Friday, May 7, 2021

Planning the Future

 Month 14 Day 25 (day before wedding)

2127 Hours

Smythe

 The bedroom lights were currently set to moonlight, and Smythe used the dim light to try to memorize the face of the beautiful woman who now slept in his bed. Of course, he could only see half of her face, for she lay on her side. The pillow and curls of her red hair hid the sharp demarcation of the impression of the edge of the doorjamb. If that was still visible. It might be gone by now, to show up in a few hours as a strange, straight bruise.

They faced each other, his arm under his head, her hands once again gripping the towel between them. After a period of time that seemed like forever, and yet, no time at all, her eyes fluttered, and opened. She smiled shyly. "Is it time to get up already?"

He glanced at his clock. "Far from it," he reassured her.

"Then why are you awake?"

He took a deep breath before admitting, "I can't believe you're here."

Her smile broadened. "I'm inclined to think it was bound to happen sooner or later, although, truthfully, I'm having a little trouble believing it, too."

"Besides that, I've been thinking about how little we've said to each other, for all the so-called 'talking' we've done these past 2 weeks."

"Well, I guess there's talking, and then there's 'talking'."

"Yes." He grinned, wished the towel wasn't crammed between them.

"If, when I lured you to the jeffries tubes to 'talk', if I had said I wanted sex, would we have done it right there?"

"In a jeffries tube? Not very private!"

"I tried to find a tube that wasn't used very much."

"And the 2nd time we were there, Wilson found us."

"So I asked for 'talk' and tried to see where it would get me."

"Eventually, it got you here." He reached up and pushed her curls behind her shoulder, let his hand fondle her upper arm. "But for all the non-talking we've done, there's some things I should have said. I should have at least let you know I've been making plans. I've got some pull, and I'll not let them send you planetside for 18 years."

Her eyes—at least, the one he could see—seemed to cloud over, and her eyebrow lowered in confusion. "Why would they do that?"

"Don't worry, because it isn't going to happen. I've been asked—more than once—to head a shipyard. I can pretty much take my pick. So I'm going to pick the biggest one, the Goliath. You'll go with me, of course."

"To a shipyard? I thought you liked it on the Fireball."

"Of course I do, but the Goliath is the biggest of the Fleet shipyards," he affirmed. "They build and refit 6 ships at a time. The station is located between Earth and Mars, and is a megalopolis unto itself. I'll request a 3-bedroom apartment, and set the gravity in one bedroom to Gaelund standard, so you won't have any trouble sleeping. Or maybe we can set half a double bed to Gaelund standard for you, and let me sleep on the other half. We may have to experiment and see what works."

Colleen seemed ready to say something, but he was on a roll, now, and gently placed a finger on her lips to stop her.

"You'll probably have to take a desk job for a time. Can't be helped, but I'll find something for you to do that won't drive you crazy. Well, unless I just put you on maternity leave and let you work out the kinks in that Yukosk transportation device. But that could get a little tricky. If you're on maternity leave for that long, and known to be working on new technology, there's some who will insist you've gone civilian. Unless you agree to turn over that device to the Fleet, will be their demand. I don't recommend that. Keep control of it for yourself."

"Ourselves," she interrupted. "Or wouldn't you be working on it?"

"I will happily help you work on it. Ideally, that would mean we would each work our own jobs during the day, and that device would be our hobby, to while away the evenings and weekends. At least until you do go on maternity leave. But I assume the baby will take up a lot of our time at that point, so work on it may come to a standstill."

She had slowly disentangled her hands from the towel, and now tossed it aside, wriggled her way forward to press her body against his. He happily pulled her closer, all thoughts of the future forgotten in favor of the passion of the present.

Sometime later, as they lay entwined but with the flame of passion flickering down to an ember, she lay her head on his shoulder. "Lights out," he told the computer, for he was tired and content, and ready for some sleep.

"Wait. You kept talking about maternity leave."

He sighed, too content to think there was anything strange with her curiosity. "As my wife, you'd have options, so it all depends how you want to play it. Until you deliver. After the baby is born, it's an automatic 6 months of leave. Then we can hire a nanny, and you can return to duty. At my side, as my protégé. If I'm running the place, who's to tell me no?"

"A baby," she whispered, as if she hadn't thought far enough ahead to realize her condition would result in that.

"Yes, of course your baby. Now, I told you, it doesn't matter. This time. But any other babies born to this marriage will be mine."

"Other babies," she repeated, and lifted her head to look at him. "But right now, you've been talking about this baby."

"We have to make plans," he told her as fatigue swept through his body. He guided her head back to his shoulder. "But we can talk about that another time. I know you've had a rough evening, so... let's get some sleep, okay?" He pulled her just a little closer and let his body relax.

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