CHAPTER 24

EPILOGUE

Two months later...

Trip was standing next to the window in Malcolm's office on board the Morning Star, fidgeting as he tugged at the collar of his Starfleet dress uniform. "At least I don't have to wear a monkey suit," he said as he watched Malcolm pace back and forth.

"I can't believe she insisted I wear a tuxedo," Malcolm said, glancing down at his light grey pants and jacket. "It's so old-fashioned."

"Hey, you know what they say," Trip said. "A girl only gets married once...well, twice in this case, seein' as how her first husband died...and she wants to do it right."

Malcolm stopped pacing long enough to stare at his friend. "How do you know so much about weddings?" he asked suspiciously.

Trip shrugged. "I come from a big family. Not a year goes by without some cousin or other tyin' the knot."

The door to the office whooshed open and Slanea, dressed in a floor-length gown of deep green and an even deeper decolletage, bustled in. A determined look on her face, she headed straight for Trip, who took an involuntary step backward at her rapid approach.

"Hold still," she hissed, holding up her hand to show him one of the orchid-like flowers that grew around the cottage on Estab. "Hoshi wants me to put this on you."

"You're takin' this maid of honor thing seriously, aren't you?" he said as she grabbed his dress jacket's lapel and jerked him closer.

"It is a great honor," she replied, stabbing the lapel viciously with a long pin. "I had no idea humans incorporated such concepts in their mating ceremonies."

She attached the flower and turned to advance on Malcolm. "As maid of honor, I must follow her wishes, and she wishes both of you to wear a flower," she said, a little wrinkle of distaste crossing her features.

Malcolm held his ground and allowed her to impale the flower on his lapel.

"How's Hoshi doing?" he asked as Slanea straightened the lapel with a sharp yank.

"She is...what do you call it?...'a bundle of nerves,'" Slanea remarked candidly. As she headed for the door, she called back over her shoulder, "She said to contact the Falcon and find out what is taking Kleth so long."

"Probably couldn't find a tux big enough to fit him," Trip muttered under his breath as the door swooshed shut, causing Malcolm to laugh despite his nervousness. He had just sobered when Trip mused aloud, "You know, the way Slanea stomps around in that dress, she reminds me of a flamenco dancer. I'm just glad she didn't grab me and dip me or somethin'."

"She's saving that for Kleth," Malcolm said, earning a hearty "I certainly hope so!" from Trip, and both men laughed.

Malcolm was reaching for the comm panel on his desk to check on Kleth's status when the door opened again. In came the Klingon, dressed in flowing robes of deep purple highlighted with gold embroidery. He was carrying a small book in one hand.

"Ma'Com! I have reviewed these wedding vows," he said, shaking the book for emphasis. "Are you sure?"

"About what?"

"Love and honor I can understand, but obey?"

Glaring at Trip, who was standing by the window snickering, Malcolm let out a long sigh. "They're traditional vows, Kleth. I really had no say in them. It was all Hoshi's decision. Generally in human weddings, the bride makes most of the decisions and the groom just stays out of the way."

The Klingon considered him for a moment and said, "Then perhaps obey is correct."

Malcolm's retort was cut off by the door opening again. This time it was Orwell, dressed in a dark suit. "It's time, sir," he said. "We're all ready."

Malcolm took a deep breath as Trip came over and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on, buddy," Trip said and led the way to the door. "Time to face the music."

Malcolm stopped on the other side of the doorway to look around at his crew. All twenty-two of them were there, ranged around the perimeter of the bridge, although Johnson was seated at the helm console. Not that she would be doing any piloting -- they were in orbit on automatic -- but she had claimed it was the best seat on the bridge.

Off to one side Malcolm caught a glimpse of Petrania and other Estab medical personnel from Hoshi's clinics, as well as P'kora and his family.

P'kora was now in charge of security for the Morning Star. Not a position usually found on a freighter, Malcolm conceded, but he had a feeling the ship would be involved in any number of circumstances where a trained law officer's talents would come in handy. As Malcolm added more vessels to his shipping line, P'kora could eventually move into a position in charge of security for the entire fleet. In the meantime, the Lanari would be gaining invaluable hands-on experience.

Much as Malcolm wished he and Hoshi would have a peaceful, uneventful life, somehow he didn't think that was going to happen.

Even if they did manage to get through life with no major problems, he wasn't taking any chances. Not only would the Morning Star be one of the few freighters with a security officer, it would also have its own onboard doctor. He and Hoshi had hired the doctor for the crew just last week.

He mustered a nervous smile and walked to stand in front of the viewscreen, which was showing the planet Estab revolving peacefully, and turned to face the assemblage. Trip, as his best man, took up a position next to him on his far side.

A murmur ran through those assembled on the bridge as Kleth entered. The Klingon had always been an impressive presence, but dressed in formal Klingon robes, walking in a stately tread to stand on Malcolm's other side, his dignity was undeniable. He, too, turned to face the crew.

As if on cue, the turbolift door opened, and out stepped Slanea. She took exaggeratedly measured steps down onto the bridge proper.

"I want a hat with those little fuzzy balls hanging around the rim so our outfits coordinate," Trip whispered, and Malcolm gave him a nudge with his elbow.

Slanea reached the wedding party and turned to face the group, all of whom were waiting for the turbolift's door to open again. When it did, Orwell leaned down to the communications console and pushed a button, and the strains of "Here Comes the Bride" filled the bridge.

Hoshi had kept her wedding outfit a secret from Malcolm, and he was stunned by the sight of her. Her delicate white satin gown glimmered in the bridge lighting. It fit snuggly around her bosum, but flowed loosely from there to the floor. Although the gown was entirely white, Malcolm could make out a pattern of blossoms embossed on the material. Cherry blossoms, he realized, another acknowledgement to tradition in honoring her ancestry.

She had twined more of the orchid-like flowers in her hair, which was done up in a high bun on top of her head with a few tendrils curling down around her face. A gold sash, which Malcolm recognized as her badge of office as captain of a Klingon warbird, was draped around her hips. The sash couldn't cover the slight pooch of her stomach which was showing her pregnancy, and neither did the small spray of flowers she carried.

Malcolm thought she had never looked more beautiful.

Hoshi made her way unfalteringly to his side. After she handed her flowers to Slanea, he reached out to take her hand. How long they would have stood like that, gazing into each other's eyes, he didn't know, but eventually Kleth cleared his throat, a buzz-saw sound that drew their attention to him.

"Dearly beloved," the Klingon began in a low rumble that could be heard by everyone on the bridge. "We are gathered here today..."

Later, Malcolm would be able to recall only bits and pieces of the ceremony. He was fairly sure he responded at all the appropriate spots, and he was aware of Hoshi's soft voice saying her parts and her eyes lifting to meet his throughout the ceremony. He did hear Slanea snort when they reached the vow that included "obey," which set Kleth to growling at her and her snarling back at him. Malcolm had to clear his throat to get their attention back on the ceremony, causing a ripple of laughter to run through the crew watching the ceremony.

The only other disruption was when Trip went to hand Malcolm the ring to put on Hoshi's finger. It slipped from Trip's grasp and rolled across the deck, disappearing under the helm console. Johnson and Trip spent several anxious moments on their hands and knees looking for the ring until Johnson found it and handed it back to Trip.

They made it through the rest of the ceremony without interruption and Kleth pronounced them man and wife, ending with "You may now kiss the bride -- Q'apla!"

"Husband," he heard Hoshi whisper as they broke apart from the kiss to the cheers and clapping of the crew.

"Wife," he whispered back, giving her a tight hug before they turned to face the assembled group.

"Put me down!" Hoshi cried in mock horror as Malcolm lifted her into his arms to carry her across the threshold to his cabin.

"I thought you liked tradition, so I'm just honoring your wishes," he said as he awkwardly balanced her weight while he thumbed the button to open the door. "Besides, I might not be able to pick you up in a few more months."

"The mighty Malcolm Reed, brought to his knees by a mere slip of a woman," Hoshi purred in his ear as carried her through the doorway.

"Mere slip?" he asked. "You've got me outnumbered two-to-one. That's hardly fair."

She laughed as he slid one hand to rest on her stomach. "It's still a little early to feel it move," she said.

"Hmm. Knowing the mother, when it does start kicking, it won't stop."

She gazed up into his eyes which were crinkled with laughter and her breath caught in her throat. Married! She almost couldn't believe it.

When she'd woken from her coma, she had seen him rush to her bedside in the clinic. He had looked so haggard and worn that she had felt the need to comfort him, despite her being the one who had just been snatched from the jaws of death, so to speak. If she would have known her trip to Lanari would been the cause of the haunted look in his eyes...

Stop it, she chided herself. That wild misadventure had been out of their control. Who could have predicted she would be kidnapped by a fanatic insurgent who had delusions of grandeur?

Malcolm had told her what had happened to F'linu. In all honesty she couldn't say she was sorry. But she was glad that Malcolm wasn't the one responsible for F'linu's death. Better that Kleth, whose culture condoned killing as a means of vengeance, had taken matters into his own big hands. She was certain F'linu's death wouldn't keep Kleth up at night.

"So, are you just going to stand here holding me all night or what?" she asked with a straight face.

"I think I choose 'what,'" he replied, striding over to the bed and gently depositing her on it.

He turned and pulled the Oriental screen farther over to block the view of the room from the bed.

"Why did you do that?" she asked curiously.

"Well," he began, gazing down at her, "I heard Trip talking to Kleth and Slanea before we left the reception."

"And?"

"He was talking about a custom known as a chivaree."

"Oh-oh."

"'Oh-oh' is right," Malcolm said. "The screen won't be much protection, but at least it will give us a few more seconds to cover up in case they barge in on us."

Hoshi's brow furrowed. "But you locked the door, didn't you?"

"Yes. But two of those three are engineers. I'm sure they'll figure out a way to get in."

An impish expression crossed Hoshi's features. "Maybe we'll be finished by the time they get here."

Malcolm growled and tossed himself down on the bed next to her. "Come here, wench," he said, teasing her with a quick kiss as he took her in his arms. "If you think we're getting out of bed before we have to, you're mistaken."

Trip, Slanea and Kleth were the last people in the mess hall. The reception has lasted well into the evening, and Trip pitied whoever was on clean-up duty. Dirty dishes and glasses were scattered about, and streamers and confetti littered the entire room. The remains of a cake shaped like the Morning Star was on a table in the corner.

Slanea had kicked off her shoes, complaining they hurt her feet. She and Kleth were sitting very close to each other, but Trip would occasionally reach out and run a finger up the bottom of one of her bare feet where they were propped up on a chair next to him. He wondered how many times he could make her jump from the ticklish sensation before she'd try to pound him into the deck. He was also counting on Kleth stopping her.

"So, ya don't have anything like a chivaree back on your home world?" he asked, going back to a topic he had tried earlier to discuss with the two Klingons.

"No," Kleth said. "Once you mate, that's it."

"Well, let me tell ya about this," Trip said. "It's an old, old custom. So old that it's hardly practiced any more."

"Hoshi likes tradition," Slanea murmured peevishly. "I should know. I was her maid of honor. She told me everything..." Slanea paused to belch loudly, then finished, "...about weddings and tradition."

Trip and Kleth looked at each other as Slanea slowly plucked petals off flowers in the bride's bouquet. Slanea had caught the bouquet. Trip had had to spend a half hour trying to explain why humans believed the person who caught the bouquet would be the next one to be married.

"I don't want a human wedding," Slanea grumbled as she viciously crumpled a petal and belched again.

"Oh, Lord," Trip said, rolling his eyes. "She's had enough. Cut her off."

"Cut what off her?" Kleth asked.

"Never mind," Trip said. "Back to the chivaree. It was a custom in my area of Earth but it originated along the Scottish and Irish border lands. Rival clans would show up to kidnap the bride."

Kleth's interest had picked up at the mention of rivalry and kidnapping, but he grunted in disappointment when Trip added, "But it was all in fun. Well, at least later. Maybe not at first. What was I talkin' about? Oh, yeah. Where I'm from, friends of the happy couple show up outside their room and make a lot of noise. Sort of like a serenade, but without the rhythm or the harmony. There's a lot of beatin' on pots and pans, firecrackers, even shootin' off guns."

Kleth's furrowed brow drew even closer together. "Why?"

"You know," Trip said thoughtfully, "I really don't know why. Mostly to embarrass the couple, I guess, or maybe warn 'em. But anyway, afterward, the couple is supposed to let the merry-makers in, and continue the party."

"You humans like to do embarrass others, don't you?" Kleth said.

"Only the ones we love," Trip replied and took another drink from his glass.

Slanea looked up from the nearly denuded bouquet and said, "So it's like teasing."

"Exactly," Trip said with a smile.

"Well, at least my captain and his mistress love me," she said with a drunken glare at Kleth. "They asked me to be the maid of honor!" Staggering to her feet, she said, "Come on! We will do this chivaree."

"What's the matter with her?" Trip asked Kleth at they watched her walk unsteadily toward the door.

"She thinks she has to be mated right away since she caught the flowers," Kleth replied. Leaning closer, he added in a lower voice, "And she hates flowers."

"Ah, damn!" Trip ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't explain that very well, did I?"

The two men got to their feet to follow Slanea, and Kleth remarked casually, "Ma'Com would lock their door."

"That's OK," Trip replied, reaching up to clap Kleth on the shoulder. "I got a plan. They want a nursery next door, so we're going to cut our way in with plasma torches and make the new doorway at the same time."

Kleth threw back his head roared with laughter before clapping Trip on the shoulder in return.

Staggering -- one from the force of his laughter, the other from the force of the blow -- the two men followed the erstwhile maid of honor down the hall.

--the end--

A/N: Thank you to anyone who read this entire story. I hope you enjoyed it. Any comments would be appreciated, as my muse is getting a little starved.