CHAPTER 7
Hoshi met T'Pol the next morning outside the door to the cargo bay where the wedding ceremony was to take place. As befitting the occasion, T'Pol was dressed in flowing, formal Vulcan robes, and looked very regal. Hoshi, on the other hand, was decked out in Starfleet's version of a dress uniform. She supposed it was okay. Designed somewhat like an old-fashioned, short-jacketed tuxedo, it was definitely snazzier than the duty uniform jumpsuit, but it didn't do a darned thing for her feminine assets.
"Everything is in readiness?" T'Pol asked.
"The abbess is still with Captain Archer," Hoshi said. "He'll bring her here just before the ceremony is to begin."
The pair fell silent as they stepped aside to allow several crew members to enter the cargo bay. After the door closed behind them, T'Pol asked, "How did the abbess react when the captain told her about Mr. Reed's predicament?"
"It was hard to tell," she replied. "I'm not sure, but I think the abbess was amused. She did say she realizes that there can be misunderstandings when two species meet for the first time."
One of T'Pol's eyebrows lifted. "So she is willing to help us?"
"Yes. In fact, I think she's going to use this as a cautionary lesson for other members of her order about what might happen to them if they decide to go on an off-world pilgrimage."
Trip appeared around the curve in the corridor then, tugging on the cuffs of his dress uniform jacket as he strode toward them. Joining the two women, he let out a soft groan. "I can't believe we have to wear these monkey suits. It's not like Malcolm's gonna go through with it."
Having expected Trip to escort the D'nini to the cargo bay since he was supposed to give them away, Hoshi shushed him and peered behind him to see if any of the brides-to-be were present and had overheard his comment.
"Relax, Hoshi," he said when he noticed her anxious scanning of the hallway. "I didn't lose 'em. Liz Cutler's with them. They''ll be along shortly."
More crew members and several MACOs came down the corridor headed for the cargo bay. All the Starfleet personnel were in dress uniforms, but the MACOs were wearing their usual brown camouflage outfits. They appeared to be more prepared for a fight than a wedding. Given the situation, that assessment might not be too far off the mark, Hoshi realized.
"Where's Travis?" she asked Trip. "I haven't seen him."
Trip smiled. "Since I'm supposed to walk the brides down the aisle, I couldn't fulfill my duty as best man of keepin' Malcolm from makin' a break for it. So I assigned Travis that task."
"Lieutenant Reed is too exemplary of an officer to desert his post," T'Pol said. "In addition, there is no where to run."
"You don't know much about human weddings, do ya?" Trip said.
Neither do you, Trip, Hoshi thought. She'd been the one to ask the abbess to help implement Malcolm's only suggestion for the ceremony. Trip was going to be in for a big surprise.
Travis watched as Malcolm paced back and forth in a small compartment off the cargo bay. The helmsman had been briefed on the plan by Hoshi that morning, but he couldn't help but feel that Malcolm was more uptight than he had reason to be. Then again, if this didn't work, the man was going to be married -- to five women at once!
"It should be all over in a little less than an hour," Travis said in what he hoped was a soothing voice.
"That's what I'm afraid of," Malcolm said tightly as he strode over to the bulkhead, pivoted, and turned to pace the width of the compartment. "If it doesn't go the way T'Pol and Hoshi planned, I'm going to have five 'balls and chains.'" The last three words were uttered in perfect mimickry of Trip's Southern accent.
Travis chuckled at the imitation. "I'm sure it will go fine," he said.
"The only satisfaction I'm going to get out of this is what's going to happen to Trip," Malcolm said.
"What's going to happen to Commander Tucker?" Travis asked curiously.
Malcolm stopped pacing and looked at Travis with a devious light in his eyes. "You know that part in the marriage ceremony when the father gives the bride away?" he asked. Travis nodded. "Well, there's a D'nini custom we're incorporating into the ceremony. The brides aren't the only things he'll be giving away."
The hatch to the compartment opened and the captain stuck his head in. "It's time," he said as he stepped over the threshold.
"Yes, sir," Travis said. He squeezed past Jon and made his way out the hatch.
"You know, Malcolm, this isn't a court-martial, or even a firing squad," Jon said.
"No, sir," Malcolm said. "It's worse."
Jon started to laugh, but stopped when Malcolm didn't join in. He put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Everything will work out fine," Jon said reassuringly. "And if it doesn't...Well, we'll just let Starfleet's legal division handle it, and you'll be free for years while they're getting everything straightened out."
"How very comforting," Malcolm murmured, his face going even paler than it had been.
Jon gave him an encouraging smile and, keeping his hand on his shoulder, propelled him to the hatch.
Ducking to avoid hitting his head on the top of the hatch, Malcolm stepped into the cargo bay. Only the presence of the captain behind him kept him moving when he looked out over those gathered. Everyone who was off duty must be here, he realized, taking in the rows of chairs that had been set up for the ceremony.
Swallowing nervously, he shook off the captain's hand from his shoulder and made his way toward the front of the assembly. Travis, while not an official member of the wedding party, was standing off to the side near the front. T'Pol and Hoshi, along with Doctor Phlox, were sitting in the first row.
A dignified female D'nini he hadn't seen before was standing near a podium. She had to be the abbess. Malcolm hadn't had a chance to meet her. She'd come aboard a few hours before and had immediately been whisked into conference with the captain and Hoshi.
Unlike the D'nini who had been the bane of his last few days, this one was showing signs of age. She stood with a slight stoop, and her face was lined. It was impossible to guess how old she was, but her eyes sparkled with lively intelligence and she practically radiated wisdom as she avidly took in the surroundings. Unlike the other D'nini who were always in their bright outfits, this one was dressed in stark black. He was reminded of the raven in a poem by Edgar Allen Poe, and immediately thrust that image aside. His mood was melancholy enough as it was.
As Malcolm drew nearer, the abbess gazed appraisingly at him, as if measuring him by some unknown standard. Taking a deep breath, he moved to stand next to her and was rewarded with a serene smile. That should have made him feel better, but all it did was reinforce the feeling of being a lamb led to slaughter.
The cargo bay was full to capacity. Not only was every seat taken, but there were crew members standing at the rear. Wonderful, Malcolm thought, pessimism temporarily superceding his dread. Who the bloody hell was running the ship while all this was going on?
The door at the rear of the cargo bay opened and Trip stepped in. The engineer looked over at one of his staff members, who pressed a button on one of the consoles. Malcolm supposed the alien sounds that came over the speakers was music, but it didn't bear the slightest resemblance to "The Wedding March." Not having taken part in the planning of the actual ceremony -- well, other than his own devious little plan within the plan -- he wasn't cognizant of all the details. All Hoshi had told him was that he'd know what to do when the time came.
Trip turned back to the door and held out his hand. The first of the D'nini fiancees, Silver, took Trip's hand and stepped through. She was wearing the same outfit she had been the past three days. Malcolm was momentarily disappointed that she wasn't wearing something more wedding-like. Then he berated himself for thinking such a thing because it didn't matter what Silver was wearing -- he was not getting married!
Trip walked Silver down the aisle between the seats, and presented her to Malcolm. It was only then that Malcolm noticed there was something different about her appearance. She reached up and took a flower from behind her ear and, with a shy smile, handed it to him.
Malcolm managed a strained smile in return as he took the flower. Just bloody lovely! he thought, feeling a tickle in his nasal cavities as his allergies began to kick in. He was trying to unobtrusively rub his nose when, as Trip turned to go back down the aisle for the next bride, the abbess spoke for the first time.
"Wait!" she said, addressing Trip. "You have 'given away' this bride, but in your role as her protector and guardian, symbolic though it is, you must also renounce your symbolic hold on her."
Seeing Trip frown, Malcolm tried to fight down a smirk, as well as a sneeze, as his plan was set in motion.
"Renounce my claim?" the engineer asked. "How do I do that?"
The abbess gifted him with a kindly smile. "You are not familiar with D'nini customs, so I will explain. To renounce your claim, you must forfeit a personal article and give it to the bride as a token of your esteem as well as your approval of her choice of mate."
"A personal article?" Trip asked, his frown deepening.
Her gaze raked him up and down. "You do not appear to have brought anything with you, so a piece of clothing will have to suffice," she said.
Trip's eyes bugged out. He glanced at Malcolm who, battling the impending sneeze, couldn't have smirked if he wanted to. Trip shifted his gaze to the captain standing on the other side of the abbess. All he got there was a stern glare, the intent of which was plain -- do it.
Muttering under his breath, Trip glanced down at himself. "Well, I suppose I can take off the jacket," he said, unbuttoning the item in question. "It's pretty damned-- I mean, it's uncomfortable anyway." He shrugged out of the jacket, folded it, and tried to hand it to the abbess. She shook her head and indicated it should go to Silver.
Trip handed the jacket to Silver just as Malcolm's sneeze finally burst free. The explosive sound made Silver drop the jacket, which fell to the deck as she fumbled with one sleeve of her gown. Retrieving a square of linen cloth from up her sleeve, she pressed it into Malcolm's hand with a look of concern.
"Thank you," he mumbled, turning so his back was to the congregation as he blew his nose. Turning back around, he saw that Trip was already at the cargo bay hatch. This time he had Neon Blue on his arm. He also noticed that, just as Silver had done, this D'nini had placed a flower behind her ear. Once again, when Trip came to stand before him with his charge, the flower was presented, and once again, he felt the urge to sneeze as his sinuses responded to the pollen in the flower.
Sniffing and squinting his eyes in an effort to keep from sneezing again, Malcolm saw Trip spin on his heel after depositing Neon Blue next to Silver. But the abbess wouldn't let him off so easily.
"Wait!" the abbess called out. "You must renounce your claim on this bride."
Trip stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned back to face the small but authoritative woman. "You can't be serious?" he asked. "I have to give up a piece of clothing for each one of them?"
The abbess closed her eyes and nodded.
Trip's gaze darted in desperation to Malcolm, then the captain, and back to the abbess. "Can't one piece symbolize my giving up all of 'em?" he asked.
The abbess opened her eyes and slowly shook her head.
Malcolm watched in satisfaction as Trip stood there figuring out exactly how much clothing he was going to have to remove and what he'd have left by the time he got the fifth bride down the aisle.
"Maybe I can go back to my cabin and get something else to give them?" Trip suggested hopefully.
"No," the abbess intoned solemnly. "Once the ceremony has begun, it cannot be interrupted, or its validity will be called into question. Such incidents have caused serious social rifts on our planet in the past."
As Trip shifted uneasily from foot to foot, the abbess appeared to lose patience. "Young man, you and your people agreed to follow D'nini custom for portions of this ceremony. We D'nini agreed to adhere to some of your customs. Do you wish to cause the first interstellar incident in recorded D'nini history?"
Trip stuttered something unintelligible and glanced at Jon. Jon glared back.
"No, ma'am," Trip said. "We don't want to do that." With a sigh of resignation, he lifted one foot and took off his boot. He repeated the process with his other foot, but only handed one boot to Neon Blue. Tucking the second boot under his arm, he turned around and strode down the aisle in his socks.
Despite his discomfort, Malcolm felt himself relax a bit. At least he wasn't the only one being embarrassed. Obviously Trip intended to present the other boot to the next bride, but he wondered what the man would take off for the fourth and the fifth.
Saffron Yellow was the next one to join them. She presented her flower and Malcolm sneezed. Trip handed over the boot and turned to head back to the door when the voice of the abbess rang out yet again.
"Wait!" she called out.
"Oh, for pete's sake!" Trip cried in frustration as he spun back around. "What is it this time?"
"The boot is not sufficient," she replied. "Each gift must be different."
"What the--!" Trip spluttered. "What am I gonna do with one boot?"
The abbess merely lifted an eyebrow in a manner eeriely reminiscent of T'Pol. Trip pursed his lips and grabbed the boot from Yellow and handed it to Neon Blue, who now had a matching pair. Lifting one foot, he slid the sock off. "I suppose the same rule applies for socks?" he asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.
The abbess nodded.
Trip tugged off his other sock and thrust the pair into Yellow's hands. Malcolm, sniffling, couldn't keep from snickering as Trip mustered what little dignity he had left and walked barefoot back down the aisle. When the three D'nini brides eyed him curiously, Malcolm changed the snicker to a sniffle, and in moments another piece of linen was pressed into his hand.
Red was the next bride down the aisle. She presented her flower to Malcolm, who sneezed several times.
An expectant hush filled the cargo bay. Every eye in the cargo bay was on Trip, who had yet to remove another item of clothing.
With a muttered curse, Trip began unbuttoning his dress shirt. Malcolm could hear soft laughter coming from the rows of crewmen. He dared to glance past the abbess at the captain. He could see a muscle in Jon's jaw twitch, even though the captain was stone-faced.
Trip practically ripped his shirt off and handed it to Red. Then without wasting a moment, he turned and marched one last time down the aisle. Malcolm could see crew members sober as Trip, now dressed only in pants and a T-shirt, glared at them as he passed, only to start laughing again once he walked by.
Green was waiting for Trip at the door. She eagerly took his arm and, before they had traversed half the length of the aisle, took the flower from behind her ear. When they got to the front, she immediately handed the flower -- and a handkerchief -- to Malcolm.
As Malcolm sneezed yet again, the thought crossed his mind that perhaps the ceremony could be canceled because of his allergic reaction. Maybe that's what Hoshi had had in mind when she'd told him he'd know what to do when the time came. She'd probably known that flowers would be involved, and she was well aware of his allergies. His gaze sought her out in the front row, but he couldn't catch her eye. She, along with everyone else, was watching Trip.
The engineer was still standing in front of Green. His face had taken on a distinct ruddy hue. Malcolm savored Trip's embarrassment, if only because it was keeping him from dwelling on what would happen if the plan fell apart. For all he knew, it had already. Not for the first time he wondered why T'Pol and Hoshi hadn't seen fit to inform him of the particulars.
After an interminable stretch during which no one moved or said anything, Malcolm saw Trip close his eyes and undo the clasp on his dress pants. There was dead silence as Trip unzipped the pants and let them fall from his hips. He stepped out of them, squatted to pick them up, and with a face that looked like it was carved in red granite, handed them to Green.
Applause as well as laughter burst from the audience. Malcolm even heard a catcall or two, which was understandable. Trip was not wearing regulation skivvies. He was wearing boxers in what had to be the most horrendous shade of orange that he had ever seen. Still, the reaction from those watching seemed a bit extreme -- until Trip turned and walked over to stand next to Jon, and Malcolm was able to see his backside.
The word "GENIUS" was emblazoned in huge black letters on the back of the boxers.
Jon raised his hands, asking for quiet, and order slowly returned. As he lowered his arms, he looked at Trip with raised eyebrows.
"My mother gave 'em to me," Malcolm heard Trip mutter to the captain.
Malcolm's amusment at the engineer's embarrassment -- well deserved, in his opinion, after Trip's advice about how to handle the D'nini had backfired -- suddenly gave way to apprehension. He still had no idea how he was going to avoid getting married to the five D'nini.
This time when he sought out Hoshi's face in the crowd, he was able to catch her eye. She smiled confidently at him, but it did nothing to rid him of the feeling that he'd been shot in the gut with a phase pistol blast.
He steeled himself as the abbess moved away from the podium and walked toward him.