Disclaimer : Star Trek is owned by Paramount. Please do not sue!!
Note from the authors: This story is strictly for fun—not shippage. 8^)
It is always incomprehensible to a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage.
-- Jane Austen
The cell was a small, dry room with smooth brown walls. One wall had a large opening covered by a tightly knit metal screen, so fine that it was almost sheer. Deceptively so, as they had already tested its strength and found it to be unforgiving.
Each of the other walls in the hexagon-shaped cell was lined with a bench, suspended from the ceiling by chains. On the center bench, directly across from the opening, Hoshi Sato sat, looking miserable.
"Hoshi, explain to me again how you missed this particular little detail when you were studying this planet's culture."
Hoshi turned to her right, where Jon Archer sat on another bench. "I told you, sir, none of the materials they sent us contained any mention of their beliefs regarding women. I suppose their way of life is so ingrained that they don't even think to include it—they just assume everyone has the same value system."
Trip Tucker interrupted. "Ya know, Jon, you can keep askin' her the same thing over and over, but it ain't gettin' us any closer to gettin' outta here. Maybe we need to focus on that."
Hoshi shot him a grateful look. Standing in the corner, arms crossed, he smiled at her ruefully.
Hoshi turned to the other two occupants—Malcolm and Travis. "Again, I am so sorry." Dropping her head into her hands, she moaned, "If I would only have known, I could have lied and said I was married to one of you. Instead of telling them the truth."
"Hoshi, you don't have to apologize anymore. It isn't your fault. There was no way for you to guess they would take such offense to a single woman traveling with a bunch of men." Travis smiled at her from the other bench. Malcolm, standing with his face all but pressed against the screen, ignored them. He was busy trying to intimidate their captors via threatening glares. So far, his strategy wasn't working.
"All right," Jon interrupted. "What we need to do is figure the easiest way out of this, without causing any offense to the Accar people. This trade agreement with them is extremely important to Starfleet."
Malcolm turned around now. "Sir, I believe the simplest solution is…one of us will just have to go through with the wedding tomorrow." The other four officers gaped at him. "If we all reject her, Hoshi will be executed in place of the wedding," Malcolm said defensively. "It would be an Accar ceremony; we wouldn't really be married."
"Right," Trip said dryly. "Except that they also require us to…consummate…the marriage. And their doctors are gonna be examinin' the bride and groom to make sure. They take this shit seriously down here."
All four men looked at the ceiling, walls, or their own shoes—anything to avoid meeting Hoshi's gaze. Not that she saw it. She kept her face buried in her hands to hide her flaming cheeks.
"Well, we can just cross that bridge when we come to it," Malcolm said tightly. "For now, we need to consider that this still might be the best option."
Jon started to bang his head lightly against the wall behind him. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he said, eyes closed, "but I think Malcolm is right."
Hoshi gasped, but it was drowned out by Trip's shout. "WHAT?! We are not gonna let them force any of us into marriage. Trade agreement be damned; this is just stupid!"
"You got any better ideas, Commander, I'm all ears," Jon shouted, startling them with his abrupt change in mood. "I don't like this any better than you." Hoshi's head came up. "But it might be our only option."
They all sat in silence, Hoshi eyeing Jon thoughtfully. Finally, Malcolm addressed the question that was hanging in the air. He moved into a formal military stance, feet apart, hands clasped behind him. "I'll do it, sir. I am head of security; it's my job to keep the crew safe. I will marry Ensign Sato." He said it with an air of sacrifice. 'A lot like he might sound if he were volunteering for a suicide mission,' Hoshi thought. She narrowed her eyes at him.
"Well, ya don't have ta sound like you're 'bout ta throw yourself on a live grenade," Trip told him. Hoshi looked at him appreciatively. 'Thank you, Commander.' Trip continued, "I'll do it. Hell, I've done a lot worse things than this to get outta tight spots." Hoshi's back stiffened. Suddenly she didn't feel so appreciative.
Before she could respond, Jon shook his head and said, "No. Thank you both for volunteering, but I'm the Captain. If anyone has to marry Hoshi, it should be me." Is that the overhead lighting, Hoshi thought viciously, or is his skin actually turning a sickly green?
The three men looked expectantly at Travis. His eyes widened and he crossed his arms over his chest, slouching back against the wall behind him. "Don't look at me! NO WAY!" They stared at him. He squirmed for a few seconds, then conceded in a defeated voice, "But I'll do it if I have to."
"Thank you so very much, Travis," Jon said. "But we should probably leave this up to Hoshi. Ensign, which of us do you want to marry?"
They all looked at her. Her cheeks were burning again, but this time it wasn't embarrassment. "Well, I am so grateful"—at her tone, Travis scooted a little further away on the bench—"that I get to have some say in this. After all, one of you is about to make the supreme sacrifice."
Trip flinched. Jon had the grace to look embarrassed.
"One of you has to get married. How terrible for you!" She leaned forward and Malcolm took one step back. Rolling her eyes at him, Hoshi reached under her bench and pulled out a blanket. "Has it occurred to any of you that the only person here who has to get married is me? I'm the only one who can't pass it off to somebody else. And I have to tell you, none of you is looking like Prince Charming just now."
Hoshi stretched out on the bench. After a brief, furious struggle with her blanket, during which she dared anyone to laugh, she settled down with her back to them.
"Hoshi, we have to talk about this," Jon said softly.
"In the morning, Captain. I will let you know my decision in the morning. Right now, I'm tired and I want to go to sleep. If that's all right with you, sir." She looked at him heatedly over her shoulder.
Sleep suddenly seemed like a good idea to Jon. "Right. Maybe we should all just sleep on it," he said uneasily. He gestured to the other crewman and the men went to their bunks. The room was quiet for a few moments while they tried to get comfortable.
Travis broke the silence. "So, anybody wanna tell ghost stories?"
Hoshi shot up in her bunk and wheeled on him. He raised his head and met her angry glare.
"Right. I didn't think so."
Hoshi lay back down, ignoring the soft chuckles she heard coming from Trip's vicinity.
Gradually, her anger faded and she started to worry. If they did have to go through with this wedding, how was she going to choose? Who would she choose? Granted, it would be a short-lived 'marriage' but there was still the honeymoon to contend with…and she had always believed her first marriage would be her only marriage. 'Imagine being tied to one of these twits for the rest of my life.' Mrs. Jonathon Archer. Mrs. Hoshi Mayweather. Hoshi Sato Reed. Hoshi Tucker. She had an urge to giggle hysterically.
Unable to think about it any longer, Hoshi forced her mind to still. Eventually, she fell asleep, lulled by the even breathing of the men around her.