Earth: Stardate 2249.303
Shouldering her way into her youngest child's room with a laundry hamper full of folded clothes, Mrs. Bennet stopped to let out a tired sigh. "Mary Valentina Bennet, get in here right now!" she shouted, rolling her eyes to the ceiling in a fit of irritation. Tapping her foot impatiently while waiting on her daughter, Mrs. Bennet flinched in surprise at the sudden sight of Mary at her elbow.
"Jesus, Mary, I'm going to make you wear a bell one of these days."
Her daughter's quiet demeanor was unlike that of her older sisters. Lizzie was a typical loud child, and Jane, although shy, at least made noise while walking. Mary often appeared swiftly, and with little more to herald her entrance than a quiet creak from the hardwood floor.
"Yes, mommy?" the girl questioned innocently.
Her mother softened the slightest bit at her child's wide eyes looking up at her, but that didn't stop her from gesturing to the room and ordering, "Clean this up."
A mosaic of decaying leaves was scattered across the floor of the child's room, vibrant vermilion red and burnt orange lined up against ochre yellow. A few earthworms crawled around on the oak floors between the scattering of leaves, and Mrs. Bennet took a quick step backwards.
"But mommy, we're talking about plants in class, and I wanted to bring the leaves for show and tell tomorrow. It's for science." Mary's slight lisp added a "th" sound to the beginning of the last word, and her mother made a mental note to ask if the school had a speech therapist.
Rolling her eyes heavenward, Mrs. Bennet slowly breathed out, "Fine, but you still have to clean your room. You can leave all of this mess in the garage until tomorrow morning."
"Okay, mommy," her daughter pouted, but turned to comply with the order.
Earth Stardate: 2253.17
Mr. Bennet didn't have many vices in life. A self proclaimed family man and homebody, it wasn't that he had given up a bachelor lifestyle of drinking and fighting when he married so much as that he never got involved with those things in the first place. Already tenured at the local university, his job consisted of short lectures and overseeing his TA's, who were usually so ambitious they basically supervised themselves. His days were mostly spent holed up in his study, appreciating what little quiet there was to be found in a house with three young girls and a wife who talked as if she abhorred the sound of silence.
Ironic, maybe, that what was currently his sanctuary against the noise and chaos of his life would, years later, room his two loudest children. But Mr. Bennet was not aware of this yet, and still had a little time to enjoy a room filled with antique paper books and knowledge.
It was a little after dinnertime, and Mr. Bennet was currently guiding his middle child through the basics of three-dimensional chess. Lizzie's head barely peaked through the set, but her father could see the beginning of frustration setting in. Although young, Mr. Bennet could tell his daughter had a mind for strategy, but patience was not something she inherently possessed.
Mr. Bennet picked up one of the pieces and then promptly dropped it as a loud popping sound, followed by an alarming sizzle, shook the wall shared between his study and his youngest daughter's room.
Remembering that his wife was not currently in the house, he rose to investigate, Lizzie trailing after him as he left the study and entered Mary's bedroom. Although maybe it should have, the disaster that awaited him did not surprise him in the slightest. Several vials were tipped over, presumably from the small explosion that had taken place, and what could only be described as a clear sludge coated several square feet of the ceiling above his entranced progeny. The sludge was slowly but surely eroding the ceiling paint, and Mr. Bennet quickly tugged his daughter out from beneath the mess before turning her to face him.
Mr. Bennet tried to look like the disciplinarian his spouse always claimed he wasn't- really, he did try- but couldn't stop from showing an amused grin. Wearing a white coat and cheap safety glasses, Mary looked like a researcher shrunken down. Her father cleared his throat in an attempt to avoid laughing, and adorned a stern air.
"The chemistry set we gave you for your birthday was specifically for children, Mary. Everything in there was supposed to be virtually unreactive, how on Earth did you create a mixture like that?" he questioned while picking up the packaging for said gift. The movement rattled some glass inside, and Mr. Bennet pulled out several vials that were still sealed.
"Those were boring, I wanted to do a real experiment," Mary defended herself.
Her father looked around the room, but didn't see any hints as to how Mary acquired the necessary solutions for said "real experiment." "Where did you get this stuff?" Mr. Bennet asked, almost rhetorically, as he continued to poke around the room, wary of anything else the corrosive liquid could have splashed on.
If he noticed the fact that Lizzie had started to tiptoe out of the room while trying to radiate as much innocence as possible, Mr. Bennet would've had an answer to his question. Lizzie was going through a bit of a klepto phase, and Jane's middle school was downright negligent when it came to properly securing their chemistry supplies.
Honestly, if anyone was going to get in trouble, Lizzie thought as she guiltily slipped out of the room, taking her sticky fingers with her, it should be the teachers at Zephram Cochrane Junior High School. The password for the electronic locks on the supply closets was '0000'; it's not as if it was super secure.
Behind her she could her the soft murmuring of her father and her sister's more distinct whining of "But, Daaaddd it's for science."
Earth: Stardate 2256.43
A shout startled Mrs. Bennet as she sat in front of the screen, riveted by the latest episode of her favorite soap opera. The show had just revealed a critical plot twist where Sebastian, the stern but passionate (not to mention insanely attractive) stable hand confessed his love to his boss's daughter, who was having an affair with his brother-
The shouting escalated into a loud argument, and Mrs. Bennet quickly looked down to confirm the infant in her lap was still sleeping. A stab of irritation, worsened by a little sleep deprivation and a lack of personal time, shot through her as she gently set the infant down on the mat next to the couch and hurried toward the room in the back of the house from where the arguing emanated. Rubbing her baby bump distractedly, Mrs. Bennet- for only the second or twentieth time in the last week- questioned what had possibly entered her and her husband's mind when they agreed to have yet another kid.
"You girls better hush or so help me-" Mrs. Bennet began, forcefully opening the door before halting in shock from the scene in front of her.
A raccoon scurried around the room with, what appeared to be, a dead sparrow in its mouth, knocking over various PADDs and laboratory detritus in its path. On a good day, Mary's room was messy; today it closely resembled old footage of cities that were decimated by tornadoes before the weather modification network was established. Even more astonishing was the fact that Mary seemed to be chasing after it instead of shooing it out of the room. In turn, Lizzie was pulling determinedly- although rather futilely- on her younger sister's arm and screaming "Just let it go, Mary! That thing is going to give you rabies!"
Mrs. Bennet stood frozen for quite a few seconds in an attempt to process the scene. Suddenly remembering her vulnerable sleeping infant in the living room, she shut the door behind her before the crazed animal had the opportunity to break free from its current incarceration. Between Mary, who was wearing heavy rubber gloves while running full speed in pursuit of an animal with a maniacal gleam in its eyes and clutching a tiny carcass in between its maw, and Lizzie, whose hair looked particularly wild as she attempted to wrangle her sibling into acting like a rational person, Mrs. Bennet was almost certain she was dreaming. Standing in a corner was Jane, looking frazzled and trying her best to climb the smooth wall in order to avoid the unyielding animal's path. And the stench.
Oh god, the stench.
The room smelled like the beach after a dead whale washes ashore.
Smelled like the time her husband had accidentally given Lizzie spicy food when she was an infant and her diaper overfilled so quickly it came out the sides.
Like someone had eaten rotten fish and spoiled milk, vomited it up, and then tried to clean up said vomit with sewage.
How in the hell did she not detect this odor clear across the house? It was so strong her eyes actually burned and she gagged slightly, but hastily tried to rein it in. These children clearly needed a firm hand, and they could scent weakness the same way a shark scents blood in the water.
"Rabies was eradicated over 150 years ago, Lizzie!" Mary shouted back at her sibling as she tried to corner the fugitive underneath her desk. "It took me weeks to find an animal that wasn't already significantly decomposing, and I'm not giving it up to some freaking raccoon who thinks it can steal my hard work! That's my cadaver, get your own!"
"Girls!" Mrs. Bennet's demand for attention went unheeded.
Lizzie continued to yell at her sister. "Mary, stop being a nutcase and just give-"
"Aren't you supposed to be nocturnal?!" Mary screeched at the growling critter, ignoring both her sibling's plea and the fleeting grab she had on her arm.
"One of you better tell me what's going on right now!" Unfortunately, their mother's thunderous order was ignored by Lizzie and Mary, who proceeded to play a deranged version of tag.
Jane, however, recognized the threat and quickly spit out the story. "Mary has been doing an experiment on avian decomposition for the last two days but the smell was too bad so she opened a window and I guess a raccoon got in and then she shut the window because she was convinced she could get the bird back and then Lizzie and I found her and we've been trying to open the window but she keeps shutting it so then Lizzie-"
Mrs. Bennet interrupted her daughter's slightly panicked verbal diarrhea. "Why didn't anybody tell me Mary has been keeping a dead animal in her room?"
"Because," Jane responded with too much dignity for a teenager who was currently trying to merge with a wall, "she told us the information in confidence."
"Oh she did, did she?"
Jane nodded despite the fact her mother's sarcastic question was clearly rhetorical.
Mrs. Bennet briskly walked over to the window, flicking the locking mechanism open and pushing the window up. The strong breeze was a welcome reprieve from the oppressive fetor, and she gulped in as much fresh air as discreetly as possible behind the fluttering green curtain before turning back. Mary, for the first time since her mother entered the room, acknowledged her presence by protesting loudly. "Mom, wait, don't do that, he'll get away!"
"That's the point!" Mrs. Bennet yelled back as she moved away from the window, giving the raccoon a chance to flee. In a last ditch effort, Mary moved to block the animal, but the critter managed to skirt the young scientist, scurry across the desk and out the window to freedom with his prize securely held between his jaws.
A relieved Lizzie sat in her sister's desk chair with an exhausted sigh, bending over her knees while her panting slowly leveled out into normal breathing. Sometimes being an unofficial wrangler to a budding mad scientist was tiring. Her mother has been occupied with Kitty this last year, and her father seemed to disappear into the ether whenever chaos erupted in their household. Her leading theory was that their dad was working toward becoming an amateur magician- and he was getting really good at it too. One minute he was there, the next he was gone.
Honestly, it was a miracle they were all still alive.
Unlike Elizabeth, who felt like a nap was in order, the sight of the raccoon fading into the distance in the forest behind her house only seem to invigorate Mary. Turning to her mother in a rare fit of emotion, Mary shrieked, "Mother, the entire timeline for my experiment is ruined now! How could you do this to me?!"
Mary may or may not have been going through a bit of a melodramatic phase at the time, which is every pre-teen's god given right. Her sisters were just glad she had abandoned the heavy makeup; the one time she had attempted eyeliner she had not looked that different from the raccoon that was just tearing through the room.
Her mother drew herself up to her full height, which wasn't very intimidating considering that she was shorter than all her daughters except the baby, and responded forcefully. "I didn't think this needed explaining to you, Mary, but I'll spell it out. You. Can't. Keep. Dead. Things. In. The. House. Go on and disinfect your room now, I know you know how to do that."
"But Mom, it's for-"
"Yeah, yeah, science, I know," her mother waved dismissively as she left to check on the baby.
Earth: Stardate 2262.72
Mary sat in the kitchen on Saturday morning, enjoying a fresh cup of coffee. Steam rose from the cup, and the bitter scent filled the kitchen. Combined with the twittering of the birds outside of the window, the ambiance of the kitchen was peaceful. Even her parents, eating across from her at the table, were still sleepy and quiet. It was truly a perfect morning.
That was, until the sound of Lydia's sobbing pierced the air.
"Mommy!" her youngest sister ran into the room while holding a PADD in one hand, Kitty hot on her heels. "Why didn't you tell me I was adopted?!" she wept, as accusing as a 6 year old with that much snot running down their cheeks can be. She wiped her tears off on the sleeve of her rainbow colored pajamas.
Kitty started tearing up as well, confusion and concern written on her face. "Am I adopted too?"
"Don't be ridiculous; neither of you are adopted. I have the many, many stretchmarks to prove you're mine," her mother answered tersely, grabbing the PADD out of her daughter's hand and scrolling through the document. "What the hell is this?" she asked nobody in particular. The PADD did in fact contain adoption papers, badly falsified though they were, claiming she and her husband had adopted Lydia Bennet. She turned to her husband, ready to ask for him to back her up on the matter, only to find that he had disappeared, somehow making exactly no noise upon exiting.
How was it possible that that man was so incredibly supportive when they had to explain to Jane and Lizzie at separate times that he was not Jane's biological father, but completely vanished when all they had to do was dispel a fictitious certificate? He owed her after this, and by god, he was going to owe big.
Woken up by the noise, Lizzie and Jane walked into the kitchen. They were back home from the academy for the weekend, and currently regretting their choice of leaving the calm Starfleet dorms.
"What's going on?" Jane questioned their mother while trying to comfort Lydia.
The inquiry only caused Lydia to start weeping again, and Lizzie turned to pour some coffee in a mug because she was not awake enough to deal with crying children.
"She found the adoption papers," Kitty told her eldest sisters, although her words were a little difficult to understand given that at the moment her lip was wobbling precariously. At the proclamation, Lizzie and Jane both froze, both of them believing that Lydia had discovered the documentation that their father had signed to legally adopt Jane. Luckily the only one in the room to notice was Mrs. Bennet, who was quick to tack on, "Fake adoption papers, claiming your father and I adopted Lydia."
Lizzie slumped down in the chair next to Mary, clutching to the mug in her hands like a lifeline and blinking her way to wakefulness. Lydia calmed down a little as Jane explained that no, there was nothing wrong with being adopted, but she was 100% sure Lydia was not since she could remember the day their mother gave birth to the youngest sister. Keeping one ear on the other members of her family, Lizzie murmured to Mary, "So, how'd you manage this one?"
"You know the drawer Mom likes to hide the junk food in?" Mary whispered back.
Like every other one of her sisters, Lizzie was thoroughly familiar with the drawer in question. Marie Bennet had a sweet tooth a mile long, something she had unfortunately passed down to her daughters. Her mother liked to collect delicacies from across the globe- and even some from other planets- but had learned to hoard the goodies from her growing children. Jane had originally discovered the hiding spot over a dozen years ago, and had passed along the information. It was something of a bonding experience for the sisters, who were now adept at taking the right amount over a period of time so that it wasn't obvious they were pilfering.
At Lizzie's nod, Mary continued, "I hid the PADD on top and let it slip to Lydia and Kitty that Mom had received a package yesterday. I'm honestly a little impressed at their comprehension level. Obviously I oversimplified the legal jargon, but it had to look somewhat accurate-"
"Mary, do you know anything about this?" their mother hissed across the table, trying not to disrupt Jane, who was still uttering reassurances to the baby of the family.
"No, mother, I didn't know about the adoption" Mary answered, the fake innocence making her mother squint at her suspiciously. "But I still love her like she's my own flesh and blood." Unlike her mother, Mary didn't bother lowering her voice, and as a result Lydia began to bawl once more.
"She is your flesh and blood; she's your sister."
"Mmm hm, my 'sister.'" Quotes practically appeared in the air with how hard Mary emphasized the last word. "My sister from another mister."
"The same mister, Mary, the sister from the same exact mister," her mother rolled her eyes tiredly while ushering her youngest two toward her room, where she was guessing said "mister" might be hiding. Hopefully, hearing both their parents reiterate the truth might make Kitty and Lydia believe it. One day soon she would have to let them know about Jane's birth father, and how adopting was sometimes better for everybody involved, but with their current mood today would not be the best choice. Jane followed behind, always ready to offer comfort and wise words.
"Aren't you a little old to still be doing these things?" Lizzie's tone was amused and judgmental at the same time, a balance she had perfected over the years. "Next year you'll be at the Academy with Jane and I, and you won't have the time or energy to pull shit like this."
Mary cocked her head at her sister. "It's a good thing then that I did it now instead of later."
"Let me guess," Lizzie snorted, "this prank on Lydia was somehow in the name of science?"
Only the slightest upwards twitching of the corners of Mary's mouth betrayed her inward delight. She inhaled deeply, her nose perched over the lip of the cup; somehow, the coffee smelled even better than it did five minutes ago. "No, you know psychology doesn't interest me. This wasn't for science; it was purely for fun."
Dining Room #2, U.S.S. Longbourn: Stardate 2275.309 at 1929 hours
Lizzie couldn't deny she felt much better than she did this morning.
She felt settled. The fatigued haze that colored her mind so often these days was temporarily absent, and she could only think that Darcy had something to do with that. He had awoken her from her nap at 1330 on the dot, and at that moment the captain was pleasantly surprised at how well-rested she felt. Since they boarded the Longbourn, going to sleep was a struggle for her. Most nights her thoughts were filled with theoretical emergencies and contingency plans, but this afternoon her subconscious had decided that Darcy was clearly adept at handling the ship for at least 2 hours and rewarded her with a dreamless rest.
Unfortunately, her clear mind now had that much more energy to devote to acknowledging the incredibly awkward dinner she was attending.
To absolutely nobody's surprise, Vulcans did not tend to engage in small talk during meals. Therefore, the visiting scientists from the VSA, Elizabeth, Darcy, Mary, Charlotte, James, and- ugh- Bingley sat in silence while eating dinner. Jane was waylaid by a distressed ensign about an hour beforehand, and was excused from attending. It was probably for the best though- considering Jane and Charles were still avoiding each other.
The only sound in the room was the quiet clinking of the silverware. Apparently, Vulcans considered it vulgar to eat with their hands- a fact that surprised the captain when the commander enlightened them all before the meal. She had witnessed Darcy eat with his hands multiple times. Maybe his hands weren't as sensitive due to his genetics, or possibly it was a way to quietly object Vulcan values. Smiling at the thought of Darcy secretly being a 'bad boy', the captain almost missed her first officer's eyes as they flicked toward her.
This time last week, Lizzie would have maintained eye contact to show she was not intimidated by his intense stare. Now she quickly directed her gaze down towards her food and willed her cheeks not to blush, reminding herself she was an adult damnit, and had aged out of blushing years ago.
The bland food in front of her was most definitely not more visually satisfying than her first officer, but it inspired a lot less confusion in her.
Tipping her spoon, Lizzie let the soup fall back into the bowl. She couldn't force herself to take another slurp of the flavorless liquid, and she highly doubted the Vulcans would be insulted if the humans didn't prefer their food. The toasty temperature probably contributed to her lack of appetite as she had turned up the thermostat in the dining room in honor of the Longbourn's guests. James seemed to be eating significantly more than his colleagues- no doubt he was at least a little accustomed to the food- but she noticed Mary and Charlotte had given up and were periodically drinking water just to occupy their hands.
Usually the chef on board would prepare food for any guests or dignitaries, but between the short notice and the fact that she wasn't familiar with Vulcan foods, the captain and Darcy agreed replicator food would work just as well. Hopefully, the scientists weren't secretly disgusted with the outcome.
Across from her, Dr. T'Lii placed her utensils down before delicately patting at her lips with a cloth napkin. Her team members followed her lead while the Vulcan thanked the captain for her hospitality.
"Of course," Lizzie replied with a small smile. "If any of you require anything tonight, please let me or the commander know."
"Thank you, captain. Lieutenant King has agreed to give Falor and I a tour of your botany department this evening; apparently she is currently cultivating a Nah'ru vine and she has a few concerns about the growth. We will contact you via the ship computer if we require anything. Have a good evening."
The captain momentarily wondered if touring a botany department was a Vulcan's idea of a good time before squashing the thought. They were adults, and were fully capable of entertaining themselves for the short duration of the trip to Tarkalea. Turning away from the departing Dr. T'Lii, Falor, and Skon, she noticed Charlotte talking in hushed tones with Mary with their backs turned to the remainder of the group. Walking up silently behind them just in time for them to separate, Charlotte turned and almost bumped into her. "Hey," Lizzie asked, unable to keep suspicion out of her voice, "what are you two whispering about?"
Lizzie had grounds for concern. Mary and Charlotte weren't the best of friends- Mary was usually too reserved to match the energy of the boisterous engineer- but every once in a while their motives aligned and the result was never pretty. During a month while they all attended the Starfleet academy, Lizzie had been convinced she was aging prematurely. Every day she awoke with more and more gray hairs contrasting severely with her chestnut locks, and felt like she was cold all the time. After constantly telling Charlotte to speak up, she also believed she was going deaf. Too embarrassed to go to the physicians on-campus, she denied the various problems for weeks. Turns out Charlotte had altered their thermostat to read 10 degrees warmer than it actually was, and Mary had managed to dye small sections of her hair for several days in a row. Lizzie had only realized they were pranking her when she found them changing out her jackets for knitted cardigans.
She still wasn't sure how her younger sister had managed to dye her hair while she was asleep; surely Mary hadn't given her any sleeping medication, right?
Lizzie truly believed she was better off not knowing.
"Mary was telling me about a problem with one of the biobeds in sickbay," Charlotte explained, looking like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
The captain's eyes narrowed, before turning a mocking smile toward her sister. "Is that so?"
"Yes," Mary confirmed. Her usual poker face didn't budge, but Lizzie knew it wouldn't. She opened her mouth, a rebuttal on the tip of her tongue, before she noticed Georgiana walking in their direction out of the corner of her eye.
"Well, I'll leave you two to it, then. Good luck with your... problem." The chief engineer simply nodded in reply, and Lizzie turned toward the young woman, a more genuine grin on her face. "Ready?"
"Oh yes," Georgiana agreed and together they exited the room. Neither of them noticed the first officer's eyes trailing after them as they left.
The blast of cold air greeted them as they entered the corridor, and the captain breathed a little easier. The brighter lights made Georgiana blink a few times, but she tried to quell the response as Lizzie started talking. "I love your robes, that's a gorgeous color."
Smoothing down the cloth over her stomach, Georgiana thanked her for the compliment. Her robes were a dark peach color, with an attached scarf that draped across the front of her neck and opened toward her back. The loose sleeves split at the crook of her elbow, and the robes coupled with her loose curls made her appear ethereal. "Most of the clothes I packed are a lighter material, but I forgot how cold it is on these ships. It seems the hyposprays I take to adjust to the climate on my home planet haven't worn off yet."
"Trust me," Lizzie confided while gesturing to the thick material of her own uniform, "even without hyposprays you might still get cold. Also, I know I had mentioned us eating in the mess hall, but I thought if you didn't eat desserts frequently then we should consider this somewhat of a special occasion. Something from the replicator simply won't do," the captain told Georgiana as they turned a corner, a few ensigns walking around them due to their slow pace.
The young woman furrowed her eyebrows a little in confusion, but the serene smile never faltered. "Don't get me wrong, I very much consider any sugar to be a cause for celebration, but I don't quite understand what you're leading up to. I'll gladly take dessert from the replicator."
Bouncing on her toes a little in excitement, Lizzie explained, "We have a couple of civilians who have jobs on board, and one of them- Marlene- is a simply amazing cook. The food from the replicators can't begin to compete with hers; it's like a completely different level. I may or may not have bribed her a little bit for the personal favor, but she made us dessert. Please tell me you like chocolate," Lizzie playfully pleaded, clasping her hands in front of her.
Georgiana sighed happily, a shy smile making her eyes light up. "Real, actual chocolate? That is the best news I've heard all day. It is impossible to get bona fide chocolate on Vulcan, and the replicator's taste so much like chalk it's not worth eating it."
Lizzie chuckled, relieved she had guessed right. Part of her was aware she shouldn't try so hard to win the approval of a visiting scientist (after all, the captain of a Starfleet ship had more important things to focus on) but if she and Darcy actually did end up-
No, she thought viciously, that was not a possible scenario at all. She and Darcy were friends, but that was it. That must be why she cared about Georgiana's opinion; learning about people close to your friends was important.
"Why is it so difficult to get real chocolate on Vulcan?" the captain asked, shrugging off her internal debate for the moment.
Georgiana giggled, the girlish sound at odds with their polished environment. "Oh, it's a little bit of a Vulcan secret. Well- maybe secret isn't the right word, but they certainly don't advertise it." Lizzie nodded at her to continue. "The chemicals in chocolate affect a Vulcan's nervous system similarly to how ethanol intoxicates humans."
Lizzie actually stopped in her tracks. "Are you saying Vulcans can get drunk off of chocolate?!" She couldn't help her tone, which was simultaneously disbelieving and ecstatic. "That's amazing- I'm actually a little jealous of that ability. Eating chocolate and getting wasted? Sounds like a good time to me."
"I hate to disappoint you," Georgiana continued, amused by the woman next to her, "but mental control is very important to Vulcans. It's not something that happens commonly. The connection between chocolate and intoxication was documented well over a century ago, when it was first imported to Vulcan as an exotic treat. I'm sure a Vulcan has eaten chocolate since then, but if so I'm unaware of such an event."
"Hmm, that is disappointing. I just don't understand Vulcans," Lizzie admitted quietly, as if it was a secret. "Every single one of them is strong and incredibly intelligent, but I have yet to hear of any fun activities Vulcans do. How do they function without any sort of release?" As soon as the words left her mouth, Lizzie realized it probably sounded ethnocentric. But she couldn't stop picturing a kettle with a clogged spout, where the steam just builds and builds until suddenly the lid is flying flying across the room and the water is boiling over.
"They do," Georgiana countered, but had to stop herself from stuttering. She was glad her hair was down, because the tips of her ears were probably turning red at that moment. At the word "release" her mind had gone straight to pon farr, but she knew the captain wasn't referring to anything sexual. As much as she liked the older woman, she wasn't comfortable explaining Vulcan mating rituals to her yet. If she didn't have a romantic relationship with Will, then she wouldn't need to know about it, and if she did then her brother could be the one to have that conversation with her.
But mostly she didn't want to think of her brother during his pon farr**, thank you very much. She was as mature as the next person, but that was asking a lot of her.
"You have to understand, before Vulcan society decided to fully embrace Surak's principles, the planet was overrun with violence. It's hard to compare it with anything on Earth; the World Wars there were awful, but it didn't almost lead to the extinction of the human species like it did on Vulcan. It's precisely due to their physical and mental capabilities that Vulcans have to be careful. Once when I was a child, I begged Will to toss me into the air. He would never admit it, but he was a doting brother and agreed to it. But he was still growing and wasn't yet accustomed to his changing body. I was too young to remember this, but apparently he tossed me straight up in the air and my head hit the ceiling."
The captain's eyebrows raised in surprise. It was such a human mistake- it was a little difficult to reconcile a picture of a young Darcy making an error like that with the restrained man she knew today.
Georgiana's soft voice continued with the story. "According to our mother it was barely a bump, but I started crying- which children do- and Will panicked and told my mother she had to take me to a healer. I calmed down quickly after my mother kissed the spot, which only had a small knot on it, but Will was convinced that I only quieted down because I had brain damage and needed immediate attention. She explained to him that children are resilient, but Will assumed she was just trying to make him feel less guilty, and long story short he never played with me after that. And that was just an accident, imagine if for some reason he wanted to hurt me on purpose. It wouldn't be very physically difficult for him, even when he was a child."
As she talked, Georgiana noticed that their surroundings were looking more and more familiar. "Are we heading toward the holodecks?"
"Yes," Lizzie answered distractedly, looking like she was still mulling over their previous conversation. "Sorry I didn't ask earlier, but that's okay with you, right? I asked Marlene to drop the food off there; it's a much nicer place than the mess hall." The captain gestured toward a small cart with wheels, where a covered dish and some utensils sat on top.
For a terrifying second, Georgiana considered what would happen if they walked in and there was a glitch in the system, and oh god the captain would see her own hologram, and she would ask how it got there, and would find out Will had programmed it, and she would flip out-
Okay, Georgiana thought to herself before discreetly taking a calming breath, she was definitely overreacting. Unless the system encountered some major bugs, that was not going to happen. Her anxiety nearly dissipated, but that didn't stop her from wincing as the captain typed in a code and the doors to the holodeck opened.
Georgiana's shoulders loosened when the pseudo captain failed to appear.
The holodeck had transformed into a vibrant, open courtyard situated in what looked to be a grand house. Several vines grew up the sides of the house to reach toward the pale sky. The walls themselves looked as if they were made of lime and painted a vivid azure. Other verdant plants sat around a table in orange, pink, and green pots. The sky above them was clear, and a light breeze ruffled the leaves of the various plants. Gauzy curtains covered the three doorways to the house, and Georgiana wondered what would happen if she slipped through. Would the house be just as bright? Or would the holodeck drop her back here?
While the scientist continued to admire their unique surroundings, Lizzie took the opportunity to carry the dish and the utensils to the table. She removed the dish cover with a dramatic "voilà!" and Georgiana gasped in delight.
"German chocolate cake, oh this looks delicious!" Georgiana quickly sat down, and even their astounding environment couldn't take her attention off the absolutely delectable treat in front of her. Lizzie let out a bark of laughter at her response, and without further ado she placed a slice of cake in front of Georgiana and then a slice in front of herself.
Georgiana waited patiently while Lizzie cut the cake, her body minutely vibrating with enthusiasm, but all bets were off once the cake sat in front of her. Her first bite was slow, and she closed her eyes to savor it. "This is the best dessert I've ever had in my life."
That was the only thing she said for the next two minutes.
The first bite was an anomaly, seeing as she basically inhaled the remainder of the cake slice. Lizzie was begrudgingly impressed with her speed. The next time she saw Marlene she was sure to bring up exactly how much their guest enjoyed it. The captain ate several bites as well, but was paying more attention to the human vacuum in front of her than the cake. If someone had asked her this morning if she thought Georgiana Darcy was training for a competitive eating contest, Lizzie would have called them crazy.
But clearly they would have been on to something.
Georgiana finished before fastidiously placing her fork next to her plate and clearing her throat. "Thank you for that, captain. I would appreciate it if you would extend my thanks to Marlene as well."
Stuttering a little in surprise at the turn of events, Lizzie gestured to the rest of the cake. "Would you like another piece?"
"Oh, no, thank you. I'm actually feeling a little nauseous, I probably shouldn't eat any more." Georgiana blushed a little in embarrassment. "It's been so long since I've had anything sweet."
Lizzie chuckled, absentmindedly moving some of the cake around with her fork. "I bet. The food we had at dinner wasn't exactly the most appetizing, I'm a little surprised you manage to eat stuff like that everyday."
Georgiana's eyebrows furrowed a little before her expression cleared in understanding. "Oh," she explained, quick to defend her culture, "Vulcan food isn't typically flavorless. Vulcan spices can cause quite a bit of gastrointestinal distress if you're not accustomed to it; someone probably programmed the replicators so that nobody would become sick. Your crew probably dodged a bullet there."
Lizzie mimed wiping her forehead, and Georgiana giggled at the gesture before glancing back down at the table. She tilted her head a little bit, and for the first time she realized the table looked familiar. Iron wrought and plain, except for the simple flowers winding around the perimeter.
Trying to make her voice sound as casual as possible, Georgiana kept her eyes on the flowers and asked, "Was this table a part of the program?"
A little baffled at the non sequitur, Lizzie shrugged. "No, I programmed it in." Silence met her statement, as Georgiana seemed to be more preoccupied with running a hand along the top than responding. Lizzie tried to fill the strange quiet by explaining, "The first time I had a discussion with your brother in the holodeck we used a beach setting I'm particularly fond of. Of course Darcy didn't say anything, but by the third or so time we sat on the shore I could tell he disliked the sand. I added the table and we use it so often I programmed it into all of my personal programs." The memory would usually annoy the captain as it was just another example of her first officer being fussy, but now when she relayed the story she felt a kernel of affection for Darcy unfurl in her. His lips would tighten every time the grains of sand touched his palms, and he used to stare at the ground as if it personally offended him. The soothing sound of the shore and the sunset would relax the majority of the other people on the ship, but he would simply grow more tense the longer they spent there. God help her, but now when she thought of their meetings, his fastidious nature inspired fondness instead of irritation.
Georgiana's hand froze and she looked up swiftly. Unfortunately, Georgiana seemed to have the Vulcan skill of being hard to read when she desired it, and Lizzie was not familiar with her like she was with her brother. Growing a little uncomfortable with the ongoing silence, Lizzie tacked on "The table is modeled after one we had in the backyard growing up. My father and I would use it to hold the telescope sometimes and spend hours looking at the stars."
Georgiana still hadn't given any sort of response, but mostly because she was thinking about her brother's holodeck program and this exact table featured in it. If anything, it just confirmed what she was already aware of; her brother was sentimental for a Vulcan, and she would do everything in her power so he could be happy.
"It's pretty," Georgiana replied, as if the pause in their conversation was due to the stunning beauty of a, frankly, mediocre table and not because she had been thinking about her brother and his inability to woo a romantic partner in any sort of normal way.
"Uhh yeah," the captain responded, her disbelief obvious. "So, how do you like the Vulcan Science Academy?" she asked as she took another bite of the cake.
The young woman visibly perked up at the question. "The VSA is amazing. The university I attended back on Earth was full of politics and favoritism, and I was never very good at navigating around those types of things. On Vulcan, the only thing that matters is the research, and how the results will contribute to society. It's every scientist's dream."
"That does sound amazing," the captain agreed, her own recent experiences in particular made that situation sound even more appealing. "Darcy told me you were the first human to be accepted; that's awesome."
"My first year there was a bit challenging, to be honest. Vulcans have prejudices, like most other societies, but the great thing is as individuals they're quick to alter their mindset. I had to put up with condescension from almost everyone when I first joined, but after witnessing my contributions their attitudes changed fairly quickly. In fact, this semester we added a Betazoid to our department. You have to earn their respect, but once you do you'll always have it." It was clear Georgiana was proud of her academy- of her culture- and Lizzie envied her optimism. "Well, for the most part," Georgiana added more quietly, "Will was an exception to that."
"What do you mean?"
"When I joined the Vulcan school system, everyone around me- both the instructors and my peers- didn't really expect much from me, and therefore they were surprised when I could keep up. They were all familiar with humans in general, but Will is the first Vulcan-human hybrid, as far as we're aware. At best, most Vulcans who came into contact with him were scientifically curious. There were a lot, though, who treated him as if he were an aberration. They knew Vulcans and and they knew humans, but he was 'other', and sometimes people hate things that don't fit into neat little boxes. He was bullied by a few classmates who would try to get an emotional reaction out of him, who considered him slower and weaker than they were. Make no mistake, I love my planet, but it's not perfect by any means. I was so happy when Will joined Starfleet. He was finally going to be valued like he should, at an organization where diversity was not just an ideal but put into practice every single day." The impassioned words settled like a stone of guilt in Lizzie's stomach, especially when Georgiana turned her wide amber eyes toward her and said, "When I found out your ship was picking us up, I was grateful that I'd finally be able to express my gratitude to you. Ever since he was assigned to the Longbourn, he's seemed content in a way I don't think I've ever seen him. I don't know if it's your leadership or what, but it's as if he finally found a place where he belonged. Which I'm sure is how he would put it, if he were more prone to speaking about his feelings."
Georgiana laughed, and Lizzie let out a strained chuckle. How was she supposed to respond to that? Sure, he was probably happy-ish until a few days ago because he thought he was in love with me, but let's be honest, it was probably just a crush. A crush that he's definitely gotten over, because I told him he was the last man in the galaxy I could ever love. Also, I accused him of stopping somebody who, I later found out, was a pedophile from getting into the Academy. And oh yeah, said pedophile actually targeted you years ago, isn't that just such a coincidence? Now I feel terrible about the whole ordeal, but I'm too spineless to apologize because I'm afraid if I bring it up he'll remember that he hates me.
But of course, she didn't say any of that. Instead what came out of her mouth was, "We're lucky to have him. Darcy is the best first officer anyone could ask for." She hoped her smile didn't look as fake as it felt, because even though she was telling the truth it felt like a lie of omission. In a desperate bid to change the subject, Lizzie blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "So I hear you and T'Hain are planning to have children."
Why would you bring that up?! Lizzie shouted internally. Literally any other subject would have been better.
Actually, scratch that. At least she didn't bring up Wickham.
Flabbergasted, Georgiana replied, "Yes, we're planning on having children. Did Will tell you that?"
The captain shrugged, praying the conversation was coming off as casual and not as if the very subject had caused a rife between the siblings earlier the same day. "He mentioned it."
The young woman gaped, her surprise evident as she commented, "My brother must trust you a great deal." Her face fell as she recalled their argument that morning. "He was really upset with me."
"Oh, no," Lizzie reassured her. Georgiana's downtrodden expression reminded her of a kicked puppy; it was hard to watch. "Darcy is just scared. Nobody likes the idea of a loved one doing something potentially dangerous, but I'm sure the situation will work out. Plus, he told me all that will happen years from now, there's no need to worry about it this moment. Just enjoy your time with your brother while you're together. You'll work it out." Georgiana nodded, still clearly agitated but thinking over the captain's words. Besides," Lizzie added in a more teasing tone, "would you really be siblings unless you fought a little bit?"
The two women spent the next hour trading anecdotes about their family members. The captain had a greater amount of funny stories, given that she had quite a few more siblings, and half of them closer to her age. In turn, Georgiana regaled her with memories of the handful of times James had visited her family on Vulcan, and how all of his pranks backfire spectacularly.
"What James didn't realize was that Will had overheard him telling our mother about what he was planning to do, so when he tried to sneak into Will's closet to scare him later, Will was already there! He screamed so loudly it our neighbors came over to check on us! Later that same week he tried again-" Georgiana's story was interrupted by a notification from the captain's communicator.
Holding up a finger and mouthing an apology, Lizzie pressed to open the line. "Bennet here."
"Captain, this is Ethan? From the Ten Forward lounge?" Why he sounded so unsure of his own name, Lizzie didn't know, and although she was loath to stop the perfectly nice evening they were having, she assumed he wouldn't contact her unless it was important.
"Yes, Ethan, how can I help you?"
"Well, ma'am, I just wanted to let you know I'll be cutting off a few patrons soon."
When Lizzie first took over the captaincy position for the Longbourn, she conversed with Ethan (the civilian in charge of bartending the Ten Forward) about informing her anytime one of the crewmates had a little too much to drink. Partly because she wanted to keep one ear to the ground, but she also thought it would help her determine if she needed to refer anyone to Jane or Mary. Ethan had only contacted her one other time (and luckily it was because one of the ensigns had celebrated a little too hard and not because they were a problematic drinker). "Okay, who exactly is getting cut off?"
The pause that followed almost made her check the connection before Ethan responded timidly. "Dr. Bennet-"
Hearing her sister was drunk was a little bit of a surprise; she was known for drinking people twice her size under the table. She shared a half-amused, half-embarrassed smile with Georgiana. Now she understood Ethan's tone. "I'll stop by in a second-"
"-andCommanderDarcy."
Lizzie blinked. An awkward laugh followed. "I think I misheard you, Ethan. You were saying that Commander Darcy was in the Ten Forward-"
"Yes."
"But he's not inebriated-"
"Definitely inebriated."
"Who is?"
"Commander Darcy."
"Commander Darcy-"
"Is drunk."
"I think you might be confused. Commander Darcy has pointy ears, blue eyes, black hair, athletic build-"
"I know who he is."
Lizzie blinked some more.
"I'm also about to cut off the other Vulcan at the table as well."
"I see. One second, Ethan." Lizzie held up her finger in apology again to stunned Georgiana before pressing her badge and stating, "Captain Bennet to the bridge."
"Yes, captain," Bingley answered cheerfully.
Lizzie cleared her throat, aware that her question was going to be out of the blue. "Bingley, please confirm with the bridge crew that the Longbourn did not travel through any sort of disruptions in the space-time continuum." Confused murmuring could be heard from the other end.
"We have not, captain. Nothing unusual to report."
"Very good, Bingley. Bennet out."
Forcing out a confused laugh, Lizzie turned to Georgiana. "There went my theory about an alternative universe. Shall we go to the Ten Forward?" The young woman nodded silently. Pressing on her badge once again, Lizzie informed the bartender, "On my way."
Pon Farr: "The pon farr was a Vulcan time of mating, and the rituals following it were shrouded under a veil of mystery and secrecy" per the memory alpha website