Read Online Astra: Synchronicity by Lisa Eskra - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lisa Eskra
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XO's. Without another thought on the matter, she
stripped off her gown and stepped into the shower.
She flinched out of surprise when the cold
water soaked her, but she wasted no time washing herself. The wrist
implant entranced her and she stood there for several minutes
staring at it. The current time gleamed across its round display in
a holographic teal shade, but it was more than just a timekeeper.
Over the last ten years, a concurrent implant the size of a grain
of rice had become widespread; from its position in fleshy ear
cartilage, the two functioned as a communication device. That
functionality's scope was limited to the planetary scale—powerful
enough to reach orbit but not beyond.
Implants could also be used for tracking
individuals, which was a source of ongoing contention in the AC.
Liberal progressives denounced the use of identification implants
in this way, claiming it infringed upon people's right to privacy.
Conservative federalists took the opposite approach, contending
only fugitives should fear such a use. Of course, what the
federalists failed to consider was that many fugitives replaced
their implants with those of the recently deceased to stay under
the radar. In effect, the ones punished by the scheme were
law-abiding citizens, but politics and common sense rarely
collided.
After she washed her hair, the water still
hadn't warmed to a comfortable temperature, but she paid it little
mind as she got out and toweled herself off. She spotted clothes
next to the sink that hadn't been there prior to stepping into the
shower. The light scent of freesia hung in the humid air, which
clouded the mirror in a sheen of unbroken condensate. She replaced
the towel where she found it even though her wet hair dripped all
over her shoulders and the floor.
She unfolded the clothing to reveal a black
catsuit, and she appreciated its bold simplicity. Beside it was a
pair of pink flats, which resembled ballet shoes with an inch of
industrial-strength rubber for the soles. Although they stood out,
they fit, and that was all that mattered to her right now.
Before she did anything else, she dressed and
stood staring at herself in the mirror while the dry oxygenated
atmosphere cleared it. Who is that girl staring back at me? She
wants to tell me—I must believe that. Why is she a woman I don't
know? I want to remember…don't I?
As she began to comb her hair, something
stirred the dormant emotions buried deep inside her. Within
moments, the pain of her loss overpowered her fragile composure.
She sank to the floor and dropped her head into her hands. What if
her memory was gone forever? Some might consider it a blessing, but
the loss left an unsettling void in her head. Even the facts she
recalled seemed dry and lacked memory context to make them relevant
to her. The tumultuous feelings pinned her down with their
magnitude.
One man could help her. She caught sight of
her implant and was tempted to contact him. Based on the
information she'd gleaned, she didn't know if she could trust him.
She couldn't talk herself into calling him now, but they would
speak very soon.
Given the prospect all hope had not been
lost, she climbed back onto her feet and forced herself to smile at
her reflection. The expression felt like a mask drawn on her face
by a skillful hand. Her sadness might be concealed, but it could
not be forgotten. She could fool everyone but herself.
When she strutted out of the bathroom,
everything was fine. Carmen smiled and they headed off to the
wardroom for food. She might have a melancholy soul, but above all,
she had the spirit to endure. She'd trudge through this mess, and
at the end of the journey, she'd be a better person for it.
Chapter Five
Nadine repeatedly crossed and uncrossed her
legs while she waited in her quarters for the Kearsarge's executive officer. Commander Mundammi had refused her request to
see him five minutes earlier over the intercom. Dealing with
someone so
stripped off her gown and stepped into the shower.
She flinched out of surprise when the cold
water soaked her, but she wasted no time washing herself. The wrist
implant entranced her and she stood there for several minutes
staring at it. The current time gleamed across its round display in
a holographic teal shade, but it was more than just a timekeeper.
Over the last ten years, a concurrent implant the size of a grain
of rice had become widespread; from its position in fleshy ear
cartilage, the two functioned as a communication device. That
functionality's scope was limited to the planetary scale—powerful
enough to reach orbit but not beyond.
Implants could also be used for tracking
individuals, which was a source of ongoing contention in the AC.
Liberal progressives denounced the use of identification implants
in this way, claiming it infringed upon people's right to privacy.
Conservative federalists took the opposite approach, contending
only fugitives should fear such a use. Of course, what the
federalists failed to consider was that many fugitives replaced
their implants with those of the recently deceased to stay under
the radar. In effect, the ones punished by the scheme were
law-abiding citizens, but politics and common sense rarely
collided.
After she washed her hair, the water still
hadn't warmed to a comfortable temperature, but she paid it little
mind as she got out and toweled herself off. She spotted clothes
next to the sink that hadn't been there prior to stepping into the
shower. The light scent of freesia hung in the humid air, which
clouded the mirror in a sheen of unbroken condensate. She replaced
the towel where she found it even though her wet hair dripped all
over her shoulders and the floor.
She unfolded the clothing to reveal a black
catsuit, and she appreciated its bold simplicity. Beside it was a
pair of pink flats, which resembled ballet shoes with an inch of
industrial-strength rubber for the soles. Although they stood out,
they fit, and that was all that mattered to her right now.
Before she did anything else, she dressed and
stood staring at herself in the mirror while the dry oxygenated
atmosphere cleared it. Who is that girl staring back at me? She
wants to tell me—I must believe that. Why is she a woman I don't
know? I want to remember…don't I?
As she began to comb her hair, something
stirred the dormant emotions buried deep inside her. Within
moments, the pain of her loss overpowered her fragile composure.
She sank to the floor and dropped her head into her hands. What if
her memory was gone forever? Some might consider it a blessing, but
the loss left an unsettling void in her head. Even the facts she
recalled seemed dry and lacked memory context to make them relevant
to her. The tumultuous feelings pinned her down with their
magnitude.
One man could help her. She caught sight of
her implant and was tempted to contact him. Based on the
information she'd gleaned, she didn't know if she could trust him.
She couldn't talk herself into calling him now, but they would
speak very soon.
Given the prospect all hope had not been
lost, she climbed back onto her feet and forced herself to smile at
her reflection. The expression felt like a mask drawn on her face
by a skillful hand. Her sadness might be concealed, but it could
not be forgotten. She could fool everyone but herself.
When she strutted out of the bathroom,
everything was fine. Carmen smiled and they headed off to the
wardroom for food. She might have a melancholy soul, but above all,
she had the spirit to endure. She'd trudge through this mess, and
at the end of the journey, she'd be a better person for it.
Chapter Five
Nadine repeatedly crossed and uncrossed her
legs while she waited in her quarters for the Kearsarge's executive officer. Commander Mundammi had refused her request to
see him five minutes earlier over the intercom. Dealing with
someone so
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