Star Trek and all its intellectual property is owned by Paramount/CBS. No infringement intended, no profit made.
Beta'd by VesperRegina, to whom I am, as always, deeply indebted, especially for the invaluable suggestions for improvement.
Author's Note: Dedicated to Belen09, in thanks for all her support over the years.
The sun had set.
The reception was over at last, and the members of the landing party were finally free to retire from their official duties. The bHek did not carry out business of any kind after sunset, and luxurious quarters had been provided for their guests.
It was a lovely planet, and even Lieutenant Reed did not hold out any serious fears for the safety of the ship's officers. Their hosts were gentle people, and had welcomed them with great warmth and curiosity. More celebrations were scheduled for the next day, so it behooved them all to rest while they could; just as the bHek slept with the sun, so they woke with it. As it was currently high summer, dawn would come early. The visitors would need to be up and dressed by the time the first wink of fire showed on the horizon.
"I can't sleep just yet." Hoshi stood on the terrace, looking out across the lawn that separated the guest quarters from the gardens. The sky was still full of light. Two of the moons were out already, the silver one nearly at the full and the other larger one a bronze sickle low near the horizon. "I think I'll go for a walk."
"Would you like me to come with you?" The lieutenant had been leaning on the balustrade a little distance away, and spoke diffidently. The captain and T'Pol had already vanished to their respective rooms. Trip had not been seen since the reception broke up – presumably he had some assignation. The bHek prided themselves on their hospitality, after all.
The thought soured the wine she'd drunk, though she'd been sparing with it; after all, this was a First Contact and she had to be careful with the niceties of the language. Trip was a handsome man, and unattached. For some time now she'd been conscious of a spark between them, one that wanted only fuel to become a blaze. Here in the gardens there was fuel to spare: solitude, and the beauty of the night.
Glances she'd intercepted during the course of the reception had seemed to indicate that Trip was equally aware of the possibilities. She'd naturally hoped that he might take the hint when she left, but time had passed and it seemed that he had not.
But she'd come to like Lieutenant Reed, more than she'd ever expected to when she'd first come on board; had come to recognize that behind the stiff, rather unlikeable façade lay a quiet and surprisingly gentle man, whose rare smile transformed his face. She'd spoken more to herself than to him, but was unwilling to wound his feelings by a refusal. Even off duty he remained ever vigilant for the safety of all of his charges, and she guessed wryly that with his quaint old-fashioned gallantry a woman would be the object of his special solicitude.
Besides, he was the kind of guy who would be quiet company, not thrusting himself unwanted on her notice if she just wanted a stroll. He was quick on the uptake with things like that.
"Sure, if you want to," she said with a smile.
He didn't smile in return, but his expression softened slightly with pleased surprise, as though he'd been expecting a rebuff. That didn't come as any shock to her; she'd already come to the conclusion that he was awkward with women. She'd occasionally wondered whether he might be homosexual, but Travis's account of their visit to the Rigel Trade Center, where Reed had displayed distinct interest in two all-but-naked female dancers apparently catching butterflies with their tongues before consuming them, suggested otherwise.
She walked down the steps. At the foot she stopped and removed her shoes; carrying them would be no trouble. The b'Hek had assured the visitors that there were no dangerous insects or animals in the gardens, and the temptation to experience the sensation of grass against her bare feet after so long was irresistible.
Her companion watched her, saying nothing. At a guess he was worrying that she'd cut herself on something, or walk on a thorn, even if she was unlikely to be savaged by any of the local wildlife. She controlled a twinge of impatience – after all, it was his job to worry. It couldn't be easy, not having an 'off' switch.
"Wouldn't you like to do the same?" she asked impulsively, at the prompting of some imp of mischief. She couldn't imagine the ultra-serious and aloof security officer stepping so far out of his formality.
Surprisingly, he didn't refuse immediately. After a moment, though: "I don't think that would be appropriate, Ensign." There was, however, the faintest suggestion of regret in his tone.
She exhaled. The feeling of her bare toes wriggling in the cool, slightly damp grass was wonderful – even better than she'd thought it would be. "Your loss."
He inclined his head slightly, and the two of them began to walk. She didn't hurry; there seemed no need, on such a lovely night. He matched his pace to hers, uncomplaining.
It took them perhaps five minutes to cross the long lawn. The path among the shrubs was paved and smooth. Here and there among the borders small blue lights cast pools of dim radiance across the paving so that one knew where the path led.
The garden had evidently been laid out with evening rambles in mind. Although the daytime flowers were closed up, there were evidently many varieties that opened at night, releasing their scent on the cool still air. Moths the size of small bats fluttered by, the markings on their wings luminescent when they landed on open blossoms and began to harvest the nectar.
"Oh, look!" She pointed at one that alighted on a leaf perhaps half a meter away and began to display. "It's a Klingon moth!"
"What?" Reed looked startled. Instinctively his right hand dropped to where his phase pistol would be if he was wearing one.
"The markings on its wings. Look." On the surface of each wing was a glowing mark that resembled the Klingon numeral wej, meaning 'three'.
"Is that all?" He looked irritated for a moment, but then grinned ruefully and looked closer. "It looks like a falcon to me. A hunting falcon. Except that it's got no head."
"I suppose so." Trust him to perceive a resemblance to some kind of predator, she thought. She watched the huge insect with interest. It was sitting quite still, but every few seconds it fanned its wings, turning the glowing marks into a shimmering smear of silver. "We should make a recording of it for the Exobiology Department."
"On the contrary. I'm off duty and I have much better things to do with my time than take recordings of an insect purporting to be an export from Q'onos. In addition to which, you may or may not have noticed that we have no tricorder or any other recording equipment." His words were acerbic, but the last sentence was gently teasing.
"That would help, I suppose."
The moth fell still. The mark that resembled wej or a headless falcon gleamed again in the moonlight. The perfume of the flowers nearby was so strong it seemed to pulse through the air; each bloom was an exquisite, luminous pale blue cup, its petals darkly veined and perfect.
"What do you think it's doing?" She expected it to fly away, or crawl to a flower. It seemed a waste of energy to be just sitting there fanning its wings.
The lieutenant coughed. "Pheromones, I'd imagine," he said, somewhat shortly.
Hoshi tried to suppress a giggle. He sounded so embarrassed. "At least it's simple, being a moth."
He muttered something that sounded like 'Enviably' as he turned away. His back was rigid - probably with offended modesty.
Once again she wished Trip was out here with her. He would have known just what to say about the horny moth, sending out its come-hither messages in the moonlight. Instead she was lumbered with Mister Propriety, who was so uptight it was only surprising that he knew what pheromones were, let alone felt able to utter the word in the presence of a member of the opposite sex.
"So how would you go about signaling your availability, Lieutenant?"
The words were out before she could think better of them, and she could have bitten her tongue out as soon as they were uttered. Knowing how uncomfortable he was with the subject, it was hardly the part of a friend to tease; and for all that the difference in their respective ranks lay between them – like a duranium fence, as far as he was concerned, at a guess – she'd like to think that he thought of her as a friend, within those limits.
He turned back to her. His face was still and blank, though the eyes in it had gone wide. She braced herself for a stinging rebuke, knowing she deserved it; and wishing with all her soul that she could have called back the stupid question and never have destroyed the relatively comfortable atmosphere that had prevailed between them till then.
However, his voice when he finally spoke was low. "That would depend – on whether I felt the lady in question was interested."
Color surged into her face. She tried to keep her tone light. "Let's suppose she was."
"Then I'd ensure we found ourselves somewhere private. In a beautiful garden, perhaps. With flowers. Preferably after having made sure my allergy shots were up to date first." His tone was difficult to decipher. It sounded teasing, and there was definitely self-mockery in the allusion to his allergy problems, but there was still an undercurrent of … something. Something that made her a little …
Well 'uncomfortable' wasn't exactly the word, but ...
… 'aware'…?
If he'd stepped closer she'd have panicked, but he kept his distance, watching her.
The silence stretched out until she was driven to fill it. "So, did you leave a score of broken hearts when you signed on to serve on Enterprise?"
"Not that I noticed, Ensign. I always put it down to my career choices, but you never know, maybe it was just me." His gaze flicked past her, back the way they'd come. "And I'm sure you'll be relieved to hear that we're about to have company."
She was relieved, though she hoped desperately that it didn't show in her face how much. And when Trip came into view it was all she could do not to run to him for protection from something she'd stupidly unleashed.
"I'm sure you'll be quite safe now, Ensign," Reed said evenly. "I'll bid you both goodnight." And with a nod to Trip, he walked away. After a couple of minutes she heard the small distant sound of a door opening and closing in the guest buildings, and only then was she able to relax.
But even with her face pressed to Trip's chest and his arms protectively around her, the question remained.
What exactly had happened this night?
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