This is a piece of pure fluff in honor of Halloween. I blame it entirely on a local TV station that has been running old monster movies all month. I hope you find it more of a treat than a trick. Many thanks to Night's Darkness for pointing out that Shran's reaction to a segment of Fantasia would be to imagine Gral in a pink tutu. I just couldn't leave that alone! It would be a treat if I owned Star Trek, but alas Paramount/Viacom got to the door first.
Scary Movie
Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker, chief engineering officer of the Enterprise, loved Halloween. With the possible exception of Christmas, it was his favorite holiday. As he stretched in bed, he fondly remembered all the fun he had had going trick or treating for candy and small toys as a youngster. He tried to image what it would have been like if the doorbell had been answered by a Tellarite, a Vulcan or an Andorian in those days, which led him to wonder if trick or treating was allowed on Embassy row. He'd have to send a greeting appropriate to the day to T'Pol now that she was Vulcan's ambassador to Earth. She'd never understood his fascination with things that go bump in the night, but she had come to accept that about him, and he missed her; however, it was Halloween, and he couldn't stay sad for long. He had to get up exceptionally early today in order to play a trick on his friend, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, the weapons and tactical officer. Mind you, it was nothing dangerous or malicious. It wasn't even particularly mysterious in that Malcolm would know it was all Trip's doing, but figuring out how he had done it was guaranteed to drive the man nuts for a good part of the day. What was even better, though, was that this year Movie Night fell on Halloween which meant that he could show one of his beloved horror films and nobody would complain.
With Captain Jonathan Archer's permission (and Chef's, too, when it came down to it), he had declared the mess hall off limits after the lunch rush and had feverishly set about decorating the room for the evening's entertainment. He'd placed streamers of orange and black crepe and hung small plush toy bats on springs from the ceiling so that they could be put in motion. Dr. Phlox, the chief medical officer, had given him a goodly supply of cotton padding that he had pulled apart and fashioned into what passed for dense spider webs that he had then placed in the corners. There were small skeletons that glowed pale green in the dark affixed to the bulkheads in grotesque positions. An EV suit with a skull painted on the faceplate of the helmet was propped up just inside the door, but the pièce de résistance, in his opinion, was his collection of movie stills, including Max Schreck as the vampire Nosferatu, Boris Karloff as Frankenstein, Lon Chaney as The Phantom of the Opera, Lon Chaney, Jr., as The Wolf Man, Christopher Lee as The Mummy and Jack Nicholson as Jack Torrance in The Shining. He wondered what other surprises Chef had in store but hadn't been able to worm them out of the man. He keyed the doors to his secret code and headed back to his quarters to change into costume.
When Trip returned to the mess hall, now costumed as an 1850s riverboat gambler (rather like Clark Gable in a couple of movies), he was amazed by the buffet Chef had put out and savored the wonderful mixture of smells. There was a huge platter of sandwiches, including "bat wing" sandwiches that were really roast beef, and a good number stuffed with the spicy, blue, raw meat their Andorian first officer, Commander Thy'lek Shran, preferred. That unusual-looking food was certainly appropriate for Halloween! There was a large pot (more like a small cauldron) of Andorian cabbage soup. How that that rhyme go? Double, double, toil and trouble; fire burn, and cauldron bubble. Trip chuckled. Probably the only one aboard who didn't care for the soup was Shran, but he never complained. He'd been taught to eat what was put in front of him and like it, or so he said. Of course, Trip mused, it could have something to do with his having seen how Chef could handle a knife, although he would never admit it. He turned his attention back to the buffet. There were the usual chips, raw vegetables and dip. There was another platter with a large assortment of cheese. There was a large bowl of shiny red and yellow apples and caramel-coated and chocolate-coated apples on sticks as well. Apparently, bobbing for apples wasn't on the agenda. There were pumpkin and pecan pies. There were small bowls of candy corn (Trip's personal favorite) and Reese's Pieces, the peanut butter candy favored by E. T.: The Extraterrestrial. Trip chuckled again. He really liked Chef's attitude! There were popcorn balls, both plain and caramel. The punch bowls contained non-alcoholic hot and cold spiced apple cider. Although blue Andorian ale would have been enjoyable, and again, suitably unusual for the day, it wouldn't do for the helmsman to be DUI or for the weapons officer to be unable to hit the broad side of a barn with a full spread of photon torpedoes. Starfleet would hand out no treats for those tricks!
Chef had also done some additional decorating. The centerpiece for the buffet table was a large pumpkin nestled among small gourds and ears of Indian corn on a slowly turning Lazy Susan. The pumpkin had been carved all around with representations of the Enterprise. the small container of Sterno inside lit the carving so that it appeared that the Enterprise had running lights and power nacelles and went to warp like the real thing, but in an orange sky lit with stars. There was a large plush toy spider guarding the dessert end of the buffet that looked as though it could have made the webs in the corners. There were small pumpkins carved with a variety of faces (happy, sad or scary) on the tables.
Captain Archer arrived early to great the crew and help pass out the food. He was dressed as a pirate (more like Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean than Erroll Flynn in Captain Blood). Porthos came along with him and had gotten into the spirit of the evening as well. The little beagle wore an old-fashioned brown leather aviator's cap with goggles and a red scarf around his neck just like Snoopy, the cartoon character who dreamed of being a World War I flying ace locked in battle with the Red Baron. Chef rewarded him with a bone that he happily gnawed on under a table.
Malcolm came in immaculately dressed in a tuxedo. "Who have we here?" Archer asked.
"Bond, sir, James Bond, 007, license to kill and all that," Malcolm answered in his charming English accent.
"How appropriate for my chief of security," Archer commented. He handed Malcolm a cup of the cold apple cider. "Shaken, not stirred, I believe? By the way, where's the Aston Martin?"
"I'm afraid it's double-parked in the shuttlebay, sir," Malcolm replied evenly.
"Well, move it by midnight, or it's liable to turn into a pumpkin." Archer tried to say this with a straight face, but failed. He'd just caught sight of Ensign Hoshi Sato, the communications officer. Hoshi wore a short, bright pink crop top, baggy harem pants and gold slippers whose toes curved upward. Her hair was elaborately done, but her signature ponytail was still apparent and swayed provocatively as she walked. Clearly, she was doing her best imitation of Barbara Eden in I Dream of Jeannie, but Archer couldn't resist teasing both her and Malcolm. "Which Bond Girl are you, Hoshi?" he asked with a grin.
Without missing a beat, Hoshi slipped her arm around Malcolm's and answered, "His." She turned to a thoroughly surprised Malcolm and reverted to her Jeannie character. "I only want to please you, Master." She could barely keep from giggling. Archer laughed aloud.
"I assure you, I shall think of something you can do for me by the end of the evening," Malcolm retorted as smoothly as Sean Connery, Roger Moore and Pierce Brosnan put together.
"Hey, Mal!" Trip's interruption totally spoiled the effect. "Bates get that little problem with your shower fixed for ya?"
"Yes, thank you," Malcolm replied quickly and coldly. He really didn't want to explain to Archer (or anyone else) that he had thought someone was trying to stab him to death in his shower that morning.
The rest of the crew wandered in. Travis Mayweather, the helmsman, looked magnificent in the bright, intricately patterned robes of an Ashanti prince. His walking staff was topped by a small skull. Dr. Phlox, too, wore a tuxedo accessorized with a cape and his bat, but instead of looking sinister, he looked more like Grandpa Munster. Chef had put out a covered tray labeled as being for the good doctor but also bearing the skull and crossbones symbol for poison. Archer wondered if it was a joke, some strange food for the Denobulan or treats for his various pets, including the bat. Last in was Shran who was still wearing the close-fitting black leather uniform of the Imperial Guard. His eyes widened and his antennae moved back in concern when he saw the photo of Margaret Hamilton as the green-skinned Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz. He grabbed a blue meat sandwich and took the empty seat between Archer and Trip. "Please tell me that you are not showing a film about Orions, Commander."
Before Trip could assure him that he wasn't, Archer said sternly, "Mr. Shran, I thought I had made it clear that a costume was required dress this evening."
Shran could have managed to look innocent, puzzled and hurt all at the same time if he had been able to suppress the slight smirk that curled his lips. "You did, sir. I thought I was perfectly dressed as a member of the Cantina Band from Star Wars." He pulled a small keyboard out of the carrier slung over his shoulder, played the 5-note motif from Close Encounters of the Third Kind and then put the instrument away.
"My mistake," Archer sighed. Shran had gotten the better of him again.
"If it's any consolation, Cap'n, Shran had the right composer but the wrong movie," Trip offered.
"Whatever!" Shran said defiantly. "Get on with the movie, and it had best not be about Orions!" He took a vicious bite out of his sandwich as if to underscore his point.
Trip didn't start with the main feature. He had decided to show some cartoons first. Actually, he was playing a trick on Shran. He had thought about doing this ever since he'd seen what a kick the first officer had gotten out of the Dance of the Hours segment of Fantasia. He figured Halloween would be the only time he might get away with it, so first up on the screen were some Looney Toons starring Porky Pig. Shran almost choked on his sandwich. By the end of the cartoons, he was laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes, which was exactly the response Trip desired. Archer hadn't caught on right away, but it finally dawned on him which species of their acquaintance most resembled the bumbling little porcine creature. He'd never be able to look at the Tellarite Ambassador Gral in the same way again.
Archer knew he shouldn't let Trip get away with mocking an allied species (even though it was funny), so he rather pointedly suggested that next week he show some Roadrunner cartoons instead. Trip brazened it out, knowing full well that he'd been caught. "Sure thing, Cap'n. Mal, you'll love those. They almost always involve the Acme Dynamite Company." Archer stared at the ceiling and shook his head, not sure that he'd made his point. Malcolm just wished he had a couple sticks of dynamite handy because he knew exactly where he wanted to put them.
For the main feature, Trip had chosen the classic 1931 (Earth Standard) version of Dracula starring Bela Lugosi. He supposed it was a sentimental favorite as it was one of the first horror films he'd seen as a child. His parents had apparently felt that compared to contemporary movies, this ancient, low-tech, black and white film would be relatively harmless. It hadn't turned out quite that way. The carriage speeding through the countryside with its unseen driver, Dracula's lack of a reflection, Dracula walking through spider webs but not disturbing them and the way Dracula looked at the blood welling up from a small cut on his guest had all been satisfyingly creepy. And then there was poor mad Renfield who had been made Dracula's minion. In many ways, the destruction of that man was scarier than Dracula himself. Trip had found Lugosi's Dracula to be as fascinating as he was frightening, and he still couldn't explain exactly why. Was it the aristocratic elegance and commanding presence of the man? Trip had tried standing on the stairs and imitating Dracula's order to "come here" with his sister, Lizzie, but she'd only laughed at him. Was it the unusual accent and general mysteriousness of the Transylvanian count? Was it a secret wish to be able to live forever? Was it an appeal to the darker side of himself that he tried to suppress or pretend wasn't there? He found himself looking forward to discussing it with Shran.
Following the movie, however, as the senior officers gathered around a table to enjoy Chef's buffet, Shran was unusually quiet. He had never been shy about expressing his opinion of a film before, whether he liked it (rarely) or disliked it (usually). Finally, he ventured the comment "This Count Dracula is a popular character in Earth movies, is he not?"
"He is," Archer confirmed, "Although I prefer Christopher Lee to Bela Lugosi."
"Excellent choice, sir," Malcolm agreed. "The Hammer films with Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing are most enjoyable if one goes in for that sort of thing."
"No, you've got it all wrong," Hoshi protested. "I'd wait in line to be bitten by Frank Langella's Dracula." She had a dreamy look on her face. James Bond as portrayed by Malcolm Reed had apparently lost his appeal.
"I prefer William Marshall as Blacula myself," Travis offered. That brother got to put the bite on some fine ladies." He, too, was smiling.
"May I ask why you chose this version, Commander?" As far as Trip could tell, Shran was posing a serious question.
"Lugosi set the standard for portraying the character for one thing. For another, I know that not everybody cottons to this kind of film. Some of the newer versions get pretty graphic, not to mention kinky, so I thought the old film would be more appealing to a general audience." Shran nodded in response to the logical answers. As an Andorian, however, he doubted that he would find anything a human described as graphic or kinky to be too upsetting. Trip continued, "To be honest, though, I just like it. Plus, I thought you'd enjoy the music."
"How very kind of you, Commander. Now every time I listen to Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake I shall imagine bats instead of birds. I am certainly in your debt!" This was the sarcastic and in-your-face first officer the crew had come to know and somehow to like in the past year.
"Shran, is there a legend like this on Andoria?" In truth, Trip had been wondering this since he had chosen the film and had finally decided to ask.
Shran looked around the table carefully while weighing his answer. Finally, he said, "Yes, we have legends about the 'undead'."
"Don't leave it there, Shran. I think we'd all like to hear one," Archer prompted. There was a chorus of assents.
"Is that an order, sir?" Shran asked gravely.
Archer sighed, "No, of course not. It's merely a heart-felt request."
Shran steepled his fingers and pressed them to his mouth as he considered the matter. He delayed a bit longer by feeding Porthos a piece of cheese from his plate. Apparently, not even Andorians were immune to the little dog's sad-eyed begging routine. Finally, he returned his attention to his human dinner companions and began the story. "Until a little over 50 years ago, when they were discovered - or perhaps I should say rediscovered - the Aenar were believed to be 'undead'."
The statement was met with general disbelief. Hoshi gasped and put her hand over her mouth. The only Aenar most of them had met was Shran's life's mate, the beautiful, young and gentle Jhamel. They couldn't image how anyone would think her capable of being an evil, bloodsucking creature.
"I find that humans nearly always equate beauty with good and ugliness with evil. You might wish to rethink that before it becomes the death of you. What is the phrase? Honey draws more flies than vinegar." Hoshi grimaced as she recalled crazy Renfield catching flies to eat for their blood in the movie. Shran continued, "Would it not be logical for evil, as much as possible, to be attractive and thus gain more adherents?
But I digress. In the earliest days of the Andorian Empire there were interminable dynastic squabbles. This should not be considered unusual, given that multiple births are the norm for my species; thus, a matter of a few minutes might be the difference between being the heir to the throne and merely a royal child destined to be bonded to a stranger in the interest of the state. One such prince, Ter'ran by name, took it upon himself to improve his station in life. Over the years, he schemed, plotted and connived until only he and the rightful emperor remained of their littermates. The brothers then plunged Andoria into civil war. The Aenar, then as now, looked different, had different religious beliefs and tended to keep to themselves. Because of that, they were already viewed with suspicion. Then as now, they were pacifist and refused to fight for either side. When Ter'ran won and had disposed of those he felt were the greatest threat to him, he turned his wrath on the Aenar as a way of reuniting the Andorii under his rule. They were an easy target as they were despised by all and had no friends at court. They were blamed for any and all misfortunes, limited in their means of livelihood to jobs no self-respecting Andorii would take, limited in where they could live and finally banished to the surface where it was believed they had all perished for certainly that had been Ter'ran's intent.
Of course, misfortune and things that could not be easily explained continued to happen. Now and again a strange body would be found. The legends grew, particularly in times of trouble, that the Aenar were 'undead' and would return to collect on debts owed. It was said that Aenar men would drink the life's blood of Andorii men who would then become pale and 'undead' as well. It was said that Aenar women could seduce Andorii men with a kiss and would then mate with them in attempts to have 'normal' children, but that it never worked. Eventually, the Aenar women would tire of their Andorii love slaves and would take the life's breath from them with a final kiss before moving on to new Andorii men in the hope that this time the cycle would be broken.
As children, we were warned that if we did not behave or if we strayed too far, then the Aenar would carry us away and we would never see home again. When I was hospitalized and treated for severe burns as a very young child, the synthetic skin grafts I received were originally white and only gradually turned blue as they took. One of the other patients told me it was Aenar skin and that the Aenar would come to take it back. I was terrified that a bony hand would reach up from under my bed and grab me or that a faceless Aenar would come out of my closet to do the same."
Everyone at the table jumped when Shran's comlink beeped. "Commander, there's an incoming video transmission for you from Andoria."
"Route it to my quarters, Russell. I will take it there." He turned to Archer. "If you will excuse me, Captain?" Archer nodded.
"Thy'lek Shran, how could you tell them such a story?" Jhamel clearly found her life's mate's behavior to be scandalous and was not in the least bit reluctant to tell him so.
"It seemed appropriate at the time," Shran replied with a wry smile. He was clearly amused by her reaction. That she was capable of standing up for herself and not the least bit intimidated by him were just two more reasons he adored her.
"You led Captain Archer and the others to believe that the Andorii think that Aenar women can lay a curse on Andorii men by kissing them?"
Shran was a linguist of some talent and knew the value of semantics, particularly when dealing with his life's mate. "I would characterize it as bewitching them, not cursing them, Beloved." "As I have reason to know," he said within their marital bond.
"You then told them that Aenar women take the life's breath from Andorii men, again with a kiss, when they find them to be of no further value?"
"You certainly take my breath away every time I see you!" Shran's tone started out as one of amusement, but then sobered. "You always have. You always will."
"You told them that Aenar women seek to take life from the bodies of Andorii men with no thought for them?" Within their marital bond, however, she acknowledged his previous compliment, "Certainly no less than you leave me breathless, Beloved."
Shran merely shrugged, again with a wry smile. He didn't really have a comeback for her last complaint. He supposed he would have to try to explain the human concept of "trick or treat" to her, but before he could do so, he sensed her within their marital bond. "As I recall our first night together, there was no taking, only giving, and that freely." This time, he sensed her amusement.
"Always, Dearest One, whenever you wish."
Jhamel placed her hand on the screen, fingers wide apart. "If it were possible, then I would wish it now."
Shran placed his hand on the screen, his fingers matching hers. Although she could not see it, he knew that somehow she sensed it. "Yes." Their romantic interlude was interrupted by the happy babbling of an infant. The tiny teal-skinned hands and small, wiggling antennae of their beautiful daughter Talla appeared over the top of the cloth carrier in which Jhamel held her. "Ah, Jhamel, listen to her. The child of the night. What music she makes!"