CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE (Obligatory warning: Foul language in this chapter. You've been warned.)
Three hours after they had first sat down to eat, Adele, Julian and the Kellers still sat at the dining table in the Kellers’ quarters, chatting, drinking and picking at what little was left of their replicated Betazoid feast. Claire kept trying to shush them all because they wouldn’t stop laughing, and she was afraid they would wake the children up. Julian had been telling really old stories from his time on the station before Adrian and Claire had even lived there, and Adele had to admit they were hilarious. It sounded like despite the war going on around them, the officers at Deep Space Nine had had their share of fun, as well. She had laughed the hardest at the story about Betazoid Ambassador Troi coming to DS9 with Zanthi fever, creating mass romantic havoc among the people there, but she found herself sincerely hoping nothing like that ever happened on the Tesseract.
Suddenly, she remembered a funny story of her own. “Okay, I’ve got one,” she spoke up, tentatively. “It’s a little crude, though,” she added.
“Those are the best kind,” Adrian said. “Tell it.”
Adele smirked and took a tiny sip of fire water. “Okay,” she began, “when I was a lieutenant JG on the Endeavour, we had to meet with a Ferengi trade delegation. Of course, the universal translators picked that day to stop working. All of them. To this day, I think it was sabotage or a practical joke, because the chief engineer worked on nothing else the whole day and could not get them back online, and then everything started working again after they had all left. It was really strange, but no one was ever accused of anything and I don’t think they ever figured out what happened. Or maybe they just didn’t tell me what happened, because they were afraid I’d retaliate.”
She sighed at the memory and continued, “See, I was the only person on the ship who knew the Ferengi language well enough to converse in it. But it had been a few years since I’d had classes in it, and my skills were rusty. It’s not like I was making a lot of trips to Ferenginar --” at the mention of the dreary, rain-soaked planet, populated by misogynists, Claire snickered with understanding -- “and whenever we had Ferengis on our ship before, the U.T. was always working. But the captain ordered me to meet with them, so of course I did. And even though I could have probably just spoken Federation standard to them, because, after all, I’m sure their U.T.s were working fine, I decided to try to be impressive and speak Ferengi instead.” She rolled her eyes at her younger self while Adrian, Claire and Julian nodded knowingly. They had all been young, smart and overly confident once, too. They had been there.
“Well, it was bad enough already, because I’m a woman, and they weren’t at all happy that I was not only wearing clothes, but speaking. But then, every time I would say the word ‘trade,’ they would all bust up laughing.” She sighed. “I’m sure you all know where this is headed,” she said with a weary smile. “The word I was mistakenly using for ‘trade’ was actually a very foul Ferengi curse word -- basically the Ferengi equivalent of ‘fuck.’ It's not a direct translation, but the usage is pretty much the same. So I was basically inviting them to fuck fairly, and come to a fucking agreement, and fuck this, and fuck that. Some diplomat I turned out to be!” she laughed. “And of course, I could see them laughing at me, but I didn’t have a clue what they were laughing about because I can’t read Ferengis at all. So finally, one of them corrected me, and I absolutely thought I would die on the spot. It was horrible.”
She paused to wipe a tear from her eye as she giggled at the memory, and continued, “The only bright spot was that I gave Captain Amasov the first good laugh I think he’d had since the battle of Wolf 359. He wasn’t even mad, he thought it was so funny. Seeing him laugh made the whole thing worth it.” Her story completed, Adele took another sip of her drink and shook her head, grinning.
She hoped her grin would cover the way she felt about the untold part of that particular story, knowing that it would definitely be a mood killer to recount how once the laughter had finally died down that day, she and her captain, Eric Amasov, had both broken down in anguished tears, clinging to each other like father and daughter in the privacy of his ready room. It was like the laughter had cracked something in each of them, with their still-fresh grief over the loss of seventy-three of their crewmates -- including Adele’s own husband -- in addition to thousands of their colleagues on other starships during the fight with the Borg. They had been among the lucky ones. They had survived. But at that point, just three months after the battle had been lost, neither Adele nor Eric had felt fortunate to be alive. They had never spoken about that moment in the ready room again, but they had formed and maintained an almost familial bond that had lasted until he had died three years ago. She still missed her old captain often.
Adrian, Claire and Julian were all still laughing, and Julian had started to wipe tears from his eyes. “You win,” said Julian, through his laughter. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had a moment quite that embarrassing.”
Adrian jumped on that right away. “What about the time --”
“Oh, quiet, Adrian, or I’ll tell her some of your stories,” Julian said, cutting him off.
“Now, now, gentlemen,” Claire said. “I don’t think anyone wants to hear the stories you’re talking about.”
It struck Adele that these people seemed to know each other very well. “How did you all meet?” she asked, curious.
“At DS9, shortly after the war ended,” Claire explained. “I was actually having a drink with Julian and his girlfriend at the time, when Adrian walked into Quark’s to say hello to them, and it was all over. I ordered Adrian a drink on the spot and rather shamelessly threw myself at him. I haven’t stopped chasing him since.” She grinned at her husband.
“What were you doing on DS9?” Adele asked.
“Actually, I was working with Julian,” she explained. “Analyzing all the data he’d collected on the morphogenic matrices of the Changelings during the war. He wanted to develop a way of making versatile replacement organs.” Julian looked displeased at the memory, and Adele instantly discerned that their efforts had not been successful.
“How about you?” she asked Adrian, trying to change the subject.
“I was a fighter pilot during the war, and then they had me running freighters for the relief efforts afterward. DS9 was home base for a few years. I met Julian when I broke my leg in a holosuite and he fixed it up for me. We got to talking and ended up friends.”
Adele smiled. “Well, it’s obvious you all made the best of that place. And it’s nice to see you all with this built-in support group as we head into the Delta Quadrant. I hope the rest of the crew connects eventually.”
“I’m sure they will,” Julian assured her. He reached his arms over his head to stretch, covering a yawn. “It must be getting late. Computer, time?”
“2232 hours,” came the familiar-sounding reply.
“Well, I’ve got to be in sickbay early tomorrow,” Julian said, looking tired. “I guess I’d better be going.”
“Me too,” added Adele. “I think the lack of sleep is catching up with me,” she said, giving Adrian a knowing glance.
“The away mission was brutal,” Adrian agreed. “I don’t know why everything that happens on this ship has to happen at oh-one-hundred.”
“You and me both,” said Adele. “I hope the rest of the trip to the Delta Quadrant is extremely boring. I could certainly use the sleep.”
“Here’s to that,” Adrian agreed, and downed the last of his drink before sticking the glass back in the replicator. He swayed slightly as he stood up, and Adele realized he had been the only one to consume more than one glass of the fire water. She and Claire had each had about half a glass over more than three hours, and Julian hadn’t touched his since his first disgusted sip, having switched to replicated drinks instead.
As the dinner party broke up, they all cleared their plates to the replicator, and Julian and Adele thanked the Kellers for their hospitality. As they headed out the door, Adele still felt happy from the effects of the fire water, but she was relieved to find that slow consumption and plenty of food had prevented her from falling victim to anything more dangerous than a good buzz. She certainly wasn’t swaying like Adrian, at least.
“I have a feeling you’ll be seeing Adrian in the morning,” Adele told Julian as they walked down the corridor toward the turbolift.
“No doubt,” replied Julian. “I’ll have the hypo all ready for him. Hangover special.”
Adele grinned and shook her head. “Thank goodness for modern medicine.”
“Indeed,” replied Julian earnestly, without a trace of irony. He glanced at the drawing Lucy Keller had given Adele. “That’s a lovely piece of artwork,” he said.
Adele looked down at the simplistic drawing and smiled. “It was very sweet of her. They are such a nice family. Kind of unusual for Starfleet, really,” she noted.
“It’s the nature of the profession,” Julian rationalized. “It’s difficult to form lasting bonds when people are transferred about over half the galaxy every couple of years. I suppose we were a bit more fortunate in that regard at Deep Space Nine -- once people came, they tended to stay a while. I knew a few happy families there, actually -- relatively happy, anyway,” he added with a wry smile.
“Well, I had a wonderful time with them tonight,” Adele said. As they approached the turbolift, she smiled at Julian. “You lived up to your reputation as a good doctor today,” she said sincerely. “That was exactly what I needed, I really do feel much better than I did this morning.”
“You know,” he said, “we all used to get together like that at least once a week. If you’d like, I’ll let you know the next time it happens. I’m sure Adrian and Claire would love for you to visit again.”
Adele demurred. “I don’t think you all need a tag-a-long.”
Julian put on an exaggerated look of astonishment. “Tag-a-long?” he asked incredulously, quickly dismissing the notion. “Please, you were the life of the party with that story about the Ferengi. They’ll be talking about it for days,” he said confidently, as they both stepped into the turbolift.
“Fantastic,” said Adele as the doors closed. She rolled her eyes and smiled sardonically, adding, “Hopefully only amongst themselves. I don’t think the rest of the crew needs to know their captain was ever an accidental Ferengi potty-mouth.”
Julian smiled, but his expression grew more earnest. “Adele, I mean it. You told us you want the crew to connect, and you did that tonight. I don’t remember ever seeing Claire laugh quite so hard. Speaking as your doctor, you need friends as much as anyone else on the ship -- and as an empath, maybe more so. This isn’t the same as a mission in Federation space, where you can take shore leave every few months to go visit friends or family or take a holiday on Risa. You’re going to have to open up to your crew in a way other captains don’t, or you’ll be terribly unhappy.”
Adele nodded, giving him a reluctant smile. “I’m sure you’re right. It will just take some time to adjust my thinking. Since making captain, I’ve gotten used to maintaining that professional distance at all costs.” She sighed, and said, “Okay, I’ll consider coming with you next time. I have to warn you, though, that I don’t have that many good stories. I hit them with my best shot tonight, it’s all downhill toward boring from here. Besides, I think all the laughter was more due to the fire water than anything else,” she added, with an amused grin.
“Somehow, I doubt that,” Julian replied, matching her smile with one of his own. As the turbolift arrived at his deck and the doors opened, Julian sighed and said “Well, that’s my stop.” He smiled and stepped into the corridor. “Good night, Adele.”
“Good night, Julian.”
Three hours after they had first sat down to eat, Adele, Julian and the Kellers still sat at the dining table in the Kellers’ quarters, chatting, drinking and picking at what little was left of their replicated Betazoid feast. Claire kept trying to shush them all because they wouldn’t stop laughing, and she was afraid they would wake the children up. Julian had been telling really old stories from his time on the station before Adrian and Claire had even lived there, and Adele had to admit they were hilarious. It sounded like despite the war going on around them, the officers at Deep Space Nine had had their share of fun, as well. She had laughed the hardest at the story about Betazoid Ambassador Troi coming to DS9 with Zanthi fever, creating mass romantic havoc among the people there, but she found herself sincerely hoping nothing like that ever happened on the Tesseract.
Suddenly, she remembered a funny story of her own. “Okay, I’ve got one,” she spoke up, tentatively. “It’s a little crude, though,” she added.
“Those are the best kind,” Adrian said. “Tell it.”
Adele smirked and took a tiny sip of fire water. “Okay,” she began, “when I was a lieutenant JG on the Endeavour, we had to meet with a Ferengi trade delegation. Of course, the universal translators picked that day to stop working. All of them. To this day, I think it was sabotage or a practical joke, because the chief engineer worked on nothing else the whole day and could not get them back online, and then everything started working again after they had all left. It was really strange, but no one was ever accused of anything and I don’t think they ever figured out what happened. Or maybe they just didn’t tell me what happened, because they were afraid I’d retaliate.”
She sighed at the memory and continued, “See, I was the only person on the ship who knew the Ferengi language well enough to converse in it. But it had been a few years since I’d had classes in it, and my skills were rusty. It’s not like I was making a lot of trips to Ferenginar --” at the mention of the dreary, rain-soaked planet, populated by misogynists, Claire snickered with understanding -- “and whenever we had Ferengis on our ship before, the U.T. was always working. But the captain ordered me to meet with them, so of course I did. And even though I could have probably just spoken Federation standard to them, because, after all, I’m sure their U.T.s were working fine, I decided to try to be impressive and speak Ferengi instead.” She rolled her eyes at her younger self while Adrian, Claire and Julian nodded knowingly. They had all been young, smart and overly confident once, too. They had been there.
“Well, it was bad enough already, because I’m a woman, and they weren’t at all happy that I was not only wearing clothes, but speaking. But then, every time I would say the word ‘trade,’ they would all bust up laughing.” She sighed. “I’m sure you all know where this is headed,” she said with a weary smile. “The word I was mistakenly using for ‘trade’ was actually a very foul Ferengi curse word -- basically the Ferengi equivalent of ‘fuck.’ It's not a direct translation, but the usage is pretty much the same. So I was basically inviting them to fuck fairly, and come to a fucking agreement, and fuck this, and fuck that. Some diplomat I turned out to be!” she laughed. “And of course, I could see them laughing at me, but I didn’t have a clue what they were laughing about because I can’t read Ferengis at all. So finally, one of them corrected me, and I absolutely thought I would die on the spot. It was horrible.”
She paused to wipe a tear from her eye as she giggled at the memory, and continued, “The only bright spot was that I gave Captain Amasov the first good laugh I think he’d had since the battle of Wolf 359. He wasn’t even mad, he thought it was so funny. Seeing him laugh made the whole thing worth it.” Her story completed, Adele took another sip of her drink and shook her head, grinning.
She hoped her grin would cover the way she felt about the untold part of that particular story, knowing that it would definitely be a mood killer to recount how once the laughter had finally died down that day, she and her captain, Eric Amasov, had both broken down in anguished tears, clinging to each other like father and daughter in the privacy of his ready room. It was like the laughter had cracked something in each of them, with their still-fresh grief over the loss of seventy-three of their crewmates -- including Adele’s own husband -- in addition to thousands of their colleagues on other starships during the fight with the Borg. They had been among the lucky ones. They had survived. But at that point, just three months after the battle had been lost, neither Adele nor Eric had felt fortunate to be alive. They had never spoken about that moment in the ready room again, but they had formed and maintained an almost familial bond that had lasted until he had died three years ago. She still missed her old captain often.
Adrian, Claire and Julian were all still laughing, and Julian had started to wipe tears from his eyes. “You win,” said Julian, through his laughter. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had a moment quite that embarrassing.”
Adrian jumped on that right away. “What about the time --”
“Oh, quiet, Adrian, or I’ll tell her some of your stories,” Julian said, cutting him off.
“Now, now, gentlemen,” Claire said. “I don’t think anyone wants to hear the stories you’re talking about.”
It struck Adele that these people seemed to know each other very well. “How did you all meet?” she asked, curious.
“At DS9, shortly after the war ended,” Claire explained. “I was actually having a drink with Julian and his girlfriend at the time, when Adrian walked into Quark’s to say hello to them, and it was all over. I ordered Adrian a drink on the spot and rather shamelessly threw myself at him. I haven’t stopped chasing him since.” She grinned at her husband.
“What were you doing on DS9?” Adele asked.
“Actually, I was working with Julian,” she explained. “Analyzing all the data he’d collected on the morphogenic matrices of the Changelings during the war. He wanted to develop a way of making versatile replacement organs.” Julian looked displeased at the memory, and Adele instantly discerned that their efforts had not been successful.
“How about you?” she asked Adrian, trying to change the subject.
“I was a fighter pilot during the war, and then they had me running freighters for the relief efforts afterward. DS9 was home base for a few years. I met Julian when I broke my leg in a holosuite and he fixed it up for me. We got to talking and ended up friends.”
Adele smiled. “Well, it’s obvious you all made the best of that place. And it’s nice to see you all with this built-in support group as we head into the Delta Quadrant. I hope the rest of the crew connects eventually.”
“I’m sure they will,” Julian assured her. He reached his arms over his head to stretch, covering a yawn. “It must be getting late. Computer, time?”
“2232 hours,” came the familiar-sounding reply.
“Well, I’ve got to be in sickbay early tomorrow,” Julian said, looking tired. “I guess I’d better be going.”
“Me too,” added Adele. “I think the lack of sleep is catching up with me,” she said, giving Adrian a knowing glance.
“The away mission was brutal,” Adrian agreed. “I don’t know why everything that happens on this ship has to happen at oh-one-hundred.”
“You and me both,” said Adele. “I hope the rest of the trip to the Delta Quadrant is extremely boring. I could certainly use the sleep.”
“Here’s to that,” Adrian agreed, and downed the last of his drink before sticking the glass back in the replicator. He swayed slightly as he stood up, and Adele realized he had been the only one to consume more than one glass of the fire water. She and Claire had each had about half a glass over more than three hours, and Julian hadn’t touched his since his first disgusted sip, having switched to replicated drinks instead.
As the dinner party broke up, they all cleared their plates to the replicator, and Julian and Adele thanked the Kellers for their hospitality. As they headed out the door, Adele still felt happy from the effects of the fire water, but she was relieved to find that slow consumption and plenty of food had prevented her from falling victim to anything more dangerous than a good buzz. She certainly wasn’t swaying like Adrian, at least.
“I have a feeling you’ll be seeing Adrian in the morning,” Adele told Julian as they walked down the corridor toward the turbolift.
“No doubt,” replied Julian. “I’ll have the hypo all ready for him. Hangover special.”
Adele grinned and shook her head. “Thank goodness for modern medicine.”
“Indeed,” replied Julian earnestly, without a trace of irony. He glanced at the drawing Lucy Keller had given Adele. “That’s a lovely piece of artwork,” he said.
Adele looked down at the simplistic drawing and smiled. “It was very sweet of her. They are such a nice family. Kind of unusual for Starfleet, really,” she noted.
“It’s the nature of the profession,” Julian rationalized. “It’s difficult to form lasting bonds when people are transferred about over half the galaxy every couple of years. I suppose we were a bit more fortunate in that regard at Deep Space Nine -- once people came, they tended to stay a while. I knew a few happy families there, actually -- relatively happy, anyway,” he added with a wry smile.
“Well, I had a wonderful time with them tonight,” Adele said. As they approached the turbolift, she smiled at Julian. “You lived up to your reputation as a good doctor today,” she said sincerely. “That was exactly what I needed, I really do feel much better than I did this morning.”
“You know,” he said, “we all used to get together like that at least once a week. If you’d like, I’ll let you know the next time it happens. I’m sure Adrian and Claire would love for you to visit again.”
Adele demurred. “I don’t think you all need a tag-a-long.”
Julian put on an exaggerated look of astonishment. “Tag-a-long?” he asked incredulously, quickly dismissing the notion. “Please, you were the life of the party with that story about the Ferengi. They’ll be talking about it for days,” he said confidently, as they both stepped into the turbolift.
“Fantastic,” said Adele as the doors closed. She rolled her eyes and smiled sardonically, adding, “Hopefully only amongst themselves. I don’t think the rest of the crew needs to know their captain was ever an accidental Ferengi potty-mouth.”
Julian smiled, but his expression grew more earnest. “Adele, I mean it. You told us you want the crew to connect, and you did that tonight. I don’t remember ever seeing Claire laugh quite so hard. Speaking as your doctor, you need friends as much as anyone else on the ship -- and as an empath, maybe more so. This isn’t the same as a mission in Federation space, where you can take shore leave every few months to go visit friends or family or take a holiday on Risa. You’re going to have to open up to your crew in a way other captains don’t, or you’ll be terribly unhappy.”
Adele nodded, giving him a reluctant smile. “I’m sure you’re right. It will just take some time to adjust my thinking. Since making captain, I’ve gotten used to maintaining that professional distance at all costs.” She sighed, and said, “Okay, I’ll consider coming with you next time. I have to warn you, though, that I don’t have that many good stories. I hit them with my best shot tonight, it’s all downhill toward boring from here. Besides, I think all the laughter was more due to the fire water than anything else,” she added, with an amused grin.
“Somehow, I doubt that,” Julian replied, matching her smile with one of his own. As the turbolift arrived at his deck and the doors opened, Julian sighed and said “Well, that’s my stop.” He smiled and stepped into the corridor. “Good night, Adele.”
“Good night, Julian.”
So she got one. Don't worry, things won't stay boring forever ... the crew is just taking a breather. 
)
(<---- that would be a blushing smiley if we had one, but we just have little red alien guy, and he doesn't seem appropriate.)
