by Glenn Hauman
Sonya heard a deep female voice whispering from her side of the aisle. “Real var’Hama candles. That takes class—nobody takes the time to do that anymore.”
And then the strains of Mendelssohn started up. That was Rachel’s extra touch—she couldn’t stand Wagner, and tried to make sure it was in as few weddings as possible.
Esther’s bridesmaids, Audrey, Nikki, and Elaine, entered. As was traditional, one was tall and dark, the other short and blond, one red-headed and a bit chubby, and the dresses looked amazingly wrong on all of them. Three Klingons accompanied them, each with a mastaka in his free hand.
Then Khor’s DawI’yan (loosely translated as “sword bearer,” Sonya recalled) walked in. He was a stout fellow named Timrek. It looked like the deprivation of kal’Hyah had been a bit wearing on him, although he probably could have stood to lose the weight. He carried four bat’leth s instead of the traditional two. Timrek was accompanied by Esther’s sister, Leah, who was the matron of honor. And the two of them were followed by Khor himself, escorting Lantar and Jessica down the aisle.
Finally, Esther entered. She wore a gown that gave off a faint pearly glow. She was on the arm of her father, Daniel, who looked uncomfortable with all the attention.
Sonya heard another whisper from the groom’s side. “She wore white to the wedding? How improper…”
While Khor removed the veil from Esther’s face, Timrek handed out bat’leth s to the groomsmen. Together, they placed the tips of them at the four corners of the chuppah, and raised them over the heads of the officiators.
Gold smiled and began to speak. “Since the days of the first wooden sailing ships, captains have enjoyed the happy privilege of joining two people in the bonds of matrimony. And so now it is my honor to unite you, Esther, daughter of Daniel and Jessica—my granddaughter—and Khor, son of Lantar, together in marriage here in the sight of your friends and family.”
Rabbi Gilman gestured behind her at the open airlock. “We hold this most sacred of ceremonies under the stars, as a sign of the blessing given by God to the patriarch Abraham, that his children shall be ‘as numerous as the stars of the heavens.’”
Gold continued, “In Starfleet, our mission is to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations.” Someone in the room coughed; Sonya couldn’t tell who.
Gilman took up the thread. “But the two of you are about to create a new world together, a world filled with new life of your own.”
Gold read from his notes. “With fire and steel did the gods forge the Klingon heart. So fiercely did it beat, so loud was the sound, that the Klingon gods cried out, ‘On this day we have brought forth the strongest heart in all the heavens. None can stand before it without trembling at its strength.’ But then the Klingon heart weakened, its steady rhythm faltered…and the gods said, ‘Why do you weaken so? We have made you the strongest in all of creation!’ And the heart said…”
Khor stepped under the chuppah and said, “I…am alone.”
Gold acknowledged him with a nod of his head and continued. “And the gods knew that they had erred. So they went back to their forge and brought forth another heart.” And Esther came forward, resplendent in her gown. This was her moment, and she knew it. She walked under the chuppah, and began to circle Khor while her grandfather continued. “But the second heart beat stronger than the first, and the first was jealous of its power. Fortunately, the second heart was tempered by wisdom, and said…”
Esther said, “If we join together, no force can stop us.”
“And when the two hearts began to beat together, they filled the heavens with a terrible sound. To this day, no one can oppose the beating of two Klingon hearts.” Gold cast a brief look at Lantar, who didn’t quite seem to get what he was implying.
Gilman then brought forth a glass goblet filled with a nice Chateau Picard ’53. “We now recite the blessings over the wine.”
Sonya heard grumbling from the groom’s side of the aisle when the rabbi began her benediction.
When she was done with that, she said, “You may now drink of the wine.” She handed the glass to Esther, who took a sip, and then to Khor, who drank the remainder. Gilman smiled and took the glass back, wrapping it in cloth while her husband began to speak again.
Gold turned to his granddaughter. “Esther, daughter of Daniel—does your heart beat only for this man? And will you swear to join with him and stand with him against all who oppose you? For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health?”
She smiled. “I do.”
“And Khor, son of Lantar—does your heart beat only for this woman? And will you swear to join with her and stand with her against all who oppose you? For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health?”
Khor looked at the captain blankly…and said nothing.
And continued to say nothing for a whole second.
His face was expressionless, but Gold saw the flickering in Khor’s eyes—the same flicker he was sure he’d had in his own eyes on his wedding day, the knowledge that his life was going to change forever, that he could no longer go back to being who he was before.
Two seconds now. If Khor didn’t say something soon—
“It’s an easy question, Khor,” Esther said very quietly, her lips unmoving. “The answer is ‘Yes’ or you die where you stand.”
Khor turned and gazed at his bride, a huge smile on his face. “Now that,” he replied softly, “is a Klingon response.” Then, loudly, “I swear.”
“The ring, then, if you please,” said Gold.
Khor turned to Timrek and cleared his throat. Timrek leaned in and looked confused about where to put his sword while he dug out the rings. Finally, he handed the bat’leth to the groomsman on his right, and handed the rings to the captain, who then handed them to his wife. She said, “Khor, place this ring on Esther’s finger and say, ‘Be sanctified to me with this ring in accordance with the law of Moses and Israel.’”
“Be sanctified to me with this ring in accordance with the law of Moses and Israel.”
“Esther, place this ring on Khor’s finger and say, ‘Be sanctified to me with this ring in accordance with the law of Moses and Israel.’”
“Be sanctified to me with this ring in accordance with the law of Moses and Israel.”
Rachel smiled. “May the Lord bless you and protect you. May the Lord show you favor and be gracious to you. May the Lord turn in loving kindness to you and grant you peace…and let us all say Amen.”
And the congregation said, “Amen.”
Gold brought the wrapped glass forward as the rabbi continued speaking. “There is a tradition of our people of the breaking of the glass, to symbolize that in celebration there should always be awe and trembling, as well. And that even in the height of their joy, the couple must pause in remembrance of sad events of the past. The shattered glass is a reminder to all in attendance that the world is replete with imperfection and it is an imperative to all to partake in the mending of the universe. Khor and Esther, you should consider these marriage vows as an irrevocable act—just as permanent and final as the breaking of this glass is unchangeable.”
As Gold placed the glass down on the floor, a few Klingons started to sing—a deep, throaty rumble of a dirge. Sonya thought of Kieran Duffy, and her lip quivered. After the first verse, Khor joined in to the end of the second, then exhaled, and smashed the glass with his foot. Cries of “Mazel tov!” came from the bride’s side of the aisle, with more inarticulate grunts that the translators couldn’t handle from the groom’s side.
“Well,” came a comment from in front of Sonya, “that’s the last time he gets to put his foot down in the marriage.”
The rabbi smiled. “Then let it be known to all here that this male and female are married.”
And then the groomsmen attacked. And a wonderful time was had by all.
Chapter
12
“That is a wonderful tradition you have, Rabbi, the breaking of the glass at
the end of the cermony.”
“Thank you, Lantar,” Rachel said with a bow of respect to the ambassador. “That’s very kind of you to say.”
“I do have a question, though. Does the groom always wear footwear during it? It seems most…restrained.”
Rachel got the impression that the sudden elevation in status for her people had just dropped a bit and could plummet quickly based on her answer, so she simply shrugged and said, “It’s a Reform thing.”
Lantar seemed satisfied by that, so he went on. “How do you like the reception so far?”
“I’m truly stunned.” That was putting it both politely and mildly. Rachel had never seen a spread quite like this before. The Klingon embassy was going all out, as they would for a full state dinner—but without any of the polish that they might put on for a diplomatic affair. This was all Klingon.
“Rabbi!” She looked around, and saw that some people over at the buffet were waving for her attention. “Could you come here, please?”
“Would you excuse me, please, Lantar?”
“Of course, go ahead.”
She went over to the buffet table, a traditional gathering place for Jews at a wedding reception—except the ones here were just standing in front of the spread with suspicious looks on their faces. “Yes, how can I help, folks?”
“This stuff here—what is it called?”
“It is called gagh,” Rachel replied.
“Yes, gagh. Um, Rabbi…” The woman lowered her voice to an exaggerated whisper. “Is this kosher?”
“Sadly, no. They crawl upon the ground.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry, sir. What else can you recommend?”
“Well, we have this…”
“Rabbi, is replicated food kosher?”
“Of course. What do you think gefilte fish is?”
“How are you doing, Captain?”
“Fine, thank you, Hawkins.”
“That was a lovely ceremony. A truly fascinating hybrid of cultures.”
“Thank you very much, Abramowitz.” He continued to nurse his drink.
“Sir, are you okay?” Vance Hawkins said. “You look like you’re having a bit of a stress headache. You can relax now, your job is done.”
“I know—I’m just having a very hard time getting used to a small Klingon orchestra trying to play klezmer music.”
“Really?” said Carol Abramowitz. “I like it.”
“Of course you would,” said Gold.
Hawkins rolled his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t get dragged into this.
“Hawkins, what do you think?”
The deputy security chief’s luck was running true to form. He looked at the glass in Gold’s hand. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hold on so tightly to a drink before, sir. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“In a manner of—”
“Daaaaaavid!” It was said from only halfway across the room, but there was a good chance it could have been heard from orbit. Hawkins, out of reflex, moved to interpose himself between the sound and the captain. Abramowitz saw a very large woman heading toward them—not so much large as wide, but—
“David, that was a very, very lovely ceremony.”
“Hello, Mother Gilman.” He turned back toward Carol. “Chief Vance Hawkins, Dr. Carol Abramowitz, I’d like you to meet Eva Gilman, my mother-in-law.”
“Oh, a doctor? How lovely!” Eva said. “Maybe you can help me, I’ve been trying to find someone to help me with my knees, I’ve been told I have to have them replaced, you know, at my age, it’s a horrible thing, and I can’t find anybody on the West Coast that I like, they’re all these technicians, no bedside manner at all, it’s like they don’t even want to talk to you as a real person, so do you know anybody?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Gilman—”
“Eva, darling, it’s Eva.”
Abramowitz smiled. “Eva, I’m sorry, I don’t think I can help.”
“Oh, you must know somebody on Earth, I know that you must spend a lot of time in space with David, but there must be someone.”
“No, it’s not that. My field of study is cultural anthropology.”
“Oh, so you’re not a real doctor, Carol?”
Abramowitz smiled even more. Hawkins knew that look and was suddenly worried for Eva Gilman’s safety. Captain Gold rubbed his temple with his thumb.
“Wasn’t that a lovely ceremony?” Bart said to Anthony. The two of them were tucked away at a quiet table, each nursing a drink.
“That’s all you can think to talk about, how the wedding looked? Nothing about how good I look in a tuxedo?”
“I never thought you could get away with wearing leather to a wedding.”
“Only after the summer.”
“Well, of course. Heatstroke.”
Anthony looked over at the bride and groom, who were going from table to table doing the meet-and-greet, yet another tradition that transcended cultures. “It really was lovely…I bet we’d look good in those outfits.”
Bart arched an eybrow. “Which of us wears the leather instead of the dress?”
“Me.”
“No.”
“Vain.”
“Beast.”
“Stereotype.”
“Stereotype? Moi?” Bart put his hand to his chest and fluttered. “You’re the one trying to put me in taffeta.”
Anthony rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Bart.”
“Seriously? Here we were, having a nice time at a wedding, and you ruin it by talking about getting married.” He swallowed the rest of his drink. “I’m empty. Can I get you a refill?”
“Sure. Whatever.”
“Proprioception? What is that?”
“It’s a rare offshoot of my Betazed heritage,” Rennan Konya said. “Rather than having empathy or telepathy, I have proprioception.”
“Yes,” Dantas Falcão said, “but what is it? I don’t think I’ve come across it in the medical books.”
“Oh. It allows me to tap into other people’s motor cortexes, specifically. I can sense what an opponent will do in hand-to-hand combat before it happens. It gives me a great advantage in martial arts fighting.”
“Rrrrreally. Can I test it?”
“Sure. Come at me. I’ll even close my eyes, make it easy on you.”
Dantas looked at him, then lunged straight at him. He blocked her easily, grabbing her by her shoulders and stopping her a few inches from his face. Quickly, she leaned forward and kissed him.
He opened his eyes, surprised. “Well, I didn’t expect you to do that.”
“Can it be used for anything else? Such as…dancing?”
“What kind of dancing?”
“Let’s get on the floor and see what happens.” She smiled wolfishly. As he knew she would.
“Once upon a time, not long ago,” Rachel said to the assembled crowd, “there lived a princess named Atalanta, who could run as fast as the wind. She was so bright, and so clever, and could build things and fix things so wonderfully that many young men wished to marry her.”
“This is the Atalanta of Greek mythology?” Abramowitz asked.
“More or less, but that’s not how I heard the story, and that’s not how I explained it to Rachel,” Gold said.
“Oh, a later reinterpretation?”
“Yes,” Rachel said, “and if you’d let me finish telling the story, you’d see how.”
“Sorry, Rabbi.”
“Where was I? Oh yes. Everyone wanted to marry her, which was vexing to Atalanta’s father, who was a powerful king. ‘So many want to marry you, and I don’t know how to choose.’
“‘You don’t have to choose, Father,’ said Atalanta. ‘I will choose. And I’m not sure that I will choose to marry anyone at all. I intend to go out and see the world. When I come home, perhaps I will marry, and perhaps I will not.’ The king, of course, did not like this at all. He was an ordinary king: powerful, and used to having his way.” Lantar cleared his throat. Rached smiled, ignored it magnificently,
and went on. “He told Atalanta, ‘I have decided how to choose whom you will marry. I will hold a great race, and the winner, the swiftest and fleetest of them all, will win the right to marry you.’
“Now, you must know that Atalanta was as clever as she was swift. She told her father, ‘Very well then, let there be a race. But you must let me run in it too. And if I am not the winner, I will accept the wishes of the one who is. If I am the winner, I will choose for myself what I will do.’ The king agreed to this. He would have his way, marry off his daughter, and enjoy a fine day of racing as well.”
“The king agreed to let his daughter race?” Khor said. Esther shushed him, a rapt expression on her face.
“He felt he had naught to fear from her actually winning—it was unheard of. But Atalanta was preparing for the race. Each day at dawn, she went to the field in secret, until she could run the course in just three minutes—more quickly than anyone had ever run it before.”
“Captain,” Hawkins whispered into his ear, “isn’t this your story? Shouldn’t you be the one telling it?”
“She’s made it her own. And besides, I’m not going to interrupt a storyteller in front of her audience. Look.” He indicated the growing crowd, with a number of Gold grandchildren and great-grandchildren sitting and looking on, as well as a number of Klingons who were curious at this new story. Even Esther—this was one of her favorite stories from childhood.
“As the day of the race grew nearer and nearer, suitors for the hand of the fair princess began to crowd into the town. Each was sure he could win the prize, except for one. That was young John, who lived in the town. Young John saw the princess only from a distance, but he understood how bright and clever she was. He wished very much to race with her, to win and earn the right to talk with her, and to become her friend. ‘For surely,’ he said to himself, ‘it is not right for Atalanta’s father to give her away to the winner of the race. One so alive and filled with life must choose for herself whom she wants to marry, or whether she wishes to marry at all. Still, if I could only win the race, I would be free to speak to her, and to ask for her friendship!’ And so, each evening, after his studies of the stars and the seas, John went to the field in secret and practiced running across it. Night after night, he raced as fast as the wind across the twilight field, until he could cross it in three minutes, more quickly, he thought, than anyone had run it before.