Mr and Mrs Ostrow

USS Surefoot, Deck 3 Mid – Sickbay Suite:

“STINKY COMPUTER!”

Dr Shyrik had been in her office opposite the Crèche, cursing her article for the Starfleet Medical Journal for its inability to write itself, when she heard the exclamation from within. Recognising the voice, she rose from behind her desk, crossed over and entered the other room. “What do you think you’re doing, young man?”

Misha Hrelle stood in front of his computer display, his chair knocked away, teeth and claws bared at the screen, his pudgy tail twitching with agitation. The three-year-old cub straightened up and retracted his claws. “Nothing.”

The Andorian’s antennae dipped down at him. “Whatever it is doing wrong, I doubt if it will be intimidated by your display of aggression. Now tell me what has it done to deserve this reaction from you?”

“Nothing!” he snapped.

Shyrik folded her arms. “You lie. I will summon your mother or father to deal with you-”

“NO!”

Shyrik leaned in closer, fixing a steely glare on him. “I beg your pardon?”

Misha stuck out a defiant chin and replied, “No... thank you!”

She straightened up again, hiding her amusement at how similar toddlers of all races were. “So, what did the computer do to upset you? Were you looking to play a game instead of learning your lessons?”

“It won’t tell me things!”

“That seems strange behaviour for such a machine. What things did you want to know?”

“New Dish Tracks!”

It took a moment for Shyrik to decipher the answer. “Neurodystraxia. The genetic condition diagnosed for your unborn sister.” She understood, having been present when Kami Hrelle had the diagnosis confirmed days ago, and knew that the Counselor and the Captain would of course talk to their son about it. “And what did you want to know?”

“I want to fix Sreen’s New Dish Tracks!” he exclaimed, as if stating the obvious.

Shyrik regarded him, and dropped to one knee. Her own people were very pragmatic about illness and injury, and to non-Andorians this attitude came across as unsympathetic, even harsh. But that did not mean she had to offer such a response to everyone. especially not this one. “You can’t fix her. No one can, not without causing Sreen a great deal of pain. Your parents won’t do that to her.”

He stabbed an accusatory finger at her. “You fix people! Doc Cowboy fixes people! Doc Klingon fixes people! You all fix!”

“Yes,” she agreed softly. “We do. But we don’t fix everyone. We can’t fix everyone. Sometimes people have problems that can’t be fixed, not easily, if ever.”

“No?”

“No.”

His expression changed, and the anger and defiance he was displaying seconds before now melted into a heartbreaking vulnerability. “I’m her big brother. Wanna help her.”

Shyrik reached out and brushed back the truculent tufts of fur on the top of the toddler’s head, and her voice was gentle and reassuring. “Of course you do. And you can help her – by helping your parents now, and when Sreen is born, by being there for her when she learns to do things, and needs her big brother’s help. Do you understand?”

He grunted, pouting.

She straightened up again. “Will a snack in the Mess Hall help your understanding?”

Misha still pouted… but nodded.

Shyrik took his hand and led him out, as Masterson walked by. “Hey, what’s up with the Lil’ Critter?”

“Hmm?” Shyrik’s antenna rose. “Oh, this one. He’s an overindulged brat who’s disturbing my work, so I’m taking him somewhere to shut him up for a while. Do you have a problem with that?”

The human held up his hands. “Me? No. Just be back for our meeting with Commander T’Varik later. And…” He nodded to Misha. “Try to be nice to him, okay?”

She sneered at Masterson as she led the cub out. “You weak-spined races coddle your young too much! You won’t see such sentimental indulgence from Andorians!”

*

“USS Surefoot-A, Captain’s Log, Stardate 50596.53, Captain Esek Hrelle, Commanding: our ship has left Sherman’s Planet with the rest of the Thirteenth Fleet, for a stopover at Deep Space Station K7, for resupply and retrofit prior to our new assignment in the war against the Dominion. K7’s limited facilities and the needs of the Fleet mean that we will be stationed here for at least a week, but that doesn’t bother me. Not only am I in no hurry to rush off back into war following our hostilities with the Klingons, but we have a more enjoyable task ahead of us here to occupy our time.”

*

Deck 2 Fore – Transporter Room 1:

Hrelle rocked back and forth, fidgeting in place, until his wife, Counselor Kami Hrelle, standing beside him, glanced in his direction. “Stop that, it looks like you’ve got worms.”

Standing between his parents, dressed like them in a minikin version of a Starfleet uniform, Misha frowned. “Papa’s got worms?” He looked to his mother. “Is he sick? Has he got worms up his bum?”

“No, I don’t have worms up my bum, Cub of Mine.” When Chief Engineer Grev, standing by the transporter console, chuckled, until Hrelle shot him a dirty look. “Energise already, Chief.”

The Tellarite complied, and as twin columns of energy appeared on the pads before him, Hrelle felt tempted to rush up and have his arms already around the coalescing forms, before accepting that the transporter safety controls would simply abort the process. So he tensed until the cycle was complete, producing a tall, slim, silver-haired human male and a shorter, more muscular Bolian female, and he raced up to envelop them both in his arms. “MY CUBS! MY CUBS ARE BACK!”

The breath shot out of Lieutenant Jonas Ostrow and Ensign Neraxis Nemm, and they looked pleadingly over the shoulders of their former Captain, prompting Kami to chide, “That’s enough, Papa Cat, or they’ll be having their wedding in Sickbay.” As her husband reluctantly obeyed, she moved in for hugs of her own. “It’s wonderful to see you back here again! And on such a lovely occasion!”

“Thanks, Counselor.” Neraxis beamed as she swept Misha up in her arms. “And look at you, Ickle Baby! It used to be that you were so small I could keep you in my pocket! And now you’re big enough to join Starfleet!”

“I am!” Misha agreed with enthusiastic nods, looking to his mother. “See? Ner-Ner says I can join!”

Kami looked less than fervent at the prospect, however. “Ask me after you stop getting your tail caught in doors.” She looked to Grev. “Well, Chief? Have you missed your young protégé?”

The porcine Chief wrinkled his blunt snout. “As much as I miss a dose of fleas.”

Jonas smirked and approached. “Don’t be mean to fleas, they’re probably your only friends.” Then he laughed and clasped hands with his former superior. “It’s good to see you again, Chief. You should have seen the Dragonheart’s Engine Room when I arrived, it was like it was being run by Pakleds.”

“Oh, I can imagine! And the stench-”

“Like a zerteth pelt left in the sun too long! And their warp efficiency was only 84%!”

“What? Pathetic! Even an incompetent pup like you could do better!”

“Before this descends into more Tellarite Banter,” Hrelle interrupted, looking to each of the new arrivals in turn. “I wanted to say thank you both for considering the Surefoot as a place to have your wedding. Though I’m surprised that you’re not having it onboard the Dragonheart. I wouldn’t want Captain Nguyen to feel slighted.”

“Actually, Sir, he’s relieved,” Jonas informed him. “I don’t think he likes weddings.”

“What? Who doesn’t like weddings?”

“Someone who’s been married four times,” Neraxis quipped. “Jonas’ mother and my family will be here later, Captain, arriving on schedule.”

“No problem, Ensign, we have the guest quarters ready – and we’re posting extra Security everywhere to deal with your siblings.”

Still in Neraxis’ arms, Misha gasped, eyes widening. “Lazy’s coming?”

Neraxis grinned. “Yes, Alazea’s coming. She says she’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

Jonas chuckled. “We might have to make it a double wedding.”

The cub beamed at the prospect. “DOUBLE WEDDING! I MARRY LAZY!”

As they walked down the corridor to the guest quarters, Hrelle noted, “The rest of the old Alpha Squad is planning on meeting you over on K7 at 1200 Hours. Your Best Man won’t have much time to prepare the Bachelor Party, but we’ll accommodate as best we can.” The Caitian made a sound of clearing his throat. “So, uh, who’s gonna be your Best Man, Jonas?”

“Well, Sir, but I haven’t had the chance to ask her in person yet-”

“‘Her’?”

Kami nudged her husband. “Yes, Esek; ‘Best Man’ is a bit of an archaic term. You’ve been watching too many old Terran vivids.”

Hrelle grunted, but then brightened again. “Of course! You’ll need someone to officiate the ceremony! Someone of Command rank-”

“Yes, Sir,” Jonas agreed. “That’s why we asked Captain Weynik to come over for that. He was delighted to do so.”

Between his parents again, Misha looked at his father’s drooping tail and frowned. “Why Papa sad?”

The younger couple stopped, grinned at each other and turned to face the older couple, Neraxis looking to Hrelle. “Actually, Captain, I was hoping that you would stand in for my late father, and give me away.”

The disappointment on Hrelle’s face melted away like ice in a supernova. “Me? Be Father of the Bride? Why, I’d be honoured! Privileged! Delighted!”

“I should warn you, he’ll be blubbering before you get to your vows,” Kami noted dryly.

Beside him, Misha stepped away to avoid his father’s Happy Tail smacking him.

“And maybe Misha can be the Ring Bearer?” Jonas suggested, smiling.

“Yeah! Me!” the cub agreed, before asking, “What’s a Ring Bear?”

“Sorry, Hon,” Hrelle said to his wife jokingly. “Maybe they can find something for you to do when their firstborn comes along?”

Kami almost joined in on the banter – until she saw the slight shift in expressions on the young couple at the mention of children.

*

Deck 2 Fore – Officers’ Mess Hall:

“This is pointless.”

Sitting together on their own at one of the smaller tables, Chief of Security Lt C’Rash Shall looked up from her fruit bowl to regard the skewer in her lover’s hand. “Looks sharp to me.”

Across from her, First Officer Commander T’Varik set down her eating utensil and raised an eyebrow in typical Vulcan fashion. “Your frivolity is matched only by your stubbornness.”

C’Rash forwent her fork to spear the assorted chunks of fruit before her with a foreclaw. “I have never been called stubborn.”

“Your memory remains as selective as always; I myself have employed it to describe you on twelve separate occasions. I proposed marriage to you 6.83 days ago. You have refused to provide an appropriate response.”

The coal-furred Caitian popped a pineapple chunk into her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and finally replied, “I am... mulling it over. It’s an important decision, not one to be made lightly.”

“9,835.2 minutes is more than sufficient time to provide an answer. I must speculate that your refusal to provide one is a deliberate act, designed to satisfy a sense of perverse pleasure.”

“Me? Never! I’m reflecting on the pros and cons.”

“I see. And might I enquire as to the current progress of your alleged deliberations?”

The Caitian flicked the red cherry on her claw into her mouth. “Of course. I… want to say Yes.”

T’Varik relaxed.

“And I want to say No.”

“You vex me.”

“I’m sorry,” C’Rash offered, not sounding too convincing. “I’m a creature of simultaneous contradictions.”

“It is not possible to be of two equal but contradictory states.”

“Haven’t you studied quantum physics? I’m like… ‎Schrödinger’s Cat.”

“You are not ‎Schrödinger’s Cat,” T’Varik informed her archly – reaching out and taking the other female’s hand in her own. “You are mine.”

C’Rash purred. “Keep talking like that-”

“Commander! Lieutenant!”

The senior officers quickly withdrew their handholding and rose as one at the approach of Jonas, C’Rash quipping, “I thought I’d picked up the scent of Squab in here.”

“Your olfactoral sense is as inappropriate as your sense of humour,” T’Varik informed her, nodding at Jonas. “He is at best Seasoned Squab.” She held out her hand for him. “Lieutenant Ostrow, a pleasure as always.”

Jonas started at the unexpected level of personal contact offered by the Vulcan, before quickly accepting the hand. “Thank you, Commander. It’s great to be back.”

“And on such an auspicious occasion. I expect a commensurate level of anxiety on your part.”

The young man smirked. “More impatience to get it over and done with than anxiety, Ma’am.”

T’Varik nodded. “Well, if we can assist you in any way with the ceremony, we are at your disposal.”

Jonas smiled, but flushed in a way that T’Varik recognised. “Well, I don’t want to bother you while you’re having breakfast-”

“It is no bother. We are done.” T’Varik turned and removed C’Rash’s tray and her own, ignoring the Caitian’s growl as the trays were set in the adjacent recyclers. “Please, continue.”

Jonas nodded, still standing somewhat formally as he complied. “Well, Commander, we’ve, uh, been rushing so much to set a date, arranging for our families to show up, getting the rest of Alpha Squad leave, fulfilling the appropriate legal requirements, that some minor details – well, major, really – were bound to be overlooked, and there, ah- I’m waffling here, aren’t I?”

“Yes. And as I have had my breakfast, I have no room for waffles.”

Jonas almost gasped for a heartbeat at the overt humour from the Vulcan, before recovering. “Yes. I need a Best Person for the ceremony. And, ah, I immediately thought of you.”

C’Rash smirked. “Don’t you want one of your old Alpha Squad to do that? You know, someone… younger?”

Jonas reacted, not wanting to offer a response to the obvious barb from the Caitian towards her lover. “I… had considered one of them, but I can’t choose one and not insult the others, and I don’t know anyone well enough on the Dragonheart to ask them- of course, you don’t have to accept, I’ll understand if you think it would be inappropriate-”

“I would be honoured.”

He beamed. “You would? Thank you, Commander! Really! We’re keeping things simple and basic, you don’t have to do anything other than just stand by me during the ceremony-”

“I am familiar with the duties and responsibilities of the role in Standard Weddings, Jonas, including organising your Bachelor Party. I can easily manage this… otherwise I could hardly claim the adjective of Best.”

“A Bachelor Party organised by a Vulcan,” C’Rash joked, crossing her arms. “I can’t wait to see one of those.”

*

Deck 3 Mid – Sickbay:

Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas peered at the diamond ring on Neraxis’ finger. “The stone is too small.”

Neraxis pulled her hand away. “What are you talking about? It’s the perfect size!”

“It would not make an effective weapon. You would have to exert considerable effort to pierce the carotid artery of most races while wearing it.”

The Bolian crossed her arms. “Damn, I knew I should have asked about its killing potential when we saw it in the shop on Sherman’s Planet.”

“I understand there are also gowns involved in the nuptials. Have you one prepared?”

Neraxis grimaced. “Me, in a wedding dress? You might as well put a targ in a tutu.”

“I disagree,” Kami opined, stepping into Sickbay and smiling. “And Eydiir and I and the others intend to prove it to you later.”

Eydiir straightened up. “Counselor, is there any medical problem?”

“No, I was going to have a lie down in my quarters, I’m feeling a little fatigued, and when I heard Neraxis’ voice, I thought I could lean on her.”

The Bolian smiled and nodded. “Of course, Counselor.” She shot Eydiir a final look. “We’ll get lunch later on K7 when the others arrive. And no more talk of wedding dresses, or I’ll kick your ass back to your Ten Tribes.”

Outside, Kami slipped an arm around Neraxis’. “Thank you for this, Hon, I don’t-”

But the Ensign laughed. “You can drop the act, Counselor.”

“Act?”

“I was under your supervision long enough to know this old trick: ‘Ooh, poor frail pregnant me, could you help, please? Let me lean on you? And while you’re at it, can you let your guard down as well so we can talk about your problems and feelings’?”

The Caitian harrumphed. “Am I that obvious? Well, after Sreen I won’t be able to pull off this particular ‘trick’ again, so indulge me.” She guided her into the quarters she shared with her husband and son. “Have a seat. You still like that Bolian pepper tea?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to have any yourself.”

“Thanks; I’m feeling particularly sensitive at this point in the pregnancy.” She returned with two steaming mugs and set them on the adjacent table, before taking a position opposite Neraxis. “And speaking of pregnancy: since you’re wise to all my tricks, I can cut straight to it: you and Jonas reacted in a certain way when Esek mentioned children. When we were all together at Christmas, you had more positive feedback. Now, neither of you are under my care anymore, you don’t have to talk about it, you can always leave a poor old woman feeling unwanted and useless and-”

“I can tell you’re a mother,” Neraxis smirked, shifting in place, before reaching for her tea, without drinking any of it, but instead looking into the contents of the mug. “Jonas and I found out three weeks ago from the Dragonheart’s CMO, while we were going through the pre-nuptial checks… there are too many genetic divergences between Bolians and Terrans for us to have children together, even with medical assistance from Geno-Obstetrics.”

Kami drew in closer, taking the young woman’s big blue hand in her own. “I’m sorry for you both, Neraxis. To be honest, I half-expected to hear something like that, when I first counseled Jonas on the safe sex techniques he needed to employ to be with you and not be affected by your biochemistry.”

Neraxis nodded soberly. “He has a compensatory bio-implant in him now, so he doesn’t need condoms or shields anymore. I… had hoped that they could come up with something to help with conception, but…”

Kami tightened her touch on the Bolian’s hand, picking up reactions that made her ask, “You… weren’t all that upset about it when you heard.”

Neraxis looked up again. “No. To be honest, I was relieved! I don’t want kids now! I want to focus on my career! And really, I don’t know if I ever want kids! Is that bad?”

“Not at all. It’s your choice, not a requirement of any relationship that offspring are considered, and of course, if you change your mind later, there are many alternatives: surrogacy, adoption-” She paused and frowned. “It’s Jonas you’re worried about, isn’t it?”

The young Ensign breathed in. “After the doctor broke the bad news to us, we talked about it, agreed that it was disappointing, but decided to put it aside and carry on.

But… he grew up an only child, but he always talked about missing having a big family around him. I thought that when he first met my family, and was overwhelmed by them, that he would forget about it. But he embraced them… literally! He loved the chaos, and joked about it training himself up for when we have six or seven of our own!

But now… knowing how much he wants a family, knowing how difficult if not impossible it will be for us, I…” Her blue skin darkened, and her eyes welled up. “I don’t want him marrying me and having second thoughts later. I- I-”

Kami reached out, took the mug from the younger woman’s hand and set it aside, and hugged her. “It’s going to be okay. But you need to be prepared to be tested. Situations change, people change, so relationships change. We can all be tested.”

Neraxis pulled back. “Not you and the Captain-”

“Yes. Me and the Captain.” She rested her hand on her belly. “We found out a few weeks back, just before the end of the Klingon War, that Sreen will be born disabled.”

“What? Holy Hraxor-”

Now it was Kami’s turn to reach for her own tea, and an opportunity to pause. “It’s a genetic condition called Neurodystraxia; we’ve confirmed more recently that the disability will be physical in nature rather than mental, and she’ll require mobility aids, at least for the first few years of her life.”

She sipped at her drink before she continued. “It took some time to try and explain it to Misha, that we’ll need his help with her, that she won’t be able to run around and play with him as much as he might have liked.

But it’s something that Esek and I have had to face as well, and accept. And no amount of preparation will fully equip us when the time comes, and we see her struggle. We will be tested.

But I have faith that the love we share – and the love you and Jonas obviously share – will get all of us through whatever we might face, so long as we’re open and honest with each other.” Then a sly smile lifted her features. “Now… let’s talk about the parties, the ceremony and the celebration afterwards.”

“Ahh, we don’t want anyone to go to any trouble, we thought we might keep it basic, simple-”

“Both your families are travelling many light years to get here,” Kami reminded her. “I think they deserve a little something special to remember. Don’t you?”

The Bolian frowned. “Yes. I suppose.”

“And of course, there has to be a wedding dress.”

“No. Absolutely not. You can’t find any dress in the Universe that wouldn’t make me look like a sack of tribbles.”

“Ooooh,” Kami cooed. “You should never challenge me, Mrs Ostrow-to-be...”

*

Deck 1 Fore – Conference Room:

The tall, swarthy Klingon stood before his opponent, roaring.

Standing on the table, Misha roared back, tiny claws extended on his stubby fingers.

Dr Kline bellowed with deep delight, patting the cub on the back. “Yes! Well done, Warrior Prince! Such a roar would split open the gates of Sto-Vo-Kor itself! I have missed you! All of you!”

“And we’ve missed you too, Pardner,” Doc Masterson added, leaning back in his chair. “Now that all this hokum fighting with each other is over and done with, and you can come back to serve with us as my Assistant Chief Medical Officer-”

“Second Assistant Chief Medical Officer,” corrected Dr Shyrik. “Beneath me.”

Kline looked at her with a sneer. “Beneath you? A female? Never!”

At the head of the table, T’Varik looked up from her PADD. “Doctor Kline, did you not serve on the IKS Augr under Captain Julkrehl, a female commander?”

“Yes, but that was different! She stayed on the Bridge, I commanded Sickbay!”

Masterson pushed his trademark Stetson hat up away from his forehead. “Yeah, Dude, well, you best remember I’m Big Chief of the Surefoot’s Medical Staff! And you and Shyrik will hold equal positions under me! But during emergencies, I’ll run Main Sickbay, and each of you will command one of the Auxiliary Sickbays.”

“I support this most equitable arrangement,” T’Varik added. “If Doctor Kline wishes to continue to protest, however, I will consider it a personal insult… and he will have to answer to my godson.”

Misha tapped the Klingon on the chest to get his attention, and then pointed to himself. “Godmama means me!”

Kline glared at him… and then chuckled. “I know better than to challenge the Son of the Fat Cat.”

“Then the matter is settled,” T’Varik decided. “I will complete the processing for Dr Kline’s reassignment onboard. In the meantime, you are all invited to attend the Bachelor Party I am throwing for Lt Ostrow tonight at 2100 Hours, in Holodeck 1.”

“You’re throwing it, Ma’am?” Masterson asked, amused.

“Indeed, in my capacity as his Best Person for the wedding tomorrow.”

“Well, then, consider me up for the shindig.”

“And I!” Kline bellowed.

“And Eye!” Misha echoed, attempting a baritone voice.

“You will be minded by Neraxis’ family tonight,” T’Varik informed her godson. “And if you successfully complete your Mathematics lessons this afternoon, you will be allowed to stay up until 2000 Hours.”

Misha growled. “I marry Lazy! I want Batcher Party too!”

“Then in honour of your impending marriage, you will be allowed to stay up until 2030 Hours.”

He continued to growl, until Kline leaned in to him and whispered, “I will save you some bloodwine.”

T’Varik arched an eyebrow at the Klingon.

“I will not be attending,” Shyrik announced.

“Hah!” Kline sneered. “I knew you would cower from the challenge of keeping up with a Klingon in a drinking contest!”

The Andorian crossed her arms. “My grandmother could outdrink you, and still outperform you at the operating table, so I would certainly not fear the likes of you. I am declining because I have already accepted an invitation from Lt Shall to attend the Bachelorette Party she is throwing for Ensign Nemm in Holodeck 2.”

T’Varik’s brow furrowed. “Lt Shall is organising that party?”

“Is there a problem with that, Ma’am?” Masterson enquired, looking curious.

The Vulcan steeled her expression. “Problem? No, Doctor. None at all.”

*

Space Station K7, Main Concourse:

“ALPHA SQUAD ASSEMBLE!” Sasha Hrelle bellowed, making the crowds of visitors to the station turn and stare with varying degrees of annoyance, as the young woman hurled herself into the small group she saw, hugging them all with an effusiveness she inherited from her Caitian stepfather. “Damn it, it’s great to see all of you again!”

Ensign Kitirik hissed with delight, the lime-green reptoid looking to each of his friends with genuine affection. “Indeed, Best Friend Sasha! Though I have made many friends on the Iberia, all of you will hold a special place within me!”

“You know your trouble, Kit?” Neraxis joked, after hugging him. “You’re so stoic! You should be gushy, like Eydiir.”

The Capellan woman merely grunted between hugs.

“See? She never shuts up!”

Ensign Meow Rrori made a show of straightening out his expensive civilian clothes after Sasha’s friendly assault, the snow-furred Caitian pilot’s snout wrinkling. “And it’s comforting to smell that our former Squad Leader is finally getting some.”

The others looked to Sasha, who flushed a little as Jonas grinned. “Really, Rrori?”

“Indeed.” He sniffed around her repeteadly, brow creased in concentration. “A human male... large, muscular... his name is... Jim Madison-”

Now Sasha scowled, smacking him on the bicep. “Your nose can’t tell you all that, you lying putz!”

“No, but the Chief Helmsman on the Ajax where you’re posted can.” Rrori looked to the others. “Apparently Lt Madison is an Engineer’s Assistant, and is built like a brick starbase.”

“He’s not!”

Rrori ignored her. “I heard they had to enlarge all the doorways on the Ajax to accommodate him. Two metres tall, at least.”

“He’s not two metres tall!” Sasha denied.

“With biceps like tree trunks,” Rrori continued, enjoying his former squad leader’s chagrin. “And apparently a trouser piece like a python.”

Sasha felt herself turning shades she never thought possible in nature as the others laughed. “I’m telling your Matriarch on you!”

“Quite right, Best Friend Sasha,” Kit agreed. “Best Friend Rrori, you are being very insulting about her boyfriend.”

“Thank you, Kit!” she responded, grateful for his intervention.

Until the reptoid added, “She obviously looks up to him. Which I suspect is required for dating Behemoths.”

Now she offered him her middle finger as the laughter continued. “Let’s remember why we’re here, okay? The lucky couple! Besides, you’ll all get to meet Jim tomorrow at the wedding and the reception-”

“Hey guys!”

The group turned as one, Sasha’s jaw hitting the floor as she declared, “GILES?”

Lieutenant Giles Arrington drew up to them, the young blonde pale-skinned human launching into the group, offering hugs and handshakes, as Sasha watched and demanded, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Giles glanced over at her while clasping arms with Rrori. “And hello to you too, Spicy.”

Jonas and Neraxis glanced at each other, both echoing, “‘Spicy’?”

Sasha flushed. “I mean, how are you here? You were on Earth, Starfleet HQ-”

“I’m with Logistics now,” he clarified. “Out here on a fact-finding mission, getting feedback on improvements we can make to the resupply operations; we’re gonna have to shift more with fewer ships and in less time.” He grinned at Neraxis as he hugged her. “And I’m glad I got here in time for the wedding. I can’t believe it! It was like it was only yesterday when we were all bunked together!”

“We’re happy to see you too, Sport,” she told him, shooting a mischievous look in Sasha’s direction. “Spicy’s glad to see you too, believe it or not.”

Giles had been making the rounds of greetings but stopped at Sasha, both of them unsure of the appropriate one at this stage in their relationship, before finally settling for an awkward hug.

Neraxis made a sound of disgust. “Get a room already, ya dirty Bumpers! And hurry, before Sasha’s boyfriend gets here and steps on you!”

Giles pulled back, looking amused. “Boyfriend?”

Sasha was at a loss for words. Giles and she had split up long ago, though they did have a final encounter the night before graduation, and they still wrote each other occasionally. “Uh, yeah. His name’s Jim, from the Ajax. He’s- well-”

“He’s a giant,” Rrori helpfully completed, ignoring Sasha’s scowl. “Three metres tall, at least.”

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 2 Mid – Command Quarters:

T’Varik perused the next items of business on the PADD in her hand. “Cadet Niles Angstrom’s grades have declined significantly this week. Have you noted any psychological factors I should be aware of before I initiate an informal warning?”

Sitting opposite her, a pastry in her hand instead of her own PADD, Kami replied, “He’s been seeing Zir Dassene.”

The Vulcan raised a critical eyebrow. “I was referring to significant psychological factors.”

The Caitian smiled. “They’re lovesick. You don’t think that’s significant?”

From the open doorway into the bathroom nearby, Misha’s voice called out, “Who’s sick?”

His mother smirked and turned slightly in her chair. “No one’s sick. Just take your bath and stop listening in on other people’s conversations, it’s rude.” She turned back to T’Varik, lowering her voice slightly. “Niles’ record indicates he’s always been shy and reserved, and we already know about Zir’s background; this is the first real love, or at least infatuation, for both of them.”

T’Varik made a sound. “I have also noted a drop in Squad Leader Dassene’s performance ratings of late. As the cause involves both of them, I could more efficiently admonish them both at once.”

Kami nodded. “Or… you could just let nature take its course. We’ve seen it happen before: they’re initially distracted with each other, but eventually the rush of hormones ebbs and they either break up or they settle into a routine.”

“Better if they end the relationship; it will hardly be worth the time and effort invested.”

Kami finished the chunk of pastry in her mouth, before responding. “No, that doesn’t sound driven by your own personal experiences at all.”

T’Varik looked up again. “C’Rash will not respond to my proposal of marriage with either a positive or negative. She claims to be still deciding. Were I not Vulcan, I would find her ambivalence aggravating.”

“I’ll bet,” Kami agreed. “And no doubt if you weren’t a Vulcan you’d find yourself distracted, irritable, and impatient.”

T’Varik’s expression tightened. “No doubt.”

“Fortunately you are in complete control of your emotions, and you recognise that while Caitians may seem impulsive and quick to respond because of our senses, it is not the case for important, life-changing decisions like marriage proposals-”

“You gonna marry Cousin C’Rash, Godmama?” Misha exclaimed, standing naked and dripping bathwater at the doorway. “I’m getting married too!”

Kami rose from her chair and marched towards him. Her cub darted out of view; seconds later, there was the sound of him jumping back into the bath.

Kami stopped at the doorway. “No more eavesdropping, or I’ll not let you get married!” She manually slid the bathroom door shut, returning to the table and her pastry, shaking her head. “We’re going to need someone full-time watching him. Especially after Sreen is born, and our duties take up more and more-” Then she stopped and looked at her friend with sympathy. “Are you regretting asking her?”

T’Varik glanced down at the table top. “I am twice her age. She has had no serious relationships before me. A proposal to edify our own partnership into a permanent state, driven by the… anxiety… that she might have died during your encounter with the Striga, may have been premature. I will formally withdraw my proposal, she will not have to offer me any response-”

“Don’t.”

“No?”

“No. Not yet, anyway. Stop asking about it, and give her more time.”

T’Varik’s brow furrowed. “Have you spoken to her about this matter?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I would strongly disagree.”

“I’m sure you would, but I’m not prepared to go into detail.” She lifted up the remains of the pastry. “You’ll have to take my word for it.”

“I see.” T’Varik frowned. “Misha is trying to listen in from behind the door.”

“I know.”

The Vulcan took the pastry from Kami. “You had best counsel your son. I will take care of this for you. You have had enough of it.”

The Caitian appeared more amused than annoyed by the unexpected action. “I have?”

“Yes.” T’Varik took a bite of the captured delicacy, swallowing before adding, “You’ll have to take my word for it.”

*

USS Ajax, Captain’s Ready Room:

“Captain Weynik?”

He looked away from his desk display, standing up at the appearance of the female Roylan in the gold-based Starfleet uniform and Commander’s Pips. “Yes…?”

She straightened up. “Commander Tamati, Tactical Officer, USS Endeavour.”

He walked around his desk to take her hand. “An unexpected pleasure to meet you, Commander. There’s not many of us in Starfleet, so-”

She nodded. “Agreed, Sir. I’ve heard a lot about you. I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

“Me? Ah, no, I have been rehearsing.”

“Rehearsing, Sir?”

He nodded. “I’ll be performing a wedding ceremony tomorrow for a pair of young people I’ve worked with previously. What brings you here?”

“Well, myself and a number of other Tactical and senior officers in the Fleet are meeting tonight for an informal gathering, to share data, experiences, intelligence in preparation for the inevitable clash with the Dominion. And I thought your participation would be invaluable.”

“That… is very tempting, Commander. Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement tonight: the Bachelor Party.” He smirked. “And in addition to officiating tomorrow, I have a duty to prank a certain Caitian buddy of mine who will also be at the party.”

*

K7 Food Court:

“T’Varik is your Best Man?” Sasha exclaimed, cursing as she spilt barbecue sauce from her burger onto her T-shirt. “Are you crazy?”

“The correct term is ‘Best Person’,” Kit pointed out, in between munching on the carapace of a giant beetle-like insect. “And I fail to understand your reaction. The Most Respected Commander is highly capable and organised.”

“Yeah,” Jonas agreed. “And I wanted to… honour her, for everything she’s done for me.”

“Maybe, but-”

“Who would you have chosen, Spicy?” Neraxis teased. “Yourself?”

Sasha shrugged. “Sure, why not? At least I’d have got you a decent stripper for the Bachelor Party!”

“More than likely you have saved money by doing it yourself,” Eydiir quipped.

“I’d go for that!” Giles declared, quickly stopping at a scowl from Sasha. “Well, maybe Sash can do the Bachelorette Party?”

Neraxis turned a darker shade of blue. “Ahh, sorry, that’s been taken by Lt Shall.”

“Great,” Sasha groused. “And what do we get to do?”

“Enjoy ourselves through food, drink and most excellent company?” Kit suggested.

Sasha considered it, and then nodded with approval, before turning to Eydiir. “And how are you and Falok doing? The long distance relationship must be difficult.”

The Capellan barely stopped consuming her lunch to reply. “It’s... manageable. And we are arranging to meet on Vulcan during his next Pon Farr later this year. It will also be an opportunity for me to meet his family.”

“I dunno,” Giles joked. “You might prove a little too stern and unemotional for his folk.”

She grunted. “Stop by Sickbay later, we’ll see about treating that open wound just under your nose.”

Giles and the others laughed at that, before he looked to the couple. “And what about kids? What shade of colour do Human-Bolian children have anyway?”

Jonas and Neraxis sobered, Jonas responding with, “None. We can’t have children together.”

The group went silent, until Sasha announced, “I’m sorry, guys, we didn’t know-”

“We know,” Neraxis said hurriedly. “It’s okay.”

“Is there no medical solution?” Rrori asked.

“No, sadly,” Kit responded, getting silent confirmation from Eydiir on the subject. “Some different races can successfully conceive naturally, others require genetic modification to several degrees, but there are some combinations which cannot be at this time.”

“But perhaps-”

“Perhaps we can forget about it?” Jonas suggested, forcefully, taking Neraxis’ hand in his and squeezing it. “We’re all together for a wedding, not a birth, right?”

“Right,” Sasha agreed, to break the uncomfortable silence that had arisen among them. “And as the Mr and Mrs To Be have to collect their families in two hours, and I noticed there was a bowling alley on the station, how about we get a few frames in?”

“Terran tenpin bowling?” Kit brightened. “I have read about this sport. It sounds-”

“Oh God,” Giles warned, “Brace yourselves.”

Kit continued, undaunted. “It sounds right up my alley.”

They groaned as one. Kit wheezed with laughter.

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 3 Fore – Shuttlebay:

The cadets swarmed about the three large runabouts, moving supplies and equipment onboard, arguing with each other or calling out last minute instructions to the officer currently operating as Shuttlebay Chief, the Kelpien Lt Neheru, who stood head and shoulders above everyone else, his slender arms grasping a PADD, overseeing the imminent launches.

Standing to one side, Hrelle watched as one of the cadet Squad Leaders, the Grazerite female Jexa-Naku, approached Neheru, her earlier queries to him unanswered, so she obviously thought a more direct approach would work. “Excuse me, Mr Neheru, but I have already informed you that my squad’s shuttle is ready to leave-”

Neheru never even looked up from whatever he was doing on his PADD – if anything, Hrelle reminded himself with a smirk. “Is that a fact, Squad Leader? Very interesting.”

Jexa wavered at the unexpected response, the polished curved horns on the sides of her head catching the overhead light, before pressing on. “Yes, Sir, and since my squad is the first to be ready, it’s only fair that-”

“-That you’re last out of the Shuttlebay,” Neheru finished, still not looking up.

The Squad Leader blinked. “But- But Sir, we were first to finish-”

“Yes, you were, and instead of using your time to assist your fellow cadets on the other squads, you’re annoying the Hell out of me to fulfil some immature need to be ‘first’. That’s the drawback to making everything in life a competition: you can end up losing.”

The Grazerite cadet blanched, “But-But, Neheru-”

Now the Kelpien looked to her, his flat, noseless, tangerine-coloured face creasing. “Oh, are we on an informal basis now, Cadet? Shall I delay your launch even longer?” He raised a slender, bony finger towards her. “One more word, and I will.” Then his finger was joined by the rest, making a shooing gesture. “Scoot, now!”

Hrelle chuckled, then caught a scent from behind him, turning to see Zir Dassene and the rest of the new Alpha Squad approach, the Orion girl having caught the tail end of the exchange between Jexa and Neheru, and frowning. “Excuse me, Sir, but is Lt Neheru okay? He doesn’t seem… himself.”

“He’s… gone through some recent changes,” Hrelle admitted. “He may not be quite the same individual that he was in the past. But then, who of us is?” He looked to the group. “Ready? I think you’ll enjoy this field trip. Donatu V has been almost as strategically and historically important in this sector as Sherman’s Planet.”

Zir nodded, but her expression and scent indicated doubt, her subsequent words confirming it. “I still don’t feel right about our going, Sir. We’re needed here.”

“Not this week, you’re not, not while we’re berthed here awaiting our turn for resupply and upgrades. And yes, you’ve more than proved your worth as members of this ship and crew, but you’re still cadets, and field trips like this are part and parcel of your education. Besides...” His own expression sobered. “I don’t know how many more opportunities like this that there’ll be in the future.”

“Alpha Squad!” Neheru shouted towards them. “Your runabout is scheduled to leave in two minutes! Get your asses in gear!”

Hrelle laughed again. “Better get going.”

“Yes, Sir,” Zir replied, the rest of them nodding and making sounds of farewell to the Captain as they proceeded quickly to their vessel.

Hrelle looked to Neheru, advising, “We need these cadets, Lieutenant, so try not to bite any of their heads off.”

“No promises, Sir!” he replied, loudly enough for the surrounding cadets to hear and react.

Hrelle departed, needing to prepare for the Bachelor Party tonight. And for his little buddy Weynik to come over.

*

K7 Port Terminal:

“Jonas!”

He beamed. “Mom!” He dodged around the throngs of passengers embarking and disembarking through the various gates of the station’s Port Terminal, and embraced his mother. “I’m so glad you made it!”

The short, stocky, silver-haired figure of Helga Ostrow hugged him back. “So am I, my darling boy! And soon to be a married man, too!” She drew back, clasping her strong, callused hands on his face to admire him. “You’re too thin, though! Ner-Ner needs to get you fed up! Put some more meat on you!” She turned to her left. “Isn’t that right, Gagarn?”

Jonas looked as well, frowning, but then smiling with recognition. “Gagarn! You came along with my Mom!”

The portly Tellarite male with greying fur and a smart brown civilian suit drew up to mother and son, his short porcine snout wrinkling. “Still the master of the obvious, I see. Good thing you’re getting married, then you’ll have someone around full time to tell you that space is vast and antimatter is dangerous.” He offered his hoof.

Jonas took it, surprised but pleased to see the foreman of Mom’s salvage company had been willing to come and witness the wedding. Jonas had known him all of his life, had lived and learned under him, and in fact Jonas had seen him as a father figure almost as much as Captain Hrelle. “Well, maybe we can find someone gullible enough to marry you, so you can stop buying Shiprot-infested salvage!”

Then he saw his mother and Gagarn exchange glances, before Mom announced, “Actually, he already found someone.”

“Uh... excuse me?”

Mom took the Tellarite’s hoof in her own now. “We didn’t want to say anything, and overshadow your own blessed event with Neraxis, but… Gagarn proposed to me a month ago, and we used this trip from the Hyralin Sector to get married onboard the transport, and make a honeymoon of it.” She pursed her lips. “Are you okay with it?”

Jonas didn’t respond immediately, looking between the two of them. They had never shown any romantic feelings towards each other, at least not when he was around, but then it had been a long while since he’d been home. How long had it been going on? Had they been intimate before he’d even left for the Academy? He couldn’t recall.

Gagarn was a good man, he knew that. But- But-

But nothing. Jonas stuck out his chin and snarled at the Tellarite, “You took your time, after all these years, you lazy, good-for-nothing khrught! I hope someone gave you a map and instruction booklet for the Wedding Night!”

Gagarn’s beady black eyes welled up with tears of relief as he embraced the young man. “Thank you!”

*

At another point in the Terminal, Neraxis rocked nervously, as C’Rash glanced at her with amusement. “Relax. It’s not like she’s gonna disapprove of him at this stage- she doesn’t, does she?”

Neraxis snorted. “Holy Hraxor, no! Mom thinks all the Galaxy’s suns shine out of his ass! No, I’m just nervous that tomorrow is finally coming. And...”

“And what?”

The Bolian’s blueberry skin darkened. “And that I’ll be wearing a fricking dress. Kami somehow talked me out of wearing my uniform.”

C’Rash laughed. “Yeah, never let Aunt Kami get you alone, she’ll work her mojo on you.”

“And you, too. Thanks for being my Maid of Honour.”

The Caitian shrugged. “I’m only in it to do the Bachelorette Party. If my Other Half is taking care of your husband-to-be-” She paused, her ears twitching. “I hear your brood approaching.”

Neraxis looked out in time to see the crowds part like curtains to reveal a quartet of blue faces as they approached C’Rash and her, the largest of them crushing Neraxis in a bear hug. “My beautiful Ner-Ner! I can’t believe this blessed event has finally arrived! I can’t believe it!” Then Xeriti Nemm began crying against her daughter’s shoulders.

Neraxis rolled her eyes and looked past her mother at the twin teenage girls with prominent ridges bisecting their bald heads. “Hi, Kenoxena, hi, Oshexis! Thanks for coming along!”

The girls looked at each other, sneered with undisguised disdain, and otherwise said nothing.

C’Rash watched the domestic scene with some amusement, until she felt a tiny hand tugging on her tail, and she glanced down to see a small six-year-old Bolian girl looking up with wide violet eyes. “You’re… Alazea, aren’t you?”

The girl pointed up at C’Rash’s chest and declared loudly, “YOU HAVE FURRY BOOBIES!”

C’Rash grunted. “Yeah, you’re Alazea…”

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 2 Fore – Officer’s Lounge:

Kami felt the warmth and genuine affection from the other two mothers as they entered the Officer’s Rec Lounge and greeted her, Helga Ostrow and Xeriti Nemm as friendly and genuine now as when Kami had last met them. It only occurred to her just now how infrequent it was that met other women of similar age and experience, being out here in Starfleet.

The three women settled down at a table as Misha and Alazea began running around the tables chasing each other, and Kami looked up at the teenage twin girls, whose names Kami couldn’t recall. “You two are free to go back and visit K7, you’ve been cleared for access through our airlock, just out the door, down the left and around the corner.”

“Well?” their mother prompted. “You can thank the Counselor.”

The girls looked to each other, rolled their eyes and walked out.

“Sorry about that,” Xeriti said to Kami. “They’re just- well-”

“Teenage girls?” Kami smirked. “Well, I was never like that at that age.”

“Me neither,” Helga added sagely. “I was a perfect angel to my mother and her friends.”

“Same here,” Xeriti added. “Always well behaved, quiet, respectful…”

They looked to each other. And then broke down into laughter.

“Well,” Helga declared, wiping her eyes, “I can’t complain about having any problems with Jonas when he was growing up.”

Kami nodded. “He’s wonderful. He’s become such a man.”

Xeriti grinned. “My Ner-Ner is sick of hearing me go on about how lucky she is to have him. I really must continue doing that.”

Kami laughed again. “I know it’s a fallacy that boys are easier to raise than girls, but I can’t recall any problems with my first son Mirow… but then that was-” She paused, frowning in thought before shaking her head. “More years than I care to count now. Still, it has to be easier, hasn’t it?”

The three women turned as Misha and Alazea approached, hand in hand, Misha declaring, “Lazy’s having all my cubs!”

Kami rolled her eyes. “Then again…”

*

Deck 2 Aft – Transporter Room 3:

Captain Weynik materialised and stepped down from the platform, dressed in a smart tailored burgundy suit, his eyestalks scanning Hrelle’s choice of a Hawaiian shirt and baggy Bermuda shorts. “Nice outfit, Jumbo. You won’t get any lap dancers working on you in that, no matter how creative the Holodeck programming.”

“For which I’ll be grateful, Fun Size. My only intended vices tonight are food and drink.”

The Roylan smirked as they emerged into the corridor. “Oh come on, Brother, are you telling me that you can’t be tempted by a luscious collection of photon and force fields grinding her-”

“I’m telling you that Kami and I are bonded for life. And in my eyes, no woman, real or holographic, can ever compare to her.”

Weynik grunted. “You’re annoying when you’re enviably content and happy, did you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Well, then, I’ll have to make up for your blissful serenity by being an undeniable cad.” He reached out and patted Hrelle on the back. “I am happy for you, Esek.”

“Thanks, Weynik.” Hrelle smiled as they turned the corner to see T’Varik, Jonas and the rest of the party outside of Holodeck 1, and was about to greet them all… when they all started laughing in his direction. He stopped and frowned, looking behind him but seeing nothing. “What? What is it, my shirt?”

T’Varik stepped around the men and strode up to him, reaching behind him and removing a small holoprojector unit attached to the back of him, holding it up to display what it had been projecting unbeknownst to him over his head: an arrow pointing down at him, declaring him to be CAPTAIN MEATBALL.

T’Varik switched off the projector and handed it to Weynik. “Yours I believe, Captain?”

The Roylan chuckled and pocketed it. “Ah, I thought I’d lost that.”

Hrelle grunted and looked to the rest of the group: Jonas, Rrori, Kit – Giles! What a surprise! – Neheru, Grev, Doctors Masterson and Kline, several of the Surefoot Engineering and Security crewmen… and a Tellarite male he didn’t recognise, prompting him to ask, “And whose this then?”

Jonas beamed as he drew the two men together. “Captain, this is my… stepfather now, apparently, Gagarn. Gagarn, this is Captain Hrelle, I’ve written to you about him enough.”

Gagarn snorted, his snout wrinkling. “Good, good, every Bachelor Party needs a designated Loud Fat Guy.”

Weynik nudged Hrelle. “He’s quite perceptive, Chunky.”

Then the Tellarite turned to him, adding, “And the Loud Fat Guy’s Short Ugly Best Friend.”

Hrelle nudged him back. “I think you’re right, Inch High.” He took Gagarn’s hoof. “I’m genuinely glad to meet you, Sir. Now I can better appreciate Jonas’ struggle to achieve greatness despite your influence.”

Gagarn chuckled. “Well said, Captain!”

“Now that we have all formally assembled,” T’Varik announced, “We may proceed-”

“YEEOW!”

All eyes turned to Weynik, who was hopping about on one foot, the other one smouldering. Meanwhile Hrelle stood nearby, attempting to look innocent.

“As I was saying,” the Vulcan woman continued. “We may commence the festivities.” She turned to the Holodeck door, asking, “Is Program T’Varik Six ready?”

“Program T’Varik Six is ready,” the computer responded, “You may enter.”

She nodded and stepped forward as the doors parted, as the others followed.

Hrelle brought up the rear, breathing in the hot, thin, dry air… and frowned. The cloudless, blood-red sky, the surrounding craggy mountain range and the stark stone architecture more closely surrounding them, told him they were on a representation of some place on Vulcan, in the wide, empty courtyard of a temple or museum.

His guess was confirmed as T’Varik addressed the bemused group. “This is the Temple of Shen Anagans on Vulcan. It is a favoured spot for Vulcan husbands-to-be and their relatives and associates to visit prior to the ceremony.

Here, you are encouraged to sit and meditate silently, without the distraction of talk, music, food or drink, and contemplate marriage and relationships.”

The group members looked to each other, prompting Jonas to ask warily, “I… see, Commander. Uh, and how long do we, uh, sit around and contemplate?”

“Vulcans will typically spend several days in the same position. But we can make allowances for yourselves and the time factor, and reduce this to twelve hours.”

“Twelve… hours?”

Hrelle started at the scene, feeling thoroughly sorry for Jonas and readying himself to intervene… when he studied the expression on T’Varik’s face, seeing the subtle shifts only noticeable to him… and he laughed aloud.

Jonas looked to his former Captain, and then back at T’Varik, who raised an eyebrow and announced, “Gotcha.”

At the sound of the code word, immediately the Vulcan monastery and the surrounding environment vanished, replaced by a darker, noisier, crowded place: a long, wide street lined with bars and clubs, lit up with old fashioned street lamps. A cacophony of music, mostly jazz and blues, filled the hot, thick night air, as did a variety of scents of food.

“Fellow revellers,” she said, speaking over the noise. “Welcome to Bourbon Street, New Orleans on Earth, renowned for its historic attractions and bacchanalian delights. We will engage in the tradition of a Bar Crawl. Needless to say, the food and drinks-” She paused as two scantily-clad holographic women drew up on either side of her and began dancing sensuously close, provoking only a raised eyebrow from the Vulcan. “-And other delights, are all on me.”

The group cheered, Weynik leaning in close to Hrelle and noting, “I never thought she had such a wicked sense of humour! Have you been putting shuris spices in her plomeek soup?”

He regarded the Vulcan as she led Jonas towards the nearest of the bars. “She’s… evolving. Like the rest of us.” He looked down at Weynik. “You could try evolving some height-” Suddenly the Caitian was jumping around and cursing, as an electrical charge raced through him from the base of his tail, and he had to force himself to keep still long enough to reach behind him and remove the Buzzer clamp, holding it up as Weynik leaned against a streetlamp and laughed until his sides ached.

Hrelle tossed aside the Buzzer. “Do I have to do a cavity search on you for any more practical jokes? Or do you think we can call a truce for tonight for the sake of Jonas?”

Weynik seemed to listen to him, straightening up, approaching and holding out his hand. “Truce then, Wide Load.”

Hrelle held out his own hand.

Both of them stopped until they showed there was nothing in their hands, before shaking.

Then they caught up with the rest of the party… Weynik never noticing Hrelle sprinkling clothes-destroying Nanites onto the back of the Roylan’s jacket.

*

In Holodeck 2, currently in the midst of a recreation of a Risan party hall, C’Rash leaned in closer to Neraxis and assured her, “Don’t worry, what happens on the Holodeck stays on the Holodeck.”

The Bolian never responded, too busy was she blushing violet as a beefy, scantily-clad holographic dancer worked his magic while she sat in her chair, and the rest of her Bachelorette party cheered her on, or danced to the raucous music, or went for more drinks, or had lap dancers of their own.

C’Rash patted Neraxis on the shoulder and stepped away, inspecting the rest of the party to make sure everyone was okay. And they appeared to be: even Eydiir, normally as dour as a Klingon with constipation, cracked a smile or two as she chatted with others. And the mothers of the bride and groom were showing the younger set how to have a good time! If T’Varik was here-

She ground her teeth. Damn that woman-

“Hey, Cousin.”

She turned, having caught the familiar scent. “Hey, Tailless, having fun?”

Sasha nodded, holding up a beer bottle in illustration. “Doing my best.” Then he pulled at her T-shirt. “Bit hot in here, though.”

C’Rash nodded back. “Deliberately so. It’ll encourage everyone to go swimming in the pool later.” She paused and looked out to see Velkovsky whooping and hollering as she ground against her holographic partner on the dancefloor. “Some of us need less encouragement than others.” She looked back at Sasha. “I never dropped you a message to see how you were after that business with the Klingons on the Ajax. Hell of a first day for you, Second Officer.”

Sasha shrugged, though C’Rash could sense how much of it was a forced nonchalance. “I’ll never look at a baked potato the same way again.”

C’Rash snatched a beer bottle from the tray of a passing attendant, and clinked it against Sasha’s. “So, I heard you have a boyfriend.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Go on, let’s hear the jokes.”

“Jokes?”

“Yeah, he’s a big slab of beefcake, so everyone has been ribbing me about him: Hey, Sash, I heard you got hold of his Beanstalk… Hey, Sash, I heard you need high altitude breathing equipment to climb up and kiss him-”

The Caitian drank before responding, looking away. “I’m in no position to be kidding anyone else about their romance.”

Sasha caught her eye again. “Is everything alright between you and T’Varik?”

C’Rash bristled… but relented and replied, “After the business with the Striga, she asked me to marry her.”

Sasha’s eyes saucered. “Did you say Yes?”

“No.”

“You didn’t say No, though?”

“No.” She drank again. “I love her. I love her so much. We join minds and it’s like we become One. I feel that love she has for me. I become that Love.

But still, it’s such a big step. You don’t understand, it’s… frightening, Tailless.”

“Yeah.” Sasha drank too. “So is almost getting burned alive in a firestorm of your own creation. Or getting beaten to death by a Vlathi. Or suffocating in a decompressed cargo bay-”

C’Rash looked to her, not realising how much those past events might be accumulating in her human cousin. “Sash-”

But the young woman didn’t stop. “I know you’re a couple of years older than me and have been in Starfleet longer, but I’ve seen you grow and mature – a lot – since we first met on Cait. And I think a great deal of that has been because of T’Varik. I know I haven’t been around much, but you seem happier now, more confident and content.”

“Are you taking over as Counselor when Kami pops out your baby sister?”

Sasha ignored the jibe. “Cousin, I know ‘Carpe Diem’ is a cliche, but there’s a reason it’s still around. But hey, it’s your choice, what do I know? Do what you want.”

C’Rash smirked. “Now you definitely sound like Aunt Kami.” But she grew quiet as she finished her beer.

*

In Holodeck 1, Giles, Rrori and Kit sat together, watching as Jonas arm wrestled with a thoroughly-drunken Kline, the young human leaning forward and struggling, but remaining defiant, snarling and cursing.

“Best Friend Jonas’ right arm will be aching in the morning,” Kit noted.

Giles paused, looked to Rrori and quipped, “This is the point where you’re supposed to make a dirty joke about him not needing his right arm, Meow.”

The Caitian grunted, never looking up from the beer in his hand. “It’s late.”

Kit turned in his chair to face his friend. “Best Friend Rrori, you appear more despondent than tired. What is troubling you?”

“Nothing.”

Now Giles shifted in his seat on the other side. “You said you were a medical shuttle pilot on the Samaritan. Must be stressful.”

“Not really. The Samaritan’s stayed in the rear for most of the fighting with the Klingons; I transport patients too critical to be beamed away.”

Kit nodded. “That is very vital work.”

“Your clan must be proud of you,” Giles added.

“Yes.” He finished his beer and set it down on table before him, rising. “I need to use the toilet. Be back shortly.”

As he departed, Giles looked to Kit with concern. “He seems less… Rrori now.”

The reptoid blinked, turning to watch the Caitian depart from view. “Indeed, Best Friend Giles. Perhaps the impending marriage of two of his friends has accentuated feelings of solitude in him?”

“Maybe. I have to admit, I don’t hear from him as much as I do from you and the others. I just assumed it was because he replaced me as Flight Ops cadet in our Squad.” He paused and looked to Kit. “Sasha’s looking good, isn’t she? All this responsibility she has now.”

“Indeed,” Kit responded. “And her relationship with Lt Madison appears strong and genuine.”

“Does it? She’s only known him for a few weeks. And that’s been under adverse conditions.” He finished his beer and rose. “I’ll be right back.”

Kit watched Giles depart. “The toilets here are in the opposite direction, Best Friend Giles.”

But he didn’t seem to hear.

*

In the holographic bar’s toilets, Rrori stepped away from the urinals to wash his hands – only to find what looked like a Caitian female leaning against the sinks, facing him. She was tall, statuesque, with fine fur the colour of hazelnuts, a fluffy tail that swished behind her, and a ruby dress that complemented her figure. He blinked. “Are you in the right place?”

Her muzzle twitched. “Do you mean geographically, or philosophically?”

He shook his head and moved to the sink. “I’m not in the mood to flirt with holograms-” But then he stopped, his nose twitching as he regarded her again. “You’re real.”

“Very,” she confirmed. “Wash your hands, sport.”

He did so, taking in her strong musk; she was in Season. “I was unaware of any new Caitians among the Surefoot crew.”

“I’m not. I’m visiting, like you.”

“Oh.” He dried his hands. “Are you friends with the bride, or the groom?”

“Neither. I came to see you.”

Rrori glanced around, confirming that they were alone in there, and faced her again. “Who are you?”

“My name isn’t important. Aren’t you more interested in my business with you?”

His senses reacted to her scent… but he forced aside his baser instincts. “Not really.”

“You will be.”

“Will I? You don’t even know me.”

The Caitian Female drew closer. “Meow Rrori, born in the M’Restir Province, your clan is prominent there, specialising in finance and wine growing. You scored exceptionally high at the Academy in Flight Control, Astrogation and Subspace Geometry. You were on the fast track to make Valedictorian, but a simple mistake on your part cost you that opportunity. Now you’re a... shuttle pilot. Very vital work, as your green-skinned associate said out there.

Of course, you’re capable of more. Much more.”

Rrori stared at her. “How do you know all that?”

She smiled. “You don’t deny it, at least.”

No. He didn’t. He recognised he was doing good where he was, that he was fortunate to have such a role in the War effort. He helped save lives. He should be content, happy, satisfied.

He should be.

But through the course of the day and the evening, as he learned more about what his friends had been up to, he felt… envious. Sasha, Jonas, Eydiir, Neraxis and Giles had prominent duties. Even Kit, their unassuming, unambitious little Science Officer, spoke of accompanying Away Teams on dangerous missions. Rrori was certain that he could probably push for something more exciting… but a part of him felt like he shouldn’t have to ask for that, it should be offered to him!

The Caitian Female reached out, making a show of straightening out the lapels and the buttons on his jacket as she continued. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with having ambition. With wanting to do more than what you’re doing now. Especially if what you want to do is… exciting.”

Her scent filled his nostrils, making him reach out and grasp the side of the sink. “What are you talking about?”

She looked into his eyes. “Do you remember how you felt when you went undercover on that operation for Starfleet Intelligence, at the Son’a space station Ta’Landra? The thrill of it? You admitted as much in the psychiatric assessment you underwent in the debriefing afterwards.”

He started; that was a secret mission, highly confidential! How did she know- who was she? “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

She smiled. “Good cub; you can be discreet. You enjoyed that work. And why not? You had adventure, excitement, women at your side, and you made a difference.”

He couldn’t deny it.

“Your efforts, your abilities and skills, were noted at the time, and not forgotten,” she continued. “You deserve better than what you have now. And we can help you achieve it… while still serving the Federation, far more effectively than ferrying wounded about.”

“Serving- you mean, in Starfleet Intelligence?”

She didn’t answer, but instead leaned in, until he felt her hot breath against his ear, making it twitch. “If you’re interested, send a message to Universal Exports in London, Terra, thanking them for their service. Then we’ll be in touch.” She patted him on the chest. “Wait here for thirty seconds, then return to your friends. And need I advise you tell no one about me, or this conversation?”

He swallowed; blood was rushing to every part of his body by her presence. “N-No.”

“Good.” She smiled again and winked, offering as she departed, “Maybe we’ll work together in the future?”

Rrori stood there, still catching her scent in his nose.

*

At the bar, T’Varik continued her observation of the rest of the party, most of them now on the dance floor, in various states of intoxication and exhaustion. Neheru towered over them all, his arms almost reaching the raftered ceiling of the club, whooping with delight.

“What did you get our Ops Officer drunk on?”

The Vulcan turned at the approach of Kline, who continued to stare at the scene. “Tequila. But I suspect his exigent motivation is his recent Vahar’ai.”

“His what?”

“When Kelpiens reach a certain age, as Neheru has just done, they shed the threat ganglia on their necks; they call this time the Vahar’ai. It also reduces their acute empathy and induces reckless, impulsive behaviour.” She paused as she watched Neheru grab a holographic woman for an embrace. “And libido.”

The Klingon laughed. “Qapla to him! I must see if he will fight!”

Nearby, Weynik, his jacket in tatters in various places on the floor, watched the scene curiously, before lifting up the beer glasses from the bar and walking back to the table where Hrelle sat, finishing off a rack of sticky ribs. “Bloody Hemra, Wide Load, do I have to stick that Tail Buzzer back on you to work off all the kilos you’re putting on tonight? Or is it all empty Holodeck food?’

The Caitian grunted, licking sauce off of his fingers before noting, “Replicated food, transported into the environment. Same with the alcohol. All you pissheads are gonna wake up with killer hangovers.” He took a beer glass from him. “Cheers, Big Ears.” He paused and asked suspiciously, “No hard feelings about the jacket?”

“None.”

“And we’re done with the pranks?”

“You got it.” Weynik clicked glasses with him.

And secretly made sure the vial in his hand, the contents of which he had emptied into Hrelle’s glass before coming back to the table, wasn’t seen.

Oh, Meatball, you’re gonna hit Warp Ten with this joke...

*

Deck 2 Mid – Guest Quarters Section:

Neraxis had almost walked down towards the Cadet Quarters, before remembering where she was berthed now, and headed in that direction, feeling the effects of drink and food and an evening of dancing and laughing and not thinking about what would be happening just a few hours from now and-

And she missed Jonas. It would be the first time in a long time that they hadn’t shared a bed. Even on the Dragonheart, when they were on different shifts, they could count on smelling each other’s scents on the sheets and pillows they shared.

She wondered if he was still enjoying himself at his own Party-

“Hey, True Blue!”

She stopped and turned, grinning as Jonas raced up to her, swaying a little with intoxication, hugging her tightly and kissing her before she asked, “What are you doing? Isn’t there supposed to be some Terran superstition about not seeing the bride before the wedding?”

He kissed her neck. “I’ll risk any bad luck. Anyway, I think it’s that I’m not supposed to see you in your wedding dress before the wedding, and you’re not wearing one, are you?”

She pulled back, blushing violet. “Well…”

“Really? What changed your mind?”

Neraxis pulled back to give him a sardonic look. “The combined nagging power of three mothers: yours, mine and ours.”

“Ours?” He frowned, but then nodded in comprehension. “Kami.”

“Yeah. While we were touring K7 with the rest of Alpha Squad, they spent all afternoon picking out my dress, and then when I got back to them, I had to… model it for them. Holy Hraxor…”

He laughed.

She smacked his shoulder. “You got it easy! There’s a tux waiting for you!”

“Is there?” He chuckled. “So what’s your dress like?”

Neraxis sighed. “A mix of Terran and Bolian design. Lace, sashes, a train-”

“You’ll look beautiful in it,” he promised.

She stared into his eyes, the imminent event suddenly bringing to the surface unresolved business. “Jonas… we can’t have kids.”

“Ner, I told you-”

She brought her fingers to his mouth to hush him. “And… I don’t think I want kids, even through surrogacy or adoption. Not now. And maybe… not ever. Now, I might change my mind down the line, I can’t know. But you need to be ready for-”

She stopped as he rested his forehead against hers, murmuring, “Thank God.”

She drew back to look at him fully. “You’re okay with that?”

“Okay? I’m relieved!” He breathed out, his face pinkening in that adorable way of his. “I was worried that you wanted a child now.”

“You were?”

He nodded. “The next few years are gonna be… scary. It’s going to be bad enough worrying about each other, without bringing children into the mix.”

Relief washed over her, and she hugged him tightly for what seemed like forever.

Then he whispered, “We’re still gonna have lots of sex, right?”

She reached down and squeezed his rear. “Count on it.” They kissed, before she pushed him away. “Now get out of here, Boozehound, I have to go and not get any sleep.”

He smiled. “Good night, Mrs Ostrow-To-Be.”

“Good night, Mr Ostrow.”

They lingered, slowly, before departing to their rooms.

*

Hrelle felt cold. Full, yes, but also cold, as he shuffled back to his quarters, being as quiet as he could as he passed the room divider into the main quarters, his nose, hearing and infra red vision letting him perceive Kami curled up in their bed, stirring with his presence. “Good time?”

He swayed as he kicked off his sandals and unbuttoned his shirt. “Yes. I had many, many women.”

She made a sound. “You probably ate them all.”

“Only if they got in the way of- of-”

He paused, his heart quickening as he cast off his shirt, feeling… things… dropping away from him, like leaves from a tree. He touched his chest. Then his arms. And now his face. “What the-”

His tone made Kami bolt upright. “Esek, what’s wrong?”

“I- I-”

“Computer: Lights!” Then Kami’s eyes widened. “Esek, what in the Seven Hells-”

He blinked, glancing down at the clumps of fur that were around his feet, and then looked to his hands, his arms, his belly. All furless, leaving behind grey, wrinkled skin.

The look of horror on her face seemed to lift her up out of bed, and he turned to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall near the table.

Mother’s Cubs…

She drew up to him, her eyes darting down to his shed fur, and back to him, giving him a look he never thought he’d receive from her: revulsion. “What happened to you? Are you sick? Is it radiation? What?”

“I don’t know! I don’t-” Then his jaw dropped. “That… little… bastard!”

“What?”

He ground his teeth. “WEYNIK! He slipped me something! He must have! We’ve been pranking each other all night!”

“Never mind that! Get to Sickbay! You look hideous!”

Suddenly the door to Misha’s bedroom slid open, and the cub stood there. “Who’s going to Sickbay-”

Then he saw his furless father.

And shrieked.

*

Sasha hung out towards the rear of Holodeck 2, watching as Lt Velkovsky stood on a chair, her top in her hand and now swung over her head as she whooped and hollared to the encouragement of most of the others.

“That’s a side of her I haven’t seen before.”

She turned to see Giles walk up. “Have the Holodecks been merged?”

He grinned and sided up to her. “No, I was just curious to see if your party is wilder than ours.” He nodded towards Velkovsky. “And it is.”

She drank. “You talk like you haven’t seen boobs before. Which, I’m pretty sure, isn’t true.”

Giles sat down beside her, silent for a moment or two, until he looked at her again. “It’s strange, being back on the Surefoot. Isn’t it? And it’s not even the first Surefoot we’ve served on. Do you remember our first meeting on it?”

She made a sound. “Actually, we first met on the transport on the way to the first Surefoot. You were going around like a dick, introducing yourself to everyone, absolutely sure you would be made one of the Squad Leaders.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, what an idiot. With a big mouth. You were ready to knock me into the next Quadrant for calling your Dad a traitor. It was only, what, four years ago now? Life hasn’t gone where I expected it to go.”

“It never does.”

“But at least it’s interesting, huh?”

Her voice remained leaden, unmoved by his attempt at levity. “It’s always been interesting for me, Giles. It’s been interesting since I was eleven, and I lost my Mom and Dad, and people started making me out to be some sort of Hero… something Life seems keen to keep testing me on. Again and again.” She paused when she felt his concerned expression on her, and offered a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ignore me, I’m just blowing off steam. The War’s kept me on my toes.”

“I understand…” He drew in closer. “If you need someone to talk to- we can leave here-”

“Thanks, I’ll be fine.” She turned away. “You should head back to the others, before you’re missed.”

“Sash, you seem bothered. Maybe I should-”

She spared him a final look. “It wasn’t a suggestion, Giles.”

He took the hint and departed.

*

Deck 3 Mid – Sickbay:

Weynik kept chuckling as Masterson continued to study the readings on the biobed where Hrelle lay. The doctor glanced over at the Roylan. “You know, if you two put half the effort you put into one-upping each other towards the War, we’d probably all get home sooner.”

“Oh come on, Doc, lighten up!”

“He’s right, Short Round,” Hrelle told him soberly, sitting up now, wincing as he caught one of the nurse reacting to his appearance. “I really scared Misha when he saw me. I had to leave Kami with him, to explain-”

“That’ll be something to hear: ‘You see that grey wrinkly sack of potatoes that just waddled out? That’s your Dad’.”

“I am so gonna get you for this, you little bastard-”

“Seriously, Esek, you look so freaking weird without fur- more rat than cat-”

“I KNOW!”

The Sickbay doors opened, and T’Varik and C’Rash entered, both women starting at the sight of their Captain, C’Rash opening with, “Seven Hells, Uncle Esek, you look like shit!”

“Thanks.”

“Seriously, though, were you that drunk when you got back to your quarters that you tried trimming your fur but didn’t know when to stop?”

“I suspect the answer lies with Captain Weynik,” T’Varik opined critically.

Weynik snickered. “Hey, I never thought the thyoglymarin would work as well as this! I wanted him to shed a little, not end up looking like a half-inflated blow-up gargoyle!”

The Vulcan remained censorious, folding her hands behind her back. “And did either of you consider how your antics might affect the wedding of our former cadets?”

Hrelle looked up at his First Officer. “Hey, I didn’t ask for this little butt pimple to do this to me!”

“Perhaps not specifically, Sir, but you and Captain Weynik have a propensity to goad each other into more and more outrageous acts of immaturity-”

The Sickbay door slid open. And Kami stormed in.

Hrelle tensed, recognising the expression on her face, in her scent, immediately.

Weynik, however, didn’t, smiling as she approached him. “Counselor! Come to see just how bald your husband has-”

He never finished, as Kami’s hand swung out and struck the Captain across his face, sending him sprawling.

Hrelle hopped off the table, and everyone else in the room reacted as well, but she ignored them all as she glared at Weynik rising back to his feet, her hand resting on her belly. Her voice was dangerously low and measured. “Three days ago, I had to sit my son down and explain to him that his sister was going to be born with a serious condition that would probably affect her whole life.

And since then, he’s become obsessed with everyone he knows getting sick in some way, though at least the thought of getting married was a welcome distraction.

Until tonight, when he woke up from a sound sleep to find his father in this condition,” She stabbed a finger in Hrelle’s direction. “And thinking it was something terminal. He was sobbing!”

“Is Misha okay?” Hrelle asked, looking appalled.

As did Weynik. “I-I never meant to scare the little guy-”

“IS MISHA OKAY?” Hrelle repeated more loudly, forcefully.

Now Kami focused on her husband, though she looked just as ready and willing to strike him as she had done Weynik. “Oh yes… once I explained to him that his Papa wasn’t dying, he’s just an overgrown cub like his friend, and neither of them knows when to stop acting like a pair of immature, irresponsible clowns!

You two are in your fifties! You’re fathers! You stopped being cadets decades ago! There is no excuse for this anymore!”

Weynik swallowed, thoroughly chastened. “Please, Kami, let me- let me speak to him-”

Hrelle drew up as well. “We’ll both go-”

“No need. He wouldn’t go back to bed until he gave you both a piece of his mind.” She looked to each of the Captains. “He’s outside now, and he’s coming in here to tell you both off. And if either of you so much as smirks in response at what he has to say, I promise you I’ll have you both put on Indefinite Medical Suspension pending a Full Psychiatric Evaluation.”

“And the Counselor will have the full backing of the First Officer,” T’Varik added sternly.

“And the Chief Medical Officer,” Masterson offered, scowling. “Ya pair of jackasses!”

“Is that clear, Little and Large?” Kami concluded.

“Yes,” Weynik replied humbly.

“Of course, Hon,” Hrelle added.

She took a moment to glare at both of them some more, before returning to the Sickbay doors, letting them open up enough for her to lean out. “Come on, they’re waiting for you.”

And Misha marched in, in his Starfleet Captain’s uniform, pointing a scolding finger at Weynik and Hrelle. “You stinky cubs! Tail Chasers! Big Babies! You scare me! And Mama and Sreen! Not funny to scare people! You grow up, Misters, or it’s Trouble Time! Got it?”

The two Captains looked to each other, before Hrelle dropped to one knee to get to his son’s level. “We got it, Misha. And we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to scare you, or your Mama or your sister.”

“That’s right,” Weynik agreed softly. “We went too far. We’re sorry, real sorry.”

Misha, at Weynik’s eye level, scowled at him. “You’d better be, or I’ll tell Naida on you! And your Papa! They be disjointed in you!”

“There,” Kami declared, resting a hand on her son’s shoulder. “You’ve said what you had to say, you can go back to bed. C’Rash, would you take him, please?”

“Of course, Aunt Kami.” She drew up and took Misha’s hand. “Good work, Cub. Someone had to tell them that.”

“I need a Misha Meal to sleep,” he whispered to his cousin on the way out.

“No, you don’t,” his mother informed him loudly as he and his cousin departed, before she turned back to the adults, grimacing.

That made Hrelle stand up and approach. “What’s wrong?”

She breathed out, visibly dealing with the discomfort she was feeling. “What’s wrong is that it’s three in the morning, and my daughter is awake in my belly wondering why her mother and brother is so upset with her idiot father. That’s what’s wrong.” She looked to Masterson. “Well, Zeke? Can you help this idiot?”

The human was yawning, but now stopped. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll start him on a controlled direct-stimulant treatment to accelerate fur growth; he can spend the rest of the night here so we can monitor the progress and make appropriate adjustments. If we get going now, he’ll have a decent coat by the time he’s walking the bride down the aisle later.”

“And will he have any side effects?”

“Nausea, mood swings, accelerated hormonal surges-”

“Nothing he can’t manage?”

“No, he’ll survive.”

Hrelle crossed his arms. “When is someone going to actually address me like I’m in the room?”

Kami glowered at him again. “When you stop looking like a shaved scrotum.” She turned and departed.

T’Varik regarded the two Captains with a narrow expression, before following the Counselor out.

Weynik looked up at Hrelle. “I have fought Gorn. I have faced down Klingon hordes. But nothing compared to being told off by your son.”

“You’re telling me. And my wife will not be speaking to me for a long time after this.” He rubbed at his eyes. “And… I don’t blame her. You’d best get to bed, you have a ceremony to perform in a few hours.”

The Roylan nodded wearily. “Good night, Wide Lo… Esek.”

“Good night, Weynik.” As his friend departed, Hrelle returned to the biobed and lay back, saying to Masterson as the human approached. “Let’s get started, Zeke. And if it hurts… so much the better.”

*

The incessant buzzer made Jonas stir, curse, and call out, “Computer: Alarm off.”

But the buzzing persisted, until he sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking around. “Computer! Answer me! Turn off that damn alarm!”

Finally he kicked off the sheets and stood up… and that was when it ended, replaced by T’Varik’s voice. “Good morning, Jonas.”

Immediately he grabbed a pillow from the bed and covered himself, looking around. “Commander? Are you- Where are-”

“I am in my quarters. And no, I cannot see you. I altered the alarm parameters to continue until you rose to your feet, to ensure you awoke at the optimum time. Your friends are gathering in the Officer’s Mess Hall now for an informal breakfast, and the administration of detoxicants. Please proceed.”

He cleared his throat, his head pounding now. “On my way. Ostrow out.” He rubbed his eyes – then he looked at the tuxedo hanging nearby.

My God, it was really happening…

*

Hrelle entered his quarters, feeling considerably warmer and less naked than before, sporting a short, fresh coat, free of grey. As Doc Masterson had warned him, he felt queasy and headachy, but forwent any treatments for it, glad to just not look like a skinned bear for the wedding vivids. “Kam? Misha?”

The two emerged naked from the bathroom, having just finished showering, Misha brightening on seeing his restored father, rushing over and leaping up into his arms. “You better now, Papa! You smell new!”

“Do I?” He sniffed himself. “Yeah, I guess I do!” He looked at Kami. “Well? What do you think?”

His wife said nothing as she regarded him, before taking a place at her dresser, pointing to a tuxedo hanging on a hook nearby, next to a smaller one. “I think you two should dress and see Neraxis soon, make sure she doesn’t need anything.”

“Oh. Do you want me to get you or Misha anything to eat-”

“I’ve made sure my son and myself were fed while you were still in Sickbay. If you haven’t had any breakfast yet, too bad.”

Hrelle started to respond, then thought better of it, and set Misha down, leading him to their clothes as he helped him with his underwear and trousers, slipping his tail through the slits in the back. Misha looked at a plush red pillow sitting next to therir shoes. “What’s that for?”

“That’s what you carry the rings on,” Hrelle explained, fitting the cub’s shoes on him, watching them tighten automatically around his furred feet. “As the Ring Bearer, you’ll march down the aisle with the Flower Girl, led by the Maid of Honour – that’s your cousin C’Rash – and when we ask for them, you hold up the pillow and give the couple the rings.”

“I’m getting married too!” Misha declared. “I need rings too!”

“Not at your age, the rings would be too big for your fingers,” Hrelle explained, buttoning up the cub’s shirt and reaching for the bow tie, glad it had a clasp on rather than requiring a hand tying; humans had such strange clothing customs. “So, are you and Alazea staying on board with us after you marry, or will you go live with her family on Bolarus?”

Misha frowned. “Don’t wanna go!”

“Fine, I guess you can both stay.” Hrelle straightened his son’s jacket, dusting it off, before reaching for his own clothes. “What about cubs? Having any cubs?”

Misha nodded. “Three.”

“Three, huh? That’s ambitious. Any names picked out for them?”

He nodded again. “Turtle, Chester and Poop.”

There was a sound from the dresser, and Hrelle looked up to see Kami looking away and trying not to be seen breaking her foul mood to laugh at her cub’s response.

Hrelle looked back on Misha, buttoning up his own white shirt. “Well, those are certainly unforgettable names. Maybe when Jonas and Neraxis have children of their own they-”

“Esek.”

He looked up again, not expecting her to be speaking civilly to him yet. Kami looking at him directly now, her expression and tone sober. “They can’t. Neraxis confirmed it; too many genetic divergences. Neither of them really want children anyway at this stage in their lives, but maybe it’d be best not to mention it.”

He breathed out, surprised and a little sad, but nodded. “Understood. Thanks.”

“Hmph.” She turned away again.

Misha frowned. “Ner-Ner sick?”

“No, she’s not,” Hrelle replied gently, “And neither is Jonas. It’s just that they won’t have cubs the way that your Mama and I had you, and are having Sreen. But that’s okay, you don’t need cubs to have a marriage, you just need each other.”

“It helps when one of you isn’t an idiot,” Kami muttered to herself.

Hrelle looked up again, saying nothing, but Misha walked over to his mother’s side. “You still mad at Papa?”

Kami stopped brushing her fur, and, still ignoring her husband, leaned down as if to whisper confidentially in her son’s ear, but still loud enough for Hrelle to hear. “Not really, but I want him to think so, because I had to clean up all his shed fur last night, and I missed having him in our bed when he was off getting his fur regrown. So now he has to spend all day making it up to me. Don’t say anything to him though, okay?”

Misha nodded in agreement and returned to Hrelle, shaking a finger at him. “Mama still mad at you!” But then he added, in a reassuring whisper both adults heard, “Not really.”

“Thanks.” Hrelle and Kami exchanged a knowing look as he continued to get dressed, feeling a little better now, but then suddenly remembering… Seven Hells, he was going to be the Father of the Bride!

*

Sasha made incoherent sounds in her sleep at the finger poking at her, before she squinted in the bleeding light in the rim and grumbled, “Stroke off, Cuddles.”

“Cuddles?” Eydiir enquired.

Sasha sat up, blinking and regretting moving so quickly; she remembered now returning to Eydiir’s quarters, and climbing into bed beside her friend.

Now the Capellan was standing at the side, fully dressed and apparently none the worse for wear for the amount she drank last night, stating curiously, “‘Cuddles’, huh? Is that what you call everyone you share a bed with? Or am I special?”

Sasha gasped, blushing, rubbed her eyes and regained her senses. “Uh, it’s what I call Jim. Don’t tell anyone, it’s gonna be bad enough when everyone meets him and makes fun of his size.”

Eydiir crossed her arms. “Your lover’s nickname will remain secret with me. Come on, everyone is meeting for breakfast, then you must return to the Ajax, shower – yes, definitely shower – get dressed and return for the ceremony with your boyfriend...” She smirked. “Cuddles, apparently.”

“Hmph. You really need to get Falok transferred out here. You’re a real bitch when you’re not getting any.”

*

Jonas bent forward, groping the sides of the table as he fought to control his breathing, shaking his head at his mother and Gagarn’s attempts to offer him water or anything else. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

The door slid open, and T’Varik entered, clad in a Starfleet dress uniform. “Jonas?”

Helga looked up at the Vulcan. “Ah, T’Varik, you’re here! He’s getting a little, ah-”

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted again, though his face was turning scarlet and his breathing growing more laboured.

T’Varik drew up to him. “Straighten up. Consider that an order from a superior officer.”

Jonas did so, paling a little now as she regarded him, continuing. “Understand this, Mr Ostrow: I am immensely proud of you, and of how far you have come, as both a member of Starfleet, and as a man. If I have played even a minimal part in helping you be who you are today, then I will never question my choice of career.”

Jonas swallowed, his eyes wide but his stance growing stronger. “Thank you, Commander. And yes, you have played more than just a minimal part. I couldn’t have got here without your help, and I will always be grateful to you.”

She offered her hand. He accepted it.

*

Xeriti was beaming – and tearful – as she let Hrelle and son into the quarters, Misha immediately rushing up to Alazea, beautiful in a flower girl’s dress, and hugging her. “We’re getting married too!”

Hrelle hugged the Bolian woman too. “And how is the blushing bri...”

He stopped as Neraxis stepped out from behind a divider in the quarters, adorned in a sleeveless high-neck dress of white brocaded silk and Spican jewels in Terran fashion, but sporting blue sashes and trim to reflect her Bolian heritage.

Neraxis looked at her former Captain tentatively, sparkling drop earrings reflecting the light around her. “Sir… just tell me I don’t look stupid.”

Hrelle swelled up, swallowing as he replied softly, “You look resplendent, Neraxis. Thank you for the honour of walking you down the aisle.” He drew up to her and took her hands in his. “I should probably offer you some sort of advice at this stage but… you and Jonas are ten times smarter than me, you’ll work out any problems that come along. But if you need anything, anything at all...”

The young woman looked ready to burst into tears, but breathed in sharply. “Thank you, Captain. For everything.” She breathed out again. “Shit, I’m gonna ruin my makeup if I start crying now.”

“Bet I cry before you do.” Then he sniffed the air. “Is C’Rash here?”

Neraxis’ expression changed, became in parts amusement and chagrin, as she nodded to another divider in the room. “You better come out, Lieutenant.”

There was a growl from behind the divider, and then C’Rash emerged… clad in a simpler version of the bridal gown Neraxis sported, though with a dark blue tint. “Don’t say a word, Uncle Esek.”

Hrelle smiled. “Why not? You look lovely.” Now he slipped an arm around his former cadet’s. “Shall we proceed to the anteroom and get this day started? There’s a mahoosive buffet waiting for me- I mean us.”

*

Under Kami’s instructions, the Surefoot’s Main Lounge had been reconfigured, replacing the tables with two rectangles of chairs, a raised dais, and flowers of Terran and Bolian origin in bloom everywhere. Attendants had already arrived, and were milling about.

In one corner, Sasha fidgeted with the collar of her dress uniform for the fortieth time, prompting the tall, broad-shouldered, square jawed young man beside her, similarly dressed and watching her with bemusement, to comment, “You should have gone for a size larger.”

“I don’t need a size larger, Mrs Madison,” she informed him, still tugging at the collar. “I’m not fat. Just remember what I said: they’re gonna be merciless teasing you about your size. Just ignore it, just-”

“Be big about it?” he suggested, smiling.

“Don’t you start-” she prepared herself as Eydiir, Giles, Kit and Rrori approached. “Here they come...” She raised her chin. “Hi again guys. Guys, this is Lt Jim Madison, Engineering Assistant, USS Ajax. Jim, this is Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas, Giles Arrington, Kitirik and Meow Rrori.”

Sasha braced herself for the jokes.

Jokes which never came, as her friends and Jim exchanged greetings, handshakes and polite pleasantries. With no mention of his size.

Bastards.

*

At the dais, Weynik stepped up, straightening out the sleeves of his own dress uniform and fighting to control his own nerves – nerves which lit up as he watched Kami move about, guiding the guests and attendants to their seats and occasionally stopping to speak to someone over her combadge. Then he braced himself as she drew straight up to him. “They’re in the anterooms, ready. Are you, Captain?”

He swallowed. “Yes. Yes, of course, Counselor.”

“Good. Once we’re ready, I’ll cue the music, and the sequence will commence as detailed in the itinerary I sent you.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

She looked past him. “Doctor… get up and take a proper seat.”

Weynik turned to see Kline half-leaning against the wall, clutching his head. “The bloodwine was tainted… it had to have been-”

“Stop whining like a ghu. You could have taken detoxicants like everyone else. Now get up, or I’ll throw you out the nearest airlock.”

She nodded and started to turn away.

“Counselor?” Weynik said.

Kami turned back to him again.

“I-” he continued, faltering. “I just wanted to apologise again to you, and to Misha, for last night. It was incredibly immature, and it won’t happen again.”

She regarded him for a moment, before nodding and smiling politely. “Apology accepted, Weynik.”

“Thank you.” He relaxed a little.

Until she added, still smiling, “And I know it won’t happen again, because you’re a highly-intelligent man, so you’ll already know that if it does happen again, I won’t be as gentle with you as I was last night. If you’ll excuse me?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Go. Please.”

He watched her depart, certain she was kidding.

Probably.

Kline laughed softly as he shuffled past the Roylan. “You and the Fat Cat are fortunate that I was not there last night to hear of your frightening the Warrior Prince.”

Weynik moved his jaw around, still feeling the effects of Kami’s strike, not certain if even the mightiest Klingon could have hurt him more than an enraged mother.

*

The music commenced, silencing the assembled as they rose to their feet.

Jonas and T’Varik appeared from one anteroom, Jonas straightening up a little more as he proceeded alongside the Vulcan towards the dais, smiling at his mother and stepfather, and then his friends and colleagues.

And then it was Neraxis and Hrelle, only this time their appearance produced an audible response, as the group received their first look at the wedding dress. Hrelle couldn’t stop beaming as he wrapped an arm protectively around Neraxis’ own, guiding her along until she stood beside Jonas, before releasing her and stepping back to stand at an equivalent position to his First Officer.

Then he looked down at the rear and signalled.

C’Rash, Misha and Alazea now followed, C’Rash leading the way, Misha dutifully carrying the pillow with the rings on it, his face solemn but his Happy Tail belying his true feelings, while Alazea, with each step, seemed to kick defiantly at the frilly dress she was put into, and stuck her tongue out at her older sisters as she walked past them. C’Rash took a place beside Hrelle, and the kids stood opposite with Jonas and T’Varik.

The music stopped, and the assembled sat down again as Weynik straightened up, the dais offering him some height to be seen by all. “Since the days of the first wooden vessels, all ship’s masters and senior officers have had one happy privilege: that of uniting people in the bonds of matrimony.

And so we are gathered here today with you, Ensign Neraxis Nemm, and you, Lieutenant Jonas Ostrow, in the sight of your fellows, in accordance with our laws and our many beliefs so that you may pledge your love and devotion to each other. Marriage is a venture into the unknown, a mission in life, often with many challenges, and not one to be taken lightly. It is a risk. But then, as a wiser man than I once noted, ‘Risk Is Our Business’. And if the Unknown is too daunting for you, you might wish to consider another career than Starfleet.

And now, the bride and groom will speak their vows before we, as witnesses to their commitment.”

Jonas and Neraxis faced each other, reaching out and holding both sets of hands together, Jonas breathing in, eyes wide as he began first:

“In your eyes, I have found my Star.

In your heart, I have found my World.

In your soul, I have found my Mate.

With you, I am complete.

Before our family and friends, I swear this:

I swear to love and cherish you forever.

I swear to put no others before you.

I swear... to let you take the last nacho, and to steal all the bed covers, and to sing as loudly and as badly as you want in the shower.”

As the assembled laughed, he continued.

“I am yours.

You are mine.

We are forever.”

Neraxis’ smile was wide and the love in her eyes was unignorable as she commenced:

“In your eyes, I have found my Light.

In your heart, I have found my Fire.

In your soul, I have found my Guide.

With you, I am complete.

Before our family and friends, I swear this:

I swear to guard and protect us forever.

I swear to let no one sunder us.

I swear... to not hit you too hard when you’re snoring, and to not make you eat Bolian vindaloo, and to sometimes let you think you’ve won the arguments.”

Now both of them laughed with the rest.

“I am yours.

You are mine.

We are forever.”

Then all attention turned to Hrelle, who was sniffing and wiping tears from his eyes. He sniffed again, ignoring the look from his niece.

Weynik carried on. “And now, we’ll have the exchange of rings.”

Hrelle looked to Misha, gesturing to his cub. Misha stepped forward, chin raised as he held up the pillow with the wedding bands. The couple took each of them in hand – and Misha just threw the pillow aside and returned to Alazea, provoking laughter from the crowd.

Still grinning, Jonas fitted Neraxis’ ring onto her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

And Neraxis did the same for him. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

Smiling as well, Weynik breathed in and announced, “Ensign Neraxis Nemm, Lieutenant Jonas Ostrow, by the power vested in me by Starfleet Command and the United Federation of Planets, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss.”

They drew in together, kissing-

-Drawing apart at the sound of a sob from Hrelle, wiping his eyes again. “Sorry, it’s the hormones!”

*

The newly-married couple were moved to an anteroom for vivids, handshakes and well wishes, as the room was reconfigured for the celebration afterwards, an informal, boisterous Bolian affair to judge from the diverse buffet and the music, as people helped themselves to food and drink and danced.

Weynik had been at the buffet table, piling food onto a plate, when Kami approached him again. “Good work, Captain. Thank you for officiating.”

The diminutive Roylan stopped and looked up at the Caitian female. “It was a pleasure, Counselor. They’re good, capable young people. I wish them all the best.”

She smiled. “So… think you can babysit Misha for us sometime? I know Naida is back on your homeworld, but our cub still has fun with his Uncle Wey-Ney.”

He smiled back. “Do you trust me again?”

“Well, with Misha there, I know there will be at least one mature person.”

*

Jonas looked like he couldn’t stop grinning as Neraxis and he moved through the rest of the assembled, thanking them for attending. Then he stopped at Neraxis’ teenage twin sisters. “Hello, Kenoxena, Oshexis – thank you both again for coming out here to be with us on this day.”

The girls grunted together.

Now Neraxis scowled, stabbing a finger at them. “Listen you two dickheads, this is my husband you’re disrespecting! You’d better get the sticks out of your asses and play nice, or I’ll send your friends all those vivids I still have of both of you… with hair on your heads!”

The girls blanched – then looked back at Jonas, saying as one, “Sorry!”

As they rushed away, Neraxis looked to Jonas. “You have to know how to talk to them.”

*

Eydiir walked onto the Surefoot’s Bridge, finding the one she had been seeking. “Rrori?”

The Bridge was otherwise unoccupied, no one required while it was docked. Rrori sat at the First Officer’s station beside the Captain’s Chair, focused on reading the display, when he started, jumping to his feet. “Eydiir! I didn’t hear you.”

She stepped down into the centre and approached him. “That is unusual for you. What are you doing?”

The white-furred Caitian’s tail twitched in agitation. “I, ah, was using the ship’s systems to search the Fleet personnel registry.”

She nodded at that, though her face was stern. “Without permission. You are no longer a member of the crew, you need authorisation. I expect better of you.”

Rrori’s expression hardened. “I don’t give a damn what you or anyone else expect of me. All that matters to me is what I expect of me!”

Eydiir stared at him… and then softened her expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to sound so heavy-handed. I noticed that you weren’t at the party, and I was concerned.”

Now it was Rrori’s turn to calm down. “You… needn’t be concerned about me. I’m fine.”

“Why were you searching the Fleet personnel registry?”

He looked back at the displays, reached down and deactivated the screens. “I… ran into a Caitian female yesterday, and I was trying to identify her.”

A smile lifted the corners of the Capellan woman’s lips. “I see. And did you?”

“No.”

“A Mystery Woman?” she ventured. “Sounds intriguing.” She reached out for his hand. “Come back with your friends for a while, and later you can go search for her.”

He regarded her offer, before accepting her hand. “Yes. Yes, I will.”

*

“I taught him more!” Gagarn declared, snarling as he drew closely up into Grev’s face. “I gave him his first laser cutter! His first dynospanner!”

The Chief Engineer set aside his beer and tapped his hoof on the other Tellarite’s chest. “You stinking zerteth! I showed Jonas how to reignite a warp core!”

“Then it’s a wonder he didn’t blow himself up!”

“Chief? Gagran?” Jonas drew up, focusing on the Tellarites. “What’s going on?”

Gagarn stepped up. “Jonas, tell this blockhead you learned more from me than you did from him!”

Grev stepped Gagarn around to take prominence. “Jonas, inform Stumblehoof here that you wouldn’t be where you are now without my contribution-”

Jonas held up his hands to silence them, before resting them on their shoulders and breathing in. “Gentlemen… I am grateful to you both. Because both of you, in your own ways, set the bar for competency so low, that I could only ever be better. Your ineptitude was my inspiration.”

Grev and Gagarn looked to each other… and nodded with mutual approval.

*

Neraxis drew up to Kami, who was sitting together with Jonas’ and her own mother. She held onto the sides of her dress as if to keep from tripping on it as she said, “Mom, Helga, Kami: thank you. All of you. You’ve made such a wonderful day for us.”

Kami smiled as she sipped at some fruit juice. “Our pleasure, sweetheart.”

“Indeed, Ner-Ner,” Xeriti assured her. “The Honeymoon Suite is booked for you both on K7, but don’t expect to be spending all your time in there with your new husband getting hot and sweaty, while we’re still here.”

“Mom!” Neraxis groused, turning a darker shade of blue.

“She’s right,” Helga noted. “Save the more acrobatic positions for later, we don’t want either of you being incapacitated.”

“We have sent you some wedding gifts to the Suite,” Kami informed her. “Some wonderful new adult toys and lotions that’ll get your nethers purring.”

Neraxis grimaced, shaking her head. “I can’t keep listening to this!”

As she departed, the three mothers looked to each other, smirking.

*

Giles stood in the corner, watching as Sasha and Jim danced together.

Kit drew up, a tall, thin glass of honey wine in his hand. “Best Friend Giles, may I speak with you please?”

He looked to the Qarari. “What’s up, buddy? Need some enlightenment on humanoid wedding customs?”

“No. I need you to be honest with me. And yourself.”

Giles frowned. “Honest? What are you talking about?”

Kit’s round reptoid eyes fixed on him. “You still retain a romantic interest in Best Friend Sasha.”

Giles blinked, flushing. “What? What are you talking about, Kit? I-I don’t-”

“It is obvious, in many ways both obvious and subtle. Your expressions, tone, speech patterns, and general demeanour, all indicate you remain attracted to her, and would like to resume your relationship together.”

The human glanced around, as if checking who might be listening, before smirking and responding with, “I think you got your messages mixed up there, buddy-”

“Best Friend Giles,” Kit cut in. “I am no longer the naive outsider I once was. I have grown, and learned, and evolved. And I see that you came out here for more than to participate in the wedding of our friends.”

Giles’ face reddened further. “You’re wrong, Kit.”

“It has been fairly obvious. You had hoped to rekindle your intimacy with Best Friend Sasha.” He drew closer. “It is understandable. Your relationship was strong and rewarding on many levels. We all saw it, and we were happy for you both. At the time.

But she has changed. She has moved on. You should do the same.”

Giles stared at him.

Then looked once more in Sasha’s direction.

Now he reached for a drumstick, wagging it in his friend’s direction. “Got any jokes about chickens I can use to distract myself from my stupidity, pal?”

“No,” Best Friend Giles. “They are a most poultry animal.”

*

Sasha looked up into Jim’s eyes as they danced. “You’re pretty light on your feet, Mrs Madison. Who taught you your moves?”

“I grew up in a household with four girls. They didn’t teach me, I learned these moves standing around waiting to use the bathroom.”

“Fair enough. Thanks for coming here with me today.”

He smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet the rest of your family. And to be accepted by them.”

She smiled back. “Is that important to you?”

“Of course. Who better than they to dish the dirt on you?” His hold on her tightened. “And to advise me on how to stay in your good books?”

Sasha started to respond, but then was distracted by the sight of Misha, barely visible sitting on the floor under one of the tables, looking miserable. She stopped dancing and went to him, Jim following as she knelt down beside him. “Hey, Little Brother, what are you doing here? Where’s your wife?”

The cub pouted. “Lazy don’t wanna marry me now.”

“No? Why not?”

He crossed his arms. “She say I’m too small for her!”

Putting on a shocked face, Salsa looked to Jim, kneeling opposite. “Can you imagine that?”

Jim shrugged. “Size does matter, I guess.”

Sasha turned back to Misha, rubbing him behind one of his pointed ears. “It’s probably for the best. You’re three, she’s five, that’s quite an age gap. She can’t appreciate what she’s got with you.”

“And I bet we can make her jealous,” Jim offered with a grin. “By having you go around on my shoulders. You’ll be taller than everyone else in the room. Even that Kelpien fella dancing with that cute blonde over there.”

Sasha looked over to see Neheru close dancing with Lt Velkovsky. Whoa, things have changed since I was last onboard. She eyed her boyfriend again with mock suspicion. “You think she’s cute?”

He shrugged. “Yes… not Sasha Cute, of course.” He looked at Misha again. “What do you think? Ready for a piggyback?”

The cub brightened at the idea. “Yeah! Yeah! Do it!”

*

Hrelle drew up to T’Varik, a plate piled up with food in his hand. “Commander: my compliments on your work as Best Person.”

The Vulcan nodded. “Thank you, Sir. And my compliments to you on your new coat of fur. Doctor Masterson did well.”

He nodded, looking over to see the Chief Medical Officer dancing with Shyrik. “It’s certainly warmer and finer than my old one. I looked hideous without my fur.”

“I must agree, Sir.” She looked to his plate. “I see your appetite has returned.”

“Hmm? No, no, this is not for me, this is for Kami. I have been instructed that I need to make up for the events of last night. These are all her favourites.”

“Will they all reach her?”

He grunted. “Mostly.” Then he looked up to see C’Rash stomping in, out of her Maid of Honour dress and back in uniform. “Oh. You should have kept the dress on, it was lovely on you.”

“Kiss my furry ass, Uncle Esek.”

He chuckled as he walked away. T’Varik turned to her. “He is correct; you looked lovely in it.”

“Hmph.”

T’Varik raised an eyebrow. “There is apparently a tradition of the Best Person and the Maid of Honour having a dance.” She held out her hand. “Shall we?”

They moved out onto the dancefloor, T’Varik taking the lead. “I wanted you to know that I will not press you any longer for an answer to my proposal. Take as much time as you need-”

“Yes.”

The Vulcan’s expression shifted, and she almost lost her step. “Yes, what?”

The Caitian nodded. “Yes. I’ll marry you. Whenever you want.”

“You are certain?”

C’Rash took T’Varik’s hand and moved it up to the side of her head.

The Vulcan completed the link, feeling the permission to access her lover’s mind, see the thoughts and fears and doubts and desires that had accumulated since T’Varik had proposed… and seeing the resolution, the strength and truth, behind C’Rash’s answer.

They moved as one.

*

Hrelle set the plate down on the table beside his wife. “Anything else you might need, Sweetheart?”

Kami made a show of barely looking at the food, before shrugging. “I’ll let you know.”

“Of course.” He nodded to the other women and departed.

Helga smiled. “How long are you gonna keep him going like that?”

Kami picked up a shuris stick, dipping the tip of it in the blood sauce on the side of the plate. “Probably until tomorrow.” She shook her head. “Men...”

Xeriti smiled now. “Do we love them despite all their faults, or because of them?”

Suddenly the music stopped, and a voice carried out over a handheld microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Hrelle began, standing on the dais. “We are here to celebrate the wedding of two wonderful young people.” He held out a hand to the centre of the dance floor, where Jonas and Neraxis stood, flushing from the attention.

“So I ask you to raise your glasses as we toast: The Bride and Groom.”

“THE BRIDE AND GROOM!”

And then Hrelle set down his glass. “And now, as found in many ceremonies of this type on many worlds, there is a tradition for the bride and groom to be further embarrassed by dancing together as a married couple, while a close family member or friend tries to sing to them. So… guess who gets to do the singing?”

At the sidelines, Misha, still on Jim’s shoulders, leaned down to his sister and asked, “Papa gonna sing?”

Sasha swallowed, watching the floor clear. “Yep.”

Music started, a Terran tune, as Jonas and Neraxis held each other, eyes only for each other.

Hrelle cleared his throat. And began:

“Strange, dear

But true, dear

When I’m close to you, dear

The stars fill the sky

So in love with you am I

Even without you

My arms fold about you

You know, darling, why

So in love with you am I...”

At the table, Helga broke off from watching the couple to murmur to Kami, “Your husband has an amazing voice...”

Kami never responded, her attention on Hrelle, who kept singing for the couple – though his eyes stayed fixed on his wife, singing for her:

“In love with the night mysterious

The night when you first were there

In love with my joy, delirious

When I knew that you could care

So taunt me

And hurt me

Deceive me, desert me

I’m yours ’til I die

So in love

So in love

So in love with you my love

Am I...”

The crowd applauded.

At the table, Kami purred. “Seven Hells, I am so having that man tonight...”

*

The chirp in the darkness stirred Sasha from her sleep. She grumbled, smacked her lips and shifted as the chirp continued, before it evolved into a voice. “Lt Hrelle, there is a Priority Message for you from the Surefoot.”

That made her bolt upright. “Computer: Lights!”

Beside her, Jim blinked and stirred. “Wassup?”

She ignored him, rubbing her eyes and checking the chronometer. 0235 Hours? Mother’s Cubs… “Put the message through!”

Seconds later, the voice of Doc Masterson filled the air. “Sash, you might want to pop back here.”

“What’s wrong, Doc?”

“Nothing’s wrong. But I know it’s Caitian tradition to have the family around when a woman goes into labour...”

THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT WILL RETURN IN… THE NANNY STATE