s grin faltered.

"There are no rest days out here, Harper," he went on, holding her eyes without blinking. "The Federation doesn’t take them... The void beasts don’t take them. If a patrol drops on us at three in the morning on what you think is a day off, the only thing standing between your lungs and vacuum is how fast your hands move when you’re half asleep... I’m not burying any of you because I wanted to be liked."

The silence that followed was heavy enough to feel on the skin.

Harper swallowed and her jaw slowly set, and she nodded once.

"Yeah... Okay, Every morning."

"Nobody cuts corners," Leo said, letting his gaze travel across each of them in turn until every one of them had nodded. "Nobody complains they’re tired, and nobody skips a drill... When the next fight comes, we’re going to know exactly what to do without thinking about it, because thinking is what gets people killed. Am I understood?"

"Understood, Captain," Aoi answered first with her spine straight as a blade.

"Understood, Cap," Harper echoed, and this time there was no grin in it at all.

"Understood, Captain," Elena, Jin-Ah and Camila said together with their postures taut and disciplined.

Chloe gave him a small solemn nod from her seat, her green eyes reflecting the certainty of his will without the faintest trace of doubt.

For five long seconds the command deck was as taut as a tuned wire then Leo let out a slow breath, and the corner of his mouth pulled into a boyish smirk as the iron commander melted back into the warm companion they’d shared a meal with.

"Good," he said, leaning back into the cushions and stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders popped. "Now that the drill schedule is locked... let’s go see what this bucket can make when we actually ask it nicely..."

A collective sigh of relief washed through the cabin, followed at once by bright excited murmurs as six people practically scrambled for the companionway stairs.

The Foundry’s secondary fabrication bay sat just off the central maintenance spine on Deck Two, a pristine circular alcove fitted with an automated tailoring chamber and a holographic design terminal that ran from floor to ceiling.

The moment they crowded inside, the terminal hummed to life and projected hundreds of slowly rotating garment patterns pulled from the historical database of Earth clothing stored somewhere in the ship’s memory.

Harper shouldered her way to the front first, her eyes scanning the categories with hungry interest with the sting of the bridge already forgotten.

"None of that fancy corporate silk for me," she grunted, flicking through the activewear catalog until she found a pair of heavy dark olive cargo trousers with double-stitched knee patches and a fitted charcoal ribbed tank top. "...Give me something I can crawl under a lathe in without splitting a seam and pockets... Good pockets, not those fake little slits they sew into women’s jeans back home so we have to carry everything in our teeth."

HUMMM-CLICK!

The chamber whirred, its micro-jets weaving the carbon-cotton blend in a flurry of blue light, and it dispensed the folded garments onto the delivery tray.

Harper snatched them up, ducked behind the privacy screen and came back out thirty seconds later.

The trousers sat snug on her hips before falling in straight practical lines over her heavy work boots, and the tank top left her freckled shoulders and strong arms completely bare with the lean hard build of someone who’d spent her life hauling engine parts instead of sitting at a desk.

She planted her hands on her hips and turned in a full slow circle with an obnoxious grin.

"Well? How do I look, Cap? Ready to grease a turret or what?"

Leo leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, and his gaze trailed over her bare shoulders before he could stop it.

A small involuntary heat touched his cheekbones, though he managed a teasing grin.

"You look like you’re about to charge me fifty bucks an hour for an oil change."

"Sixty an hour, buddy, and you’re paying up front," Harper laughed, and punched him lightly on the bicep... and then her knuckles stayed there for a bit longer than a punch needed before she pulled her hand back and turned away a little too quickly.

At the back of the bay, Elena’s icy eyes followed that hand all the way back to Harper’s pocket but she didn’t say anything.

She simply uncrossed her arms, recrossed them the other way and looked at the terminal with the patience of someone waiting her turn at a firing range.

Camila was next.

She hovered at the screen, biting her lip, and finally chose something soft and earthy... a high-waisted moss-green linen skirt that fell just below her knees, a fitted cream knitted sweater with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and a dark brown leather gardening apron fitted with brass tool loops.

When she stepped out from behind the screen she was smoothing the fabric down over her thighs, and her bronze skin glowed warm against the cream wool.

Her hazel eyes darted nervously toward Leo.

"Is it... is it too domestic for a warship?" she asked softly, her cheeks flushing rose. "I just wanted something that felt like home... Like my abuela’s kitchen."

"It looks amazing on you, Camila," Leo said, and there was nothing teasing in his voice at all. "It suits you perfectly..."

Camila’s hands flew to her cheeks, and she let out a delighted breathless giggle before scurrying to the back of the room so Aoi could take the console.

Aoi approached the terminal with quiet dignity.

She scrolled past the casual designs without a second glance and chose a crisp tailored navy tunic with a high mandarin collar, slim charcoal trousers and polished low-heeled boots.

It was half traditional and half uniform, a refined silhouette that carried the discipline of a woman who’d once stood at the front of a lecture hall and expected silence.

She stepped out and adjusted her glasses with a single composed finger.

The tunic tapered neatly at her waist and brought out the deep black sheen of her hair, and the dark blue made her look older and sharper and somehow more herself.

"A proper uniform for the bridge," Aoi said, though she cleared her throat twice and her eyes flicked to his face. "Functional, yet respectable... What do you think, Leo?"

"Very sharp," Leo said with an admiring nod. "You look like an admiral who’s about to court-martial me for bad manners."

Aoi let out a soft amused scoff, and a rare blush touched the tips of her ears as she adjusted her collar.

"Do not tempt me, Captain."

Jin-Ah stepped up without a word and picked her ensemble with efficiency... a crisp white high-collared blouse under a sleeveless black vest and tailored black slacks over polished shoes.

When she came out, the sharp geometric bob framed her cool analytical face in striking monochrome.

"Optimal thermal regulation and zero friction at the joints," she stated, though the small proud tilt of her chin gave away that she was very pleased with herself then came Chloe.

She walked up to the screen, ignored the catalog Harper had helpfully flagged for her, and spent a full silent minute scrolling through it on her own with deep concentration.

Everyone waited.

She rejected three dresses, a pair of overalls and a sailor collar with tiny decisive flicks of one finger, and finally settled on a pleated dark crimson skirt that reached mid-thigh, a loose black knit sweater with sleeves long enough to swallow her hands to the knuckles and knee-high black boots.

"Crimson," Harper observed, raising an eyebrow. "Bit on the nose, kid..."

"It doesn’t show stains though," Chloe said simply, and went behind the screen.

Harper opened her mouth, thought about the full implications of that, and shut it again.

When Chloe stepped out, swinging her oversized sleeves with airy grace, her green eyes luminous under her dark bangs, she looked so delicate that it was hard to believe the same arms had peeled armor plates off a raider’s hull.

She walked straight up to Leo and stopped about eight centimeters from his chest, and tilted her face up to him with an expectant gaze.

"Do you like it, Leo?"

Leo looked down at her and felt a nervous sweat break out along his collar.

"It’s... uh, it’s very cute, Chloe. Just don’t rip anybody in half while you’re wearing it, okay? The contrast would terrify me."

"No promises," Chloe said, and leaned her forehead against his chest for one second before stepping back beside Camila, who immediately started fussing with her sleeves.

Finally, only Elena remained.

She’d stood near the back of the bay through all of it, watching the choices with cool aristocratic detachment and her arms folded across her chest.

Now she walked to the console with slow deliberate grace, her manicured fingers moving past the casual menus and into the formal and evening catalog, her icy blue eyes searching the imported patterns until she found one that met her standards.

"A proper lady doesn’t dress like a mechanic simply because she operates a plasma torch," she murmured, and started the synthesis cycle.

The chamber hummed for nearly two full minutes, carefully weaving fine bio-silk and elastic thread into a single seamless garment.

Elena took the folded fabric, stepped behind the partition and drew the curtain closed as the chatter in the bay slowly died away.

Harper leaned against the wall with her arms crossed.

Camila, Aoi and Jin-Ah drifted toward the central table, their eyes straying toward the curtain with curious anticipation, and Chloe stood very still with her head tilted, listening to the whisper of silk on skin behind the fabric.

Leo stayed by the doorframe, waiting patiently though his mind already drifted toward fuel numbers and drill rosters, unprepared for what was about to happen.

SWISH!

The curtain pulled back, and Elena Sterling stepped out into the bright white light of the bay.

The room went utterly silent.

She’d chosen a form-fitting midnight-blue cocktail dress of bio-silk that followed every curve of her figure with breathtaking precision...

The neckline dipped into an elegant V along her collarbones, and the back dropped low enough to bare the smooth pale line of her spine.

A daring slit ran high up the left side of the skirt, and her long slender leg showed through it with every step she took in her sleek black evening heels.

Her honey-blonde hair fell in soft waves over her bare shoulders, and her eyes held a cool devastating confidence that turned a maintenance alcove into the ballroom of a high-orbit spire.

She paused in the middle of the room and smoothed the silk over her hip with one slow sweep of her hand.

Her eyes passed over Harper and Aoi without stopping, and then her chin lifted and her gaze locked onto Leo’s face, and a slow immensely satisfied smile curved her lips.

Leo’s arms were still crossed over his chest, but he’d forgotten they were there, and the fuel numbers had left his head completely.

"U-uh..."

Harper, Aoi, Camila, Jin-Ah and Chloe turned their heads at the same moment, away from Elena and straight toward Leo.