“This one should look amazing, as well. I love how deep the blue is. Oh, and there are two other possibilities I want you to see. They are beautiful and just came in from Macau.”

An hour later, Miss Satomi purchased the two gowns they agreed were best and thanked Kev for their help.

“Break a leg, gorgeous!” they said.

Gorgeous? Did they mean her?

Miss Satomi laughed.

“Now let’s find some shoes.”

Unfortunately, shoes were more difficult; her feet were larger than what most of these stores carried. But with Miss Satomi helping her, Katrina was able to at least point out styles she preferred. Astrid would find the right sizes later.

After, Miss Satomi helped her find makeup, from a real store with makeup stations, huge mirrors, and full-spectrum lighting. A cheerful girl named Rocio matched her skin tone for foundation and helped her refine her contouring.

Rocio also told her she was very lucky she did not have much facial hair, but she might want to consider getting laser done soon.

“I tried waxing,” Katrina said. “With strips I bought from the Internet.”

Rocio cringed. “From the … Internet? Honey, were they at least for the face?”

“They make them for just the face?”

“I’ll have Astrid make arrangements for lasering later,” Shizuka said quickly. “But no more home waxing your face.”

“Yes, Miss Satomi.”

Katrina walked out of the mall with two large bags and a blank stare. It had been okay.

It had been okay?

Why?

Why was Kev like that?

Why was Rocio like that?

Why was Astrid like that, and Shirley?

Why, why, why?

Why was she born this way, a human being?

Why did being human hurt so much? Why couldn’t she have been different, without a soul, without worth? Why couldn’t she have been the thing her parents might have wanted?

Why couldn’t anyone have treated her this way this before?

“Mother. I have news from the Empire.”

“Yes, Shirley.”

“The High Council has decided to close all borders to the Home Quadrant. Their official reason is to prevent the spread of the Endplague, but they are halting departures, as well.”

Lan wasn’t surprised. They were fortunate to have left when they had.

“Are there any messages that you would like me to send?”

“No. Silence has been good to us.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Thank you, Shirley.”

Traveling through space-time is like driving through Los Angeles. Universes pass by like random cars on the four-level at rush hour. To keep their way, ships must synchronize with their own timeline at regular intervals. Stargates perform this function automatically; in fact, providing foolproof space-time coordinates was one of the primary functions of a stargate.