Christine stood up trying to see over the throngs of her fellow crewmembers moving on the crowded dance floor. The pulsing multispectral illumination, which appeared to originate from beneath the dance floor, painted a curious tangle of moving lights and shadows on the ceiling. She was happy to see Eric Hanson and Kevin Riley at the table the bartender indicated, seated among a group of redshirts from Engineering.
Christine nodded softly as she picked up her drink and followed her friend through the crowd of dancers.
"I was afraid you changed your mind." Hansen smiled then planted a light friendly kiss on her cheek.
He took her hand and ushered them to a pair of empty chairs. "You look…absolutely amazing."
"It's a new dress, it's really not the kind of thing I normally wear, Nyota picked it out."
"Well maybe it's time to rethink what you normally wear." He raised his glass to her as if to underscore the sentiment.
"It's a little…brief." She tugged nervously at the hem as she took the proffered seat.
"It doesn't show as much as the old uniforms…I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss those."
"True, I'm sure they were designed by men." Christine laughed easily. "There were horribly uncomfortable and it was nearly impossible to do my job without giving everyone an eyeful."
"I believe you may have given me one or two eyes full on the first mission, not that I'm complaining."
"Well I was younger then…not to mention the five kilos lighter, you'd think the food at the Fleet Medical school would be healthier. I can't imagine anyone would want to see me parading around in one of those uniforms now."
He moved his green eyes appraisingly over her body, "You managed to put it on in exactly the right places If you don't mind me saying, I think you look better now than you did on the first mission."
"Oh feel free engage in as much flattery as you like," Chapel's sapphire eyes sparkled with laughter. "Word has it that what really prompted the redesign wasn't the brass bending to the demands of the senior female officers, it was the number of incident reports that involved male crewmembers who were inexplicably 'distracted' from duty."
Hanson leaned forward with a hearty laugh, his hand briefly resting on Christine's bare forearm. "Well, Christine, we're not on duty now, so I guess it's okay if I'm a bit distracted. I must confess to having something of a crush on your during the last mission, even though you barely knew my name."
"I'm sorry Eric, I didn't know. I was pretty wrapped up in my own issues back then…a lot of water under the bridge."
"I remember when you lost your fiancé. I was walking by one of the small conference rooms and I heard you crying. I wanted to stop and say something to you, but I…I didn't want to intrude on your grief. I guess I'm not too good with that kind of stuff. "
"It's funny now, I only billeted onto the Enterprise to find Roger. I never had that burning dream to go into space that my classmates did. Then after…when I found out Roger was gone, I thought I'd just go back to the University and tuck myself away in a biomed lab for the rest of my life. But I couldn't stand the thought of leaving the Enterprise; I realized that I'd finally found a place where it felt like I fit in, like I belonged. "
"I know what you mean. After the last mission I felt sort of lost… and I busted my ass to get back there. It's…it's home to me." He raised a hand and held up two fingers to the bartender signaling another round.
"I can't tell you how happy I felt when I got off that transport and saw you in the cargo bay Chris."
"I'm afraid you didn't see me at my best, as I recall I was raking the cargo handlers over the coals for losing half of my supplies."
"You did seem a bit…feistier than I remembered; and I noticed you'd darkened your air. I like it." He reached out and brushed an unruly curl back behind her ear.
Christine felt a warm, almost electric rush along the path traced by his fingertips. It was intoxicating, to feel so desired, so wanted. Wanted by a real, red blooded man, a man who found her attractive, it was like a comforting balm on her wounded pride.
She was suddenly self conscious, as if he could somehow sense her thoughts. Nyota? She turned to find her friend's chair empty.
"She's dancing with Riley."
"Ny loves to dance, she always the life of the party."
"What about you Chris, do you like to dance?"
"I'm not as good a dancer as Nyota, I always been a bit of a wallflower, but I do like to dance."
He rose gracefully from his seat and extended his hand to her. "Then may I have the honor of this dance?"
"I'd be delighted."
Spock struggled to contain his distaste for the repugnant spectacle that surrounded them. It had never ceased to amaze him, the illogical lengths humans would go to in the pursuit of the elusive goal of "fun". This establishment, he observed, was yet another typical terran celebration of excess. Garish lights flashed in time to the guttural pounding of the music, creating a frenetic atmosphere, populated by preening half dressed females, and strutting inebriated males, engaged in a graceless, primitive mating dance.
"Sulu wasn't kidding," McCoy shouted over the cacophonous clattering of the Deltan rock band. "This place is hopping."
"Hopping?" the Vulcan puzzled, "Doctor unless there were to be some sort of seismic anomaly it is physically impossible…"
"I meant there's a lot going on, the crowds and music," McCoy grumbled, "Dang nab it I'm gettin' you an English dictionary for Christmas."
"Fascinating," the Vulcan responded dryly, "I was just thinking that perhaps I should get you an English dictionary."
"Gentlemen," Kirk interrupted as he saw a young female server approaching their table, "I believe those are our drinks."
"A pitcher of beer and a bottle of Jack, Admiral?"
"That's us, thanks." He tapped his credit chip against the young woman's tip bracelet twice, and she responded with a delighted smile.
"Thanks sir, it's an honor to serve you. We've been studying your career at the Academy."
"You're a cadet?"
"First year sir, I'm just working here during semester break. It's my hope to serve on the Enterprise some day."
"Well," Kirk fixed the young woman with his best Iowa farm boy smile, "if you're going to aim high, you'll have to study hard, and work harder."
"I will sir, thanks for the advice,...and speaking of work," she turned her attention to a bevy of young women who were settling themselves at the next table, "I guess I'd better get back to work. I'll be back around to check on your drinks."
Kirk watched the young woman walk away then turned his attentions to the new arrivals at the next table. It was barely six weeks since the incident with V'ger and he was still struggling to familiarize himself with his new crew, while simultaneously grappling with the steep learning curve of the updated and redesigned Enterprise.
"Good evening Admiral." The leggy blonde leaned forward, smiling seductively, and her companions quickly chimed in with a chorus of greetings. The woman seemed familiar, he had a vague memory of seeing her in Engineering, but he couldn't quite put a name with the face.
"Ladies," he responded with a grin, "are you enjoying your leave."
"Very much sir," a petite chestnut haired beauty responded, her dark eyes shifting to Spock and McCoy. "Isn't this place fantastic?"
"I believe it is hopping." Spock responded evenly.
"It's hopping?"
"I believe that is what I said Doctor."
Kirk busied himself pouring two shots of bourbon, and was surprised when Spock took the third glass poured a drink for himself.
"Is it just me" Kirk asked, lowering his voice, "or are most of the new female crewmembers…"
"Young enough to be your daughters?" Spock supplied before taking a cautious sip of the amber colored terran liquor.
"You're just on fire tonight Mr. Spock." Kirk returned crossly.
"On fire sir?" The Vulcan hoisted a bemused eyebrow and scanned his environs anxiously.
"Never mind!" Kirk sighed. "I was about to say, before I was so rudely interrupted, that most of our new female crewmembers are exceptionally attractive."
"You're reading my mind Jim," McCoy beamed then downed his shot. "Now that's what I call a drink. Admit it Spock, there's nothing like a shot of real Kentucky bourbon."
"It is far less unpleasant than I had anticipated." Spock remarked as he held out his empty glass for a refill.
"Have we driven you to drink Spock?" Kirk asked as he refilled the proffered glass.
"I am finding the concomitant dulling of the senses the alcohol provides logical, and I would add highly desirable, within the given parameters of this particular experience."
Unable to conjure a witty retort Kirk turned his attention back to the to the table behind them where three more attractive female ensigns were seating themselves. "Spock, even you have to admit that those are some of the finest looking women you've ever seen on a Starship."
Spock scrutinized the three women carefully for a few moments. "I will grant that they all share a certain… pleasant aesthetic quality, but I would not say that they are exceptionally attractive."
"Come on Jim, Spock's hardly the one to be judging your beauty contest," McCoy laughed heartily. "I don't think he considers any human female attractive."
"That is hardly the case doctor."
"Name one?"
"Doctor Chapel, she is by any standard a most attractive female."
"Just not attractive enough?"
"Doctor, I believe we have agreed not to revisit that topic."
"Sorry…you're right Spock."
"Hey Bones, if Spock's getting married then we need to throw him a bachelor party. I wonder where we can get a Vulcan stripper?"
"That is most thoughtful of you Jim, but I assure you it is also quite unnecessary."
"I still can't believe you're gonna marry a woman you've never even seen. What if she's uglier than a mud fence?"
"A mud fence?"
"I mean, well…don't you even care what she looks like?"
"Doctor," the Vulcan replied seriously as he refilled his glass, "when you married you were acquainted with your wife beforehand?"
"Well, seeing as how she was pregnant with Johanna I obviously knew her."
"And you found her to be an attractive female?"
McCoy's blue eyes softened. "She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen… still is for that matter."
"You knew her…and she was aesthetically desirable, and yet the marriage did not endure?"
McCoy slumped back in his chair. "Point taken," he agreed begrudgingly.
"I appreciate that your concern for my 'happiness' is borne of friendship; but in a Vulcan mating the satisfaction of the partners is based on factors outside of the realm of human relationships."
"Another of our cultural differences." McCoy responded.
"The Vulcan bonding…" Spock hesitated a moment, feeling uncomfortable at the idea of sharing something so intimate with humans, but they were not just any humans, he reminded himself, they were his friends. Clearing his throat nervously he forced himself to continue.
"The bonding has come down to us from the earliest times. It is a complete joining of minds, it creates a perfect balance of understanding, and harmony necessary for two individuals to coexist in oneness.
"It is difficult to codify, I do not believe there is a direct equivalent within the human experience."
McCoy's grizzled features softened as he nodded his understanding.
The Vulcan was about to speak again when he caught sight of two fellow officers approaching from the other side of the dance floor.
"It appears Commander Scott and Lt Chekov are about to join us. Perhaps it would be prudent to secure additional alcohol." Spock rose from the table and moved toward the bar, acknowledging Scotty and Pavel as he passed.
Spock signaled the bartender, and then looked around the bar as he awaited his turn. The brightly colored lights and droning music seemed far less irritating now, no doubt the effect of the bourbon he'd consumed. The music, was raw, and as most things Deltan, blatantly sexual in its nature.
He closed his eyes as a faint, yet highly pleasurable feeling of desire washed over him. His Vulcan sensibilities demanded that he suppress the feeling, yet, perhaps bolstered by the influence of the alcohol, his human sensibilities forced him to let himself drift like a fallen leave within the warm sapphire blue current, as it became a raging river then without warning the river evaporated and he felt himself alone on the searing red sands of Vulcan.
"What can I get for you sir?"
"A bottle of Kentucky bourbon, a bottle of Scotch and a bottle of vodka."
The young man returned with three bottles on a tray. Spock added two glasses to the tray, then, recalling Jim's earlier actions with the young server he tapped his credit chip onto the tip monitor. He was just about to lift the tray when his eyes were inexplicably drawn to a blur of dark green silk moving on the dance floor.
A dark haired woman swayed seductively with the music, the green silk of the skimpy gown clinging invitingly to her lush curves. Her partner was moving eager hands purposefully down her back as he pressed himself against her, his face buried in the mass of shining dark curls spilling onto her creamy white shoulders.
Embarrassed, the Vulcan was just about to turn away from the pair when the man turned his female companion around, his hands now resting possessively on the soft swell of her abdomen as he pressed himself insistently against her backside.
Spock, oblivious to the other people on the crowded dance floor, moved through the crowd closing the distance between himself and the half dressed woman in six perfectly measured strides.
Christine Chapel sighed softly as her dance partner slowly spun her half way around and began trailing soft kisses down the back of her neck, while his facile fingers traced light circles around her waist. She moved her hands back over her head and raked her fingers through his thick wavy hair, aware, though beyond caring, that the movement would compromise the little modesty the front of her dress afforded. She was rewarded for her actions with a pleasured sigh from Eric Hanson, who thus encouraged allowed his hands to slowly move up Christine's rib cage.
Christine knew she should tell him to stop, but instead allowed herself another sigh of pleasure. Suddenly she felt Eric's hands stiffen, then drop away.
"Sir?"
Christine opened her eyes to find herself staring into the dark eyes of a grim faced Vulcan.
"Well Dr Chapel it would appear you are not wasting any time either."
He turned abruptly, then marched back through the crowds of dancers, leaving a stunned Christine Chapel in his wake.