My dear readers, thank you for your patience. All these years that I've been reading fanfiction, my biggest pet peeve has been authors who abandon stories for a month at a time. I've become the thing I hate.
The six weeks have been a major challenge in several ways, starting with the death of my friend, continuing with the election results (my day job deals with immigrants and refugees, so the Trump platform has created a lot of fear and uncertainty), and culminating with my grandma going into hospice care. I am still writing, but the pace has taken a major slowdown.
I remain committed to finishing this story, though I can't give you a timeline. Without further ado, chapter 25.
Jim walked into the costuming offices with a data tape in hand. "Good morning, Alice," Jim said to the slightly plump, wavy-haired brunette young woman who was his most regular contact in this department. Five months ago, Alice Dalzell had sent him a formal complaint about the attrition rate on uniforms. The language had been, well, spicy, but the statistics were indisputable. So he'd responded by arranging to have her favorite dessert delivered to her during her shift, accompanied by a note apologizing for the inconvenience and offering to recommend her for a promotion.
They'd been on a first-name basis ever since.
And yet, at the sight of him, a flash of horror passed over Alice's face. "Oh, Jim, we just made you four new shirts last week! What did you do?"
"Nothing! Nothing. I'm not here for shirts. I was hoping I could commission some specialty work, civilian clothes," Jim said.
"Oh. That's a relief," Alice said with a sigh. Custom jobs broke up the tedium. There were only so many ripped clothes one could patch with the singed remnants of a uniform that had been blown off its late owner, before one started to reconsider the decision to join Starfleet. "Well, what did you have in mind, Jim? Casual stuff for traveling incognito? Maybe a nicer suit, something for dancing?"
"Maternity dresses," Jim said, and Alice suppressed an unprofessional gasp.
"You don't look pregnant," she said, hoping the sarcasm didn't sound like insubordination.
Jim gave her one of those charming Kirk smiles – if he could bottle those up, he'd retire a wealthy man, Alice reflected.
"I'm not pregnant. But I have a friend on board who is, and I thought I'd surprise her with a couple of presents," Jim said smoothly. "I think three or four in assorted colors will do. Nothing too fancy, just things a woman could wear around the ship and still look stylish. I'd leave the general design features up to your professional judgment, though. I don't know anything about maternity fashion."
Alice smiled back. "There's not much call for maternity clothes aboard ship. This will be a change of pace for the team," she said thoughtfully. "But it's good to keep them on their toes. Do you have the expectant mother's measurements?"
Jim held out the data tape he'd brought. "Pre-pregnancy only, I'm afraid," he said apologetically.
Alice waved off the concern. "Ah, pregnant women get thicker, but they don't get taller. Once you get the length right, you just have to make sure the design is forgiving enough to accommodate a larger butt, swollen legs, enlarged breasts, and of course the obvious bump where the actual baby is cooking," she explained. Jim looked mildly surprised by her expertise, so she added, "I have three sisters, each of them with at least two children. I'm the oddity, heading out into the black instead of producing more Dalzell kids."
Jim nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose a lot of Starfleet members are slight oddities, to their parents. At least those among us who aren't triple generation officers, anyway," he added.
Alice nodded too, but she wasn't thinking about family dynamics. She was mentally designing clothing. Maybe we can recycle some of the rag pile, make a nice patchwork for one of the skirts . . . Focus on stretch and durability for the whole suite, naturally . . . "You can expect some progress by Friday," she told the captain. "And we should have the whole kit done by Monday."