Washing Windows
Bill and Mark finish putting on their environment suits and prepare to exit the airlock near docking bay two on Deep Space Nine.
"Comm check," Bill says.
"Check," Mark answers.
The pair exit the airlock and stand on the station's hull with their mag-boots.
"So, Bill, why do we need to come out here to 'deionize' the windows?" Mark asks.
"Because, the safety field between the panes prevents the scrubber from getting the outer surface from inside," Bill replies.
Mark has been on the station maintenance team for less than a week now, and this is the first time they've had to 'scrub' the windows.
"Why do we even need to do this? The windows look fine."
Mark has been full of questions since he started working with Bill. Sometimes he asks because he's genuinely curious. Sometimes he asks because Bill has been around a while, knows a lot about the station, and seems to enjoy any opportunity to share how much he knows. A happy Bill is more receptive to longer breaks and early quitting times.
"This is the gateway to the Gamma Quadrant, son," Bill says. "A lot of important people come through here, and the Captain wants them to be able to see stars, not ionized dust kicked out of the Denorios Belt. Besides, if that stuff got hit with the wrong kind of energy discharge from the deflector what-not, it could permanently fuse to the windows or etch 'em up something fierce."
"Oh, well… we can't have that!" Mark humors his elder counterpart. Mark isn't crazy about Bill calling him 'son,' but like asking a lot of questions, letting him do it improves Bill's mood.
"If this station had been built by the Federation, we wouldn't need to do this at all. The Cardies just don't make 'em like the Feds do. Despite shortcomings in construction, this job wasn't necessary when this beast was orbiting Bajor. Ever since they moved it near the wormhole and the belt, I've had to come out here 'bout once every three months."
Mark is relieved to hear that he won't be called upon to leave the relative safety of the station more than four times a year.
"About how long will this take us, Bill?"
"Oh… working by myself I could finish the job in I'd say… six days."
"Six days!?"
"Well, you gotta figure on the other calls that come in. One bad water reclaimator can kill the better part of an hour. Plus, suitin' and unsuitin' kills a good 15 minutes if you want to make sure all your seals are good. You don't want to open that airlock and vacuum-seal yourself in your suit, son."
"No, sir," Mark agrees, though he doesn't care much for the graphic analogy.
Bill continues, "I'd say the two of us, takin' turns on the side calls, should be able to knock this out in about four—since you're new and all. Maybe two or three when you get the hang of it. Though, there was this one time after the Feds regained control of the station from the Cardies and the Dominion that I was out here for two weeks solid. Somethin' to do with a minefield that got blown up between here and the wormhole. What a horrible mess that was!"
The two make their way along the station's hull to the first of the many windows they have to scrub.
"Alright, son. Grab your scrubber," Bill says.
Mark takes hold of the boot-sized device and pulls out some slack on the tether. With the device in front of him, Bill continues the training lesson.
"I'm sure you can figure out the business end as it's opposite the handle end. Hold it against the window and press the green button 'til it glows steady. If it goes red on you, you ain't got good contact. Got it?"
The light on Mark's scrubber blinks green for a couple of seconds then remains steady. "Got it."
"Now, the next thing you do is check polarity. You want to make things better, not worse. You'll know if you've got it wrong for sure because…"
"Bill, Bill! Are you seeing this?" Mark interrupts excitedly.
"What's got into you, son?"
The pair watch a scene unfold inside the docking ring window before them. A security officer has stopped a man in the hallway as it seems there is some concern about a case the man is carrying. The man and officer's gestures and facial expressions imply a pretty heated debate is taking place. In the meantime, an innocent-looking crate near the wall starts to melt. The goo from the melted crate creates a pillar in the hall behind the man arguing with the security officer. The pillar reshapes itself, and the pair of maintenance men are now looking upon Constable Odo.
"Holy moly!" Mark exclaims.
"Yup, that never gets old," Bill chuckles.
Inside the window, Odo quickly apprehends the agitated man and they take him away.
Mark is still stunned. "I've seen him around the station, and I've heard stories, but… but that was amazing!"
"I don't know what you expected this place to be like, son, but Deep Space Nine is closer to Oz than Kansas."
Mark has no idea what Bill is talking about. Bill is from Tennessee and Mark is from Oklahoma. But the meaning is obvious: Deep Space Nine is no place like home.
After a break, which was longer than normal due to Bill's good mood and the topic of Odo's transformation to discuss, the pair begin work on the Promenade windows. They skipped the habitat ring as certain times of day just aren't appropriate to be hanging outside the windows of people's quarters.
"So, Bill, what other crazy things have you seen while doing this job?" Mark asks.
"While scrubbin' windows? Not as much as you might reckon. I can see what's going on in there any time I want. When I'm out here, I generally spend my time looking out there."
"The stars? But we can see those just fine from inside. That's why we're out here doing this, right?"
"Son, you just wait 'til you see that wormhole open up with nuthin' between it and you."
"Wow, she is mad," Mark suddenly changes the subject.
"Son, I'm trying to tell you about something near as grand as God himself, and you're peekin' in windows again?"
Bill turns to see Major Kira leaning into the face of a Klingon. They can't hear her but, from the look on that Klingon's face and everyone around them, they know she's yelling.
"Yessirree. That's what I'd call spittin' mad. That there is Major Kira, and she is one woman you do not want to cross. Klingon or no, if that man knows what's best for him, he'll turn and walk away."
Kira sends a scowling Klingon on his way then looks around at the crowd. She mouths some more words, and the onlookers quickly pretend to go about their business. As she spins around, she catches sight of Bill and Mark gawking through the window. Despite the thick glass and dead silence of space, she points a finger and continues to make angry words with her mouth.
"I don't know what she's saying, Bill, but I don't think I want to run into her anytime soon."
Bill nods, "Yep. I can't read lips, but I caught a word or two of that just fine. We best steer clear of her for a day or two. Let's get back to it."
The next day, Bill and Mark have picked a time of the artificial 'day' that's more appropriate to working on the windows of the habitat ring.
"Hey, Bill, you ever see anything interesting while working on the habitat ring?"
"Given that I'm usually lookin' out 'stead of in, and the fact that they send a notice to the people whose windows we might get to in the day to let 'em know men might be pokin' around outside… nope, I can't say I have."
Mark is somewhat disappointed. Bill is usually quick to muster up at least some kind of story. Even if something seems mundane, Bill has a way of making it sound interesting or entertaining. Mark is starting to realize that, after only a few days, this often grumpy old man is growing on him.
"But you may be in for a treat! I did some peekin' at the shippin' schedules, and there's a freighter due to head to the Gamma Quadrant any time now."
Bill starts to ramble on about how glorious the wormhole is, but Mark doesn't really hear him. While working on deionizing a window, a woman has entered the room on the other side of the glass.
She must work a strange shift to be waking up now, and she must not have gotten the notice Bill mentioned, Mark thinks to himself.
The woman appears to have just gotten out of bed as all she has on is a nightgown. Mark has never seen a Trill before. He knows that Trills have spots on their skin, and right now… he can see a lot of spots.
"Look, son, isn't that a sight to behold!" Bill says, though his words are in reference to the wormhole opening.
Mark can partly see the reflection of it on the glass, but it doesn't draw his gaze from the beautiful woman walking through the room on the other side. She hasn't noticed the men in her window and walks to the replicator in her quarters.
"It just ain't the same as what you can see when you're standing on the Promenade," Bill continues to refer to the magnificent view of the wormhole.
Mark grins, "Nope, I can't say I've ever seen anything so amazing as what I'm seeing right now."
Mark can't stop staring at this gorgeous woman. She puts her hand on her hip and shifts her weight onto one leg, tapping her other toe on the floor. This pose, along with cocking her head and that short, obsidian hair to one side, indicates she's still contemplating her request from the machine. While Bill is soaking in the glorious colors and curves of the wormhole, Mark is mesmerized by the colors and curves of the woman inside.
"Every time I see this beaut' show up, it reaffirms my belief in all things mighty in the universe," Bill says as he is transfixed on the wormhole.
"Amen," Mark utters.
The angel inside the window, wearing a pure, bright white nightgown, must have finally made a decision. Mark watches her pluck a steaming mug from the replicator and turn towards the window. Her eyes are closed as she lifts the mug to her face and takes a deep breath of the aromatic steam. Her lips form a wonderful smile. Mark watches her eyes open, and her expression is initially that of pure bliss. It may have been due to the glow of the wormhole, but her eyes are the most radiant blue he has ever seen.
The woman's eyes finally focus and see Mark staring back at her. She jumps, and Mark guesses she may have let out a short scream, sending her hot drink tumbling out of her hand and onto the floor. She recovers from her start quickly as her expression turns to scorn. She places both hands on her hips moves her lips. Mark can't make out what she said, but the privacy shades on the windows slowly begin to close. Mark mouths the words "I'm sorry" over and over, not daring to actually speak them. He doesn't want Bill to know that he's been secretly watching a totally different, though equally wondrous, display while sitting on the hull of the station
As the shades close further, Mark puts his hands together pleadingly, continuing his apologetic mantra. His persistence is rewarded by the woman softening her expression and tilting her head to the side, as if contemplating his forgiveness. The shades finally close completely, and Mark can only hope that his apology was understood… and accepted.
Bill begins to speak, and his words imply the wormhole show is over as well. "Now, son, was that amazing or was that… Why in God's name are you looking at the danged window?"
"Uh, the uh… I thought I heard the scrubber beep," Mark scrambles for words.
"We're in space son, and the scrubber ain't tied to the comms. Whatever you heard… weren't from that. You alright, son?"
"Yeah, I'm… I just got distracted is all," Mark's stammering subsides. "Bill, do you know anything about a Trill on the station?"
"A Trill? Well, there was one on the station, but she was killed—terrible shame. I hear another one arrived recently, but I've not seen 'em. Can't say I trust 'em really, not the ones with the worm in 'em anyway. That's just unnatural. Why are you so curious about a Trill all of a sudden?"
"Oh, I dunno. Seeing that wormhole reminded me of a gorgeous woman I saw in the Promenade the other day," Mark lies. "I think she was a Trill."
"I'm thinkin' your wormhole experience has put some crazy ideas in your head, son. I see it lit a sparkle in your eye. What I do know is that she's a senior officer… and you're the guy that scrubs the windows."
Bill takes a better inventory of the situation.
"Say… weren't these windows open when we got here?" He asks.
"I think you're getting old, Bill. They've been like this the whole time."
Bill simply grunts and dismisses the notion because he can't rule out the possibility.
Crazy idea or not, Mark decides that the next time he sees that woman, he owes her an apology and a drink.