Yellow Alert
Giotto looked around the crowded social hall. You didn't survive as long as he had in Security without developing a sixth sense for trouble and his had been signaling 'yellow alert' ever since they'd entered the building.
Of course, the person he was supposed to be guarding was actively conspiring to lead him into temptation, so some degree of trouble was to be expected. The crammed conditions in the hall were also contributing to his sense of unease. Over the years, Giotto had worked more than his share of crowd control and in his experience a throng of people could turn into an unruly mob with remarkably little provocation. Of course, a crowd awash in pheromones seemed more likely to devolve into an orgy than an angry rabble. It would make for a particularly difficult evening either way.
"And this is Balmur. I think you may have seen him at the market today?"
To make matters worse, he was being introduced around. It wasn't that Giotto was anti-social. It was just that he regarded having to exchange empty pleasantries with complete strangers the way most people regarded having a root canal. He plastered a friendly look on his face and nodded. "Yes, you had the shop with the specialty spice counter."
Balmur looked surprised. "You're quite observant. Most outsiders barely notice my little stand."
"Cooking is a hobby," Giotto lied. "So I always notice rare ingredients." Especially ones that came from Q'onoS. Orion merchants frequently played middle man for galactic powers that avoided trading directly, so Klingon items weren't necessarily unusual in Orion markets. However, if you'd ever had to eat gagh, you couldn't help but notice the seasoning packets.
"Samuel made breakfast for us this morning," Navesh put in, twining a hand around his arm.
That was another part of the evening that was making him a bit uneasy. Sam had expected Navesh to brush him off after a bit of polite conversation, leaving him free to check the perimeter, find a good spot for observation, and force the girls to work at herding them back together. However, Navesh seemed to be playing a different game - one that wasn't sitting well with the fat merchant in front of them.
Balmur's face took on a pinched look. "Cooking is a strange hobby for a man."
The comment struck Sam as having very little to do with conservatism about gender roles, but he chose to ignore it. He had nothing to prove here, especially to a man he could probably flip as easily as a pancake.
"Human attitudes are different," Navesh countered. "And I find some of them very pleasing." She smiled, placing her other hand on Sam's chest, a position that caused a particularly soft portion of her anatomy to press against him.
That was an entirely different sort of torture. Giotto reminded himself that he was on duty and smiled back at her. In a few more days he'd be free to spend as much time as he liked making Chris's life an appropriate form of hell.
"I suppose he selected that dress as well," Balmur remarked. He was trying for a sneer, but it was coming across more like a pout.
"It is from earth." Navesh straightened and swept the hand away from Sam's chest to better display her outfit. "But this was a gift from my daughter."
That figured. He had to admire Gaila's grasp of strategy. Ever since some senile admiral had signed off on the uniform miniskirt, Sam, like most male officers, had developed a certain level of immunity to short skirts and exposed legs. Nicely displayed breasts, on the other hand, were an entirely different matter.
"Oh! Samuel, listen," Navesh remarked suddenly. "I love this song."
He glanced at the dance floor and ducked his head, affecting embarrassment. "I'm afraid I don't know the dance." And wouldn't attempt it even if he did. Wading into that sea of gyrating bodies was definitely not on his agenda.
"I could teach you," she coaxed. "It's not hard."
No, but with her pressed against him, moving like that, he easily could be, and that was also not on the agenda. Sam shook his head, allowing a bit of regret in his voice, "I'm a fighter, not a dancer."
"I'd be glad to dance," Balmur volunteered, holding a hand out to Navesh.
"Please, don't let me keep you from enjoying the song." Sam touched her lightly, using the one dance move he at which he was well-practiced: the gesture to go on without him.
Navesh went, a bit hesitantly, and Sam retreated to a serving table. Before scanning the melee of partiers to check on the others, he briefly considered which utensils could best be used as weapons (what other people called 'paranoid', Giotto called 'thinking ahead').
Someone tapped his shoulder. "Why did you let Balmur take that dance?" Jedali asked, sounding a bit perturbed.
Giotto pursed his lips. "He and your mother seemed to have a prior relationship."
"Emphasis on prior," she huffed. "Anyway, that jerk acts like he's doing Ama a favor by spending time with her now."
Ah, that explained a lot. No merchant liked to see competition for goods he'd been getting at a fraction of their worth. Sam gave her a half-smile. "He appears to have reconsidered his attitude."
"Not enough," Jedali insisted and then gave him a sly grin. "Besides, I'm sure she'd rather dance with you. Go on - cut in."
Sam shook his head. "I don't dance."
"Oh, please!" Jedali objected with a very teenage expression. "You move like a thircat. How can you not dance?"
"Thircats are swift, agile predators." Giotto shrugged and picked up a canapé. "But I don't think they dance either."
.
.
Gaila surveyed the club social hall, brows drawn down in frustration. There was a human idiom about herding cats that she was pretty sure should apply here. Davara was with Ama, but on the wrong side of the room. Jedali was supposed to be handling the mix for spiking the Giotto's drink, but she was nowhere to be seen. Maras had been in charge of keeping track of Giotto, but she'd gotten distracted by a guy in really tight pants (okay, the guy had a great ass, so it was understandable, but still...) and now Giotto had apparently vanished.
That last part in particular was going to be a real problem in terms of their plans for tonight. Gaila scanned the room again. There were only two humans in here. How could the taller of the two be so hard to find? Deciding it was time to fall back on her Academy training, Gaila walked the perimeter of the room checking blind spots.
There - Giotto was standing near the wall looking like part of the shadow from a giant floral arrangement. Ozdat. He looked really good in that dark suit, but if she'd known he was going to use it to hide, she would have made up some cultural BS to get him put on bright colors like everyone else.
She caught Davara's eye and signaled her to herd Ama this way before continuing toward him. "Samuel!"
He glanced in her direction, nodded and then went eyes-forward, watching the hall.
Gaila smirked. She'd begun to take the degree to which the Commander wouldn't look at her as a measure. And yes, she did look exceptionally hot tonight. In fact, if Ama didn't need to have a little fun almost as much as Samuel did, she'd be tempted to take another run at those lines he wouldn't cross, just to see...
She stopped next to him. "Why are you hiding here?"
"I'm not hiding," he replied, as if lurking next to a giant fern was a perfectly normal thing to be doing at a party, "just observing."
"Observing." What was wrong with the man? "This is a party. You're supposed to participate - eat, talk, dance," she swept hand a palm upward at the scene, "you know, have fun?"
He smiled, still watching the crowd. "I think that's what you're supposed to be doing, Cadet."
"Hello! Mr. Stalks-the-halls-and-drives-people-crazy, you're supposed to be relaxing."
"I am relaxing." Giotto lifted his drink slightly and leaned back against the wall, affecting a pose that might have passed for relaxed if his eyes weren't alert and sweeping the room.
Oh for Vardot's sake! He was in Security mode. Someone really needed to install an off-duty button. Although, come to think of it, that was pretty much the plan for tonight.
"Holding up a wall is no way to unwind." Gaila took hold of his arm and pulled.
He didn't budge.
Right. Veteran Security guy with a sky-high combat rating - he probably knew some ninja trick to root himself to the floor. Well, she had a few tricks too. Gaila reversed direction, pressing up against him. "That is, unless you want to hold me against the wall. Here in the shadows ... in a noisy, crowded room, it won't even matter if we're loud..."
Suddenly she was off her feet, swept around, back planted against the wall, and -
He let go and backed away, two quick steps like a prize fighter sliding back from a clinch. Standing in the open now, Giotto straightened his jacket and raised an eyebrow. "There, I'm away from the wall. Happy?"
Yeah, he'd known exactly what she was doing, but if he thought she was going to take that response as some kind of warning, he was so wrong. Gaila grinned, gliding toward him. "I could be happier, and so could you. But if you're not into public places..."
"Definitely not." He glanced upward - an expression somewhere between an eye roll and a long-suffering look.
"Then you should get out there," she advised, advancing to drive him on a course to intersect with Ama. "Find some way to enjoy yourself."
"My dear, you are so right," a feminine voice chimed in.
Chastity! Gaila swore under her breath. That guy in tight pants had better be the best conquest of her sister's soon-to-be limited life, because Maras was supposed to have taken over watching for Sivas and that harpy wasn't supposed to get within three meters of Samuel until he was right next to Ama. She looked around with a clench-toothed smile. "Sivas, what a surprise."
"I just had to see you, dear. It was such a surprise that you'd come back." She turned to Giotto, eyes sweeping him from boots upward. "And you brought a friend."
Gaila resisted rolling her eyes. Could the woman be any less subtle? "Sivas, this is Samuel. He's in Starfleet too."
"So pleased to meet you, Samuel," she purred, opening her arms.
"And you, ma'am." Giotto straightened, tucking a hand at the base of his spine - becoming the very image of a proper stone-faced officer.
Gaila bit her cheeks to keep from laughing. By his own admission, the Commander had been on Orion a few times before, so he had to know exactly how rude he was being, but as an alien, and presumably ignorant, he could get away with it.
Sivas hugged him anyway and he rolled his eyes, a clear signal that he understood situation completely. He patted Sivas' shoulder before stepping back. "Forgive me. I didn't realize you were from Gaila's clan. You must be the great-aunt she's mentioned."
"Great-aunt?" The expression that flashed on Sivas' face was priceless.
"No, that was Kivast, but don't feel bad; it's a completely understandable mistake." Gaila smiled at him, playing along. Samuel was obviously a man of hidden depths, because hidden somewhere deep inside 'Cmdr. Giotto' was a guy with a wonderfully vicious sense of humor.
"Well, I'm sure someone's told you that we Orions don't show our age," Sivas remarked, touching her cheek self-consciously. "Really, I'm far too young."
"As you say, ma'am," he agreed in a non-committal tone.
"Sivas," she insisted with a coquettish smile as she laced a hand around his arm. "I used to dance in Akorion. I'm not used to Starfleet men being so formal."
Giotto looked at her, dead sober. "Then I apologize for the poor manners of my comrades."
"So adorably naive," Sivas laughed and looked at Gaila. "Really, dear, I'm surprised at you. I mean, I knew your mother would never show him any real hospitality-"
"Navesh has been an exceptional hostess," Giotto objected, removing his arm from her hold.
Gaila glanced across a row of tables. Her mother was looking their way. She wouldn't be able to hear from over there, but she was close enough for body language and the Commander was speaking it loudly.
"Oh, I'm sure she's cooked some lovely meals," Sivas allowed, reaching up to touch his cheek and spraying pheromones like a cat marking territory. "But I could show you why a man shouldn't live by bread alone."
Samuel stepped back, eyes focusing briefly somewhere behind her. He smiled. "I've been entirely satisfied with everything Navesh has offered."
Dear Goddess, where had this Samuel been hiding? Gaila turned and grabbed a drink from a passing waiter so she could mouth 'Get over here now' at Davara.
"Satisfied? Navesh is very nice of course," Sivas' tone tried for hesitant but hit closer to schadenfreud, "but, she's, well..."
Giotto tipped his head to the side, as though he couldn't work out what was she was implying.
"I mean, she's..." Sivas waved a hand in a vague circular motion front of her, as though uncertain how to put it.
"Ah." Samuel lifted his eyebrows slightly. "On earth, the term you're looking for would be 'stacked'."
Gaila choked on her drink, momentarily derailing the conversation. "I'm ::cough:: fine," she insisted, thumping her chest. "Please, go on."
Sivas looked puzzled. "Stacked - what an odd term for losing one's pheromones."
"Oh it's got nothing to do with that," Giotto laughed. "And I couldn't care less anyway. My body chemistry's a little off on that score - pheromones have about as much effect as perfume."
"You poor man! How dreadful."
"It's not so bad." His eyes slid across the room toward Ama and small smile formed - a look as close to lascivious as anything Gaila had yet to see on his face. "There's nothing wrong with my vision. Or my mind - I've always preferred a woman I could admire."
Zing! - And to add insult to injury he continued to stare in Ama's direction as though mesmerized. Swallowing a smile, Gaila stepped a little closer to Sivas and whispered "It's a human thing. Sometimes the men get fixated. I can hardly get him to look at me since he met Ama."
"Yes, uh, ...Well, yes, of course," Sivas agreed shaking off dismay. "I've had dozens of men absolutely obsess over me! I could hardly get rid of some of them. Your poor mother - but at least you'll take him back to earth before he becomes a burden." She retreated with a quick wave. "We'll talk later."
Gaila demonstrated immense restraint, waiting a whole three beats after Sivas walked off before exclaiming "Commander! You have a sense of humor!"
"Not everyone would call it that, Cadet." A soft rumble in his chest belied the serious demeanor he trying to resume. "I believe you're aware that your sister made a request of me. I hope that you'll inform her that I acted on it." He turned and started to walk away.
"Hold on." Gaila put a hand out to detain him. "Why were you worried about my pheromones if they don't affect you?"
Giotto gave her a wry look. "Cadet, on the way here you regaled me with a whole catalog of things you'd learned about human men, but you appear to have missed one extremely important characteristic."
She raised her eyebrows inquiringly.
"We lie." He shot the rest of his drink, handed the glass to her, and headed for a side door. "I'm going to get some fresh air now."
Gaila started to laugh, but then headed after him. "Wait. What you said about Ama - were you lying?"
"Your mother truly has been an exceptional hostess," he replied without looking back.
"I mean, when you said she was stacked."
Samuel paused mid-stride. "Objectively, no." He gave her a small smile as he stepped through the door. "But if you tell her that I said that, you'll find out exactly how sincerely I can lie."
.
.
Giotto stepped outside, leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. The drugs to dull the effects of pheromones were working, but they had their limits. He was also beginning to wonder if they had unexpected side effects.
Stacked? Had he really said that?
It was something he might think, but not the sort of thing that he would ever actually say. At least not in front of the subject's daughter - particularly not when that daughter was Gaila.
Yet the whole scene had gone from thought to action with as little filter as if he'd been drunk on Antarean gin - which was not the embarrassing stumbling-and-slurring-your-words sort of drunk, but the far more dangerous completely-functional-but-uninhibited sort of drunk. For someone with Giotto's body mass (and drinking experience) that took a lot of Antarean gin and he'd had only one fairly mild mixed drink. Being drunk in any sense shouldn't be even a remote possibility.
...except that that one drink had been handed to him. 'The pretty young thing who offers you a drink has probably drugged it.' He knew that, but he'd accepted the drink anyway because that pretty young thing had been Jedali. At the time, the idea that Gaila's baby sister would drug him had seemed overly paranoid even for him.
Of course, Jedali probably hadn't meant any harm - had in fact probably done it 'for his own good' if Gaila was behind this - but who knew how it might have combined with what he'd already been taking? The fact that Navesh had unexpectedly become more kindly disposed toward him had already complicated matters. Not to mention the fact that she was wearing a dress that appeared to have been painted on by an artist who'd run out of paint well before finishing the neckline - undoubtedly why 'stacked' had jumped to mind. The plan for this evening would be in real trouble if his self-control was slipping.
At least there was back-up out here somewhere. Sam pushed away from the wall and began a circuit of the building, watching for signs of surveillance to focus his mind. By three quarters of the way around, he'd decided that whoever was out here was good. He knew all the places to look, but hadn't spotted a single watcher yet. He circled a little farther than the door he'd come out of - just to be sure - and re-entered the club.
Quickly scanning the hall, he noted Jedali dancing with her friends and Davara and Navesh not far from the door he'd originally exited. A little further off Gaila and Maras seemed to be having an intense discussion - the sort that involved a lot of hair tossing and squaring of shoulders. Taking in the body language and considering that he was probably impaired, Giotto made a quick tactical decision and faded into the shadows. His job was to keep Gaila safe from the Syndicate. When it came to cat fights, she was on her own.
AN: Q'onoS is the Klingon homeworld and gagh is a dish made with live serpent worms.
Yes, 'chastity' is a swear word on Orion. Why does this surprise you?
Many thanks to my beta, Artemiis Boz, who found the time to go over this despite end-of-semester pressure.
The evening will hit 'red alert' soon.
Please r&r
