Epilogue: The Wedding of the Century
Despite being the only Starfleet member here, Picard couldn't remember having so much fun. The wedding of Moast and Zena took place on a spacious wood platform, with the bride in white, and the groom in classic tux. The vendors had cleared out to make room on this sunny morn in the harbor district. Lunaris were packed all around. Others watched from ships and masts; they coated the hillside leading up to Dan's villa; they claimed every window and rooftop. Competition to design Zena's gown had been as intense as which priest would perform the rites. Picard, when told his dress uniform looked like a dress, opted for tux instead.
He had flanked Moast at the altar, while Dan stood beside Zena, with Bonnie as ring bearer. All but the gulls were quiet during the vows, which the Lunari priest conducted according to Earth tradition. In the week leading up to it, the media were wild with speculation about the dress design, only seeing it when Zena came out of the villa to a tumultuous welcome. Headlines had blared Zena To Wed Man From The Stars.
Picard was assailed with cooking aromas he was familiar with. Team Dan had brought in hundreds of pounds of food from L A: barbecue, baked beans, slaw, rolls, and sodas magically kept cold. Lunaris had never experienced Earth cuisine, and lined up with every manner of plate to be served out of steaming kettles. These were manned by Pete, Ed, Hecabano, and the maid Oki.
After the feast, the VIP contingent gathered in a review stand: Caladra; the oracle Lusia; the imperatrix of Eolca; dignitaries from various provinces; a contingent from Montfort that included Sisra and Orchid. The platform was cleared for the first dance of the new couple, who had spent the night rehearsing. Moast chose a romantic Elvis ballad, She's Not You, played over Pete's boom box. Zena went with the more athletic Whitney Houston hit, I Wanna Dance With Somebody. Then the platform filled with VIP dancers, all of whom wanted a chance at bride or groom.
Ardra, of course, caused a sensation by blazing into a rare vacant spot. Once the crowd realized they weren't under attack, festivities resumed. Ardra had favored a gown of sparkly ruby. Quickly finding Picard, she held out hands for a dance. "Careful, Picard. These ladies have marriage fever after a production like this."
"Ardra." He was pleased even with all the stares they were getting. "It's good to see the only face from my galaxy here." They whirled among the others on the crowded platform, now to a waltz broadcast by a sour-faced Pete, who'd much rather have a weirdly chattering sound he called rap.
"I've opened doors for you, Picard. Ladies will line up for you after seeing you with me."
Taking up the challenge, Picard steered them toward Sisra, who danced with the head of the gaming district. "She looks familiar."
An alarmed Ardra steered them away. "Clever, Picard. You do live dangerously, don't you? You know she mustn't find out I'm her future self."
True to her prediction, Picard and Ardra became favorites on the dance floor. He was a little worried when she corralled first Moast, then Dan. In the press of bodies, he found himself with Zena. "Well, Zena, you and your husband shall be danced to death if we aren't careful. May I say what a lucky scoundrel he is. How will you divide the time in this fairy tale world?"
"Like it's two weeks here, and two weeks in space. The people on New Mars act as nutty about me as the ones here do. Oh—did I tell you we bought the villa at the end of that promontory?"
"You must invite me when the dust settles."
She smiled and nodded. "Is something in the works with you? Who's that lady in ruby?"
No lady, Picard wanted to say. "Actually she's a practitioner like yourself, at the demi-goddess level."
"Spastic! Bonnie and I will have to talk shop with her!" All too soon, Zena's fragrant embrace was gone, replaced with a green-skinned Lunari matron. Wealth hath its privileges.
It was well toward evening when the crowds began to thin, and the bridal party made its way up to the villa. Only Picard and Ardra remained of the VIP list. The men promptly gathered on the seaside patio overlooking the night ocean, rippled by moonlight. Strings of tiny lights adorned the overhead as the poker game got started. Bonnie, still in her aquamarine dress, poked her head out.
"No estrogen," Pete said.
"Says my assigned partner on missions," she quipped. "I came to warn you guys about him. No matter the sport, he's got street smarts. Don't let him take you for too much." She came around to lean over Moast's shoulder. "Better turn in early. We're moving furniture into your villa tomorrow. I hope Zena's up to it after today."
"She'll be recuperating," Moast said to sly grins.
That turned on a light for Bonnie. She gave his arm a playful punch. "Ooh, men!"
Picard recalled Ardra's proposal to double Zena's power. "I'll be right back, gents. And I'm taking my cards." He passed through the kitchen to the great room, where the ladies were clustered around the coffee table, very much feeling like the devil at the Vatican in their world. "Ardra—"
"I know," she said. "I decided not to boost Zena, because then I'd have to do it for Bonnie, and that isn't fair to the magic students."
"Like too bad," Zena said. "Imagine the hybrids Bonnie and I could make! We'd blow up the world!" That set off peals of laughter, and Picard was obliged to bow out. He found the game over, with Pete the victor, as predicted.
"Now" Pete said, rising to his impressive height, "we're gonna hit the gaming district."
"Oh, no," Dan said. "Are we gonna do that to them?"
Moast buttoned his coat. "As my wife won't let me in future, I'm game if Picard is."
"Certainly," Picard said. "You're talking to a man who's done battle sims with Worf in the holodeck."
They started with drinks at Dan's favorite, Club Moog, with its floor show of exotic dancers garbed only in swirls of paint. In back, behind thick curtains, came sounds like an arcade from Hades. First was a large pirate model ship with a skeletal crew. You had to fish for a prize, never knowing which of them would fire his cannon. Then you'd be picking a BB painfully out of yourself.
A deep glass tank had tiny divers with spears on long strings. One had to maneuver his man to hook a prize, keeping watch for tiny sharks. Their bite inflicted illusory pain on the player, who ended up on the floor in agony.
A seedy vampire with a crystal ball granted views of the nightly orgy at Castle Rotbone. He sipped form a tube inserted in a vein. The player either paced himself, or passed out from blood loss.
"Men," Picard protested, "I'd rather not remember this night painfully. "Let's go back to the villa for a pleasant evening in mixed company."
So it was decided. Picard had brought along a still-image recorder for memories. The group talked and laughed far into the night. Much more pleasant, Picard thought, than babysitting Romulans, Ferengi, et cetera.