Chapter 11 – Bread

It was a beach, on Ganymede, a little spit of land that he knew really well. The tide went in and out, waves crashing on the shore as Jupiter rose in the distance, huge, striped, with an angry red spot as its focal point.

He walked along, stopping every now and then to toss a stone or pick up and admire a shell. His family was nearby – his mother, Lena; his father, Jeremiah; and his sister, Laura. They were picnicking, and it was sweet and fun. He approached and his parents disappeared. And then Laura did, too, but it was a dream and that is what happens in dreams.

The menu changed and the spread was suddenly just blueberries, and blueberry tarts and homemade blueberry jam. And the companion sitting there was not his brown-haired sister at all. The companion was a pale woman, with platinum blonde, straight hair and impossibly light blue eyes that were nearly white. Crystalline, they seemed to be. She smiled at him, and offered him a bite of the tart.

He was about to take it when the scene changed slightly, and the companion was lying down, on her back, on the picnic blanket. She offered him the jar of homemade blueberry jam this time, and he looked down at her. "There's no bread," he said softly.

"You don't need any," she said, smiling up at him, showing slightly crooked lower teeth.

She was suddenly naked, pale in the sunshine, skin glowing like alabaster, hair looking soft, eyes still mysterious, hands with long fingers and right breast very slightly larger than the left.

He dipped his fingers into the jar of homemade jam and began to smear it on her body, covering peaks and valleys. The supply of jam seemed endless, impossibly sufficient, despite the jar's small size. She was covered in blue. He bent down, lips to her throat, and kissed her there, licking the jam off.

The dream jump cut, and she was suddenly clean and pale again, and he was on top of her. Incoherently they moaned together as sand flew all around them. Climaxing, hot and forcefully, he awoke.

The alarm was loud and insistent, and Jay shut it off. He could only say one word, out to the empty room.

Lili.

=/\=

"Another New Year's Eve," Brian complained as they worked on getting the menu together for the evening's festivities.

"Yep," Lili said, tasting a bit of tofu that Craig had replicated. "Hey, this is good," she said, "I'll see if T'Pol notices any difference before I roll it out for general consumption, okay?"

"Sure thing," he was looking at the replicator and frowning, "I think I'm gonna spend the first month or so of '39 backing up all the files on this thing."

"Don't you back it up all along as you go?" asked Will, coming in.

"I do," Craig confirmed, "but I like to be sure. Don't want to lose anything. It would be a lotta work down the drain."

"I'm outta here," Will announced, "Night off, you know. Everything in hand, O'Day?"

"Of course," she said. "Go have fun." He left.

"Where's he going?" asked Brian. "The party's in like an hour or so."

"Cherchez la femme, I think," Lili said.

"Oh?" asked Craig.

"I'm not sure whom. Not a lotta options these days," she said.

"I had thought, uh, you and him," Brian said.

"No," she said, "it's too weird."

=/\=

"On screen," T'Pol commanded, as Maryam fiddled with the controls. The party was close to starting but they, as usual, were on the Bridge so as to allow others to have their fun.

"That's not Ikaaran," Diana said, looking over, "It appears to be Imvari."

"Hail them," said T'Pol.

"No response," replied Maryam.

"I can scan them," said Aidan.

"Wait just a moment," cautioned T'Pol, "let's not give them the impression that we are engaging in a hostile act."

"Right," he said.

They waited a little while, and the Imvari ship did nothing. It was, perhaps, waiting for them to make a move. "Very well," T'Pol said, "begin the scans."

Aidan nodded and set up the scans. About a minute later, there was a high-pitched whine that came through the communications console. Maryam dropped the earpiece. "Ow!" she yelled.

"They're jamming the scan," Diana said.

"Try to override it," T'Pol said, coming over to help.

The Imvari ship turned and warped out of there.

"Did you get anything?" T'Pol asked Aidan.

"It's coming in now," he replied, "they have particle weapons, and it looks like a more primitive version of our phase cannons, but there are more of them."

"Anything else?" asked T'Pol.

"Looks like their propulsion system is a little slower than ours," Diana reported, "I don't think they can exceed Warp Four."

"Interesting," T'Pol said, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Our Xyrillian contacts seemed to believe that the Imvari were hugely powerful, and difficult to defeat."

"Didn't he say," Chris asked as he piloted, "er, Tre'ex, that is, didn't he say the Imvari were capturing people for Orion slavery? Those Ikaarans, they seem to be prime candidates for that."

"Can you follow their warp trail?" asked T'Pol.

"No," Chris said, "something's masking it."

"I can't detect it, either," Aidan said.

"Me neither," said Diana, "it's as if they don't give off anything even remotely like exhaust at all."

"Perhaps they are trading speed and performance for stealth," T'Pol posited.

=/\=

Before the party really got started, Nan Myers found Ramih Azar on C deck. "Can I ask a question?" she inquired.

"Uh, sure. Walk with me, okay?"

They walked. "I, um, I was wondering," Nan said, "about Islam."

"Oh? What brought about this interest, Nanette?"

"I just, well, do all the women have to wear the head scarf?"

"The hijab, you mean. Maryam wears one, but it's not strictly necessary."

"Oh. I thought, well, I guess I'm a little ignorant," she admitted, "I kinda thought it was all the same."

"Oh, no," he smiled, "Maryam and Azar are more Shia. I am more Sunni," he explained.

"Hmm?"

"There are differing sects. But it's also that they are more observant than I am."

"I see," she said, "What about praying five times a day?"

"I do that," he said, "When I was on Earth, I actually faced west in order to face Mecca."

"What?"

"I'm from Indonesia," he said.

"Oh; I'm from Mars – Ironville."

"Nan, why are you really asking me about this?"

"I just, Ramih, I want to see if we could, well, we could work out. But I don't want to rush. And I, well, I don't want to be in the last three. Know what I mean?"

"I can understand that."

"But it also seems like, these days, someone gets asked out – male or female; it doesn't seem to matter – and like five minutes later, they're moving in together."

"And then in ten more," he said, smiling, "we are watching their wedding."

"And in another thirty, she's pregnant."

"Well, they aren't all pregnant. Jenny isn't. Tara isn't. T'Pol isn't," he pointed out.

"I'm not so sure T'Pol can actually have Tripp's kid," Nan said.

"You may be right," he allowed, "So, uh, this not rushing thing, you and I would go out, that sort of thing?"

"Yes."

"Including tonight?"

"Of course," she said.

"They say that whoever you kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve, that person is the one, you know."

"No rushing, remember?"

"Right."

=/\=

The party itself was a bit livelier than the Christmas festivities had been. None of the parents and children were anywhere to be found, and most of the prospective parents were absent as well.

"We're done," Sandra told Will, as he sat down near her.

"What?"

"You know I'm pregnant."

"Yeah, I know that."

"The kid is Dan's."

"So, you and him?" Will asked.

"Yeah."

"You don't sound too terribly enthusiastic about it."

"That's hardly your concern," she snapped.

"Right." He got up and instead approached Susie Money. "Dance with me?"

"Uh, sure," she had been sitting with Mario Lattimer and José Torres.

As they danced, he said to her, "Do you like peaches?"

"Huh?"

"I can get you some nice stuff," Will said, "something you'd like. Something special."

"Oh, um, I'm not big on desserts."

"Even if you aren't," he said, "I can make sure to set something aside for you."

"That's, um, that's nice of you."

Mario got up and asked Patti Socorro to dance. They hovered nearby, and then changed partners.

"So, do you like peaches?" Will asked Patti.

=/\=

Behind the makeshift bar, Lili poured drinks, being careful not to give anyone too much. "Here ya go," she said to Josh.

"When are you gonna be able to make wine?" he asked.

"Pretty soon. We even have hops growing on Amity. Of course not everything ripens at the same time, but it looks like we've got more than enough produce. I understand agriculture wasn't invented for bread. It was invented to make beer."

Jay was sitting nearby, and he looked up when she said the word bread. He got up and walked over.

"Want some punch?" she asked.

"Uh, sure."

"I was just telling Josh; I think we'll start brewing beer soon."

"Oh, that's good," Jay said.

"Are you going hunting on Amity again soon?"

"Maybe. I dunno."

"Well, we're running a little low on procul."

"Oh, well, then maybe I am going hunting." Jay tapped his fingers a few times on her makeshift bar.

"Yanno, Major Hayes," she said, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were nervous."

"Nervous?"

"Yeah, you're acting like there's someone you're interested in, but you're not sure if they like you back," Lili glanced over at Malcolm as she said that.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

=/\=

Chip managed to get a broadcast piped into the party. New York City had a countdown and a ball drop and everything. "Three, two, one," everyone called out, "Happy New Year!"

This time, as a band on Earth played Auld Lang Syne, Meredith and Rex sang along, and others did, too. Lili could hear most of the voices, tenors and baritones, mixed in with her and Meredith's altos.

Craig came over. "Happy new year, Lili." He kissed her on the cheek.

"Happy new year," she said, "May all your dreams come true in '39."

Brian hugged her as Malcolm and Jay looked on.

Susie and Patti hugged and kissed nearly all of the single guys, with Will lingering with both of them. Nan hung back, allowing some to hug her but not others. Sandra and Dan kissed and he put his hand on her belly possessively.

"Happy new year, Captain," Lili came over.

"Happy new year to you, too," he replied, looking out the window.

"Sir, hang on," she came closer. She leaned over and, as he sat there, she hugged him.

"What was that for?"

"For the change. Maybe it'll be a good change for both of us."

"Maybe."

=/\=

Jonathan Archer's Personal log, December thirty-first, 2038 – January first, 2039

Another year, another bit of loneliness.

I have been holding back. It's time that I stopped doing that. I can't afford to hang back this year.

=/\=

Jay Hayes's Personal log, December thirty-first, 2038 – January first, 2039

I am woefully out of practice. She even called me nervous. And she was right! She saw right through me. She can pierce right in there.

=/\=

Malcolm Reed's Personal log, December thirty-first, 2038 – January first, 2039

I can't just go through Hayes in order to get to her. He is – God – I cannot stand that man. The more he talks to her, the more difficult it is for me to maintain my composure around him, it seems.

For her sake, I shall keep quiet. She has friends, of course. Like anyone else does. And she has a lot of friends; people truly like her. Her coworkers all, certainly, admire her. I think Willets in particular is a bit bedazzled by her.

I do hope she liked the gift. And, more importantly, I hope she uses it.

=/\=

Daniel Chang's Personal log, December thirty-first, 2038 – January first, 2039

Sandra doesn't want to get married, but that's okay. Not everyone is. If I had to designate my relationship status it would be "complicated" right about now.