Nikolai was home when Worf returned to his room. "And just where have you been?" he asked facetiously.
"Today was the final day of parrises squares tryouts. I have won a place on the team by defeating over a hundred cadets," Worf replied seriously.
"Ugh, I don't see the appeal of that violent game. Can't understand why people get into it. Still, I'm sure the parents will be oh so proud."
Worf caught the sarcasm in Nikolai's last remark. "Have you told Mother and Father about your difficulties?"
"I wouldn't call my differences of opinion with the powers that be 'difficulties.' Anyway, no, I haven't. Have you?"
"No."
"Well, don't worry about it, Worf. It'll straighten itself out." Nikolai's genial expression turned serious. "Congratulations, brother."
"Thank you, Nikolai. I will write to our parents now."
"Give them my love."
The city club scene that Worf and Tasha beamed into that night was a vivid contrast to the Academy campus. The people on the street were dressed to shock or titillate – even though the night air was chilling, bare chests and long legs in high-heeled boots were on display under glittery poufs of fabric and low-necked shiny shirts. Men and women wore monochromatic tights and platform shoes under shorts that barely qualified as outerwear. The two cadets exchanged nervous looks.
"Mandatory bonding," Worf reminded Tasha.
"Does that mean going straight home is out?"
They stepped off the transporter platform and made their way up a steep sidewalk. The directions Peg had sent led them away from the carnival crowd and into a quiet side street. They entered what seemed a neighborhood bar; the patrons within were dressed in everyday clothes, and a good number of red uniforms dotted the crowd.
Worf and Tasha took two seats at an empty table and ordered synthale from the server who approached them. She gave Worf an apprehensive look over her shoulder as she walked away. The two cadets took in the scenery without talking. There was a tiny, crowded dance floor, a few meters of tightly packed bodies around a DJ booth. Park and Jackson were wedged in the middle, the two tall students easy to spot in the mass. Kailahni was standing with her back to the bar, nodding her head to the music next to Drexel, who had a stein in one hand and a shot glass in the other.
"Hey, you made it!" Bobby and Peg took two empty seats at the table and set down their half-full glasses. "There's a dom-jot table free – wanna play?" Bobby asked.
Tasha and Worf exchanged looks. "Don't know how," Tasha replied.
"I can teach you."
"Right! By that, he means he'll trounce you whilst making pithy remarks." Peg drained her glass at one go and signaled the server.
"Doesn't that sound fun?" Bobby asked with faux enthusiasm.
Park and Jackson joined them and greeted the newcomers. Tasha looked for signs of the animosity that had bubbled between the women for days, but it seemed to have been completely buried. When the server appeared, Park ordered, "A big glass of water. Huge. Biggest you got."
"There are so many hot guys here," Jackson remarked. "My dream job is to stay at the Academy and live in San Francisco forever."
"With a never-ending parade of freshmen boys to work over," added Bobby.
"That's his real dream job," Peg teased.
"And groupies," added Park. "Don't forget the groupies."
Tasha and Worf shared confounded looks. "Groupies?" they asked simultaneously.
"Y'know, fans," Peg replied.
"People who like athletes," Park went on.
"People who hang around locker rooms after games because they really like athletes," Bobby added.
Comprehension brought a quiet "ohhh" from Tasha and a severe glare from Worf.
"Ah, don't look like that," Jackson huffed. "It's harmless fun."
Worf grew more disapproving. "A Klingon warrior does not mate unless he intends to take the oath."
Peg shrugged. "To each his own."
"Whoa, hold on a sec," Park interjected. "Worf, are you saying you're waiting for marriage?"
All eyes turned to the Klingon. He didn't answer; instead, he glared at each cadet, daring them to go on with the conversation.
No one took up his unspoken challenge.
"Ah, this song is my jam. C'mon, surly girl." Jackson grabbed Park's arm and dragged her back to the dance floor.
"D'you wanna dance?" Bobby asked Tasha.
"Uh . . . I don't dance."
"C'mon, who cares? Park can't dance, but that's not stopping her."
They all looked over at the dance floor. Tasha had enough rhythmic awareness to see that the long-limbed girl's flailing movements followed no beat that anyone could hear, though she did look like she was enjoying herself.
"Uh…"
"Cadet Yar does not wish to dance," Worf asserted flatly.
Bobby curtailed his motion to take Tasha's hand. "Point taken." He got up from the table outwardly unruffled, and joined Park and Jackson on the miniature dance floor. Bobby danced between them with exaggerated suggestiveness, prompting Park to push him away and laughter from Jackson that they could hear over the music.
Peg gestured for Kailahni and Drexel to join them. "You two need to loosen up, have some fun," she said to Tasha and Worf.
"Humans put a great deal of importance on fun," Worf replied. "Klingons are not concerned with frivolity."
"Whatever, mate. I take that as a personal challenge. If we don't get that cherry popped by the end of the year, I'll eat my hat."
To Worf, it was as if his universal translator had suddenly stopped working. Peg turned her attention to Drexel and Kailahni as they sat down. Worf turned his to his synthehol.
The night dragged for Tasha. The music was too loud for real conversation, and she started to feel antsy, just sitting, sipping her drink, and watching her new teammates. Bobby was at the dom-jot table, and a small crowd of cadets had gathered to cheer him on against a stranger. He winked at Tasha and accompanied the thrust of his cue with a vaudevillian grind and bump. Peg heckled him from the sidelines. Jackson and Park were still dancing, and Tasha wondered where they found the energy, after the grueling past four days. Drexel and Kailahni had gone back to standing with their backs to the bar, silently watching the action as if it were a holo-video.
Tasha listlessly turned away the server's third offer to refill her glass. "Tell me how this is fun?" she asked Worf.
"I do not pretend to understand all human rituals," he replied. He looked around, faintly dispirited. "Duty has been served. Let's go."
"Yes, let's." They pantomimed goodbyes to the others and threaded their way to the door. "Freshman curfew's at midnight, anyway."
Outside, the club hoppers were out in full force. The uniformed duo drew some drunken attention; Worf's ferocious appearance drew even more. After a group of loudly dressed teenagers made a show of screaming and running away in mock fear, Tasha guided them away from the main street. "They're just ignorant kids, Worf. Ignore them."
"It is nothing new," he said succinctly.
They walked without speaking for a minute, music from the open doorways a street over muffled in the foggy air. They braced themselves down a steep incline, Tasha's calves and shins aching from the time they'd spent on ramps during the tryouts. "Maybe Peg's right, and we don't know how to have fun."
"If fun is the type of activities I deplore in my brother, then I will proudly say that is true."
Tasha wondered if she was brave enough to ask the question that niggled at her mind. She still had a bit of a buzz going – she went for it. "Worf, are you really a virgin?"
He met her eyes unflinchingly. "Yes."
"Oh." Tasha's eyes went far away. With a friend like Worf back on the colony, maybe things would have been different. She was certain that he would have been tough, even as a child. "That's nice."
"You?"
She came back to the present with a shiver. "No. Didn't really have a choice where I grew up. It was . . . it was . . . not a nice place."
They had nearly reached the transporter center. Worf stopped her with a hand on her arm. "You are safe now."
Tasha held his forearm in turn, strong and thick as a tree trunk under her fingers. "Yeah."
They let go and walked together to the platform.