Family Jewels

Posted on 05 Jan 2015 @ 10:27am by Lieutenant Olsam Mott & Commander Norvi Stace

1,754 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Episode 07 - Sojourn
Location: Starbase 84 - Temporary Quarters
Timeline: MD09:1800hrs

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Olsam began talking literally the moment the doors to Norvi Stace's quarters opened to allow him entry.

"Okay, listen, I know it's not an ideal situation and we don't even know each other that well - although we have exchanged bodily fluids - and I'm sure you have a lot of other wonderful suitors and non-Bolians don't usually even like dating Bolians much less marrying them and it's an inconvenience and I can't imagine you'd willingly do it but sometimes we just have to sacrifice for the people in our little family on board these small ships because that's the nature of Starfleet, right, sacrifice for one another, rising above for the common good," the Bolian doctor rambled, pacing all over the room and never really looking his colleague in the eye.

Finding some particular interest in a piece of decorative art, he picked the object up and began turning it over in his hands. "So the point I'm trying to make is that I'm asking for your hand in marriage, Norvi. I'd like you to be my wife. No, no, scratch that. I need you to be my wife. This is definitely a need kind of situation. Definitely."

Stace took in a deep breath and then splayed out her hands in front of her. "Steady on, Mott," she said, narrowing her eyes onto him. "What's going on?"

The Trill knew Mott enough to know that no romantic entanglement had drawn him to her to confess his undying love, nor that, as a mile a minute as the Bolian was, the next step he had summised after the natural progression from colleagues to friends and then co-conspirators was marriage. He was stupid. But he wasn't dumb.

"Take a breath, sit down and tell me what's going on? This certainly is a change of pace from my own predicament. Can I get you something? Some tea?"

"Yes, tea would be lovely. Black tea. And may I have some moba fruit tarts, too? With sliced almonds on top. Oh, and some Toobin cookies. The gheely ones, not the darpanian flavored. Everyone loves the darpanian flavored Toobin cookies, I just don't get it. And could I have an extra bit of sugar in my tea, too?"

"You really want to talk about fruit tarts, Mott?"

Stace had managed to temper her annoyance at the Bolian before and seemed, in the progressive relationship, to be getting better at it.

Olsam looked up from the chair he'd flopped himself into and blinked. "Oh, right! Right. Well. See. I told my family I'm married. Because frankly I just couldn't take another moment - not one more moment - of them hassling me about it. You were one of the first two names that came to mind! And I panicked!"

Stace's eyes rolled to the back of her head as she took in a breath and then allowed her exasperatedly weary look fall onto Mott. "Seriously?" she said as she strode over to one of the grey couches and plopped herself down onto it like a petulant child. "Like I don't have enough to deal with at the moment with everything." She stopped short and then composed herself, looking him directly into the face. "Why me, Mott? There are people on this ship that can be far more convincing for you as a wife." Recalling his words in her tirade, she shook her head and rolled her eyes again. "You've already told them about me!" She sighed and then seeing his pleading face asked, "What do I get out of this?"

Olsam had opened his mouth three times to answer only to be too slow to speak before she moved on; it gave him a sort of gape-mouthed, slack-jawed, highly intelligent look.

"Uhhh... There are more convincing people on the ship? Damn, I should have thought of them first. Like who? Maybe I can get her to change her name to Norvi Stace. Of course we'd have to reprogram the computer and enter new biometric data into the central database. I don't think I have the authorization to do that, but I bet Allyndra..."

Catching himself on a tangent, he drifted off and laughed a little nervously under her withering gaze. "Well. What do you get out of this... Hmm. I, uh... I can cook for you? And I'll keep our quarters clean. You can hold my hand if you want. I know it gets lonely out in space. You can cuddle up next to me when you like - Bolians have a higher body temperature than Trills, and I know you get cold easily so it's like having your own mobile heating unit. And, let's see, what else? Oh, I could rub your feet. I once took a three-month foot massage course on Risa when I was there on an interim assignment. I can take you on romantic dates, too! I know quite a lot about romance. I can write beautiful love poems about your spots. I think that's about it, isn't it? Oh! I also have the authorization code for the prescription drugs on board the ship. And if you have sexual expectations, I'll have to take an enzyme suppressant and learn how to have sex with a Trill. I'm sure there's something in the database."

Olsam shrugged at the last bit, as if it were something people discussed openly all the time while laying out the terms of their fake marriages.

Stace, as the Bolian's ramblings trailed off, held up her hand and looked away from him into the middle distance. She stomped, almost. As well as one who was sat down and above the age of ten years old could stomp, at least. A little, frustrated outburst before resigning to the fact that this, before Oslam had even entered her room, was an already done and signed deal. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Mott. I'll need a ring, though. Do you have something convincing?"

She held up her slender hand and pointed to her ring finger. "And I get to keep it when this is over."

Olsam looked stunned. Or, more stunned than usual. A ring? No, he didn't have a ring. In fact, he hadn't even thought of it. Although it's a good thing someone did because it was a detail his mother would not have overlooked. The fact that she insisted on keeping it meant she was already sentimental about the whole thing, which was very touching as far as Olsam was concerned. Or maybe one of her previous hosts was somehow attached to the Trill delegation on Ferenginar and picked up some bad cultural habits, which seemed more likely. Or was it possible one of her previous hosts had actually been a Ferengi by some miracle of science? She did seem awfully mercenary sometimes...

"A ring! I'll, uh, get one this afternoon. A nice one. Only the best for my darling wife," Olsam flashed her a toothy grin that would have been almost endearing if it wasn't for the fairly ridiculous circumstances he was subjecting her to. "Can I get you anything else? Honeymoon on Risa? Unlimited buffet at the Klingon restaurant on the station? A love poem?" He cleared his throat. "Norvi, my dear, the perfect symmetry and pigmentation of your spots indicate a high degree of genetic suitability for procreation and suggest very healthy basal and differentiated suprabasal keratinocytes."

"As romantic as that sounds, Olsam," Stace began, almost shocked at his medical flattery, "We'll stick to the ring... but you might as well throw in the Klingon buffet. I imagine by the end of this I'll have worked up either quite an appetite or a stomach ulcer. And both of those can be cured by gagh." She rolled her eyes at the predicament she had now seemed to have landed herself in and then she shook her head. "I'll drop some things around your quarters later. When did you say your family is arriving?"

Olsam was anticipating working up a hunger himself - it was unlikely a Bolian would get an ulcer, after all - so he made a mental note to get two seats at the Klingon buffet. By that time she was likely to have become so accustomed to having him around that he couldn't imagine she'd want to dine alone. Without him. In peace and quiet and solitude. "Uh... They, er... Yesterday. They are here. Around. Everywhere. In fact, if you see a Bolian, it's probably a family member of mine."

"Well, unless you've already circulated my service record to them, I can walk around in veiled anonymity until you present me to them. I assume that there is to be a reveal moment of some kind?"

"Oh, right, the Unveiling," Olsam said, almost as if he'd actually forgotten. "I told them we'd meet them for lunch tomorrow on the promenade. I reserved a room at the Romulan restaurant; don't worry, you're free, I already checked your schedule. You should probably wear something conservative but not conservative, like a dress but not too short and not too long. Maybe a pearl necklace... My mother likes pearls. I'll get one for you. And if I were you, I'd wear my hair up. You have a very lovely neck, and everyone will want to see your spots anyway, so it will save you the trouble of having to lift your hair up over and over again. Oh, and stay away from my brother, Korvin. He's very handsy around pretty ladies. We've been trying to forewarn people ever since that ruckus he caused by groping the Deltan ambassador on Bolarus..."

Norvi let out an audible sigh and then looked at him squarely. "You'd better warn your brother that I'll break his neck if he so much as looks at me the wrong way. Okay?"

She searched through her memory quickly and then added, "Don't worry about the pearls. I have some. And I'll behave myself IF your brother does. I'd hate to drag him over the table by his hair... And, obviously, I'm not talking about his bald crown." Her face then winced as she couldn't quite decide whether Bolians were completely hairless all over but then shook it off.

Olsam looked properly horrified. "Uh, o-okay. I'll let him know."

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Lieutenant Olsam Mott, M.D.
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo

AND

Lieutenant Commander Norvi Stace
Chief Science Officer & Second Officer
USS Galileo

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