****** The Holodeck ******
"This is just peachy!" Donna exclaimed, delighted, as the landscape behind her changed from that of a green woodland to a sandy, sunny beach-scape. To her left stood a large umbrella, impaled in the sand, under which a long, striped towel sat, lonely in the shade. A moment elapsed before Donna realized that her sweater and slacks had transformed as well, into a somewhat conservative bathing suit and see-through wrap.
Worf nodded slowly.
"And—you can make it anywhere you want?" she asked him. Again, he nodded.
"This is…fantastic!" Donna enthused, and the Doctor laughed.
"Perhaps once we're finished with the tour, Donna here could spend some time on the beach, eh, Lieutenant?" the Doctor asked. Worf acquiesced and they continued on to Ten Forward, the ship's bar and lounge.
In the lift on the way up, Donna asked, "What sort of alcohol do they serve here? I mean, not that I'm going to have a drink…but if I wanted to?"
"It is synthehol. Regulations. You can ask Guinan for more information."
"I'm sorry," interjected the Doctor, "but did you say Guinan?"
"Yes," answered Worf.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like an El-Aurian name to me. The Listeners."
"Perhaps. I do not know."
"This Worf fellow," said the Doctor in an aside to Donna, "is the strong, silent type, I see." Donna covered a giggle.
Within a few moments, the Holodeck and the lounge being located nearly opposite one another on Deck 10, the trio had reached the door of Ten Forward, where a woman in a towering headpiece and a long robe greeted them.
"Doctor." Her voice was silky smooth and she spoke as if the Doctor was a long-awaited friend arriving home.
"Guinan--it is you! Oh, I haven't seen you in ages!" The Doctor grabbed the woman and hugged her.
"Oi! Awright," Donna interjected, more bemused than annoyed, "'Oo's she, then, an' what's with the family reunion?" Worf looked puzzled as well, and his left eyebrow flirted with the ridges on his forehead.
"Donna Noble, this is Guinan. She's one of the last of the El-Aurian race. Guinan, Donna Noble, my traveling companion."
Guinan extended a hand to shake Donna's, already outstretched, and the redhead perked up a bit. "How do you know our Doctor, then?" she demanded, then amended her rough words, "He knows everyone!"
The barkeep chuckled richly. "Why don't the two of you come in and get acquainted? Lieutenant, will you join us?" she asked Worf.
"I...am supposed to be...escorting the Doctor," he answered warily.
"I've got 'em, Lieutenant. He's not dangerous and he's not going anywhere. You can tell Captain Picard that this man will be my personal guest, if you don't mind. Are you on duty now?"
Worf looked slightly taken aback at this dismissal but nodded in minor defeat. "I will return to the Bridge and give the Captain your message."
"Thanks a lot, Lieutenant," Guinan said gently. She was a soothing person by nature, but there was something almost uncanny about her talent in mediating others' disagreements. The ship's counselor, Deanna Troi, was a member of the Betazoid race: empaths who were adept at helping others based on the emotions they saw in others' minds. Guinan had no such telepathy; the El-Aurian were Listeners, and while the nature of her race was never truly made clear to the rest of her peers on the crew, it was well known that, like any good bartender, she possessed an ability to tell when a body needed to talk and to coax a body to do just that. Within minutes of meeting her, many a tough nut cracked its shell and spilled its innermost secrets to her ready ear.
Donna, meanwhile, had stepped into the bar and was gabbling away without a care in the world. "...and that's...is that a beer tap? Is it Earth beer? I haven't had a good lager since...well, since I started out with the Doctor, I don't think...oh my God, is that a real...whaddayacallit...nebula? Granddad was always nuts about those, just daft for 'em...I seen some nice pictures though, so maybe 'e's a point there...oh my...G...od...Doctor, Doctor, didja see that? A comet just went flying past! We're in the middle of nowhere and a comet just whizzed by our heads!"
Guinan chuckled at the younger woman's overwhelming enthusiasm. "Donna, I do happen to have a very good dark lager here. I'm told it's from Ireland. Do you like Irish lager?"
In a flash of red, Donna did a comical double-take. "Do I?! Like to die 'a' thirst flyin' about in the blue box with just this one...apparently Space Men don't drink lager, or if they do, I haven't heard of it." Guinan laughed again. Clearly the two women were to become fast friends.
The Doctor, meanwhile, had been staring out the port side windows, gazing into a blazing blue-green nebula with a concentrated look on his face, hands clasped customarily behind his back. Abruptly he turned to Donna. "Did you happen to notice the readings on the TARDIS' home-screen before we landed here?"
She looked at him, puzzled. "Even if I did seem 'em, I couldn't make heads nor tails of what they meant. I don't understand the half of what goes on in that thing."
Without missing a beat he turned to the mahogany-skinned woman, her amethyst-purple robes swirling about her as she moved to pour Donna's drink. "Where's the Enterprise headed, Guinan? Do you know?"
"Yyyep! We're getting some good old-fashioned R&R, Doctor. Five days on a space station. It's not one of the big ones with casinos and bars galore, but it's got a few attractions. I'm looking forward to picking up some more of the popular ales and wines we carry here. Federation regulations say we're only supposed to carry synthehol, but I have a stock for those who can't abide that stuff. I hardly drink it myself, except to keep up appearances."
"Ahh, the ever-classic 'do as I say, not as I do', then? Good to know."
She made a face. "Have you ever tried synthehol? It's supposed to taste just like the real thing but it sure doesn't. Anyway, why are you so concerned about where we're headed, Doctor? I know you didn't come here intentionally."
Donna leaned over, a bit of foam on her upper lip. "How do you know so much about the Doctor? How'd you know, for instance, that we aren't here on purpose?"
Another laugh bubbled out of Guinan's throat. "Honey, I know that ol' blue police box doesn't go anywhere the Doctor's intending it to go. Thing's got a mind of its own. Always has. You know, when I first met your Doctor, he was a completely different person? Blond hair, traveled with a surly ginger-headed boy named Turlough."
Donna gaped. "You knew him in a different...er...reincarnation?"
"Regeneration," the Doctor broke in to correct, then fell silent to let Guinan tell the story.
"Yep, sure did. I was living in the old United States in the South. I was friends with an author of the time--you might know the name, Samuel Clemens--and the Doctor put in an appearance at a dinner party Sam threw. Of course, things couldn't be calm and quiet with those two around, and one of the household servants came out as a member of an alien race who were trying to colonize Earth. The Doctor, Turlough and I managed to trap him and neutralize the threat, as the Federation would phrase it nowadays--we threw 'em down a well. The worst was trying to explain what happened when they left--I had to convince all of the dinner guests, and Sam himself, that they were suffering a mass delusion brought on by food poisoning, and that the culprit was the deposed servant, and that I'd sent him home to his family in Missouri in disgrace once I found out, as I was the only person who hadn't eaten the crayfish. I tell you, I never want to have to do that again!"
Just as Donna began her usual barrage of questions following the story's conclusion, the door of Ten Forward slid open with a hiss and in stepped Number One, the Captain's first mate--Commander William Riker--and ship's counselor Deanna Troi.
Troi looked directly at the Doctor, her greeting for Guinan dying on her lips.
"What...are you?" she asked, none too kindly. Her fists clenched and she gritted her teeth a little. The Doctor's eyes narrowed. It was clear that a battle of wills was happening, and the prize was the privacy of the other's mind.
