Return to Valjiir Stories
Once all her paperwork had been processed, Jade beamed down from the Shipyards Docking Station and dutifully contacted her mother, who insisted on meeting her in San Francisco for lunch. As a celebrated Fleet VIP, Jade had no trouble securing an immediate transport pass. She waited outside the SanFran Alamo Square Booth and smiled as her mother appeared, stepping forward. "Hello, Mother," she said, and tried to make it sound warm and welcoming "It's so good to see you."
Kelly O'Shea was a very attractive woman in her late sixties who in no way looked her age. With her auburn hair and green eyes, she was Ireland personified. It showed in her personality as well; she was open and charming and flirtatious, with bright emotions and a quick temper. Before her parents' divorce, Jade had wondered how her mother and father had ever gotten along long enough to conceive her, but since her study of psychology, she had realized the truth to the statement that opposites attract. She was, after all, surrounded by other examples; Ruth and Spock, Sulu and Jilla, even Daffy Gollub and Pavel Chekov. But as she had inherited much more of her father's reserve - as well as his looks - she found it a little daunting to spend time around her mother. The woman always left her feeling breathless, overwhelmed, and slightly annoyed. Not that she didn't love her mother, and she knew that her mother loved her. It's just that they were so very - different.
After the expected, almost ferocious embrace, Kelly held on to her daughter's shoulders, beaming at her. "Sure an' let me look at you, child," she said "You're the spittin' image of your father, God rest his soul."
Jade suppressed a frown. Her father had been Buddhist. His soul was either awaiting rebirth or had been already reincarnated. "I have news, Mother," Jade returned.
"So you said, daughter, so you said." Kelly again hugged her, then jauntily took her arm. "Can you tell me while we walk? It's starvin' I am."
"It's not that complicated," Jade said. "I'm getting married."
Her mother stopped in her quick, expansive tracks and turned to face her. "Married? Married, Jade? My darlin' girl, at last! Who's the lucky man?"
"A captain in Fleet, Mother. James Kirk."
"Not THE James Kirk?"
Jade smiled faintly, pleased that even her mother had heard of him. "The very one."
Kelly again threw her arms around Jade. "Why, my darlin', this is wonderful! How much time do you have to plan? You're on leave, are you not? And he is, too? Saints preserve us, the house is a wee small, but we can have the reception at the cill, ah, an' I'll have to be speakin' to Father Quinn about the ceremony - your Jamie, he's a church-goin' man, is he not?"
"Mother, we won't have time for a..."
"Well you can't go havin' nothin' but a civil service, child! What would the family think?"
"I rather think they'll react like you did; 'at last'," Jade replied tersely.
Kelly's animated face grew suddenly stern. "Now I meant nothin' by that, Jade."
"And I'm not Catholic, remember?"
"How could I forget your father's faith, girl?"
"So why would you think I'd want a church wedding?"
"You're my daughter, too," Kelly said, even more sternly.
"And James is Methodist," Jade returned evenly. "A mass is hardly appropriate."
Black and green eyes locked, and Jade suddenly recalled how often she'd seen her mother and father stare at each other in just this fashion. But she, unlike Li Han, had absolutely no intention of backing down from the confrontation of wills. She had, after all, inherited a few traits from her mother. The silence between them grew, then Kelly abruptly turned away.
"Sure an' you're as stubborn as I am," she said, then turned back, once again all smiles. "So it's to be a small affair, is it? Will you at least be invitin' your grandparents? Oh, and I know the perfect place to get you a proper dress. Will there be bridesmaids, at least?"
Her mother went on talking, and Jade sighed. It had gone much more smoothly than she had anticipated.
With paperwork properly squared away, and despite Ruth's exasperation, Spock insisted on being taken up to one of the Nests.
"I've grown repulsive, haven't I?" Ruth pouted as they walked together through the nearly completed decks of a Class Two Heavy Cruiser. "All work and no play has made me too jacketed. I've turned into one of those old, pinched-faced squints with her nose in dusty, obscure scientific texts and her eyes glued to a computer screen. Is it any wonder a tall, handsome, vibrant Starfleet captain has no more use for the likes of..."
"Ruth, do you not wish me to see our new home?" Spock interrupted her.
"I'd kinda like it if you got reacquainted with the old one, and I'm not talking buildings here," was Ruth's reply.
"I, too, am eager for the resumption of our physical relationship," Spock assured her. "However, there is something of importance that must be attended to."
"Picking out curtains?"
"I will, as always, leave the decorating to you."
"Oh goodie. Does that mean we get rid of the display of sharp, pointy things on the red drapery?" At Spock's mild frown, Ruth shrugged. "Just a suggestion, my husband."
Abruptly, Spock stopped walking. They were just outside the staterooms on the Officer's deck. He turned and gazed down at Ruth, taking her hands into his.
"My wife," he began, "It has been three point five nine years since we signed our marriage contract."
"Three point five nine?" Ruth replied with a teasing smile. "What anniversary is that, nanochip?"
"The contract was for a term of three years." There was an emphasis on the second to last word.
Ruth blinked. "Yeah. So?"
"Technically, Ruth, we are no longer wed. The contract was dissolved upon its expiration."
"That's technically," Ruth said carefully, "right?"
"Starfleet would frown upon a captain who is cohabiting sans legal sanction in command of one of..."
"What are you saying?"
"...ships which are being touted, after all, as family-oriented..."
"What are you saying?!"
"...would present a less than savory picture to races who would judge such things..."
"What are you saying?!"
"...and as all legal formalities have been cleared, there is no reason we cannot undergo the preparatory ritual which will make you, according to Vulcan custom, my wife." He smiled at her open-mouthed expression. "If, of course, you will have me."
"If?" she repeated. "IF?!? You, Commander, are the biggest womprat this galaxy has ever seen!"
"Captain, my wife," Spock reminded mildly.
"Not yet you're not..."
"And in that case, I suppose you will also object to my continuing to refer to you as 'wife'..."
"Oh, I will so give you a mouthful of objection..."
"I have arranged for the ceremony at the Vulcan Embassy in Tunisia," Spock continued. "It is a relatively simple ritual, requiring, in our case, only the services of a Healer. If we were children, of course, our parents would also need to attend to give their permission for the joining."
"That'd be a bit tricky for me," Ruth responded wryly.
"Fortunate, then, that we are not children," Spock returned, and softly touched his wife's temple, both as comfort and reassurance. She smiled, leaning briefly against his hand.
"So why, if we're going to Tunisia, did we have to come up here for you to tell me?" she wanted to know.
"I wanted to begin to make this our home, Ruth," he replied softly. "What better way than with a proposal of a marriage that, while not Indiian eternity, is far more permanent than a Federation contract?"
"According to Jilla, we've already got Indiian eternity," Ruth quipped. "And there really wasn't much of a proposal, y'know. 'There is no reason we cannot undergo the preparatory ritual which will make you, according to Vulcan custom, my wife if, of course, you will have me' isn't exactly 'I love you, I need you., I ask you, for that love, that need, marry me'" She put her hands on her hips, waiting.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Likewise, 'you, Commander, are the biggest womprat this galaxy has ever seen' is not 'for that love, for that need, yes, I'll marry you.'"
"Touché," Ruth conceded. There was a pause. "Well?"
Spock placed his hands at her neck, cupping her face, tilting it up to his. "My only beloved," he murmured, and sent it, as he had three point five nine years before, directly to her thoughts, "Will you, ever and always touching and touched, again become my wife?"
Her answer, too, came as it had before, in his mind. Ever and always touching and touched, yes yes yes yes yes!
He bent his head, kissing her. Ruth's mental laughter was delighted, but the sound soon turned to urgent moans and growls. She actually backed him into one of the staterooms.
"Let's give her an old-fashioned christening," she murmured.
"Would it not be more appropriate to wait..."
"Oh no, you're not pulling that 'we are not wed' shit on me this time!"
"...until there is a bed?" Spock finished.
"Like we haven't done it on the rug a few hundred times."
"You have a point."
"So do you, three of them in fact, and if I don't get one of them inside me in the next ten seconds...."
"My wife, such language..."
"Admit it, you love it."
"I love you, dei'larr'ei."
And, my tall, handsome, vibrant, Starfleet captain, I love you.
The intercom on Jilla's desk in the Engineering office of the shipyards signaled, and when she answered it, Jeremy Paget's voice said, "The Drake's in, Lady."
Despite Ruth's earlier assertion, Jilla only took the time necessary to acknowledge the communication before racing to the transporter booth.
Sulu was at the Drake's transporter before the destroyer had finished docking. He impatiently drummed his fingers on the console, waiting for Security to announce that all procedures had been completed. Once the all clear was given, he turned to the smiling lieutenant behind the controls and said, "Beam me down, mister."
"There's a signal from the Shipyards coming in, Captain," the young man informed him.
"Please, god, don't tell me some damned bureaucrat wants some kind of fucking inspection," Sulu snarled. Then he sighed and said, "Energize, Lieutenant Torsgard."
The column of sparkle solidified, and Sulu blinked, then broke into the widest smile his face had ever held. He took several joyful steps to the platform, pulling the red-uniformed figure into his arms.
"Jilla," he breathed, and she started glowing as he engulfed her mouth in a deeply passionate, devoted, eternal kiss. He swung her into his arms, still holding the kiss, and carried her from the transporter room all the way to his cabin.
Uhura entered the keycode she'd been given at the desk into the lock-pad of the Royal Suite of the Palace Hotel. She was already more than suitably impressed with the place; the lobby, the hallways, even the elevator screamed luxury and elegance. And the Royal Suite was the most expensive, exclusive set of rooms in the entire establishment. Ah, Tomor, you sure know how to treat a woman, she sighed, and opened the door.
The scent of a dozen flower arrangements wafted over her senses, overlaid with the sweet smell of top-quality Rigellian. "Tomor?" she called.
"In here, Beauty," came the immediate answer. She followed the sound to a rather ornate set of double doors. They whooshed open at her approach to reveal an equally ornate bathroom; marble fixtures, gilded mirrors and a large, sunken tub already filled with fragrant, steaming water. There was a bucket on the wide ledge surrounding the tub, filled with ice and a bottle of champagne, two long-stemmed glasses beside it. Two white robes were laid on a richly padded bench along the far wall, a tall, golden rack filled with fluffy towels behind it. An inlaid counter with two oval sinks and a private area, walled off with frosted glass - obviously the privy itself - completed the décor. And standing in front of the tub, arms held out in welcome, a fat cigar of Rigellian in his mouth, stood Tomor Rand - completely naked.
"At your service, Commander," he said with a wide grin.
"Oh, honey, you've really made the wait worth it," she returned, starting to unfasten her uniform.
He stepped forward. "I said 'at your service,'" he repeated, and set the cigar down in a large glass ashtray. She smiled as he carefully removed her clothing, his warm lips finding each inch of her skin as it was revealed. "A massage," he murmured, "a glass or two of the bubbly, the best smoke, all in a nice, hot bath, and I guarantee you'll forget all about waiting and industry and Starfleet."
"Sugar," Uhura whispered as she put her arms around him, "I already have."
The dress, Jade had to admit, was beautiful. The white satin sheath hugged her slim figure, the pale, delicate golden lace overlay adding a touch of unmistakable elegance. Her shoulders and neck were bare; the long, tightly fitting sleeves attached under the arms to the bodice of the dress. As she eyed herself critically in the shop's triple mirror, she had to admit that her mother hadn't lost her impeccable taste. The clerk in the exclusive boutique had brought out several samples. Kelly had only had to glance at a few of them before picking this one, and it was absolutely perfect.
Jade started to ask the price, and Kelly shushed her. "That's not for you to worry about, my darlin'," her mother said. "As if I'd not be payin' for my only daughter's wedding ensemble." She shook her head, making a tsking sound, but there was a bright twinkle in her green eyes. "Now, Jade, dearest how many bridesmaids will ye be lookin' at?" And she motioned to the clerk again.
"Mother, it's customary for..."
"Nonsense, child, I'll not be layin' no financial burden on your friends. D'ye think for one moment I haven't been savin' up for this day?" She turned back as the clerk again brought out samples, this time of a number of different colors and styles of dresses. "We'll be wantin' to complement the bride, o'course," she murmured. "Jade, my love, what do you say to a nice, bright, cheery red?"
"We have a similar style sheath in red," the clerk said helpfully. She pulled out a dress from the stack. "And there's a wonderful lace jacket, a slightly darker shade, but it will harmonize perfectly. Let me just get it from the back..."
Before Jade could get a word in edgewise, Kelly was holding the dress up to her, staring into the mirror. "A nice balance, don't you think, darlin'?" she said. "Jamie will wear white, too, yes, and his groomsmen will look so elegant in a color t'match your attendants..."
"Mother, I'm not sure if I want..."
"Who are your bridesmaids to be then, girl? Will they all look handsome in scarlet?"
Jade sighed. Her mother was on a full-tilt tear, and she knew from long experience that there was no stopping her. She was suddenly reminded of Ruth, and involuntarily imagined what the Antari would look like in the dress her mother held up. Flattering, I have to admit, she thought, then considered the other likely candidates. Jilla's used to wearing red, of course, as is Uhura. Robyn's coloring is a bit ruddy for it, but... Daffy's dark hair and green eyes should look very dramatic....
When the clerk returned with the lace jacket, it only made Jade's decision that much easier. It added a touch of romantic refinement to the rather plain sheath, and Jade fell in love.
"How do you always know just what to pick, Mother?" she said.
"I'm Irish," was the happy response, and Kelly immediately began to make arrangements with the shop to have the dresses fabricated to the specifications Jade would provide.
Jade sighed. Now all she had to do was convince Jim to convince his attendants to wear bright, cheery red.
Jim's mother and father had been pleased to see him, and even more pleased at the news. His nephew, Peter, who was about to graduate Alterra with a degree in Engineering, offered hearty congratulations, though Jim could see the memory of his parents deep in his eyes. When they started to ask questions about the wedding itself, Jim realized that he and Jade had quite a number of decisions to make: where would the wedding be held? Who would perform the ceremony? What would he wear, and what would he ask Spock to wear? What kind of reception should they plan? And, by no means the least important, what kind of rings should he and Jade have?
Something simple and elegant, he thought. Neither of us would want anything too ostentatious. And you didn't get her an engagement ring. Does she need one for what's going to be a matter of weeks? It would be the properly romantic thing to do.
He told his parents that he had to consult his bride-to be - which made his mother smile - and said he'd get back to them with all the pertinent information as soon as possible. Then he went to the nearest transport booth, and beamed back to San Francisco.
The intercom sounded softly. Sulu sighed, more with contentment than annoyance and reached to the controls next to the bed, not taking his other arm from around the body curled to his side. "Sulu," he said.
"Captain, there's a call for Commander Majiir," came the voice of the Third Watch Communications Officer, which then added teasingly, "Sorry, sir."
"That's alright, Miss Meliik," he replied, "we were taking a breather anyway." He smiled to himself as Jilla flushed. "Just give us a minute to put something on."
Sahti Meliik giggled and Sulu sat up, throwing the bedclothes aside. At Jilla's slight gasp, he grinned again. "The visual's off, hon," he told his wife.
"Are you always so informal with your crew?" the Indiian asked as she, too sat up.
"Most of the time," Sulu said, reaching for his uniform tunic on the deck. He'd dropped it there - thrown it, actually - when he and Jilla had entered his quarters nearly six hours before. "Does it bother you?"
"It is only that I am not accustomed to it," she replied, then glanced around the cabin. "Where is my...?"
"I think it landed over there," came the response as Sulu pointed to the far end of the room. He walked the length of the cabin, finding the hurriedly discarded red uniform. He picked it up, then frowned. "Uh, hon?" He held up the material that had obviously been ripped completely along one seam. Jilla blushed again. With a third smile, he moved to his wardrobe, pulling out a maroon and gold kimono. "Here," he said, handing it to her. She murmured her thanks as he found his uniform pants, pulling them on. Before Jilla could belt the robe, he went to her, slipping his arms inside the voluminous folds of the material, pulling her into a deep, lingering kiss. "You're beautiful," he whispered.
"Celletyea," she breathed.
"Cortayel," came his immediate answer. He kissed her again, and the intercom beeped. "Okay, okay," he said, and again leaned across the small bed, activating the com. The small screen resolved into a mischievous TerArabian face. "Put it through, Sahti," he said and sat back, letting Jilla kneel across the bed to face the screen.
"Commander Majiir," she said, and the image in the screen changed, becoming the face of Jade Han.
"Sorry to disturb you, Jilla," Jade said brightly, "and hello, Captain."
"Hi yourself, Dr. Han," Sulu replied jauntily.
"I realize it's early," Jade continued, to Jilla, "but there's something important I have to ask you, and time is of the essence."
"Yes, Jade?" Jilla enquired.
"You know James and I are getting married, and..."
"Married?" Sulu burst out. "Married?! Jade, that's great! When did this happen?"
"Just before we docked, actually," Jade returned. "Jilla, I thought you would have told him."
Jilla flushed. "I - was occupied with - " she stammered.
"No need, dear, I quite understand," Jade said with a grin. "At any rate, we're planning the wedding, and I would very much like you to stand as my Matron of Honor. That's a position of..."
"I know," Jilla interrupted gently. "Ruth asked me to do the same when she and Spock were wed."
"Did she?" Jade mused. "For a contract?"
"It was not at the time known that a contract would be the form of the marriage," Jilla informed her.
"Really? I guess there are still some stories I haven't heard," Jade replied, then shook her head. "Be that as it may, it's customary for special wedding clothes to be worn by both the bride's and the groom's attendants, and if you're willing, I need you at the dressmaker's for a fitting this afternoon."
"I would be honored, Jade," Jilla said happily.
"Congratulations," Sulu put in. "When do I get to kiss the bride?"
"As soon as you can drag your ass out of bed, Captain," Jade said. "And I think Jim will have something to ask you as well."
"Spock's the Best Man, right?" Sulu asked.
"However did you guess?"
"Who else is in the wedding party?"
"If all goes well, my friend Robyn from Jude, Uhura, Ruth and Daffy."
"Daffy? You're joking!"
"Well, Jim is very fond of Mr. Chekov, and..."
"Say no more," Sulu said, putting up his hand. "If called upon, I'll be happy to oblige."
"Thank you, Sulu," Jade said warmly. "Fourteen hundred, Jilla. I've sent the coordinates with this message."
"I will be there, Jade," Jilla rejoined.
When Jade's image faded, Sulu thoughtfully closed the com. "Married." He shook his head happily. "God, it took them long enough. I can see why, though. No way Jim's taking the chance of having her assigned to a ship other than..." He stopped, suddenly staring at Jilla. Her head was down, her face hidden by the fall of burgundy hair. "I won't let that happen either, hon," he said, and again pulled her fiercely into his arms. "We've got options. I'll take a demotion if I have to..."
"I could never ask such a thing of you!" Jilla cried.
"I don't recall that you did ask, honey."
"I will serve on the Drake..."
"If Fleet would let you, and I don't think they will." He kissed the top of her head. "We'll work something out, Jilla." He felt her arms tightening around him, the sobs that were building up in her chest. Gently he laid her back on the bed, determined to wipe away the specter of another separation with lengthy, passionate devotion.
Pavel Chekov turned from the intercom unit of the hotel suite with a thoughtful smile on his face. From the bed, Daffy Gollub, lifted her champagne glass. "Mazel tov, bubee," she toasted. "We get to wear undoubtedly uncomfortably and inevitably horrendous-looking clothing to celebrate the wedding du siècle."
"Do what?" Pavel asked, slightly confused.
"Of the century, schmendrick," she explained. "It's French."
"Since when do you speak French?"
"When it suits me," she replied airily. "Though I gotta admit, I'm surprised Han included me."
"I am honored that Captain Kirk wished to include me," Pavel returned archly.
"Brown nose," Daffy said, then patted the mattress beside her. "Come back to bed, bubelah, we've got hours before the fittings."
Nodding, Pavel did as she wished, but when he removed the complimentary plush robe that had been provided by the hotel and slid into bed beside her, his lips were pursed thoughtfully.
"Don't tell me, you're composing a speech in case Bwana asks for one, yes?" Daffy stated.
"No, in fact I am not," Pavel said. He paused, then turned to her. She reached to the shelf above the bed, handing him a short glass of vodka. "Spasiba," he murmured, but he didn't take a drink. Daffy raised an eyebrow. "Dafshka," he began, "how long have we been seeing each other?"
"You want it in total length or should I subtract out the Tuesdays?" she asked playfully.
He smiled back at her. "An approximation will do."
"Let's see," Daffy mused, "there's 'is Jim-boy playing with a full deck', 'recovery', 'Captain Bastard', 'Mensch's honeymoon', 'Silver Streak's honeymoon', 'oy god how long can LeRoy stand it,' 'why does the woman follow me everywhere'... about six and a half years, give or take."
"And we have come to know one another very well, have we not?"
"I should hope so."
"And to endure - even appreciate - one another's little faults and flaws?"
"What flaws are these, bubee?"
Pavel took a swallow of the vodka. "My flirting, for example," he began.
"That's not little, boychik."
"And your indulgence in recreational substances."
"Don't start..."
"My seriousness, your tendency to strike the back of my head..."
"There's an old saying about mules and getting their attention..."
"...I hold onto things too deeply, you refuse to admit to your own hurt feelings...
"You can stop anytime here..."
"No, I cannot," he told her. "I am trying to say something important here. And do not," he raised a cautioning finger at her, "strike me in the back of the head."
It happened rarely, but Daffy became suddenly subdued. Pavel didn't understand what caused this infrequent but very real withdrawal, but he had grown used to it, and knew how to handle it. Carefully, he pulled her close to him.
"It's alright, Dafshka," he murmured, gently stroking her hair. "Nothing is wrong, I am here."
After a moment, Daffy shivered, then pulled away. "So what is this important thing you're trying - and failing miserably, I might add - to tell me?"
Pavel didn't let her acerbic reaction faze him. That, too he was used to; she always got particularly sarcastic after one of those withdrawals. And in fact, it made it easier to say to her that which he had decided must be said.
"It is a little thing, really," he answered her blithely. "Three little things, actually. Three little words..." He watched with some satisfaction as her eyes grew as wide as any Antari's.
"Pasha - don't fuck with me," she managed.
"I would hope that will come later," he teased, then smiled warmly, again opening his arms to her. "Daphne, my Dafshka - I love you."
There was hesitation in her gaze, and for a moment, Pavel felt the beginnings of panic. I was so sure... he thought worriedly. Then he was bowled over as Daffy lunged at him, pinning him down on the bed, covering his face with kisses. He returned them as best he could in between delighted, relieved laughter and trying to catch his breath. Finally he was obliged to flip her over, falling on top of her, and still she craned her head up, kissing his neck and throat.
"Love you, love you, love you..." she repeated over and over until he silenced her by taking hold of her head and kissing her fully on the mouth.
After a long, long time, they finally came up for air. "And so would you, Miss Gollub, be adverse to sharing a cabin with me aboard whichever ship we are assigned to?" Pavel continued, as if the conversation hadn't been interrupted.
"We'll be assigned together?" Daffy asked, grinning from ear to ear.
"You have made certain of it, have you not?" Pavel returned.
"I suppose I may have mentioned a few juicy pieces of gossip I've been keeping in reserve," Daffy admitted.
"And?"
"And what?"
"Will you share a cabin with me?"
"You have to ask?"
"Think of the bruise I would have on the back of my head if I had dared to assume such a thing," he retorted. "And now, of course, I will receive one for making such a statement, yes?"
With a delightedly wicked grin, Daffy smacked him in the back of the head. He grabbed her arms, pulling her down to him, kissing her thoroughly.
"I love you, Daphne," he whispered.
"I love you, Pavel Andrevitch."
Jade turned from the intercom in the Base cabin that Admiral Bradigan had thoughtfully provided for her and Jim as her husband-to be entered. He smiled at her, and she rose, going to his arms.
"Where have you been, James?" she asked as she gave and accepted a warm embrace.
"I had some shopping to do," Jim replied and set a small, ornate bag on the table. "There wasn't much chance to get this on the ship." He reached into the bag, pulling out an even smaller box. "We can exchange these if you don't like them." He opened the velvet-covered case, holding it out to her. Jade smiled and took it, then inhaled. Inside were three rings; two golden bands, one larger than the other, inscribed with a delicate scrollwork, and a third matching ring with an exquisitely cut marquis diamond.
"James, they're beautiful," Jade breathed. With another smile, Jim took the diamond out of the box.
"This one you can wear right away," he said, and gently took her left hand, sliding the ring on the fourth finger.
Jade blinked on tears, then threw her arms around him. "You're wonderful, do you know that?" she whispered.
"I gather you like them," he said in her ear.
"They're perfect!" she affirmed, then chuckled. "But then, you are Irish."
"Bones, Scotty, Chekov and Sulu," Jim mused sometime later as he and Jade relaxed on the bed in the small cabin. "That seems about right."
"I've found some lovely bridesmaids dresses," Jade said. "The only problem is - they're a rather bright red."
Jim chuckled. "Of course. You're Chinese."
Jade considered that for a moment, then sighed. "Well, isn't my mother the sneaky one."
"She is Irish," Jim said, smiling as he recalled Jade's explanation for her comment. Both he and her mother certainly seemed to know Jade's tastes.
"But be that as it may," Jade was continuing, "will you be able to convince a Vulcan, a dour Russian, and Leonard to wear such a ostentatious display?"
"The bigger problem might be convincing Scotty not to wear a kilt."
"I wouldn't mind if he did," Jade returned. "His clan tartan is red, isn't it?"
"I believe it is," Jim affirmed. "It would certainly please him."
"That's settled then," Jade sighed, and snuggled closer to Jim's chest. "Do we have a place to hold this gala event?"
"I'm considering asking Poul if we can use Base facilities. It solves the whole religious problem. We don't have to irritate either your mother's parish or my father's congregation."
"Well, James, it doesn't solve the entire religious problem," Jade pointed out. "There's still the matter of an officiator."
"We can contact Fleet Protocol for a justice of the peace," Jim suggested.
Jade frowned. "That's so - impersonal."
Jim sighed. "True. And there would be another problem with that."
"Which is?"
"Dave Calvin."
Jade shuddered. "As two of my attendants would say, oy."
"I'm not sure there's any way out of it, though. We are rather well-known in Fleet circles."
"So perhaps the best defense would be a good offense?"
Jim looked down at his bride-to-be. "You can't be serious."
"If calamity is inevitable, James, it is often prudent to accede gracefully."
"You sound just like a Vulcan."
"Thank you. Do you have a better idea?"
Jim sighed again. "Let me give it some more thought."
"As you wish, darling," Jade said, and started to get up from the bed.
"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Jim asked, grasping her arm.
"We both have to actually ask people to be our attendants you know," Jade replied.
"You think any of them will decline?"
"Well, since I already spoke to Jilla and Sulu and Chekov and Daffy, and I've got a call in to Robyn, no, but it is the polite thing to do."
"You were pretty sure of my choices, weren't you, Jade?"
"I was your doctor, James."
Jim chuckled, throwing back the blankets. "Okay, sweetheart. But you owe me."
"Beauty, will you hurry it up?" Tomor called from the tub. "It's gettin' cold in here."
"Just a few more minutes, lover." Uhura called to the door of the bath. Then she turned back to the com unit. "I'd be happy to, Jade," said. "Who will I be paired with?"
Jade chuckled. "And just think, if I wasn't getting married, James and I could be holed up in some luxury suite."
"Oh, girl, wait for the honeymoon. I hear that's much better," Uhura confided.
"I doubt it," Jade returned. "but to answer your question, Jilla will be with Spock, of course..."
"Better not let Captain Sulu hear you say that."
"...so I figured it's only fair to let Ruth stand with Sulu..."
"Ah, turnabout is fair play."
"...and Pavel will have to be paired with Daffy if we want any anyone to live through the ceremony..."
"Good thinking."
"I thought so. I think Robyn will enjoy the company of a top-notch engineer, so I'll pair her with Scotty..."
"So that leaves McCoy for me," Uhura nodded decisively. "Who's going to officiate?"
"We're still talking about that," Jade replied. "My mother wants a priest."
"Wouldn't a Buddhist monk be more appropriate?"
Jade scowled. "You haven't met my mother."
"Let Jim charm her," Uhura suggested.
"My thoughts exactly." On the screen, Jade smiled. "The fitting for the dresses is at fourteen hundred. There's a shop on Geary Boulevard. I'll send the address."
"I'll be there, sugar," Uhura promised, then raised her voice. "Congratulations, Jim!"
"Thanks, Uhura," came the captain's response.
"Beauty!" Tomor's voice complained.
"I'll see you then, Jade," Uhura said. "My Prince Charming is calling."
"Have fun," Jade said, and Uhura clicked off the com. She picked up her champagne glass from where she'd set it on the desk, then undulated back to the ornate bath and Tomor's waiting arms.