It's Not the Liquor Talking: a Star Trek Sulu Fanfic
Chapter 11: Act Like You Know
Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Hikaru Sulu or the concept of Starfleet; all other written and conceptual content is mine. As an experiment (for my writing skills, which I'm developing), the identity of the protagonist is ambiguous. Warnings this chapter: long word count (+5k)
In the hotel room
"Chin up, please, and I'll straighten your tie for you." Hikaru stops fidgeting as you adjust the old-fashioned neckwear, an accessory to one of the two suits he's brought along on this trip.
"Thanks, babe. I should try to be more excited about this Federation business dinner," he sighs. "Frankly, I'd rather count blades of grass in the park behind the hotel."
"Surely it won't be that bad, handsome. At least we Enterprise crew aren't required to wear formal dress uniform." You finish with the tie and brush a hand over his collar, vest, and lapels, a little routine you'd enjoy performing daily if things were different between you.
"Maybe they let us wear civilian clothes to this event as compensation for listening to speeches while we eat," Hikaru says dryly. "Even the lightweight versions of those gray officers' uniforms might be uncomfortable in this climate. I'm glad I bought this suit in tropical weight fabric."
Looking Hikaru up and down, you rub your hands together, mimicking an expression of greed. "Mm…tropical weight or otherwise, you look so hot in that suit, Mr. Sulu. Wait until folks get an eyeful of you."
"They'll forget all about me once they see you, Treasure. You look wonderful. Elegance personified." Hikaru leans forward for a light kiss. Tonight you wear colors and a style flattering to your skin and body shape. It's not the most expensive clothing, but it is well-made, some of the nicest you've ever owned. Lingering effects of your afternoon rendezvous and nap relax your shoulders and hips; you feel attractive.
"Thank you. At least I won't get hassled by the authorities for dressing up here. I'm going to have fun tonight." You caress his cheek and step away to look yourself over in the mirror.
"What do you mean, hassled for dressing up?" Hikaru's reflection looks back at you, puzzled.
"Oh, something that happened back on the farm colony." You turn to face him and explain. "One year I saved money from working the harvest on other people's farms, and I bought myself some nice clothes. I saved 'em for a trip to town, where I was going to listen to some friends playing music. Got myself all dressed up, put on a broad-brimmed hat to protect my head from the sun, and began walking into town. One of the security forces sped past me on a hoverbike; I'd only seen hoverbikes a few times before, and the SecForces had a reputation for cruelty, so I was scared." Even years later, the memory makes you shiver in the climate-controlled air of the hotel.
"The SecForce demanded to know where I was going and why; I told her politely, 'cause my family had trained me how to behave around SecForces so they wouldn't harm you. After I answered her questions she snapped, 'Where'd you get those clothes?'
'Harvest money I earned this season, Ma'am,' I said.
'They're too fine for the likes of you. You'll draw attention to yourself. Go home and change.'"
Hikaru has taken hold of your hand without your noticing. "What did you do?"
"Went home and changed, of course. Who was going to listen to a dirt farmer like me if I complained? SecForces were armed, and they made decisions about who could do what on the spot - there was no clothing law, but I had no power in that situation. Even if I'd tried taking a different road, someone else might have stopped me. So I put on some simple, clean clothes and got to town just before the music started."
Hikaru mutters a phrase you've never heard before; it's in Standard, and appears to be some sort of curse. You decide to leave it alone. Shaking his head, he rolls the tension from his shoulders. "Have you ever thought about telling the Federation about things like this?"
"That happened to me before our colony joined the Federation, and the social and legal climate changed. That's one reason I'm so loyal to Starfleet and any Federation entities; parts of daily life got a little bit... not easier, but more normal, maybe. Some of the SecForce abuses were dealt with by a commission. As for the other stuff that happened on the colony - many people don't usually want to hear about such things."
"Better to know about things and learn not to repeat them. I'm not afraid to hear about it." He's touching you again, stroking your back. The sick feeling that usually rises in your stomach when you remember the incident begins to fade.
"You're kind. Sweet. I wish..." You lean into him a little, and then stop yourself. "We should probably leave for the embassy now."
"I'd actually enjoy this meet'n'greet if you were seated beside me." Hikaru gathers what he needs to go out, pocketing small items or clipping them to his belt: his communicator, a little box of herb candies, an unidentifiable dark gray cylinder vaguely resembling a sword hilt.
"Formal seating arrangements at events like this one give bridge officers valuable time to talk with Federation higher-ups and make connections."
"Babe, I know that; doesn't mean I like that. I want a break from it. Who are you sitting with?"
"No idea," you shrug. "I kind of forgot to turn in my seating request form."
Hikaru purses his lips, looking skeptical. "Hard to believe that someone as detail-oriented as you would forget."
"All right, I had a fit of shyness and was too insecure to suggest names. The computers probably ran an algorithm to find appropriate seatmates for me. No problem, I'll mind my manners and be sociable. I'm happy to talk to anybody, as long as they don't mind chatting to lower-ranked crew."
"Starfleet doesn't observe rigid hierarchies in social interactions. Don't worry about rank. Tonight, relax and talk to the Federation higher-ups like you'd talk to anyone else. Let them know more about your background, your skills, and your broad knowledge. Ask how being part of the Federation benefits them. You'll learn how many people really do care about all the people of the Federation. Most of them care about more than job titles or official duties."
Hikaru trails his fingers over the back of your hand. "Starfleet personnel get together all the time, y'know. Space is lonely. People have their opinions no matter what you do, so you might as well live." Hikaru sighs. "Will you at least walk to the embassy with me? If we leave now we can take the long route through the park. Fewer Starfleet people may pass through that way."
"Yes, let's go now. We probably won't be within speaking distance of each other again until the crew party scheduled after the dinner. Let's enjoy our time, eh?"
"All right. Compromise." He clasps your hand as you walk to the door. "Let's live dangerously for the next thirty minutes."
…
A stroll among the park gardens
The curving paths of the park are quiet except for the conversation of passerby and small animals chirping, tapping, and squawking. Imported plants thrive in this planet's warm climate, arranged in well-tended beds of dark, rich soil. It's energizing to be surrounded by so many colors, scents, and shapes. Perhaps it's good that you accepted Hikaru's suggestion that the two of you leave early, because he walks so closely to you that you occasionally feel his sleeve of his brush against yours. Even the crewmates who rarely speak to you might notice. Some of your friends among the crew might be puzzled by the sheer enthusiasm with which you and Hikaru discuss the plants and the merits and drawbacks of managing invasive and imported species.
Comfortable in this plot of verdant nature flourishing in the city, you are chatty and animated. Every few meters you pause to identify familiar plants along the sides of the path and in beds.
"Many of the plants where I grew up weren't native to our planet either, but people knew they could profit by growing them so they went right ahead. See that one – we called it 'peddler plant' at home, because it was more than a just a trailing vine. Later in the season those pods will swell with edible segments. Good for calming chest colds, that one. It travels and it brings something useful; that's why it had that common name, 'peddler'."
A different spike of green catches your attention. "Oh, and that flowering plant with the tubular petals – sometimes when I took the animals out to graze I'd look for that. Pinch it off at this section here and you can taste a sweet sap, a real treat. My family sold the beets we grew for sugar. I rarely had sweets as a kid."
Hikaru watches you admiringly. "Would you consider helping me improve my botanical database? It needs more colloquial terms and folk medicine applications. Of course, I'll be sure to give you credit for your knowledge. Why didn't you visit me in the garden lab aboard the Enterprise more often?"
Hikaru maintains a laboratory – more of a small botanical garden, really - aboard the Enterprise, maintaining his academic knowledge of plants through experiments and growing things simply for fun.
"There were so many other visitors; I'm surprised that you remember my being there at all." Many of the plants in the garden lab were beautiful, or held sentimental value for people of various cultures. Crew sat gazing at flowers or trays of green grass dotted with clover. "Truth is, I came to the plant lab because I was...not exactly homesick for the farm, but I missed being around living plants and people who were interested in them. I always enjoyed talking to you, but someone else always came to the lab and distracted you, so I usually left."
"You should have stayed. I wanted to talk to you. Usually, you came to the garden lab during the busiest times: after meals, crew shift. Maybe I should have just asked you to schedule a time with me, alone." Hikaru presses his shoulder to yours as you walk past a large bush in full, fragrant bloom.
A glimmer of awareness unsettles your thoughts, but you stifle it. Realism is better. Two days to go. It's a fling, nothing more. Starfleet may contact you about the station job, and you'll have other decisions to make.
…
Inside the Embassy
The setting of the Starfleet crew dinner astonishes you. Dimmed lighting, tiny table lanterns, scented floral plants, and soft floor matting create an almost sensual atmosphere. It's very different from the cold, perfunctory environment you'd expected. Despite the presence of stern-looking Federation officials, you feel at ease. Your heart pounds faster as you remember Hikaru's encouragement to put yourself forward a bit more, ride the waves of your modest ambitions. All your life you've wanted to be part of something larger than yourself. You believe that the Federation and Starfleet are forces for good. Tonight you belong here, ready as always to watch, listen, and learn.
Within seconds of entering the banquet room, Sulu's surrounded by Federation higher-ups and swept away from you by a tide of important people. Mercifully, some local Federation officials make friendly conversation with you before you find your assigned table.
Large gatherings such as this are daunting for many people. Across the room you glimpse First Officer Spock, his broad shoulders stiff beneath the draped fabric of the Vulcan tunic he wears. Lieutenant Uhura is beside him; even from a distance you see how she carefully manages people's curiosity about the Vulcan officer. She takes the pressure to converse away from Spock by getting his questioners to talk about themselves, while Spock speaks perhaps one sentence out of every twenty. It's a useful trick; by the end of the dinner, the questioners may recall how surprisingly sociable Spock was – a good guy, that Spock; we talked for hours!
The woman seated at your left, an ensign new to the Enterprise, admits to shyness and you try to make her feel more comfortable.
"Don't feel alone; big events like this make me a bit nervous too," you admit. "Somehow I usually manage to forget about myself and have at least a little fun. You'll be all right; you're brave. I've seen you scale a steep rock wall on an away mission using risky handholds."
"Federation dinners are a different sort of scary. Maybe I can just think of this as indoor climbing wall, as compared to a cliff on some asteroid."
"We're here to catch you if you fall," you say, raising your water glass.
"Starfleet teamwork, always! Even though they've seated the bridge crew with higher-ups tonight. I liked the way Captain Kirk tried to bring us together for the softball game," a man at the table says.
"Sulu's so competitive. Is he still annoyed with you for striking him out today?" a different man jokes. "He keeps looking over here. Watch out – maybe he'll challenge you to a duel later."
Before you can control yourself, your head turns toward Sulu. He's seated with a cluster of Federation officials; Captain Kirk; Commander Spock; and Lieutenant Uhura. During pauses in the conversation he steals glances at you.
Smiling blankly, you shrug at your table mates. "Nah, it's fine. We talked after the game. Sulu wasn't bothered. He even complimented me." A lie? No, but a fairly generous euphemism for what you and Hikaru did to each other's bodies a few hours ago.
"Takes a good player to recognize a good player," drawls the woman on your right. "Sulu's kind of intense. Can you imagine sleeping with him?"
Luckily there's no water in your mouth so you don't spit it out all over the tasteful table decorations. You hate Starfleet gossip. Especially now.
"Ehh...duty and the mission come first, right?" you reply noncommittally.
"Ha! Aren't you sweet?" someone else teases. "I know they grow 'em innocent on that farm colony you're from, kiddo, but think about it. Sulu's only human: a good-looking human, and definitely not a celibate human from what I've heard."
A little twinge of jealousy constricts your breathing for a few awful seconds. Of course you don't believe that Hikaru lives an ascetic life, but due to your need for secrecy you can't even justify asking your crewmate to kindly shut the hell up. Fortunately a local Federation official joins your table, ending the Sulu talk.
As the overhead lights dim and the welcome speech begins, you reach for a carafe of the local wine to dull the edge of your discomfort, but decide to refill your water glass instead. When your emotions pitch low into sadness, one glass rapidly turns into three. You know your limit. With a clear head you won't do anything to shame Sulu or yourself.
Everyone stands for ceremonial welcoming statements by a Federation representative and Captain Kirk, then take their seats as the first speech begins.
When you lean back, you can see the sculpted swoop of Hikaru's hair several tables over. As usual he faces the door as though watching for intruders. Recognizing this protective behavior of his kindles a flame in you. Wicked parts of your mind spin a fantasy of being kidnapped, then rescued by Hikaru. He doesn't completely untie you right away. Instead he looks down at you; his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip. Hikaru releases the bonds at your ankles. Then he loosens his body armor, reaching down to…
Cool off! You reach for your water again and attempt to concentrate on the speech.
After the speech, the meal begins. You focus on the Federation and Starfleet people at your table, asking them about themselves, listening, and feeling genuinely included in the group. People swap tales of adventure and discuss their favorite things about the planet you're visiting.
Planetside travel without deadly missions relaxes crewmates. Soon you're laughing at someone's joke, a natural, open laugh with your head thrown back. Afraid of being too loud, you glance around to see if anyone was bothered by it. Sulu's beautiful dark eyes meet yours and for a few seconds, everything else in the room blurs into muted abstraction.
A man in gray clothing drones on about something at Sulu's table, unaware of the pilot's distraction.
The beautifully shaped curves of Hikaru's lips part as he mouths a word: help. It makes you want to laugh again, but then you'd have to explain it to your table mates. Instead you purse your lips slightly in a gesture open for his interpretation as a kiss. For a second he looks stunned, his expression dreamy. Then the man in gray ceases talking to ask a question and Hikaru quickly turns away to answer.
…
The dinner ends and you unmute your communicator, noticing a message light blinking; it's your sister.
Worried, you hurry away from the jovial buzz of conversations between people freed from an official obligation and ready for the more pleasant obligation of the Enterprise crew party. Music, dancing, drinks, a crewmate's birthday, and a beach front location were all mentioned in the invitation that popped up in your list of crew messages this morning. Depending upon the urgency of your sister's message you may miss some of the festivities.
In the lobby, you stand by the wall and try to contact your sister. It takes a long moment of working through relay systems to get audio and video working sufficiently, but soon your sister regards you, wide-eyed, from the tiny screen.
"Sis! All good?"
"Yeh, Longlegs," she says, using your childhood nickname. "Why are you dressed like that? Thought you were still on Starfleet duty."
"I am, but I just left a planetside ceremonial event." You don't say which planet and she knows better than to ask. "They let us wear civilian clothes."
"Aren't you just living it up, then, while we're stuck on the farm? Just kidding – you couldn't get me aboard one of those flying tin wagons unless it was a real emergency. I'll stay safe right here on the ground. Listen, I contacted you for a reason."
Unease creeps along your spine. "Uh, Sis, you know that I can't keep paying for –"
"No, pay attention, will you? Galaxies and heavens! You always did jump to conclusions and imagine the worst. Besides, you don't pay for that much; we've got things under control here. I need to talk to you about those supplies you're sending here by the freighter."
Relieved, tension flows out of your shoulders. "So you got the message, then? A freighter will bring the crates to you within the week. They're good supplies, Sis; you'll be able to upgrade the power system. I was careful to choose durable materials. Hikaru even gave me advice –"
You freeze. Too late. "Ooh, look at that big ol' smile. Who's Hikaru?" Even on the tiny screen, you recognize the keenly perceptive look on her face.
Lowering your voice, you stammer, "Uh, he, uh – colleague." People are streaming out of the banquet hall now, talking, and laughing. Hikaru is among them; you watch his profile as he turns, trying to make small talk and search the crowd at the same time.
"Colleague, my foot," only she doesn't say foot. "You've got a man! Longlegs, you never tell me anything! Act like you know how to live sometimes, can't you? I'm your little sister, but you won't even tell me you've got a steady partner."
"It's not serious like that!" you hiss into the communicator.
"Pssht! Hikaru, you said?" Tapping sounds leak through the tiny speaker as your sister uses the padd she keeps in the farmhouse office.
Starfleet maintains official public bios of some personnel for publicity and recruiting purposes. Of course, the dashing pilot Lieutenant Sulu has one; you know because you looked at his bio during the early days of your crush on him. The bio contains almost no personal information, some vague details available through public military records, and a picture of Hikaru Sulu being devastatingly handsome in dress uniform while he stands next to a small training ship.
"Sis, no – don't look him up! It's not what you think."
"Not a relationship? So your weekend flings give you advice on farm implements? Huh. And folks claimed I had poor judgment when I used to go out in the fields with the neighbor boys during harvest season."
"It's not like that either," you snap.
"How is it, then? Come on, spill it." She looks at a screen off to the side, gasps dramatically, and giggles. "Ooh, that's your Hikaru? He's purty. But a bridge officer! Social climbing's risky at that level. Maybe I don't know Starfleet the way you do, but you can't just sleep your way to the top. Not in a dangerous environment with lives at stake -"
"No, I wasn't – I mean, he wouldn't – listen, Sis, what were you saying about the parts for wind turbine? Have you gone all solar there?"
"Nah, solar's fine. I'd rather have the money for those wind turbine parts you're sending than the parts themselves. I researched prices, and we can sell those new parts for two times over the price you paid, according to the invoice you asked the store to send to me. All I have to do is contact the freight company before the ship arrives and they'll reroute the shipment to a new buyer – I pay 'em a small price, of course, but I'll still come out ahead."
A vein throbs in your neck. "You'll come out ahead? I bought everything in that shipment myself. I paid for those supplies to help you at the farm, no other reason!" You hold the communicator away from your face and take deep breaths, trying to calm down. Hikaru sees you and disentangles himself from a crowd of admirers.
"Don't be so selfish. Haven't you got steady work, food, a bunk on that ship? We're using the money for things we need to replace, like the vid screen for the games the kids and their friends use, and another new vid screen for my bedroom, and some hair vitamins – that satisfy you?"
"What about the bathroom remodel?" you groan.
"It's halfway done, but if I sell those parts I can have that full-immersion tub I wanted."
"Sis, you know that limited water supplies on the colony make that tub a bad choice. Upgrade the showers and collection tanks instead, like I asked you all to do in the first place when I sent the remodeling funds." Your shoulders slump as Hikaru approaches, pausing as people stop him on the way to greet him.
"Hey, you don't have to live here, and you only see our farm during visits. I can take care of our farm perfectly well, thank you!"
"Why don't you do it without my help, then?" Now Hikaru's there, hesitating as he hears your voice turn harsh with anger. "Sis, please forgive me. I don't mean to speak to you like that. Wait, please -" Making eye contact with Hikaru, you whisper, "I'm sorry, just having a talk with my sister. Not an emergency. Won't be long."
"Oh. Okay." He raises his eyebrows, and mouths the word, "Party?"
"Yes! I think I need it now more than earlier. I'll finish this call, and walk there with you, uh, with the group?"
His voice drops low. "Want me to wait for you, babe?"
"That's him?" your sister's voice interrupts; you forgot to mute the communicator's audio and video functions. "Sulu's even finer looking than I thought! Listen, Longlegs. If things don't work out with you and him, I'd be glad to –" your thumb hits a button and ends the call.
"Oh, mercy," you groan. Hikaru's stunned expression gives way to laughter, and soon you're laughing with him.
"So, Longlegs, can I meet your family some time?" he chuckles.
"Sure, if I don't disown 'em first." The two of you join the noisy crowd of crewmates walking along a long colonnade towards the party area.
"What's wrong?" he murmurs. Under cover of the crowd his fingers catch and caress yours, drawing a smile from you.
"Common sense gone for a walk at my sister's house, and can't find its way back...maybe we can discuss it later? I don't want to ruin the party mood."
"Understandable. But you really can talk to me about it if you want to later."
Slowing down, you look at Hikaru as he walks beside you. "You really mean that, don't you?"
The group moves into a pool of darkness between street lights, and Hikaru clasps your hand completely before letting it go. "Yeah."
Just like that, you're smiling again.
…
At the Enterprise crew party
Suggested music: Los Mirlos,"Sonido Amazónico"; "Ariwacumbé" by Frente Cumbiero with the Mad Professor; Wganda Kenya, "Afromani Caribe"; Count Basie and his Orchestra, "Shiny Stockings" - Spock and Uhura's dance
Lanterns mounted on tall poles and the reflected light from three moons shed light over a broad patio overlooking the sea. Your convivial mood from the dinner spills over into the party; you talk, dance, and express happy birthday wishes to a crewmate.
Ever so casually, Hikaru makes the rounds of conversation with crewmates, claims two chairs a little distance from the dance floor, and looks at you. Soon you're seated beside him, holding a weak mixed drink you've collected along the way. One small drink, is harmless, you rationalize. Indulging in the delights of the party, no one will notice your attentions to Sulu, and you don't want the buzz of sociability to fade just yet. Hikaru sips something clear with a slice of lime.
Relaxed and cheerful, you chat with him and other people before you both join the dancing for steps done in long rows without a partner. During a break, you pick up Hikaru's glass up by mistake and sip from it: water.
"Sorry. I thought that was mine."
One corner of his mouth quirks up as Hikaru murmurs, "Considering how much oral contact we've already had with each other, I'm not too worried about you drinking from my glass."
Your laughter makes people nearby smile without knowing the reason for it. "Rascal," you whisper as heat rushes over your face. As though compelled you glance down at his crotch. Of course Hikaru's too observant to miss it, and he grins wickedly.
"No strong stuff for you?" you ask, returning Hikaru's water to him.
"I don't drink often. I prefer to be aware of my surroundings." He picks up your mojito and hands it to you. Suddenly you don't want it anymore, don't want your own senses dulled by even a little alcohol.
"At the club, when you flirted with me, were you…"
"Sober. I drank water all night." He looks directly at you, his expression unreadable. "You weren't a whim."
"Oh." You watch each other. Sulu's a fighter; what did you expect? He observes opponents, formulates plans, assesses vulnerabilities and uses tactical advantage. He probably figured out how much you wanted him, found your weaknesses and took you down. What's Hikaru's weakness? His honesty, his sensuality? It makes no sense to think this way because you don't ever want to hurt him. Instead you crave more of him: physical pleasure, talk, and more of this cozy, easy new feeling between you.
The irresistible opening notes of a chicha song begin. Freed by the distraction, you almost float up onto your feet to dance, your hips rocking in a subtle up-and-down pattern. Hikaru watches your hips; then his gaze moves up your body to your eyes and he gives you a slow, lazy smile.
Mindful of your façade of discretion, when Hikaru rises to his feet he doesn't face you. Instead he dances beside you, your hips and legs moving together. Somebody cheers, "Oyé, Hikaru!" and then, a beat behind, your own name. Secondary status for you again.
Hikaru gently bumps you with his hip as though by accident. At least you matter to him for two more days.
The warm night air fills with laughter, talk and music. Despite his serious demeanor, Spock dances well with Lieutenant Uhura, to the surprise of many. He and Nyota remain in a modest partner position even during an old romantic song, but their physical ease with one another shows what they do not tell.
Believing that your crewmates are distracted, Hikaru strokes the small of your back and your eyelids flutter shut as you relish his touch. When you open your eyes you see Lieutenant Nyota Uhura turning below Commander Spock's arm in a slow, graceful spin. She spots you and Hikaru. Her expression barely changes, but you hold your breath.
The Communications Officer has always been kind to you, but she's a friend of Captain Kirk. As the Enterprise helmsman, Sulu is an integral part of Jim Kirk's team, expected to avoid distraction, uphold standards and fully support the mission both on and off duty. Although Jim Kirk's off-duty reputation for sleeping around precedes him on several Federation planets, his behavior aboard the Enterprise is correct: he isn't known to sleep with actively serving crew, and he has zero tolerance for coercion, abuse, or harassment among personnel. If Captain Kirk disapproves of your actions, will the space station job transfer you applied for be denied – or will you be sent someplace you didn't want to go?
Completing another spin, Nyota faces you again. Her dark eyes meet yours. She winks. You manage a nervous smile in response before Spock pulls her back into the dance, their hips rocking gently in time with ajazz tune.
Nobody other than Nyota appears to have seen you. Captain Jim Kirk's in the center of the patio with a statuesque local Federation official, exercising dance floor diplomacy with a seductive smile.
"I noticed you laughing at the dinner." Hikaru's voice interrupts your anxious brooding.
"Yeah, I was too loud for that situation, wasn't I? Bad manners."
"No –other people were louder. The official next to me kept talking about the results of some wind tunnel test, even though I attempted to change the subject at least four times. That's bad manners." Hikaru rolls his eyes, then smiles at you. "Seeing you so happy is unusual. It's nice."
"What do you mean, I don't laugh? And I am happy, or content, or pleased, depending upon what's happening."
"Oh, I've seen you laugh before, just not...so openly, I guess." Hikaru leans a little closer. "Are you happy? Less than five full years into mission life, and already I feel like -"
"Sulu!" a jovial voice booms, and his attention is consumed by a group of higher-ranking officers. Frustrated, you walk away, pretending not to notice Hikaru frowning as he watches you leave. If only he'd say a firm Not now, please, when people swarm over him that way, try harder to include you, or simply tell people that he needs to finish talking to you first.
Would a stronger drink help? Probably not. You move to a cooler part of the patio, drinking like Hikaru: cool water with lime. The things that are happening to you during this affair are blissfully disorienting. You want to feel everything, even your moments of anger, annoyance, shyness and fear.
An enormous potted plant with luxuriantly spreading leaves obscures Nyota Uhura, stretched out on a lounge chair. Self-pity is distracting; you don't see her shapely brown legs until you almost trip over them.
"Sorry, Ms. Uhura –"
"Please call me Nyota, we're off duty. Would you like to sit down?" She moves a light, open knit shawl from the back of the chair next to her and pats the seat in an informal, friendly gesture.
"Thank you, I would."
Next chapter: "Everything's fine today, that is our illusion." - Voltaire
Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Hikaru Sulu or the concept of Starfleet; all other written and conceptual content is mine. As an experiment (for my writing skills, which I'm developing), the identity of the protagonist is ambiguous.