CHAPTER 6

Hoshi looked around her guest room. It was bigger than her old captain's cabin aboard the Falcon, but not by much. Maybe she should have taken D'rima's remark about a place for someone of her stature at face value -- she wasn't that big, and neither was this shabby little room.

At least she could put her feet up for a while. Once she had shooed D'rima and the two aides out, she sat down on the threadbare couch. She sighed blissfully as she kicked her shoes off and propped her feet up on the low, rickety table in front of the couch.

Was that swelling around her ankles already? From her hurried research into pregnancy after the doctor had confirmed her suspicion, she knew that water retention could be a problem, but usually not until much later. She was only five weeks along, after all.

Maybe it was from her gross inactivity today. She had been seated all morning on the flight, and had been hustled into the vehicle for the drive to the government building, where she had sat for a good portion of the afternoon. She needed to pay more attention to exercise, but right now she was happy to have her feet up and be alone.

D'rima had told her someone would come by later to take her to a banquet in her honor. She grimaced as she flexed her toes. She'd much rather eat alone in her room and go over the information that D'rima had put together for her to review.

Just a few days, she told herself, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Once her business here was concluded, she seriously doubted she'd come back to Lanari again until after the baby was born.

Thinking about the baby led her back to the topic of names. She wondered what Malcolm would think of Cedric or Basil? Maybe Nigel. They were all terribly British. They all sounded somewhat stuffy as well. She grinned, remembering that she used to think Malcolm's name was typical "stiff-upper-lip" British. That was before she got to know him better, and found out his calm, cool exterior had an incredibly molten core.

She was beginning to doze when a knock at the door roused her. Surely it wasn't time for the banquet already. Getting to her feet, she brushed her hair back into place as she went to the door.

Two Lanaris dressed in government uniforms were standing on the other side. These two weren't the same ones who had been her escorts previously. Perhaps the originals had finished their shifts for the day.

"Yes?" she asked.

"We are sorry to intrude," the taller of the two said, "but there has been a mistake."

"A mistake?" she asked, having no idea what he was talking about.

"Yes, a mistake." He gulped nervously. "This is not the proper room for you."

He peered past her into the room, craning his neck to see.

"Are you looking for someone?" she asked.

"Ah, no," he said, and glanced at the other aide who nodded. "Please, gather your things and we will show you to a more appropriate suite of rooms."

A suite? Well, that would definitely be an improvement over this hole in the wall. She gestured for them to enter and went to get her suitcase, which she hadn't bothered to unpack yet.

One of the aides took the case from her and she went to slip on her shoes. A quick glance around the room assured her she wasn't forgetting anything.

"I'm ready," she said, and the taller of the two aides gestured for her to precede him out the door.

Instead of going to the main elevator, she was guided to the rear of the building to the service elevator. A third Lanari was waiting for them, holding the elevator door open.

At her questioning glance, the aide who seemed to be the spokesman said, "Your new rooms are on this side. It is closer to use this elevator."

This was a little unorthodox, she thought as she stepped into the elevator, but the fewer steps she had to walk the happier her tired feet would be.

She watched as the Lanari who had been holding the door pushed a button on the control panel. The elevator began to descend, and her mind registered the Lanari word on the lit button: Basement.

Why were they going to the basement? She turned to ask the tall aide when a cloth was clamped over her mouth. She struggled, but something was on the cloth, something sickly sweet which burned her nostrils, and she felt like the elevator was beginning to spin.

She tried to hold her breath, but it was too late. She'd already inhaled enough of the substance to make her dizzy, and all the colors in her vision began to fade into each other and turn gray.

"Have you heard from Hoshi?" Trip asked as he and Malcolm took the turbolift to the bridge.

"No, not yet," Malcolm said. "But then, I really don't expect to hear from her until she's ready to come back. She said she would probably be too busy to deal with the Lanari communication system."

"I hear they're kinda backward over there."

"That's the impression I got, too," Malcolm said. "Is it any wonder they want her to help set up some medical facilities?"

The door of the 'lift opened onto the bridge. Orwell, who had been seated in the captain's chair, rose and turned to greet them.

"You know," Malcolm said, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice, "you don't have to sit there when you've got bridge duty and we're doing nothing more than orbiting a planet."

An older man with red hair and a beard, Orwell didn't look amused. "Force of habit, sir."

"And don't call me 'sir.'"

"Yes, sir."

Trip snickered as Malcolm sighed. "You're the one who wanted ex-Starfleet personnel for your ship," Trip told him as they walked into the captain's office through a door off to the side of the bridge.

"Obviously not all Starfleet personnel are as relaxed as you," Malcolm told him dryly.

As they entered his office, Malcolm took a moment to glance back at the bridge. Orwell was already seated again in the captain's chair. Rolling his eyes, he led Trip into the office and the door slid shut behind him.

"I thought having ex-Starfleet people would be a good idea," Malcolm thought. "Now I'm not so sure."

"Why's that?" Trip asked as he sat down in a chair facing the desk and propped his feet up on it.

"A little discipline is a good thing," he said, pointedly looking at Trip's feet. "But I want a comfortable working relationship with my crew. Orwell's a little stiff."

"Isn't that kinda like the pot callin' the kettle black?"

Malcolm grunted as he went around the desk and sat down, reaching out to pull the computer screen closer. "I'll just have to give them some time." He gave Trip a grin as he continued, "I suppose it's too much to expect the kind of camaraderie that we had with the crew on board the Falcon."

"You call that camaraderie?" Trip asked, incredulous. "I thought for sure they'd kill us at first."

Malcolm chuckled. "It eventually worked out. Maybe it was the stress of the whole situation at the time that pulled us together."

"Yeah," Trip said, "but somehow I don't see the Morning Star takin' on an entire pirate fleet, so it might take a while longer to get that comfortable workin' relationship you want with your crew."

Any further comment was stalled by the beep of the comm panel on Malcolm's desk. Thumbing a button on the controls, Malcolm said, "Reed here."

"Sir?" It was Orwell, and Malcolm rolled his eyes again at the form of address the man used. "There's a transmission from the Falcon for you."

"Put it through," Malcolm said.

"Ma'Com?" The deep, gravelly voice was unmistakable.

"Yes, Kleth?"

"I am formally requesting of you, the captain of the Morning Star, for permission to entertain you, Trip, and Slanea at dinner this evening aboard the Falcon."

Trip stifled a laugh as Malcolm peered at the speaker as if it were possessed. He mouthed "What?" at Trip before clearing his throat.

"Ah, Kleth," he said into the speaker, "if you want to see Slanea, that's fine with me, but shouldn't you be asking her?"

"She is an unmated female outside the Empire," Kleth's voice came back.

"Tell me somethin' I didn't know," Trip interjected sarcastically, and Malcolm shushed him to hear Kleth's next words.

"As her captain," Kleth continued, "you are responsible for her, as is Trip, who is her superior officer in engineering. You and Trip are her protectors and her mentors."

Now it was Trip's turn to mouth "What?" as he gawked in astonishment at Malcolm.

"If I wish to win her, I must have permission from both of you to press my suit," came Kleth's voice again.

"Kleth," Malcolm said. "You know this isn't a Klingon vessel. You don't have to conform to Klingon ways in this matter if you don't want to."

"But I must. Honor demands it." Kleth's distinctive vocal rumble came over the speaker. "Ma'Com, do not demean my request."

Malcolm threw up his hands in surrender, a gesture unseen by Kleth but appreciated by Trip, who grinned. "I guess we'll be your dinner guests this evening, then," Malcolm said. A thought struck him. "But, Kleth, what happens if Slanea doesn't want to come?"

"You are her captain. Order her."

Trip could no longer contain his laughter, and Malcolm had to raise his voice for Kleth to hear him. "We'll be there," he said, and cut the connection.

Looking over at Trip, who was laughing so hard that he was clutching his sides, Malcolm said, "I'm delegating the responsibility of telling Slanea about her dinner date to you."

"What!"

"You heard me," Malcolm said with satisfaction, steepling his fingers as he rested his elbows on his desk. "Under Klingon custom, if I understand it correctly, she has to obey you. If not, you get to fight her about it. So go tell her, and make sure she's ready on time."

Trip grumbled as he got to his feet. "If it weren't for the entertainment value this dinner is gonna have, I'd really be ticked at you right now."

He walked to the door, but turned to add a parting shot. "If she wants to fight, though, I'm sendin' her to you."

Trip was out the door before Malcolm could think of a suitable reply.

Hoshi's head hurt. There was a throbbing at her temples that felt like she was getting over an all-night drunk. She'd only done it once, and that had been enough to convince her that it wasn't worth ever doing again.

She opened her eyes a crack, trying to figure out where she was. She remembered getting on the service elevator at the hotel, and a hand clamping a nasty cloth over her mouth. She must have been knocked out, she thought as she tried to work up enough saliva to swallow and ease her dry throat.

She was lying on a cot in a small, dimly lit room. Glancing around slowly, she moved only her eyes, but didn't see anyone. There was a small table and a chair, but no windows that she could see. Across the room was a door, an old-fashioned one to judge by the wood panels and doorknob.

She decided to find out if she was locked in, and swung her legs off the cot. Sitting up, she was swept by a wave of nausea, and she held one hand to her mouth and the other over her stomach until the feeling subsided.

"Sorry," said a soft male voice from off to the side, and she jerked her head around to see a Lanari seated in a chair that had been out of her line of sight. "The concoction we used to incapacitate you sometimes has that effect. Not being a Lanari, we weren't sure how it would affect you."

Hoshi swallowed. "What do you want with me?" she asked, her voice hoarse and rusty-sounding to her ears.

"What do we want with you?" the man repeated. "Why, nothing at all. We just don't want you to work with the government."