by Peter David
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"For widows?"
"Not always just widows. If it is a desire of the family and the young woman in question, tribal leaders will have intercourse with young women who have just reached maturity. The purpose there is not conception, but more of a ... a blessing."
Shelby's voice was barely above a whisper, for which Selar was rather appreciative. "A blessing? The tribal leaders have . . . have sex with adolescent women"
"It is considered a great honor, and is always consensual."
"Consensual? What girl knows anything about anything when her hormones have just started kicking in, and there's . . . there's"and she waved a hand in a direction as if she were pointed to an invisible person in the room"there's M'k'n'zy of Calhoun, big, broad, and studly. Playboy of western Xenex!"
"Such traditions are not completely unknown in Earth culture, Commander, although they are not practiced as much anymore. For instance, the"
"I don't care, Doctor," said Shelby sharply, and then instantly regretted speaking so harshly to Selar. Even though her face maintained that same inscrutability, it was clear that Selar had an air of polite confusion about her. However, she said nothing as Shelby very, very quickly pulled herself together. Then she slapped her thighs briskly and said, "Well, this certainly has been educational, Doctor."
"Yes, I have learned a great deal, too, Commander," said Selar. And as Shelby walked out of her office, Selar murmured, "I have learned that, when I see you coming toward my office, I should leave immediately."
V .
BURGOYNE 172, CHIEF ENGINEER of the Starship Excal-ibur, seemed utterly engrossed in a message from home that was scrolling across the computer screen, and the other members of the engineering department were tiptoeing around so as not to disrupt Burgoyne's attention. Finally, however, Ensign Ronni Beth had completed an assignment that Burgoyne had assigned her, and felt that delaying the report back to Burgoyne would probably not be a wise thing. So she stepped up behind the Hermat and said tentatively, "Shir?"
Burgoyne turned and looked up at her with those incredibly dark eyes. "That's 'sir.' Sir, or 'chief since I'm chief of engineering. That would also be acceptable."
"Pardon?" said Beth in surprise. "I thought Her-mats preferred 'shir,' feeling that 'sir' was too attached to one particular gender"
"We did," said Burgoyne, tapping the computer screen. "But some new decisions have come down from the Hermat Language Council."
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"For widows?"
"Not always just widows. If it is a desire of the family and the young woman in question, tribal leaders will have intercourse with young women who have just reached maturity. The purpose there is not conception, but more of a ... a blessing."
Shelby's voice was barely above a whisper, for which Selar was rather appreciative. "A blessing? The tribal leaders have . . . have sex with adolescent women"
"It is considered a great honor, and is always consensual."
"Consensual? What girl knows anything about anything when her hormones have just started kicking in, and there's . . . there's"and she waved a hand in a direction as if she were pointed to an invisible person in the room"there's M'k'n'zy of Calhoun, big, broad, and studly. Playboy of western Xenex!"
"Such traditions are not completely unknown in Earth culture, Commander, although they are not practiced as much anymore. For instance, the"
"I don't care, Doctor," said Shelby sharply, and then instantly regretted speaking so harshly to Selar. Even though her face maintained that same inscrutability, it was clear that Selar had an air of polite confusion about her. However, she said nothing as Shelby very, very quickly pulled herself together. Then she slapped her thighs briskly and said, "Well, this certainly has been educational, Doctor."
"Yes, I have learned a great deal, too, Commander," said Selar. And as Shelby walked out of her office, Selar murmured, "I have learned that, when I see you coming toward my office, I should leave immediately."
V .
BURGOYNE 172, CHIEF ENGINEER of the Starship Excal-ibur, seemed utterly engrossed in a message from home that was scrolling across the computer screen, and the other members of the engineering department were tiptoeing around so as not to disrupt Burgoyne's attention. Finally, however, Ensign Ronni Beth had completed an assignment that Burgoyne had assigned her, and felt that delaying the report back to Burgoyne would probably not be a wise thing. So she stepped up behind the Hermat and said tentatively, "Shir?"
Burgoyne turned and looked up at her with those incredibly dark eyes. "That's 'sir.' Sir, or 'chief since I'm chief of engineering. That would also be acceptable."
"Pardon?" said Beth in surprise. "I thought Her-mats preferred 'shir,' feeling that 'sir' was too attached to one particular gender"
"We did," said Burgoyne, tapping the computer screen. "But some new decisions have come down from the Hermat Language Council."
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"The what?"
"The Hermat Language Council," repeated Bur-goyne. "It's an organization that meets annually, composed of various scholars and linguists. They review our language How we use it ourselves, how others use it, our interactions with other races. They adjust the usage, create new words that the language seems to require, or give approval to words that have worked their way into our own language."
"That sounds bizarre," said Beth. "A whole group just to govern your language?"
"If it is so 'bizarre,' why does the French government of Earth have the same thing?"
Beth was caught momentarily off guard, but then she shrugged. "Well, they're French," she said, as if that was all the explanation required.
"Oh," said Burgoyne. "Well, in any event, Starfleet representatives were complaining that we had created our own separate designation. That the fleet had no problem with separate descriptors such as s/he to reflect our bi-gender status, but contended that 'sir' was a form of Starfleet direct address and therefore exempt from Hermat requirements. The winning argument, I must admit, pointed out that it was the equivalent of changing the rank to 'commandher' so that females would have equal time with the word 'man' already included in the title. The Council went back and forth on that one, but finally decided that if we're going to be part of Starfleet, we should accede to their desires in this matter."
Beth leaned forward. "What other decisions have come down?"
"Well, the big one is that they've done away with 'hish,'" said Burgoyne. "It was decided we didn't need both 'hish' and 'hir.' 'Hish' was if you wanted to say, 'S/he bowed hish head.' 'Hir' was for saying, 'S/he didn't know what to do with hir.' But for a long time
now, a lot of younger Hermats have been complaining that 'hish' is just too damn difficult to say, and that 'hir' can fulfill both functions. Apparently the Council agreed."
'"Flutzed?'" Beth's gaze had wandered farther down the scree
n.
"Yes, 'flutzed.' Slang term, now made official. It means"hir long, tapered fingers waved in the air for a moment as s/he tried to come up with an appropriate equivalent"it means, 'messed up.' Not performing as expected due to some sort of error. If you want, we can discuss all the niceties of Hermat language later on. I'll be generating a memo for all personnel discussing all the pertinent changes. Computer off." The screen went obediently blank. "For now, I expect that you have a report for me?"
"Yes, shsir. I've been monitoring the readouts of the phase generators as they interface with the coils, and, well, it's still there, Chief."
"The energy wave readout?"
"Yes. I made a recording of it over several one-hour periods. Computer, access file Beth Wave One."
The screen promptly flared back to life. "Accessing," said the computer briskly, and a moment later the distinctive wave pattern appeared on the screen, undulating steadily.
"But it's not affecting engine performance," Burgoyne said thoughtfully, drumming hir fingers on the countertop.
"No, sir. I believe it was the source of some of the systems botch-ups we had earlier, although we have those under control now. In fact, if anything, it's improving energy processing."
"Look at that," Burgoyne said in wonderment. The energy readout seemed to turn steadily in a sort of undulating spiral. "It's almost beautiful to watch."
"It is definitely that, Chief."
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"The what?"
"The Hermat Language Council," repeated Bur-goyne. "It's an organization that meets annually, composed of various scholars and linguists. They review our language How we use it ourselves, how others use it, our interactions with other races. They adjust the usage, create new words that the language seems to require, or give approval to words that have worked their way into our own language."
"That sounds bizarre," said Beth. "A whole group just to govern your language?"
"If it is so 'bizarre,' why does the French government of Earth have the same thing?"
Beth was caught momentarily off guard, but then she shrugged. "Well, they're French," she said, as if that was all the explanation required.
"Oh," said Burgoyne. "Well, in any event, Starfleet representatives were complaining that we had created our own separate designation. That the fleet had no problem with separate descriptors such as s/he to reflect our bi-gender status, but contended that 'sir' was a form of Starfleet direct address and therefore exempt from Hermat requirements. The winning argument, I must admit, pointed out that it was the equivalent of changing the rank to 'commandher' so that females would have equal time with the word 'man' already included in the title. The Council went back and forth on that one, but finally decided that if we're going to be part of Starfleet, we should accede to their desires in this matter."
Beth leaned forward. "What other decisions have come down?"
"Well, the big one is that they've done away with 'hish,'" said Burgoyne. "It was decided we didn't need both 'hish' and 'hir.' 'Hish' was if you wanted to say, 'S/he bowed hish head.' 'Hir' was for saying, 'S/he didn't know what to do with hir.' But for a long time
now, a lot of younger Hermats have been complaining that 'hish' is just too damn difficult to say, and that 'hir' can fulfill both functions. Apparently the Council agreed."
'"Flutzed?'" Beth's gaze had wandered farther down the screen.
"Yes, 'flutzed.' Slang term, now made official. It means"hir long, tapered fingers waved in the air for a moment as s/he tried to come up with an appropriate equivalent"it means, 'messed up.' Not performing as expected due to some sort of error. If you want, we can discuss all the niceties of Hermat language later on. I'll be generating a memo for all personnel discussing all the pertinent changes. Computer off." The screen went obediently blank. "For now, I expect that you have a report for me?"
"Yes, shsir. I've been monitoring the readouts of the phase generators as they interface with the coils, and, well, it's still there, Chief."
"The energy wave readout?"
"Yes. I made a recording of it over several one-hour periods. Computer, access file Beth Wave One."
The screen promptly flared back to life. "Accessing," said the computer briskly, and a moment later the distinctive wave pattern appeared on the screen, undulating steadily.
"But it's not affecting engine performance," Burgoyne said thoughtfully, drumming hir fingers on the countertop.
"No, sir. I believe it was the source of some of the systems botch-ups we had earlier, although we have those under control now. In fact, if anything, it's improving energy processing."
"Look at that," Burgoyne said in wonderment. The energy readout seemed to turn steadily in a sort of undulating spiral. "It's almost beautiful to watch."
"It is definitely that, Chief."
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"And my own research into this wave," continued Burgoyne, "indicates that we can trace its origin point almost to the minute after we passed through that Great Flaming Bird. Ensign," s/he turned back to Beth and indicated the screen, "do you have any explanation whatsoever as to the current curious status of our energy wave readouts?"
Beth gave it a long moment's thought, and then she said with conviction, "I'd say it's definitely flutzed."
Burgoyne laughed softly, displaying hir sharp canine teeth. "Yes. Yes. I'd have to agree. I want you to find what's causing it, Beth. I want you to make it your top priority. I have my eye on you, Beth. I think you have potential, and it's fulfilling these types of assignments that gets you ahead."
" 'These types of assignments.' You mean assignments wherein the chief engineer has absolutely no clue as to what's causing it, and s/he's looking for some lucky sucker to foist the problem on."
"Well done, Beth," said Burgoyne approvingly. "You see, assignment of blame is an even greater skill than assignment of duty."
"Words to live by, sir."
"You'll likely need people working with you. Submit a list of those who you'll want on your team so I can clear them from other duties. Although I suggest you may want to leave Christiano's name off here."
"Christiano," Beth said slowly, feeling her cheeks coloring. "Is there a . . . uhm . . . problem with Ensign Christiano, sir?"
"Not from what I hear," replied Burgoyne teas-ingly. "My understanding is that you and he have become quite the couple."
"How did you?"
"Word gets around a starship quickly, Ensign. We're a rather enclosed little community."
Not one to allow teasing to go entirely in one direction, Beth riposted with, "Well, my understanding is that you and Lieutenant McHenry are quite the couple yourself."
"Mark?" Again, Burgoyne laughed, although it was in a slightly different tone. One that seemed to carry a bit of pleasure in it. "Mark is . . . Mark i
s charming. A very original thinker. Neither of us sees the relationship going anywhere, really. We're more friends with fringe benefits, you could say."
"Enjoying each other's company until something better comes along."
"That's it precisely. So," and hir dark eyes twinkled, "any other gossip you've heard about lately?"
It was very odd for Beth, talking to Burgoyne. She never knew quite what to make of hir. There were times when s/he was surly, brusque, bordering on the dictatorial. But there were other times when Burgoyne seemed in the mood to chat and gossip like . . . well, like one of the girls.
"Well, I assume you've heard about the captain," said Beth. "I mean, that's the big one floating around the ship."
"The captain." Burgoyne seemed intrigued, leaning forward in hir chair as if afraid that a word might slip through the already minimal distance between them. "No, this I hadn't heard. Smart money is that he and the commander are"
But Beth quickly shook her head. "No, not the commander. The captain and the doctor."
The smile remained frozen on Burgoyne's face as s/he said slowly, "Which doctor would that be?"
"The doctor. Selar."
"Captain Calhoun and Doctor Selar." Burgoyne was having trouble maintaining the smile now. "The . . . the two of them are . . . together now?"
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"And my own research into this wave," continued Burgoyne, "indicates that we can trace its origin point almost to the minute after we passed through that Great Flaming Bird. Ensign," s/he turned back to Beth and indicated the screen, "do you have any explanation whatsoever as to the current curious status of our energy wave readouts?"
Beth gave it a long moment's thought, and then she said with conviction, "I'd say it's definitely flutzed."
Burgoyne laughed softly, displaying hir sharp canine teeth. "Yes. Yes. I'd have to agree. I want you to find what's causing it, Beth. I want you to make it your top priority. I have my eye on you, Beth. I think you have potential, and it's fulfilling these types of assignments that gets you ahead."
" 'These types of assignments.' You mean assignments wherein the chief engineer has absolutely no clue as to what's causing it, and s/he's looking for some lucky sucker to foist the problem on."