Chapter Forty-Nine - Slow Fashion

Choosing attire had transformed into a deceptively straightforward task as humanity spread through the system.

One's ensemble was dictated by the corporate entity to which you were indentured. Fashion mutated from a way to express yourself into a tool to symbolize allegiance.

The paradigm shift didn't ruin the urge to show off, to differentiate yourself from the masses, to rebel, but it did cut into the opportunities to do so. When a rebel had all of one option to pick from, they'd find their self expression somewhere else.

Fast fashion was fast to die.

Exceptions still peppered the system. A smattering of professions needed some creativity in the way they dressed, and the ultra-rich, the influential, didn't constrict themselves to corporate jumpsuits and uniforms.

Ivil considered this as she looked at the woman sitting across from her. Pixie's bright sundress, with its little flowers on the hem and her black spats beneath stood out in contrast to Missy's oil-stained and rather tight jumpsuit.

"That was... well, I suppose it was somewhat refreshing," Ivil said as she dabbed her lips with a cheap napkin. The platter with finger foods sitting in the middle of the table was looking rather pitiful at the moment, with only a few vat-grown celery sticks.

"Eh, it was alright," Missy said. "Honestly, as far as food on stations go, this is on the upper end of quality."

Ivil nodded along. She supposed that she couldn't disagree with that. There were some luxurious stations in Mars' orbit that had fine dining establishments, and of course places like Phobos prided themselves on being able to serve the well off and those with a distinguished palate, but the average station was a place designed for function over form, and comfort was a distant issue.

"I suppose I should head out," Pixie said.

"Got work to do?" Missy asked.

Pixie waved a hand in a so-so gesture. "I need to get to those files, go over them, make sure it's all above-board for the Guild. Maybe get into contact with some of the people I know there. It's mostly getting a few emails sent and such, but it can be time consuming. Otherwise I'm between jobs right now."

"Are you?" Ivil asked. "You know, I considered becoming a mercenary once."

"Mercenary work isn't the same as bounty hunting," Pixie said. "There's some overlap, in gear and attitudes, but we're not the same. Bounty hunters chase down troublemakers and criminals. We're justice with a price tag. Mercenaries are just soldiers without the allegiance," Pixie said.

Ivil hummed. "Maybe I missed my calling, then. Bounty hunting seems like an interesting job, though my past interactions with them have never been comfortable."

"Why's that?" Pixie asked.

"Before we continue," Ivil asked, "Should we head out?"

"Oh, you're leaving?" Pixie asked, her disappointment undisguised.

"We are," Ivil said. "I was thinking we could go clothes shopping." That seemed like the kind of activity that women often did when hanging out or dating, and she was keen on experiencing that herself. The station definitely had some places to shop at. For all that it was a hodgepodge of smaller stations, it had a wide range of places to shop at.

"I... can come?" Pixie asked. "I mean, uh, yeah, sure, that sounds nice."

"Yeah, alright," Missy said. "There's a surplus store near the docks. They've got the kind of stuff I usually get."

Ivil met Pixie's eyes, and they came to a sudden and silent agreement. Missy would not be buying overalls today. "There must be places that sell a higher-tier of clothing here," Ivil said leadingly.

"I mean, probably," Missy said with a frown. "Never saw much need for that kind of stuff. Overalls and jumpsuits just work, you know?"

"Yes, of course," Ivil lied and pretended to agree.

They stood from the booth and started for the exit. "So, what were you saying about bounty hunters?" Pixie asked.

"Ah, I've had my share of meetings with them," Ivil said. "But they were always rather antagonistic." She smiled smugly.

"You had a bounty placed on you?" Missy asked.

"I did, for a few years," Ivil said. "But don't worry, the bounty was rescinded across the system."

That had been a whole thing. It had started long before she earned the title of Empress, and initially MINT was rather slow about helping her get rid of the bounty. That was, until the bounty kept growing. At one point it was the single largest bounty ever given in human history.

Of course, that only meant that she had her pick from the most talented bounty hunters who all wanted her dead. It had been an excellent source of cores and additional resources at the start and middle of her career.

At some point, pressure from MINT and a distinct lack of stupid bounty hunters had finally convinced the various guilds across the system to finally pull her name.

She narrowed her eyes. Had that been before or after she walked into the Saturnian bounty hunter's guild and took all of their cores? "I think that the modern bounty hunting guilds have started to respect certain kinds of people a lot more than they once did."

"I guess," Pixie said with a confused frown. "Well, I can look into it, if you want? I, uh, wouldn't try to cash in a bounty on a friend, of course. That's just rude. I mean, assuming that you don't have a bounty for burning down orphanages or anything!"

Ivil chuckled. "That only happened once!"

They laughed, and Ivil was happy to see her companions happy as they wandered over to a station map on a wall. Pixie pointed to a mid-tier store, but Ivil shook her head and tapped a smaller boutique in one of the nicer sections of Driftwood.

It took a while to get there, but that while was spent chatting about things that truly didn't matter very much. Pixie complimented Ivil's astro archeologist outfit, and Ivil smiled and said that she was envious of Pixie's small size. "You must have it easy, finding clothes to fit you," Ivil said.

"Are you kidding? I shop in the kid's section," Pixie grumbled. "Only I have these, and that makes everything complicated." She gestured to her chest, which was rather womanly. Ivil supposed that that did pose a challenge.

"I don't know, my legs are long enough that I suspect I would need to shop in the men's section," Ivil said. Truth be told, she mostly wore her uniform, so such issues rarely came up.

"Or you could get jumpsuits," Missy said. "One size fits all. Roll up your pant legs if they're too long, and get a belt if it's too puffed out."

"No Missy, no one should have to wear jumpsuits all the time," Pixie said.

"Don't you wear one? When at work?" Missy asked.

Pixie pursed her lips. "Yes. And it's custom-ordered. But that's not just a jumpsuit."

"It's one-hundred percent a jumpsuit," Missy said.

"It's flame-retardant, can serve as an EVA suit, has heart-rate, temperature, and humidity monitors," Pixie listed off while counting on her fingers. "The suit costs more than you make in a year, Missy."

"Ouch, but that doesn't change that it's a jumpsuit."

"It's the supercar of jumpsuits," Pixie said. "It even has inflation modules, to keep blood flowing into your extremities during high-g manoeuvres."

"And a built-in diaper," Missy added with a smirk.

Pixie smacked her, but her cheeks reddened all the same. "That's besides the point."

They made it to the clothing store, and Missy hesitated at the doors. Inside were mannequins in some rather conservative outfits, the kind of modern techwear that a high-earning office worker might wear. There were even some pencil skirts, despite those being a risky fashion choice off-planet.

"Uh, this doesn't look like a place for me," Missy said.

Pixie grabbed one of Missy's arms. Ivil grabbed the other, suddenly aware of how warm Missy was, even though the coarse material of her jumpsuit. "You owe me," Pixie said with no surrender.

"It'll be amusing," Ivil added with a grin.

They dragged Missy inside. She made a show of protesting, but there was no real strength in it. The interior was brightly lit, smelled fresher than the rest of the station had, and contained a clerk who immediately stood at attention on seeing them but who didn't come over to bother any of them.

Ivil noticed the clerk touching a consol, and she was vaguely aware that they'd just run a credit check on her. The happy, obsequious smile they returned was likely a good sign.

"Let's start with the lingerie," Ivil suggested.

"T-the, oh, oh, uh, yeah, let's start with that," Pixie agreed before tugging Missy along faster.

"What? Why would anyone need fancy underwear?" Missy grumbled as she was dragged along.

The poor soul. Ivil almost felt bad for her. Almost.

***