Another day, and back to the grind. No more being tired, lonely, or safe. Instead I had to resume my duties and regular schedule... under watch, naturally. Today the watch consisted of Oddball and an anklet.

The anklet was thin, so it could be hidden by clothes, or fit under my suit if I needed to EVA. But I knew it was there, and so did everyone else. Any tampering at all by me, and an alarm would sound. Then a sticky radioactive dye would spray, and coat my leg. Then the security bots would reactivate and come to my location, and stun me into submission.

So the first problem with my new life was clothes. Oh, not in the way the crew would think, I'm sure. It seemed that Oddball had been thinking ahead; when I got back to my new quarters, the first thing I noticed were the stacks of brand new blue jeans, shirts, panties, and bras. All of them were, according to the tags, actual denim and cotton. Earth make, somehow, for all that it seemed impossible. I mean, they had to be fifty years old or more, and they looked brand new. The boots (three pair!) fit perfectly, and they gleamed. When I put them on, they were even stiff, something I'd never had to deal with before. Just the thought of wearing this stuff to work on engineering crap made me feel guilty, and if anyone else, especially the girls, saw me in clothes like this? Beyond bad.

And that didn't even cover the cotton pants and various dresses now occupying my closet. What the heck was I ever going to use a dress for anyway? Or shorts? They were so far beyond impractical it was humorous. At least there were a few pair of overalls next to the jeans, even if they were new too. They looked like they'd fit too, even if they were different.

I couldn't wear the stuff I used to. I could probably still make it work, even if it didn't fit well... but my old clothes were all missing. Recycled. Oh well, if needed I could just redirect the mob that would be angry at the rationing Oddball's way.

The underwear was like being wrapped in a very thin layer of foam. The jeans were tight, and didn't offer full mobility. It was weird, they didn't fit like what I was used to at all, but they were comfortable. The shirt was also tight, but stretchy. It didn't scratch at all. The overalls fit over all that, but was still a closer fit than I was comfortable with; they just didn't offer the room I was used to.

And there was some kind of design on the front pocket; embroidered in pink thread, of all things. I wasn't sure what it was supposed to be, some sort of animal. A biologist, I was not. Somehow it all fit perfectly which meant the rest of this stuff would too. Walking into my kitchen revealed fresh tea, still steaming, and with actual sugar in it; the proper amount according to my taste. The tea was sitting next to a dish I vaguely remembered, called french toast.

The last time I'd had french toast had been as a kid barely high enough to sit in a chair, mainly because the stuff we used to make it, some sort of animal egg substitute; I didn't even remember what the recipe for it was. I'm sure it was on the network somewhere; maybe Marion had it. But regardless, somehow the same faerie or gnome or whatever fantasy creature delivered the clothes also delivered breakfast.

Oddball had been sandbagging much more than clothes, it seemed. How did he even cook breakfast for anyone? He wasn't supposed to have access at all; I certainly didn't give him permission. How had he even done it? It wasn't like the security bots could cook with their hands.

The answer came when Guido strolled right in like he owned the place. Of course. I am a major idiot.

“Good, you're awake. Running late, you should eat quickly.”

I held up the plate.

“Where did you find the stuff for this? I thought we were out.”

“Marion found it in the kitchen when she woke up this morning. Oddball said it was for you, for and I quote: 'proper nutrition.' There was an entire case of it, all earmarked for you.”

That had to be bull. French toast wasn't nutritious. And Oddball couldn't earmark food like that, could he? What was his game? Guido held up his hands.

“Hey, eat it or not. I checked it, it's not poisonous or anything. I don't know any more than that. But breakfast or not, you need to hurry.”

He wasn't really right on that score, I had plenty of time. But I could see that he was anxious; fidgeting. He wanted to be moving, in any direction, and I didn't blame him there. I ate as quickly as manners allowed and downed my tea.

The schedule for today was routine computer maintenance of the back up life support systems, something that I didn't expect I'd be allowed to work on, especially without expert supervision. But with all the searching done for me, most of the crew had been forced to keep odd hours and needed sleep now. It was kind of odd thinking that I was probably the best rested of the crew, but it was probably true.

I walked right by the cafeteria; there was nothing I wanted there. I wasn't exactly banned from the place, but our loving Captain had decided that it was best that I not spend too much time in public areas. Which sounded really stupid since I had an hour scheduled for physical activity later today. The same hour as everyone else, and Oddball wasn't taking no for an answer. When captain Traitor had asked him to reschedule, he'd just been pointed to the charter which demanded a certain amount of time 'fraternizing' among the crew. Then he'd been ignored as Roger tried to plead extenuating circumstances. So I was going to gym today.

But for now it was tedium. I arrived a little early, and didn't see a minder. Not even the electrical kind; it was if, once Guido had peeled off to the cafeteria, I was alone. It was an illusion of course; someone had to be watching, somewhere. Either way, it didn't matter; I was reformed, after all.

The back ups were a bank of twelve slaved computers, the size of a small locker. They contained the systems for oxygen recycling, air flow, temperature, and pressure. The water and waste recovery were handled elsewhere, and their backups were also further down the hall in another room. I took them offline one at a time and ran their diagnostics. With only one down, the other eleven could handle it if main life support suddenly took a dive; and if not, there was another twelve computers down the hall designed to kick in. The back up for the back up. The entire ship was engineered to take no chances.

It turned out that there were two chips, one controlling vent air flow, and the other dealing with temperature control, that were both perhaps faulty. I replaced them, and some frayed wiring in machine number 3. I didn't take chances.

How had that wiring gotten frayed, anyway? It couldn't be that old.

A little jiggling revealed the problem; there was an edge, and every time the coolant fan was forced to kick on, it moved the wire into the edge. Not enough to worry about... unless it happened over around 10 years, a few times a day or so. I ended up splicing a longer wire and taping it up.

Should solve the problem until I retire. Felt good to be doing proper engineering again, no matter how time consuming or tedious. Lunch time rolled around with the job only half done. I know because the chime on my pad went off; it seemed as if I was supposed to take lunch off. I didn't want to, but I really didn't want to end up fighting over it. If I'd woken up earlier, I could have just packed a lunch.

Oh well, time to just be a zoo animal.

I strode through the halls with purpose. I didn't need to bother; the halls were empty. The cafeteria however, wasn't. It was more full than I'd seen in... well, ever. There was almost the entire shift waiting for me, and as expected, they all stared the moment I walked in. I almost froze, but managed to keep going. My voice was even steady.

“Hello Marion. Can I get today's special please?”

Marion's smile was warm and inviting. She didn't seem to be mad at me for the past at all.

“Sure thing, coming right up.”

I sat down at a table alone. A small one nestled next to the counter, and not my normal seat. While many stared, none approached.

The special was, of course, a salad with a piece of bread that Marion made. This salad seemed to be a bit different, however. It had something other than the botanist made dressing on it. To cap things off, Marion set down a glass of purple liquid next to it; a glass which wasn't grape juice colored, but looked familiar. A sip proved it was pomegranate. Actual powdered pomegranate, mixed with water. It was another favorite of mine, and another thing we were supposed to be out of. I looked up into Marion's smiling face.

“Oddball sent it. It's all yours. It has additives, but I had it checked out; nothing harmful.”

She sat down with her own drink, tea while I processed that. So she was under orders, or at least strong suggestions, on what to feed me? I looked up to find her eying my clothes; she dragged a finger gently across my new shirt.

“And what about this stuff on the salad?”

I'd never seen it before.

“Actual ranch dressing. Nothing wrong with it at all, other than starting life as a powder.”

We didn't discriminate against powders here.

“You got a list of the ingredients?”

She slid her pad over with a knowing smirk. She knew she didn't have anything to worry about. I took a glance; all medical jargon. As smart as I was, my weakness was medical knowledge, but while some of the list looked familiar, none of it was blatantly poisonous. I pulled out my own pad and copied it; I'd cross check it later. Now on to the other concern. I picked at my salad while watching my fellow loving crew. Some of them took their food very seriously; this sort of behavior smacked of favoritism. If anyone else noticed the clothes it would all but seal the deal, so to speak.

Knowing my recent luck, they all had.

The conversations had been replaced by whispering. Marion sat there in silence, for which I was grateful; it allowed me to hear at least a few of the other people whispering about me. Mostly due to the sheer gall I had, daring to show my face after what I did. It was only after Marion's hand closed over mine that I realized I'd somehow bent my fork. I did my best to straighten it out while glaring at Hitomi; I knew the others were thinking it, but I'd HEARD her.

My pad chimed; I'd received a message from Marion.

So, new clothes too? Oddball must be trying to apologize.

Yes, thank you Marion. I really wanted to be reminded of that right now. I guess it showed, because my pad chimed again.

Sorry.

I shook my head and whispered back; I didn't trust the pads anymore, not entirely.

“Not your fault. Might as well get used to it, this would have happened eventually.”

She took the hint.

“That doesn't make it any better. Tell you what, you finish up, I'll glare them off.”

And she did. Marion wasn't exactly intimidating, not like Claire could be, but she sat there next to me and glared for all she was worth. It was comical, and I had to stifle laughter more than once; it didn't help when I caught her trying hard not to smile herself. A thought occurred to me.

“So, what other things did Oddball drop off here?”

I had the sneaking suspicion the juice wasn't the last of it. The dressing, while good, (maybe even better than the stuff the botanists made) was something I'd never had before. That probably meant it was popular with the earlier crews.

It could have just been my imagination, but I actually did feel more energetic as I walked back to engineering. I actually hoped it was my imagination, I didn't like the alternative.

The other redundancies were in similar shape to the first, but I managed to get them done, not just in the same day, but a good hour before my shift was due to end. Plenty of time to check on the sleepers. I met more people in the corridors this time, though they stayed just as silent as before; fine by me. I half expected to meet someone assigned to watch me and make sure I wasn't trying any active of sabotage. It would have been a terrible insult, but I wouldn't have been surprised.

Instead I was alone as I made my rounds; it felt colder in here than it should. It took me some time to figure out that it wasn't just because I had less insulation. There was a hairline fracture in coolant tank three. Now coolant tank three wasn't anything dangerous; it was a coolant tank that fed the liquid coolant into one of the main computers in the room; they generated a lot of heat. Left unchecked it could be quite the problem, but a glance at the screen showed the computer was only up 5.1 degrees. I could probably just spot weld a patch on it, but that seemed too slipshod.

Instead I used some nanite patch to hold it for next shift, then topped off the tank. Then I mopped up so no one fell and busted their rear on the deck plating. The joys of being an engineer. At least I was using something absorbent; those mops in the old movies we watched always seemed inefficient.

I should probably just replace the thing, but if I did something like that, this soon, questions would likely be asked and my work torn apart to no purpose. I was already half sure my loving crew would be checking the redundancies, no need to stick my neck out spending time repairing something that would automatically send red flags.

So I just logged it instead and started removing the vent covers the crew installed. They would need to come down anyway, before dust or other particulates built up and air quality was affected. I would likely be dealing with most of that alone... part of my punishment for not rolling over, though no one would put it that way or even mention it directly. Suited me just fine anyway, it was tedious busywork that meant my loving crew would leave me alone.

They had been very careful closing off the vents; very precise manufacturing sturdy things like bars and even full plates. Even with less time spent taking things down than putting things up, I could only remove three in an hour. They really hadn't wanted me able to open them from the other side.

Of course, now that I knew what to look for from this side, I was reasonably sure I could do it without burning my face off or something similar.

My alarm chimed again. I was now off shift, and it was exercise time. I wasn't looking forward to it; either I would get treated as a pariah or with kid gloves, and I wasn't sure which one would be worse. I had made this particular bed though, at least in part, and I would have to lie in it. Another saying from mom regarding personal responsibility.

The boots were still stiff, clumping more loudly than I wanted on the deck plating. At least I hadn't scuffed them; the traces of coolant on the bottom wouldn't be caustic either. I could just see the crew's outrage at getting new boots and then ruining them the first day they were worn... almost made me want to do it. But no, the only one I'd be hurting in the end would be myself; I doubted my feet would grow anymore, they had always been as tiny as the rest of me, which meant if I maintained all this new stuff properly it could last for decades. There were no organisms aboard the Magellan to speed up decay; not loose, anyway. Only use really mattered.

The gym was full by now, of course. I had one of the longer routes getting here, which meant the place was nearly at its full day shift capacity. All conversation stopped and nineteen people stared as I slipped in. I kept my eye on them, or as many as I could.

I sidled along the wall the shower rooms were set in. I reached the door to the male one first, and it buzzed at me. Yes, I know door, thank you for pointing out I now lack the one thing required for entry into this exclusive club. At least, until I disable Oddball and rewire you.

The other door, the one further down, gave a gentle ping that I almost didn't hear over the ambient noise and opened immediately. Did it always make a sound like that? I don't think I'd ever heard it before, and the other door just slid open. The short hallway had one more twist in it than the other room too; three to the other room's two. According to all the schematics I'd ever checked, that was the only difference in the two places; but the schematics were wrong.

There was the same bank of lockers on the nearby wall, the same sinks and taps and cabinets inset where supplies were stored. There the similarity ended. Most of the shower stalls were actual stalls, with a divider that was probably made of coated plastic. The dividers were a soft kind of green, and matched what had to be actual tile of some kind on the floor. Over the sinks were the same polished metal mirrors the guys had, but inset in the wall next to them were several full body versions, about six feet tall.

There were toilets of course, inset in the back wall, but no urinals and the stalls for everything were actually colored too; the toilets themselves were a darker green than the stall walls and looked to be actual porcelain rather than steel. There was a machine inset in the corner that I didn't recognize but knew by reputation; mom was always complaining about how it was out and only offered inferior 'products' now. She had called them products, but what they really were was a form of diaper or something woven of leftover reeds from some of our plants. I think I'd rather just stain my clothes, personally.

The placement of the drain and fans I'd seen so far pointed to more of both needed to cover the room, and didn't match the blueprints of the Magellan on file; something that probably should have surprised me, but didn't. Of course it wasn't empty, that would have been too easy. And of course, it was my three least favorite people occupying it, in the middle of washing themselves. They all stopped when I came in for the beat of a heart before Lissa spoke up.

Once again, it was a day of minor surprises.

“Sheesh Mouse, don't just stand there, someone will run into you.”

And she just turned away; alright, fine, I could do this. I couldn't see anything but their feet anyway, and they couldn't see me. The only reason I knew who it was were the clothes carefully folded and placed on a bench.

I quickly peeled off my things and folded them up like they had and picked a stall. I noticed immediately the soap on this side of things was different. It was a body wash, same as the guys used, but it smelled different and had a different feel when rubbed on skin. Less grainy and more soft. It really didn't feel like it would get grease or oil off of anything; I would have to bring my own tomorrow. I was stupid for forgetting.

At least the water was the same. I lathered up and rinsed off in a hurry; I heard others come in and start up. Not a word was said to me of course, but other than greetings there didn't seem to be much talking going on in general. I waited until things were quiet, far linger than I normally would. I wasn't hiding, exactly, just trying to avoid conflict.

When I stepped out (because opening the door first and peeking out would look stupid) they were waiting for me.

The expected trio of Lissa, Carla, and Milla, who I had really expected to have moved on to mooning over Roger like love-struck idiots by now, Marion, Hitomi, Tamie, and Opal. They all took one look at me standing there completely naked and collectively shook their heads. I thought I caught the words “it's not fair” whispered from one direction, but I couldn't tell who said it or even if I'd heard it right.

Marion snagged my arm gently.

“Come on, time to learn some things.”

Lissa snorted.

“Won't help; anything you try will be wasted effort on that savage.”

“It doesn't matter Lissa, it's my time to waste.”

Marion wasn't pulling me anywhere just yet. I'd probably have to listen to her, whatever she was planning, but I wasn't about to do it nude.

“Clothes first.”

She nodded and let me go, moving nonchalantly to where I'd have to pass her if I tried to leave. Lissa and her cronies stayed put and kept watching, silently. It was creepy. The frown that swept across her face when I put on my bra was rather odd… what was that all about? I reached for my pants and Lissa spoke again; loudly. My traitorous body jumped.

“You can't wear those out there. We all wear exercise clothes when we exercise, and you should too.”

Well I was all for not ripping the jeans and shirt up, but there was one problem with all that.

“Don't have anything else to wear.”

And it was true. My best lounging and exercise clothes had disappeared with everything else, while I had been giving nightmares to my loving crew, and if my exercise clothes still existed they were in a locker on the other side of the shower stall wall. Carla spoke up, far too softly and not meeting me in eye.

“Look over there. A security drone was in here earlier, and assigned you a locker.”

I hopped into my underwear and stomped over. Yep, it was there, a name plate in silver lettering which didn't match any of the gray lettering on either side. Mouse Zamir. Not my real name, of course, but since it was what everyone called me that didn't really matter. Like all the others in the bank of lockers, it was basically a small thing the size of a suitcase, colored yet another different shade of green. Like all lockers in here, it had no locks, putting the lie to the name. People wouldn't mess with other people's belongings in the lockers anyway.

I hadn't even when on the run. There were some things you just didn't do.

A quick twist and the locker sprang open soundlessly; the hinges were perfectly maintained. And there, inside, folded neatly and encased in plastic, were more clothes. Brand new, non-faded clothes, like the ones in my quarters. Where was he hiding this stuff? This was insane, I hadn't seen anything like this in the commissary. They even had actual sizes listed on tags, same as the rest.

Turning around I saw jealous fires lit in the eyes of those surrounding me.

I pulled the items out of the crinkly plastic and shook them out. They were my size, which meant that they wouldn't fit anyone else here, though the shirt was loose in the chest; I think Oddball is trying to tell me something. The pants fit perfectly, no stretch needed, though they could. It was a matched set of real cotton; it had to be. The shade was… maroon? Some sort of dark red.

Marion snagged my arm again and toweled my head off a second time; apparently she was digging for gold or something, judging by the pressure applied.

“Ow, Marion, stop!”

“No way, you have to get your hair dry.”

“I was dry five minutes ago! Enough already!”

“Okay, okay, fine, stand right there. I'm going to teach you how to brush your hair.”

What? When the towel was removed I was in front of the full-length mirror. I should stop this now; I reached for the brush and got my hand slapped away.

“I already know how to brush my hair.”

“No, you know how to do it the guy way. I'm going to teach you how to do it the right way.”

She then ran her own brush, a modern thing I'd never seen before through my hair more times than I thought was strictly necessary. She was using a sonic one after all, it shouldn't need more than three passes to get all particulates out, ever. I lost count after pass twenty.

Finally, she let me go and stepped back with a sigh.

“There, all done. How does it look?”

It had done something. My hair seemed to glow in the light; did her brush do something weird to hair? Maybe it was the body wash used? Everyone else still here (and why were they still here, what was so interesting about this sort of thing, exactly?) gave appreciative nods I could see in the mirror.

“Looks very good.” - Lissa.

“That shade is darker than her old shade, isn't it?” - Milla.

“I don't think so, looks the same, just more lustrous. Hiding out and eating pills seemed to agree with her. Maybe if I try it I can finally lose that pesky five pounds!” - Carla.

This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

“You guys do know how vapid you sound right now, right?”

Carla fired right back, unperturbed.

“Gals. We're all gals here, Mouse.”

“Fine, you're all vapid sounding gals.”

Lissa grinned. She was plotting something, I just knew it. That or she was insane; she had been frowning not seconds before. Maybe she was a sociopath, or something similar? Her mood certainly seemed to change enough. Marion was a bit more understandable, if only because she felt the desire to share.

“We never quite outgrow the desire to play dress up Mouse, and you're fertile ground there. You actually need the help, though the clothes thing is a little off-putting.”

Just what I needed to hear. So of course Carla had to add to it; I was beginning to have some dark thoughts about her. She might actually be more vapid and self-absorbed than Lissa, and I didn't understand how that was possible.

Maybe living on a ship with a small population was having more of an effect on the remnants of humanity than I suspected. I should probably ask Jennifer. But then again, I was more than a little afraid of what I'd learn if I did. I knew now there were different levels of survival. I also knew that Oddball could take his pick between them if he wanted; the only brakes put on him were happiness, which was something he seemed capable of ignoring somehow. After all, I sure wasn't happy right now.

“Alright come on. Today is tennis day for us, and I want to play against the ace of the ship.”

Tennis was a sport I was pretty good at. Better than most at least, mainly because it didn't rely as much on size or strength. Just quick reflexes, and I'd always had those in spades. Lissa oddly enough was my counterpart there; she was really good at tennis. We didn't often play each other, though; the boys didn't usually play with the girls.

Just another way for her to rub my current situation in.

The sport on the other side was football, and Siegfried was taking my normal spot at quarterback. He had since my indisposition, and done a credible job though my team hadn't won a single game since they betrayed me. Poetic justice, of a sort.

The rackets were out of their locker, and everyone began by picking one from the rack as we went by. Though some thought it did, it didn't matter which one you picked; they were literally all the same unless they were broken. A few of them were but still stored with the rest because it was too much of a pain to move them into the storage room called 'the land of broken toys' after some weird old story or another. There were only 29 left out of fifty, and even though we could manufacture more no one wanted to be the one to break another old Earth artifact, so we were very careful with them.

The tennis balls were of different vintage. They were a mix of rubber and plastic, made to simulate real tennis balls as closely as possible by the engineers of generation 2. They swore forever after that they had nailed the characteristics exactly, but doubts had been raised, and rightfully so in my opinion.

But since they were the best we had, and neither I nor Cargie had an old ball to test so the best we could do is a slightly different clone of the ball we had and a lot of field testing. Still, I had time, if I wanted to spend my free time that way; years and years worth of time could be dedicated to finding the perfect tennis ball.

That sounded pretty stupid, actually. Wonder how the second generation crew avoided laughter over such activities?

The nets themselves were stretched from posts that came up from the floor and were already set up. I wonder who had done that? The paint that symbolized the chalk was also set, but that was usually done by robot in order to ensure accuracy.

I looked up after going to the farthest court, and saw Lissa across from me, ball in hand, grin on her face, just waiting for me to notice. Carla and Milla had their own match right beside us though they weren't actually playing, and a table over Marion and Claire were staring at us. I couldn't bring myself to care who else was where, since the other side of the gym was just as silent.

Well, not entirely silent. A glance showed they were all looking at me and whispering things I couldn't hear. Having been on the other side of that situation, I couldn't help but get creeped out. Especially when I thought I heard the word “skirts” before Eric was properly shushed. I turned back to where Lissa was preening.

My traitorous eyes had to admit that she looked good; her own clothes had been dyed and altered by her to fit her taste, a white stretchy shirt and a pair of gray pants that coated her like paint before flaring out at the ankles. They were older than my own, far older, but well cared for.

I hunched in and gripped the racquet like I'd been shown by my mom all those years ago, and gave Lissa the nod. She started things off with a nice dirty serve designed to make me reach, and the match was on.

……..

It was like watching poetry. That was the only thing I could come up with. The both of them straining, working to overcome the other, to overcome their own limits. It was like watching ballet or an interpretive dance, with both of them relying on each other for their choreography. For all his lack of education, Eric summed it up best.

“This is hotter than booster fuel.”

And like Eric, I desperately wanted to see the same scene with those little skirts female tennis players used to wear. Oddball actually had to chime at us, to get us moving again and back to our game; there wasn't a single guy not watching. Even some of the girls were, jealousy plain on their faces as they watched the two streak across the court almost faster than the eye could follow. At least Mouse and Lissa never noticed; once the match started they only had focus for each other; Mouse hadn't even heard the chime, as far as I could tell.

We managed to make it look like we were playing, but we weren't really giving it our all. My side won and we wound things up a good ten minutes early and took seats. I suspected the other team had thrown harder than usual for just this outcome, but there was no way I could prove it. The outcome of the match, however, was never in any doubt.

……

The outcome was never in any doubt of course; I made Lissa work for it, but she beat me two sets to one. Even worse, I couldn't stand after she scored the final point; my stamina had taken a huge hit between the surgery and lack of exercise. Lissa had to cross the net rather than meet me in the middle as was customary. The best I could do was gasp out the words, but I managed.

“Good match.”

She reached down and pulled me up.

“Good match. I can tell, when you get used to how things work now, you're going to beat me like a drum.”

She meant when I got used to how my body worked now, something she knew I didn't want to do. She wasn't even breathing hard as she said it. I fought down the ugliness that boiled up; if she noticed she didn't comment.

“Maybe. You were always good at this, so I doubt I'll ever have it easy.”

I had a stupid wobble to my step; Lissa steadied me with an arm as we walked to the nearest bench. She also shot some kind of look that I couldn't read at Claire, who sported a bored look in the face of it. Marion came over without a backward glance at her, acting her usual bubbly self.

“That was amazing! Just like those old vids of the pros going at it! You alright Mouse? You look a little out of it.”

“Overdid things a bit.”

She nodded and slapped a water bottle into my hand.

“Makes sense. Just take a breather, it won't kill you to hang out with us after exercise period is over. You know, instead of running out first thing like you do normally.”

I shrugged to hide my wince as I shifted. My legs felt like lead weights. I was the most stupid genius humanity had to offer; my mom would be thrilled to know.

“You know, things to do, games to play. But yeah, think I'll wait a bit. So you all hang out here, doing what? Talking?”

My desire to wait had nothing at all to do with the number of females currently in the showers. Absolutely none at all. Carla chimed in.

“Well, sometimes. I mean the cafeteria is better most of the time, but usually people leave the gym alone for a time after exercising, so it makes a good place to be sort of private. That and you aren't the only one who overdoes things from time to time.”

Her rueful smile looked genuine. It was matched by Lissa's own.

“She's not even the only one today. I know you griped about my fitness before Mouse, but there was no need to run me into the ground today.”

“But I didn't…!”

“She's right. She did no such thing; you just wanted to beat her too badly, Lissa.”

“Guilty as charged Marion, but can you really blame me?”

I watched as Claire, now dressed in her normal clothes again, walked out of the gym without a single word. Whatever.

“No, I don't blame you. In fact I'm going to beat you next time; just as soon as I recover.”

Marion pulled me to my feet.

“Come on, shower time. You need to hurry before the stink sets in.”

I'm pretty sure stink doesn't work like that.

“Pretty sure stinks don't work like that Marion.”

“Not you, silly! Your clothes; you don't want to let them sit around, or you'll be fragrant tomorrow.”

Yeah, stinks didn't work like that for clothes either; all indications pointed to sonic cleaning working best when cloth was dry… and my new sweats were absolutely not dry.

“Don't worry, time to show you more secrets.”

“I really don't want to know anymore secrets.”

Lissa put an arm around me; I almost fell before she switched to holding me up.

“Don't be like that Mouse, you're one of us now. You get to know all the things you never wanted to know, and experience them all first hand. I insist. Besides, proper care of clothes like yours? If you don't take all necessary steps, well, no female on this ship will be happy with you.”

She grinned widely into my face; she knew without any doubt how frightening a prospect having half the population angry at me was… especially since it was over next to nothing and I already had most of the population of the ship wanting me punished anyway.

“Alright, alright, show me your massive secret unknown to mankind.”

I could do puns. Judging by the smiles, I could do good puns.

Once dragged back into the locker room I was sat down on my old friend Mr. bench, where I wearily stripped. This time, they wouldn't even let me keep the underwear, citing general yuckiness; whatever that was. There were replacements, of course, placed carefully in my locker; I had missed them in the rush before… or at least I hoped I had.

Another set of brand new underwear; they even matched.

I wanted to throw them as far as I could, but that wouldn't go over well. I put them on with a sigh… a sigh that was matched by the others present in the room. Theirs were of longing however, while mine was simple put-upon aggravation. Half the people on the ship would gleefully kill someone for underwear like these. Maybe even more than half, if certain rumors were true.

At least they were comfortable.

“Alright, so the real benefit of having actual water showers over just the sonic ones… you can treat your clothes.”

Marion pulled out a bottle of something. Lissa, Carla, and Milla followed suit. They were all small and unmarked, kept in the lockers, and had a liquid inside with a faint watery blue color. Marion popped the top on hers and waved it under my nose… it was pleasant and vaguely spicy; it smelled like flowers. It smelled, in fact, like the perfume all the girls wore. It was in fact, the answer to one of the many mini-mysteries of the ship, and one that no female to date had given up… at least not to any of us in the third generation. I had asked my dad once how and why all the girls smelled the same as mom and he had told me they just did, so I didn't lay odds on him knowing either.

“Wait, so the perfume you all use, the one that drives guys wild, is actually some sort of detergent or chemical treatment for your clothes?”

“Yep! Keeps our whites whiter and brights brighter! Also keeps the threads from fraying as easily and cuts down on general wear. Pretty handy when you're wearing plant or animal fibers, as opposed to good old fashioned chemistry. Darn rules.”

The rules she was speaking of were the rather stringent laws regarding wearing certain types of clothes, which basically boiled down to no latex or rubber derivatives. I wasn't as clear on that part of human history as I probably should be considering how many headaches making clothes directly from modern chemistry would save us, but I do remember that something called a 'catsuit' was involved. Maybe I should look it up later; though I was sure the girls all knew, I did not want to ask. Or be seen caring about it for that matter, so I just nodded along.

“So here is how it works. You step into the shower, then while you clean yourself you work this stuff into your clothes. It's not really fully biological, its a polymer that bonds to your clothes, and bonds to the dirt and sweat and other stuff in your clothes. Then afterwords you run it through the sonic process like normal.”

It figured that Lissa would know about biologicals to be used on clothes… even fake ones.

“Anyway, we forgot to make a bottle for you, but you can use mine after I'm done and then analyze a sample to make your own with. You just can't let the guys know; it's our secret.”

The translation to that was: 'we know you have trust issues so we're going to show you that it isn't poison in the time honored tradition of using it first, then supply you with the means to make your own so you won't have to worry about such a thing in the future.' Thank you, Marion, you lovable mind reader.

She disrobed and went into her chosen stall, using the bottle on her exercise clothes with the door open, in plain sight, before handing it to me. She worked the contents into her clothes under the water, then draped them over the door while soaping up herself. Then she rinsed her clothes off and while rinsing herself. The others watched me watching her for a bit, then followed suit, though they closed the stall doors. Marion had no shame… and nothing to be ashamed about.

Too bad I couldn't take advantage. Too bad she was driving that point home without even trying.

Or maybe she was trying.

No, I could think that of Claire, but not Marion. Marion was just herself; oblivious. I walked into my own stall more to stop comparing my body to theirs more than anything else and applied the contents of the bottle to my new clothes. If they were nanites like I had used, and Marion was setting me up, well, then I'd be set up. I had ways to both detect and counteract that, and I wouldn't be wearing the clothes again until tomorrow anyway; plenty of time to check up on them. Even the trick I pulled was skirting the edge – we could synthesize thread but getting the colors to match was sometimes difficult.

Clothes successfully treated and myself cleaned I stepped out; the four that went into the showers with me were still here, waiting for me.

“Alright, next step. You simply take the hangar in your locker, and hang them up.”

Lissa interrupted.

“Or you can just use one of the blow dryers to dry them; a few good waves at medium or high heat should do it without damaging anything.”

“But it fades the colors!”

Then they began a lively… debate. Yeah, a debate, over air drying versus 'assisted drying'. I just got dressed while they weren't paying attention to me; it took me about half the time it took them, at least until I got to my stupid hair, which was wet again. A few quick strokes and I was ready to leave – at least until I glanced Marion's way and saw her watching me out of the corner of her eye, while still arguing with Lissa.

So I settled in for more strokes, fool that I am. In the end I settled for the air dry method as well; I had the means to prevent the mess and waste Lissa was worried about from happening after all – the plastic covers the clothes came in.

I simply used some tape to fix the plastic to the bottom of the clothes, so it would collect all the moisture. Sure, the moisture would probably all get collected by the environmental systems eventually anyway as the air got filtered, but why wait when you didn't have to?

The girls were less than pleased with my ingenuity of course, standing before my locker critically.

Milla summed it up, even while Lissa was looking pleased:

“Well it'll work and avoid the mess unless gravity cuts out, but it lacks elegance.”

I couldn't let that stand.

“For one, gravity won't cut out, I'm maintaining it. And the simple solutions have an elegant beauty unaffected by appearance.”

I wasn't going to be the engineer known for letting critical systems break, ever. I was going to regret my next question, but I had to ask.

“So, what's the next step? Just waiting for it to dry?”

“Yep. After it dries you simply clean it sonically like normal, using the shower. The treatment will bond with the sweat and dirt while drying and then take it all with it when the sound shakes it off. You can take the clothes to your quarters too, and do it there if you want.”

This was all too much work, and I told them so. Lissa wasted no time disagreeing with me.

“It isn't really. Those new clothes you have will likely need to last you your entire life; an entire life of hard use. Unlike the guys, we really can't replace clothes that fit us so well so easily. Some of my stuff had to be altered to fit me, and the stuff that fits perfectly? That's priceless. Guys can and will just wear any old thing they are given, but you? You're small, hard to fit with our stores, and have sensitive skin. Trust me, the alternative isn't one you want to consider; the clothes we can make? Those chafe something fierce.”

How did she know I had sensitive skin?

“Alright, enough of all that. Time to get out of here and hit the canteen for some drinks before we all fall over from dehydration or something.”

We could just drink water from the sink, it was the same as the water from the tap in the canteen, but then again knowing Lissa probably not.

I had mostly recovered by the time we finally set off, now fully clothed once again and for my part now knowing far more about why Lissa and her crew were late than I ever wanted. Marion sticking by me to make sure shenanigans didn't happen was also appreciated. It was the only reason I could think of for her to stick around; she didn't hate Lissa and company, but she didn't really make too much effort to hang around them.

I wonder what other surprises like this were in store. Well that, and if I could get more of that juice drink stuff; that stuff was still amazing.