4
"Huh, it's their Movie Night tomorrow," Pamela said, sitting in quarters while Blair folded a uniform.
"I know. I got four invitations. Maybe a fifth since we arrived, so that's a good one a day. Haven't checked messages yet today. How many did you get?"
"Eight. No, nine. I bet we got duplicates, some guy hedging his bets," she smiled slightly, "I've deleted mine."
"Deleted?"
"Yeah. Nothing imaginative there. Usual stuff, come to the movies with me, I'll share my popcorn with you, uh, it's all so dull. Same, same, same," Pamela yawned.
"They're sweet. Well, except for the one that wanted to show me the Port Thrusters. Gawd."
"You're not interested in any of them anyway, Claymore."
"Nope. A certain special someone is gonna get lucky tomorrow night."
"Good thing. I keep watching you circle each other like cats. Still, good to know a girl's got options. The suit was a nice touch when we arrived. Got 'em all hot and bothered."
"I can't pull it off like you can, Pam," Pamela glared at her, "Uh, Pamela. You know, you and I have known each other for two years and you have never let me call you Pam."
"Nobody else gets to call me that, either. As for me pulling it off, heh, it's two things. One, leave a little something to the imagination. That's why I don't arrive wearing anything short or low cut. Let 'em wonder what's underneath all that fabric. And the other thing is – you definitely help out."
"Me?" Blair closed a drawer and sat at a desk.
"Yes. We've got the whole good girl-bad girl yin-yang thing going on. Makes for a great contrast. They look at you and they think 'fresh-scrubbed'. They look at me and they think ..."
"They think 'hot sex'," Blair finished the sentence for her.
"Yep. And that's the idea. Get 'em worked up and wondering, and see if any of them can be imaginative. 'Course then we end up here and they're all engineers and whatnot and they think of screwdrivers rather than other things most of the time."
There was a communications chime.
"It's your PADD, not mine," Blair said.
"Hmm," Pamela looked, "Now this is interesting."
"Oh? Can I see?"
"Nope. This is, ha, it's a poem."
"From whom?"
"It's anonymously sent," Pamela shut off the PADD.
"Aren't you going to read it?"
"Not while you're sitting here."
"Very well," Blair said, "You gonna give that one the time of day?"
"Maybe more, if I'm so inclined."
There was a chime at the door, "Come in," Blair said.
"Oh, uh, hi, ladies," It was Travis, "Do you, uh, do you remember me?"
"Pilot, right?" Blair asked.
"Yes," he said, "And, uh, these are for, they're for both of you," He held out a bouquet, cut from the Botany Lab's excess.
"Well, that was very, uh, charming of you," Pamela said, taking them.
"Are you going to Movie Night?" he asked.
"Sure," Blair said, "What's playing?"
"Something called 'Dirty Dancing'," he said.
"Maybe it's an instruction manual for the party the night afterwards," Pamela said.
Travis raised an eyebrow slightly. So far, so good, "And, I was wondering if you would, uh, both like to join me, uh, us, for dinner tonight."
"Us? Who's us?" Blair asked.
"You met them the first day. Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker. Unless you have to study."
"We always have to study," Pamela said, "But we blow ..." she paused for just a second "it off whenever something better comes along."
"Uh, okay," Travis squeaked out, "Eighteen hundred hours in the cafeteria," He left.
"Oh, that was too cute," Blair said, "Think he's your poet?"
"Not a chance," Pamela said, "Plus the whole flowers thing is the very nadir of predictability. If someone brings over chocolates or perfume then I'll just gag."
"I should get ready then. Leave you to your poem and all," Blair said, grabbing a towel, "Happy reading."
=/\=
"Captain, we've got interesting readings," T'Pol said.
"How interesting?" Jonathan inquired.
"Neutron pulses. Emanating from the vicinity of heading 107 mark eight," she replied.
"A natural phenomenon?" Malcolm asked.
"Possibly," T'Pol responded, "There are no discernible patterns as of yet."
"Well, let's keep an eye on them," said the captain, "And if they become a tactical issue, then we'll see what to do next, Lieutenant," he said to Malcolm.
"Yes, of course, Captain," said Reed.
"What kinds of unnatural phenomena could explain it?" asked Jonathan.
"Nuclear munitions testing or usage could explain it. The randomization could be intentional, to make it appear as it were a natural phenomenon when perhaps it's anything but," Malcolm said.
"However, nuclear medical facilities could give off these pulses in a manner that would appear to be randomized," T'Pol pointed out.
"Hoshi, get me Tripp," Jonathan said.
"Sure. Go ahead."
"Tripp, we're getting readings of neutron pulses. Will those be a problem?" Jonathan asked.
"Don't think so," Tripp said, "Keepin' an eye on 'em from here but I think they're just fluctuations. There's no planets out here and stars are a ways away. Could be the remains of a comet trail, too. Tell Travis to steer clear of the worst of it. He should be back soon. Thanks for lettin' me borrow him to do a little testing on Shuttlepod One. Tucker out."
"Ah, Travis, you're back. Take us in closer." Jonathan said.
"Yes, sir."
=/\=
Pamela read it again, just to see if the poem really said what she thought it did.
A golden lady, a star to shine
A small, shy and elusive smile
Can I ever hope to make her mine?
For eternity, or just a little while?
A stormy sea, a tempest's rage
A thing that cannot be contained
As passion pours upon the page
The knave waited while the Queen reigned
A fire burning, a torrid blaze
A healing thought, a desired touch
As stars turn lonely nights into yearning days
And the knave hopes his feelings are not too much
I know that this is happening very fast
I cannot be your first lover, so let me be your last
She turned off the PADD when Blair came back into the room, "Aren't you going to change?" she asked Pamela.
"Uh, yes, just a sec," She emerged from the small bathroom several minutes later.
"That's kind of over the top," Blair said.
"You've seen my 'over the top'," Pamela said, "You know this is pretty normal for me."
"Those pants are too tight on you."
"If I can still breathe and walk, they aren't."
=/\=
It was pizza night.
The cafeteria was crowded and loud.
"Y'know, I like Chef's cooking and all," Tucker yelled above the din, "but I've had better pizza in Manhattan. Why does everyone line up as if it's the last time they're ever gonna see pizza?"
"I'm sure I don't know," Malcolm said, scraping cheese off a slice.
There was a slight whistling sound. They looked up. Blair was wearing jeans and a white sweater. Pamela had on menswear-type pants with a grey pinstripe, and a green wrap sweater that was open enough to reveal just a hint of ecru lace.
Malcolm stood up first. He'd always been taught that. Stand in the presence of a lady, "Good, good evening," he said, pulling out a chair.
Travis just stood there, entranced. Tripp smiled and said, "Uh, ladies? Do we need to reintroduce ourselves?"
"No," Pamela said, "Mayweather, right? Pilot. Fast-moving equipment."
"Y-yes."
"And you're Tucker. Engineer. Lots of power."
"That's me."
"And you're Reed," she paused, "Big. Gun," Her eyes flashed slightly.
Malcolm swallowed, "Wish I could think of something witty to say."
"That's all right," Pamela said, "I put you on the spot," she sat down across from him, "Do we, uh, do we get in line?"
"No, no, I'll take care of it," Travis said, "Any preferences?"
"Mushroom, please," said Blair.
"Something with meat," Pamela said.
"Do you, uh, do you specialize?" Tripp asked, "I mean, Dr. Phlox is kinda a generalist but that's just 'cause he's here."
"Obstetrics," Blair said.
"Plastic surgery," Pamela replied.
"Lotsa happy outcomes for both of ya," Tripp said.
"Or not so happy ones, I'd guess," Malcolm said, "Stillbirths and the like. And disfigured people."
"Yes," Pamela said, "Every specialty is like that – you have all sorts of things you can do that are or can be positive, coupled with a lot that can be really horrific. That's a part of what makes medicine so compelling. You have tragedy infusing every triumph, or it can. That depth of feeling can really make you feel alive."
"Two mushroom, two pepperoni," Travis produced the plates with a flourish.
"Thank you," Blair said, "You guys were in the Xindi War, right?"
"Yes, we stopped the weapon from reaching Earth," Malcolm said, "Lost some good people that way."
"And now we've got peace with the Xindi," Pamela said, "And our classmate, you met Stoney – er, Mark Stone? His mother is the first ambassador to 'em since we made peace."
"We all know about Emily Stone," Tripp said, "Huge political appointment. I try not to think about politics – give me an engine any day."
"We haven't seen you for a few days," Travis said, "Lots of work?"
"Oh, yes," Blair said between bites, "Dr. Phlox and Dr. Keating-Fong are really drilling us. I've barely looked up for the past four, five days. Is it four days, or five?"
"Five," Pamela said, "Good thing it's break time. Movie Night tomorrow, then the party the next day, plus our instructor heads back to the Vulcan home world for a few weeks of lectures and whatever."
"You're, you're attending Movie Night?" Malcolm asked.
"Oh, sure," Pamela said, "I just want to look at the old fashions. When is that movie from?"
"Twentieth century," Travis said.
"They did look pretty funny then," Blair said.
=/\=
Captain Archer sat with T'Pol, Dr. Phlox and Dr. Keating-Fong in his private dining area, "The beef stew was really good," he said to the server.
"I'll be sure to tell Chef," said Crewman Delacroix as he cleared the plates.
"Captain, I'll be leaving you soon," Dr. Keating-Fong said, "And while my charges are all grown men and women, they can be a bit, shall we say, sophomoric at times. The party might be a bit out of hand, so be aware of that."
"Well," Jonathan said, "we were all young once."
"So you won't be attending the festivities?" asked T'Pol.
"Me, no. I've seen plenty of them. Everyone bends over backwards to make nice with Ambassador Stone's son. And, I have a rendezvous with your people anyway. I'm going to be giving a few lectures on extinct tropical diseases, like dengue fever and Hansen's disease."
"Dr. Keating-Fong here is a foremost specialist on such things. Don't let her modesty fool you, Commander," Phlox said.
"Actually, I bet that Phlox here is the only one of us who'll be at the entire party," Captain Archer said, "T'Pol will be on shift, you'll be gone," he indicated Dr. Keating-Fong, "and I've got a date with a book."
"A book?" Phlox asked, "Surely you can read a novel another time."
"It's a play. Much Ado About Nothing."
"Shakespeare? Captain, I didn't think you were the type," Dr. Keating-Fong said.
"It's a compelling story."
"At least try to come before the very end of it," Phlox suggested, "I'm sure Shakespeare can wait."
"You're right. He's been dead for centuries. He can wait another day or so."
5
After dinner, Pamela caught up with Hoshi. "Ensign, uh, Sato, right?"
"Yes."
"Communications?"
"Right again."
"I'm Pamela Hudson. Mind if I ask you a question?"
"No, of course not. And I met you a few days ago. I remember," Hoshi said.
"Oh, all right. We all get so caught up in tests and the like; I forget that not everyone is doing that."
"Your question?"
"Oh, yes. How do you send an anonymous message? I thought that was somewhat impossible," Pamela said.
"Ah, you got it."
"Yes, I got it. Did you read it?"
"No. I don't do that."
"Some special Communications Officers' oath or something?"
"I just, I promised I wouldn't. Anyway, to answer your question – I encrypt the message and hide the sender."
"I guess you can't get into details. And that's all right; I wouldn't know what to do with them anyway. God knows I'm no cryptographer," Pamela admitted, "So I would, uh, go through you if I wanted to send a response to this anonymous person?"
"Yes."
"And you would, uh, assure that the message was delivered to the correct person?"
"Of course. Send whatever you like. I can get to it tomorrow morning."
"Hmm, well I'm not sure I want to send anything. Just want to know my options. And, uh, if another anonymous note is sent, would it be against your ethics to at least tell me if the two messages were from the same person?"
Hoshi shrugged, "I guess not. Look, I'm off for a workout. Like I said, send me a note and I'll take care of it."
Pamela returned to quarters. Blair was already back.
"Good, you're back," Blair said, "Your damned PADD has been just chiming away."
"Huh," Pamela looked over the notes and deleted them, "Last-minute invitations for tomorrow. Nothing exciting."
"No more poems?"
"No," Pamela smiled slightly to herself.
"Do you know who the poet is?"
"I have a few ideas but nothing concrete. I mean, we don't know these people at all. So, assuming it's a man and assuming he's not one of our classmates, there are still some sixty or so possibles."
"Don't forget the doctor."
"Huh. Not into aliens," Pamela said.
"And maybe there's some interested woman out there. Hey, you never know," Blair said.
"No, this wasn't from a woman. The writer referred to himself and the reference was definitely male."
"Anything else?"
"I'm not gonna tell you, so don't even try to get it out of me," Pamela said.
"All right. Um, I don't normally ask this, but," Blair said, "could you clear out tomorrow night? Please? It's, uh, you know why."
"Yes, I know why. And it's fine. You know I rarely sleep in my own bed most of the time."
"True. You know, two years ago, the first time you disappeared on me, I really worried. I was just about ready to call your parents when you walked in," Blair said.
"Good thing you didn't tell them. I don't talk to them. You know that."
"I know, although you've never actually told me why. Still, I think they'd want to know if you were lying face down in a ditch somewhere, Pamela."
"But I haven't kissed a ditch so it's all right. And you remember what I told you, back then? I said you should only start to worry if you don't see or hear from me in three days. Have I kept up my end of that deal?"
"Yes, you have," Blair admitted, "But I can't help worrying a little bit. You are a grownup and can take care of yourself. Still, I mean, isn't it all right for someone to worry about you?"
"I guess it's a little all right," Pamela said, "But I am thirty-four years old and very experienced with this. I am not going to do anything truly stupid."
"Look, Pamela, I can't say as I can completely go along with that," Blair said, "I know what happened with Henry."
=/\=
"Cap'n, looks like it's a comet trail," Tripp said through the communicator speaker.
"Oh? How do you figure?" Jonathan asked, sitting at the desk in his Ready Room.
"It's not just neutron pulses. There's also some organic material comin' through."
"Organic? Like what?"
"Seems to be carbons, proteins, not too well-organized and probably not alive. Theories suggest that life was brought to Earth by comets. This could be something similar."
"Any danger to the ship?"
"I doubt it. I s'pect these compounds could just pass through the ship and we'd barely know it had happened at all. Probably already has happened."
"Hmm. Well, keep monitoring."
"Sensors are a little tricky with this," Tripp said, "I'm not so sure we're getting all of the readings we could be gettin'."
"You said this was not a problem," Jonathan said.
"And it's very likely not. Still, our readings aren't perfect. So far, we're okay, but we might wanna skip away from the worst of it."
"I'll have Travis do that. Archer out."
=/\=
"Oh, yes, The Henry Incident," Pamela made air quotes, "And just how much do you think you know?"
"I know you were in trouble," Blair said cautiously.
"I'm always in trouble."
"No, this was different. I mean, even Henry looked a little concerned."
"Ha, that lummox never worried about anything in his life!" Pamela laughed a little.
"No, he was worried. Sheesh."
"But most likely not about me," Pamela said, "More likely he was worried about himself."
"Maybe."
"Look, right now we're on a starship, right? So unless someone shoves me out of an airlock, you basically know exactly where I am at all times, right? So don't concern yourself. And I will clear out as you requested – don't forget it's my willingness to do sleepovers that's going to clear the way for you and Lover Boy tomorrow night."
Blair smiled, "Yes, I guess so. Just don't want anything bad happening to you."
"I'll be fine. Now, what are you wearing tomorrow?"
6
It was the next day, right after dinner. Blair and Pamela were in quarters.
"Not too much of that perfume," Blair said, "You know it can give me a headache."
"Oh yeah, sorry. It just never seems to last long enough. Ha, story of my life," Pamela said, putting the bottle down. The label read: 'Toxic'.
"Are you gonna hook up with your poet friend tonight?"
"I'm still not certain who it is."
"It could even be Doctor Phlox," Blair pointed out.
Pamela made a face, "Not into aliens. Really."
"Oh, I'd've thought you'd like the variety."
"Blair, Blair, Blair, there are plenty of variations that are possible with human males."
"I can imagine."
"I could sketch some for you," Pamela offered, smiling.
"Huh, no. TMI. Anyway, back to figuring out who your poet is. How are you going to determine that?"
"Collect data. Process it," Pamela thumped her left temple once, "Reprocess if necessary. Then act. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow."
"Ah. And how are you going to collect this data?" Blair asked, slipping on a bangle bracelet.
"I read a little. Seems there's going to be a discussion about the movie afterwards. So I'll make it a point of staying, and I figure the candidate may very well be among anyone who sticks around."
"Possibly. That's not foolproof."
"Well, of course not, but it does give me an opportunity to lay out some bait and see who," she paused for a second to adjust her lipstick, "bites."
Blair smiled, "I'll probably skip most of that performance. I imagine we'll be outta there right afterwards."
"As you should be," Pamela said, "Now, ready?"
=/\=
"There's more organic matter coming through," Jonathan said, "Can you check, Malcolm, see if it's affecting any of our tactical systems?"
"Of course, sir. I'll see to it personally."
=/\=
Movie Night was well-attended.
"Ladies," Tripp said when he saw them, "We got seats right here. Scootch down, Travis."
Blair sat between Travis and Tripp. Then Pamela on the other side of Tripp, "Should I save this other one?" she asked.
"Yeah, I think Reed got caught up with stuff," Tripp said.
The rest of the medical class sat behind them.
A tall Ensign got up at the front of the room, "Boys and girls!" he called out. People quieted down to listen, "For those of you who don't know, my name is Chip Masterson and I am your Movie Guy. I'd like to welcome our guests from the Nereid Medical Academy. Now, it's customary for me to talk a little about the movie beforehand and then, afterwards, if you like, we can discuss it a bit. I don't normally get a lot of people discussing the films so I'm hoping you'll join me."
"Oh, that sounds interesting," Pamela said quietly.
"Really?" asked Tripp.
"Sure," she said, and then indicated the front of the room, "We should listen."
"This film is called 'Dirty Dancing'," said Chip, "It stars, uh," he consulted a PADD, "Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey. The film came out in 1987 but it takes place over twenty years before that. One thing you might not be aware of is that the soundtrack is mixed. Part of it is period music from the 1960s and a part is original works from the 1980s. This was probably intended to both sell more copies of the soundtrack and have the music better play in with the action on the screen. We'll talk about that afterwards, see if you can figure out which is the newer music written specially for the film, and which are the older pieces. A few other things you should know: the Catskill Mountains had a bunch of resorts. And the Peace Corps was a volunteer organization whereby mostly very young people would fly around the globe and do things like teach school in developing countries. It was considered to be a mainstay of idealism, kind of shorthand for being a good person. And that's all I'll say about that. Don't want to spoil it for anyone. Oh and this film is being shown at the request of me and the folks in the Engineering Department, and is dedicated to our guests. And now, without further ado, 'Dirty Dancing'. Roll it, Aidan."
A figure appeared to the side as the lights were dimmed, "This seat taken?"
"Uh, I guess not," Pamela said.
=/\=
"So everything is all right?" T'Pol asked.
"Yes, it appears so. Tactical is unaffected," Malcolm said.
"Very well. Stand down, Mr. Reed."
He left.
=/\=
Travis was the only one to realize Blair had put her hand back behind her and was holding hands with ... someone. It could have been any of her fellow students. He shrugged. Oh, well.
Tripp leaned back, yawned, and tried to put his arm around Pamela. She leaned forward, eluding him for the moment and instead looked at the man on the other side of her. Tripp put his arm back to where it had been.
=/\=
Malcolm saw Dr. Phlox as he was walking over to Movie Night, "I see you're late, too," said the doctor.
"Yes. More's the pity."
"I didn't think you were a fan of musicals," Phlox paused for a moment, "It's not the movie, is it?"
"No, it's not," Malcolm said, looking down a little as they walked.
"Your mating rituals do fascinate me. Always a complicated minuet of sorts. Mind if I observe?"
"Yes."
=/\=
The lights came up. Pamela realized who she'd been sitting with, "Captain! I didn't think you would attend."
"Oh, it's good to be out and about at times, Doctor," he replied, "Got plans for now? Most of the crew leaves and goes about their business, I understand."
She smiled, "There's supposed to be a discussion. I thought I'd hang around for that. Will you?"
"Hmm. All right," he said, "But don't expect any big insights from me," he smiled.
"I probably won't have any, either," she said.
"All right. Ha, this is a great turnout," Chip said, "Let's put our chairs in a circle. And Captain! I am pleasantly surprised."
"Well, I like to support what my crew is doing," Jonathan said, "But, uh, don't count my insights any more than anyone else's."
"Come on over Doctor, Lieutenant," Chip said, "Aidan, get some chairs, yeah, there. Okay."
Tripp sat next to Crewman Haddon. Then Travis, going around clockwise, then Chip, Malcolm, Aidan MacKenzie, Mark Stone, An Nguyen, Captain Archer, Dr. Phlox and Pamela on the other side of Tripp.
Chip began, "Let's start with the music. I'll play a little from a song and you'll figure out if it's 1960s or 1987. Ready?" He tapped a bit on his PADD.
The song went as follows:
Love
Love is strange
A lot of people take it for a game
"Okay, sixties or later, show of hands," Chip said, "Looks like seven for the sixties, four for later. Sixties is right. Next."
The night we met I knew I needed you so
And if I had the chance I'd never let you go
"Later," Pamela guessed.
"Nope. Sixties," Chip said, "One more."
Now I've had the time of my life
No I never felt like this before
This time it was unanimous. Everyone guessed later, "Very good!" Chip said, "Now, what's the difference?"
"The instruments differ," Malcolm said, "And the recording for the second one, it seemed, I don't know, a lot of sound."
"The Wall of Sound. Phil Spector," Chip explained, "Okay, now let's talk about the relationship."
"I don't know if it was so, uh, believable," Tripp said, "It's just, it's really unequal."
"Yes," Pamela said, "He's like the knave and she's the Queen."
"No, not a Queen," Travis said, "A princess, maybe. Rich but not in charge. I mean, she's called 'Baby'. That's not what you call someone in charge."
"It's still uneven," said Deb Haddon, "I mean, she's really sheltered, and he's just some guy. Kinda makes you wonder what they'd have to talk about if they got married. When he's not dancing, he's just kind of, well, he's good to look at but not really that smart."
Pamela laughed, "He's also more of a man of the world than she is a woman of the world, even though she wants to go overseas. Poetry in motion when they move together, and it makes you wonder about how they move together otherwise."
"Otherwise?" Aidan asked. He was dark and very attractive. She hadn't met him before. Could be fun but definitely not the poet.
"Well, dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire. Or am I the only one who knows that?" Pamela asked.
"You're the only one who thinks that," Mark said.
"No, probably not the only one thinking it. Just the only one expressing it openly," Phlox said, "Minuets, indeed."
=/\=
Blair and Will were in her quarters.
Things were getting steamy.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked her.
"Yes, yes, of course! We've been going out for almost a year," she panted.
"I know. And I love you. But I want to be sure about this. And I want you to be sure."
"Will, I've done this before," she said.
"I know. Just ... want it to be special."
"It is," she said, "Because it's with you."
He kissed her, her back bending over the bed as she threw her head back. He kissed her neck and she sighed a little. Carefully, he removed her top. She smiled at him, "It's getting very warm in here. You are definitely overdressed, Will Owen."
He grinned at her and took off his shirt, a lot more zealously than he'd taken off her top.
"Very nice," she said.
"You've seen this part before."
"Well, it never gets tiresome. Now let me see more."
He didn't need another invitation. "You turn me on like nobody else," he said, bending his head down and kissing her.
"Even though we're so different?"
"I like the contrast," he said, "You're not Aussie."
"You know what I mean," She said, "The visual part, not my accent."
"Yes, I know, California girl," he said, kissing her, "And I love the color of your skin. The difference means nothing to me."
"Good," she said, lying down on the bed, "Now come closer and we'll really see contrast."
He moved slowly and carefully, and kissed her, hard, arms around her back, close, close, closer than close. He let her go and she sighed at him.
She finally opened her eyes, "Why did we wait so long to do that, Will?" she breathed.
He smiled at her, "It just had to be right."
=/\=
"Okay, looks like we're wrapping up here," Chip said, "Next week is another musical."
"Is the Engineering Department into musicals or something?" Pamela asked.
"We just figured you ladies might like 'em," Tripp explained.
"They're okay. A lot of fantasy. Not that there's anything wrong with that," Pamela replied.
"Next week is 'Grease'," Chip said, reading off his PADD, "Starring, erm, John Travolta, Olivia Newton-John and some old pros like, uh, Frankie Valli and Eve Arden."
"I bet that last one's a made-up name," Travis said.
"Yeah, it's familiar. Arden, Arden. Where do I know Arden from?" Tripp said, not able to put his finger on it.
"Yeah, it's, I don't know," Jonathan said.
"Forest of Arden," Malcolm said, speaking for the first time in a while, "It's from 'As You Like It'."
"Shakespeare," Pamela said, "This film wasn't exactly Shakespearean. I'm guessing that a film called 'Grease' won't be, either."
"Probably not," he replied, "Low versus high-brow culture, I'd say."
"I gotta go study," said An.
"Me, too," said Pamela, "I have data I have to process. Good night."
She followed An out, "Going to the Sick Bay lab?"
"Yes, as if it's your business."
"It's not. But I'm going there, too."
"And then making a conquest?" he asked, annoyedly.
"No. Pulling an all-nighter. And not the usual kind."
"So I'll be treated to your company," he said sarcastically.
=/\=
Will and Blair lay together.
"I love you," she said.
He smiled at her, "Do you want to meet my mum?"
"Oh, Gawd. I dunno. That's an even scarier step than this was."
"I promise she doesn't bite."
=/\=
Sick Bay at oh three hundred hours was a cacophony of sounds. Phlox was in and out, mostly out, "Rest period for me," he had explained.
Pamela and An worked through the night.
"That's the third time you've titrated the same sample," he said to her.
"Yeah, well, I'm kinda tired."
"Why don't you go back to your quarters? You're no good here."
"Don't you know? Claymore and Owen are hitting it as we speak."
"Hot damn. It's about freakin' time," he said, "Look, uh, don't take this the wrong way," he yawned.
"What am I taking the wrong way?"
"Me offering you Owen's bed."
"Oh?" she arched an eyebrow.
"For sleeping purposes and nothing more. I got a spare bed and you need one."
"True," she said, "Don't tell me you play on Stoney's team."
"No. Just because I don't want to make your teeth rattle does not make me a gay man," An said.
"Yes, you're right. Truce?"
"Truce. C'mon, before you break a beaker or something."