CHAPTER 89 SHOE GIRL

"What's the message about?"

Elizabeth, her hair now almost dry from her afternoon shower, finished playing with Aaron's toes and gave her giggling son another kiss on his tummy. She was sitting on a lower berth of their cabin while Jack sat at her small desk replying to a message that had come over his bracelet.

Jack leaned back in the chair and smiled as his son squealed in laughter before answering her question.

"The kitchen staff is mad that the Captain wrote them up for dumping food into the drains. I need to go to the conference room later this week in case things get out of hand."

"Why's the kitchen staff upset? It's their own fault if they get written up."

"It's Luna. You know how she can get."

Elizabeth had first met Luna while visiting the kitchen. It took several occasions of encountering the woman, who was in her late twenties, before Elizabeth was no longer mesmerized by the way Luna looked. The young woman had pale skin, pale blond hair that she frequently wore in two long braids, and a habit of wearing sparkly deep-blue eyeshadow that on anyone else -including Elizabeth- would look outrageously out of place, but on Luna, it looked . . . ethereal. Elizabeth half-suspected that Luna did it on purpose so that her look corresponded to her given name. And it worked, because she somehow managed to make people think of a moon goddess when they looked at her. Her personality was less heavenly. More like an anxiety-ridden perfectionist.

"She insists that they didn't put any food down the drain but when that first pipe burst on the lower level, they found food scraps.," Jack continued. "It's not a big deal. Just a simple infraction. But she refuses to accept it. Wants a hearing."

"A hearing? Over stupid food down the drain? That's a bit much isn't it?"

"Definitely. But she has an impeccable record and she's the senior person under Abigail, so it's her responsibility to oversee the disposal of food. Every left-over scrap that's not dairy or meat needs to be sent to the horticulture room to be composted. If someone put it in the wrong receptacle because they weren't paying attention or were too lazy to dispose of it properly, they need to be reprimanded. Her hearing's this week and the First Officer thinks she might be a bit of trouble. He wants me there for added security."

Elizabeth chuckled. "So, my big strong law enforcement husband who has dealt with murders and saboteurs is now dealing with left-over food scraps going down the sink. My, how the mighty have fallen."

Instead of verbally responding, Jack moved like an animal on a hunt with his prey in sight.

Elizabeth giggled and tried to duck out of the way but Jack tackled her anyway.

"Careful!" she shrieked through her laughs. "You'll smoosh Aaron!"

Jack moved his torso sideways but continued to pin Elizabeth to the mattress as he began placing kisses on her stomach while she squealed happily.

"I am not going to the Cafeteria," Elizabeth declared as the evening's dinner menu was announced over the intercom, and as if on cue, her stomach rumbled.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I am not," Elizabeth insisted.

It had been hours since the Elizabeth had been discovered in the shower, and Jack was hungry. Despite Jack's attempts to alleviate her embarrassment, Elizabeth hadn't forgotten the incident.

"The kitchen is not going to keep bringing us food. They know we're not sick or traumatized by the electrical cable, or needing time to deal with some marriage problem or whatever excuse you want to come up with," Jack told her.

"I am never showing my face again on this transporter after the fiasco in the bathroom.'

"It's not your face that's the problem," Jack mumbled.

"How do you expect me to go out there?! They saw me naked!" Elizabeth wailed.

"And they were damn lucky to get to see such a sight," Jack noted firmly.

"Aren't you the least bit upset? That men have seen your wife naked."

"Listen, Elizabeth, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm guessing the men have seen lots of naked women. Not only women they've dated but female acquaintances. Training schools are co-ed. Living quarters are co-ed. It's not that big a deal. I've seen naked women other than you."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at him. "Do you really think that's the appropriate thing to say at a time like this?"

Jack shrugged. "Yeah."

"Is it supposed to make me feel better that my husband has seen lots of naked women? Because I'm guessing that only a guy would think that."

"I didn't say lots," Jack clarified. "But I've seen naked women and it's not a big deal. It's natural. Think about it."

"I'd rather not," she grumbled.

Jack ignored her response. "We shared a cabin with Candy and Becca. They were always dressing and undressing in front of the two of us. They didn't care about trying to cover up. Remember how they were always trying on clothes and you hated looking at Becca's breasts because they were nice and perky, and Candy didn't care that I saw that faint scar on her upper thigh and Becca didn't care that I saw her –"

Jack's voice trailed off when he saw Elizabeth's expression. She was scrutinizing him with a look of condescension and disgust.

"You do realize that you're just digging yourself deeper and deeper into a hole?" she observed dryly.

Jack carried the cafeteria tray in one hand and slowed his pace so the spaghetti wouldn't slosh off the plate. A few passengers gave him curious looks as they passed him, wondering why he was having yet another meal in the seclusion of his cabin.

"Hmm. Smells good," a smiling Elizabeth, who was sitting on the floor, said when Jack walked in the room and she caught the aroma of garlic bread.

"Spaghetti, garlic bread, green beans, and apples."

"Did you bring me tea?"

Elizabeth uncurled her legs from under her and reached for the tray.

"Of course. But it's not going to be hot by the time you finish dinner. Which is another reason why we should have eaten in the cafeteria."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Not until the men forget they saw me naked."

"They can't forget it, Elizabeth. Men don't forget they saw a woman naked. They either remember it pleasantly or indifferently or with disgust. I think we can agree that in your case, disgust is not an option. The best we can hope for is indifference. And even that's going to be stretching it. I've seen you naked. But I don't think the men are going to bring it up with you. Everyone on this ship is a professional."

Elizabeth tried to hide her pleasure at Jack's assessment of her naked body, and realized that there was nothing to be done about the shower event. Jack was right. Most people didn't consider nudity to be that big of a deal. The incident would quickly be a thing of the past as long as she didn't bring it up.

She handed Jack his utensils and the couple talked between bites of food.

"Tell me about the case you've been working on this week," she prompted him.

While neither of them had been overwhelmed with work duties, she had noticed that he seemed to be involved in some kind of investigation.

"A contract is coming up for food production on Coal Valley and there are questions about the integrity of the studies. One of the scientists in agriculture in Coal Valley has apparently some way of making Zea Mays – corn - that's doing fantastic but not everyone on Earth is convinced. They say his results are inflated. They just can't figure out how he's doing it."

"What do you mean? He's growing good corn. Why is that so hard for them to believe?"

Jack took a bite of spaghetti and then continued with his explanation.

"Every transporter brings back a sample of produce that's grown in Coal Valley. It's tested and evaluated on Earth for nutritional value, disease resistance, sustainability. But some of the stuff coming back this last year seems almost too good to be true given the soil and water conditions and available growing light in Coal Valley."

"Maybe the scientist is just really talented."

"Some people in Coal Valley are saying that what they see coming out of the greenhouses is not that great. That it's tasteless and lacks nutritional value. But every sample we get on Earth is near perfect."

Elizabeth swallowed a piece of garlic bread and took a gulp of water from her bottle before asking her next question.

"How do they know the samples on Earth are actually coming from Coal Valley?"

"They're tagged in Coal Valley, scanned when they are put on a transporter headed home, and scanned when they get off the ship back on Earth."

"Could someone be substituting the food back on Earth?"

As they finished their meal, Jack explained that had been one of the original assumptions; that a bad tasteless product was being substituted on Earth with a superior sample of corn, but the investigation had showed no interruption of the product from the time it left the greenhouses in Coal Valley until it arrived at the laboratory back on Earth. There was an impeccable chain of evidence. Every incredible sample of corn tested on Earth as having been grown in Coal Valley had indeed traveled from Coal Valley.

And it was causing some businessmen to lose many a night's sleep as they furiously wondered how the competition was doing so well.

"If someone can grow enough food in Coal Valley, that's less shipping that has to be done," Elizabeth remarked. "Which means more room on transporters for personal belongings in cargo. And more people will think about moving there if it has a fresh supply of food."

"Millions of dollars in business are up for grabs," Jack continued. "Each company wants the contract to sustain a far-away colony. And you know what I always say."

Elizabeth wiped her mouth and then took a piece of spaghetti out of her son's hair. Placing it back into his tiny hand, she watched as he tried to shove the thin slippery pasta into his mouth. "What do you always say?" she questioned Jack.

Jack gave her a look of exasperation. "The three motivations for everything?" he prodded her.

"Oh yeah," Elizabeth said pensively as she remembered that for every investigation, Jack looked at three motivations.

She just couldn't remember the three things.

"Love, love, and love?" she offered hopefully.

Jack raised his eyebrows at her and gave her a humous look. "That's just for us because we are adorable. For most people they are money, fame, and jealousy."

Elizabeth looked at her watch and wondered what was taking Jack so long. He was supposed to drop off the dirty dinner dishes at the Cafeteria and then come back to the cabin to watch a movie with her. The ship was much bigger than her house back on Earth -it was more like the size of a large office building- but it wasn't so large that he should still be gone. She wondered if he had gotten side-tracked with someone wanting him to play a game of racquetball or watch sports in one of the lounges.

If we were back home and I was sitting on the couch, he would have just have gone a few feet to the kitchen sink, she thought wistfully. Then we'd snuggle up with a faux fur blanket. Maybe even have a fire going in the fireplace.

After another ten minutes of waiting, Elizabeth decided to message him.

Coming back soon?

When she didn't get an immediate response, she clicked her fingers on the small lettered keypad.

Everything okay?

This time a message came back within seconds.

Fine.

I thought you'd be back by now.

In office.

What's up?

Got a strange message. I'll be a while, came back Jack's reply.

Elizabeth threw Aaron's wet diaper into the receptacle by the door and wondered what to do to occupy herself until Jack got back. It had been an hour since his last message.

Now that she had put Aaron down for a good night's rest, Elizabeth was trying to decide if she should work on a history lesson or read a book. It looked like watching a movie with Jack was no longer going to happen tonight.

Her bracelet beeped, signifying an incoming message.

Did you order some shoes?

Elizabeth's forehead crinkled in confusion and she wondered if the auto-correct had changed Jack's message to render it entirely something other than what he had intended.

What? She held down the Alt key and then typed in the numbers 127796 on the small key pad and hit the send button.

Immediately, the image of a palm tree replaced the numbers.

Darn, wrong numbers, she thought with a frown when she saw the small green and brown symbol. I meant to make a shoe.

? Why did you type a palm tree? came the message from Jack.

Mistake.

How is a palm tree an answer to my question?!

I said it was a mistake. I typed it wrong. It was supposed to be a cowboy boot. I was trying to be cute.

Are you on drugs?!

Elizabeth scowled when she read his message. It was obvious that Jack wasn't a fan of emojis when he was at work. She quickly typed another message of her own.

Where are you and why did you ask about shows?

SHOES!

I hate auto-correct!

Did you order some shoes? Jack repeated his earlier question.

How would I order shoes on a transporter?

I don't know.

When would I have ordered shoes on a transporter?

I don't know!

WHY would I order shoes on a transporter?

DID YOU ORDER SHOES?!

NO! Why?

I didn't think so, Jack typed and hit the button sending the message.

Then why did you ask?

Just checking. And it was better than the other possibility.

Elizabeth's forehead scrunched in puzzlement. She had no idea why Jack was concerned about shoes, or what other possibility.

What other possibility? She sent the message and waited for a reply.

Never-mind.

Tell me.

Stupid idea someone had.

Tell me.

You're running a call-girl service.

Elizabeth drew back when she read the message.

What?! He can't have meant to write call-girl.

It must have been auto-corrected. But for what?

Maybe he meant a cowgirl service?

She frowned. What's a cowgirl service?

Or maybe calligraphy service? Because I have nice penmanship?

He definitely didn't mean to write call-girl.

? Cowgirl? Calligraphy? What kind of service? she typed and then hit send.

Call girl.

CALL GIRL?!

Jack shook his head in exasperation that he had even mentioned it to her but nevertheless type a reply.

Call-girl. Prostitute. Escort. Wh*re.

Why would I be running a call-girl service? I can't barely run on the dreadmill!

That's what I told Headquarters when they questioned me.

Why is Headquarters on Earth questioning you about me?! What is going on?!

I'll be here a bit longer. Still getting messages.