by Peter David
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SELAR WAS SEATED BY HERSELF in the team room, which was how she was customarily seated. She was carefully nursing a glass of Synthehol when she looked up to see Burgoyne 172 staring down at her.
"Somehow, Lieutenant Commander," Selar said slowly, "I suspected that we would be chatting in the near future."
"Really," Burgoyne said. "So you're saying there's something you want to talk to me about?"
"Not in particular, no," replied Selar. "However, it was my suspicion that you would desire to talk to me."
"Well, now aren't we full of ourselves," said Bur goyne, and Selar could see from the slightest waver in Burgoyne's bearings that s/he had already had a bit to drink. Selar was well aware (since Burgoyne had boasted of it on more than one occasion) that s/he had a fairly impressive collection of scotch back in hir quarters, a drink s/he had apparently developed a
taste for while imbibing with a former engineer from another ship.
"Would you care to sit down, Lieutenant Commander," said Selar, "before you fall down?"
"Why don't you ask me to sit?" Burgoyne demanded.
For the briefest of moments, Selar doubted her sanity. Was it possible, she wondered, that the semi-delusional state resulting from heightened Pon Fan was enough to cause her to lose track completely of time or a discussion? Hadn't she just asked
She shrugged mentally. It hardly seemed worth a dispute. "Why do you not sit down?" she inquired.
"Thank you," said Burgoyne, dropping down into a chair next to Selar. Burgoyne was leaning so far over toward Selar's side that she had to slide over a bit so as not to wind up with Burgoyne in her lap. That was a situation that certainly would not have been off-putting to Burgoyne, but was not something that Selar desired to explore at this particular moment in time.
"How may I be of service, Chief Engineer?"
"For starters, you can call me Burgoyne. Or Burgy. Most fother olks do."
It took the Vulcan a mere moment to realize that Burgoyne had meant to say "other folks," and somehow the letters seemed to have gotten away from hir, to say nothing of each other. Although the familiarity was uncomfortable to her, she opted to accede to hir requests rather than risk a protracted conversation. "Very well, Burgoyne. How can I help you?"
"Well, I thought that I could have helped you," said Burgoyne. S/he didn't seem particularly happy at the moment. "But I must have looked pretty foolish, huh? There I was, letting you know I was interested. Talking about how good we could be together. And it turns out you already have something going on. With the captain, no less."
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"My involvement with the captainwhatever that may or may not beis no concern of yours, Bur-goyne. If you must know, I . . ."
Burgoyne looked up at her, hir eyes looking slightly bloodshot. "Yes?"
It was at that moment that Selar almost blurted all of it out. Not just the needs of Pon Fan, but the fact that she did indeed find Burgoyne attractive. Despite hir over-the-top approach, despite all of hir aggressive and devil-may-care theatricsor perhaps because of themSelar had slowly come to consider Burgoyne very desirable. So much so that she had been ready to give herself over to Burgoyne during one of the more aggressive flare-ups of her condition. But she had seen Burgoyne with Mark McHenry at the time. There had been something about the cavalier, casual way in which Burgoyne had managed to toss aside Selar and move on to someone elseof another gender, yet!that had prompted Selar to back off from the Hermat. Had prompted her to look elsewhere for a suitable mate, one who might be just a bit more stable.
"If you must know," repeated Selar, "I find the captain . . . most attractive."
"Good for you!" said Burgoyne. S/he slapped hir hands together in loud applause, drawing looks of casual confusion from other officers sitting nearby. Selar quickly reached over, put her hands on top of Burgoyne's, and pushed them down to the table top.
Burgoyne's tapered fingers wrapped around Selar's for just a moment, holding them, and Selar felt a jolt of electricity between the two of them. It was insane. What the devil was it about the Hermat that caused hir to have this sort of effect upon Selar? Selar didn't know, and it was perhaps that very ignorance that she found the most off-putting. The captain she found suitable for a variety of intellectual reasons. That was
something she could grasp. Burgoyne as a choice was totally and utterly illogical, and there was absolutely no reason in the galaxy for Selar to pursue such a relationship. None.
"I mean it," and Burgoyne sounded less blustering, more sincere. "Truly, I mean it. I want you to be happy, Selar. And if the captain is what you want, and if he's what will make you happy, then I would be the last person to stand in your way. I mean that. I value relationships too thoroughly to get between the two of you."
"I . . . appreciate that, Burgoyne. I do."
"Well, good." Burgoyne had still not released Selar's hand. And then s/he looked up at Selar with a look of mischief on hir face. "Threesome?"
"I . . . beg your pardon?" asked Selar.
"Well, I was simply curious, that's all," Burgoyne told her. "Have you ever tried a threesome?"
"I am not certain what it is you are referring to."
"I mean three people. Having sex. At the same time."
Selar stared at hir. "With whom?"
"With each other!" laughed Burgoyne. "I mean, I don't know the captain apparently as well as you do. But if that's something the two of you would be interested in exploring . . ."
"Three . . . together . . . simultaneously . . ."
"Yes, that's the general"
"Burgoyne, that is not sex. That is a committee."
"Well, only if you start taking votes and things . . ."
"Burgoyne," and Selar began to rise from her chair, "I do not know how things are done on your world"
"I have a book. With illustrations and footnotes."
"Keep it. We are . . . we are too different, that is all. I do not know why I even considered"
"Considered?" The moment she'd mentioned the
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"My involvement with the captainwhatever that may or may not beis no concern of yours, Bur-goyne. If you must know, I . . ."
Burgoyne looked up at her, hir eyes looking slightly bloodshot. "Yes?"
It was at that moment that Selar almost blurted all of it out. Not just the needs of Pon Fan, but the fact that she did indeed find Burgoyne attractive. Despite hir over-the-top approach, despite all of hir aggressive and devil-may-care theatricsor perhaps because of themSelar had slowly come to consider Burgoyne very desirable. So much so that she had been ready to give herself over to Burgoyne during one of the more aggressive flare-ups of her condition. But she had seen Burgoyne with Mark McHenry at the time. There had been something a
bout the cavalier, casual way in which Burgoyne had managed to toss aside Selar and move on to someone elseof another gender, yet!that had prompted Selar to back off from the Hermat. Had prompted her to look elsewhere for a suitable mate, one who might be just a bit more stable.
"If you must know," repeated Selar, "I find the captain . . . most attractive."
"Good for you!" said Burgoyne. S/he slapped hir hands together in loud applause, drawing looks of casual confusion from other officers sitting nearby. Selar quickly reached over, put her hands on top of Burgoyne's, and pushed them down to the table top.
Burgoyne's tapered fingers wrapped around Selar's for just a moment, holding them, and Selar felt a jolt of electricity between the two of them. It was insane. What the devil was it about the Hermat that caused hir to have this sort of effect upon Selar? Selar didn't know, and it was perhaps that very ignorance that she found the most off-putting. The captain she found suitable for a variety of intellectual reasons. That was
something she could grasp. Burgoyne as a choice was totally and utterly illogical, and there was absolutely no reason in the galaxy for Selar to pursue such a relationship. None.
"I mean it," and Burgoyne sounded less blustering, more sincere. "Truly, I mean it. I want you to be happy, Selar. And if the captain is what you want, and if he's what will make you happy, then I would be the last person to stand in your way. I mean that. I value relationships too thoroughly to get between the two of you."
"I . . . appreciate that, Burgoyne. I do."
"Well, good." Burgoyne had still not released Selar's hand. And then s/he looked up at Selar with a look of mischief on hir face. "Threesome?"
"I . . . beg your pardon?" asked Selar.
"Well, I was simply curious, that's all," Burgoyne told her. "Have you ever tried a threesome?"
"I am not certain what it is you are referring to."
"I mean three people. Having sex. At the same time."
Selar stared at hir. "With whom?"
"With each other!" laughed Burgoyne. "I mean, I don't know the captain apparently as well as you do. But if that's something the two of you would be interested in exploring . . ."
"Three . . . together . . . simultaneously . . ."
"Yes, that's the general"
"Burgoyne, that is not sex. That is a committee."
"Well, only if you start taking votes and things . . ."
"Burgoyne," and Selar began to rise from her chair, "I do not know how things are done on your world"
"I have a book. With illustrations and footnotes."
"Keep it. We are . . . we are too different, that is all. I do not know why I even considered"
"Considered?" The moment she'd mentioned the
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word, Selar wished that she could have the sentence to say over again. But that wasn't possible, for Burgoyne had quickly picked up on the slip. "Considered what? Me? You and I? Us?"
"No," Selar said flatly. "I was going to say, I do not know why I even considered the possibility of talking to you simply as one individual to another. You are"
"Dashing? Charming? Wonderfully open?"
"I believe 'insane' is the word I was searching for.'
"I'll take that as a compliment. Insane, as in crazy about you."
"Burgoyne, you are intoxicated. It is prompting you to say things that you would not ordinarily say, which is, in and of itself, surprising to me, for you have rarely shown any restraint before in saying whatever comes to mind. But I believe you have set a new standard for yourself with this conversation."
"But I'm happy for you! Can't you see that? I'm just pleased you're not lonely!"
"Lonely?" She gazed at hir with what seemed a distracted air. "Do not dismiss the concept of loneliness, Burgoyne. There is much to be said for it. There is much comfort that one can take in it. Once one adjusts to loneliness, one can never be hurt again. Yes, indeed . . . loneliness is underrated."
"I can think of no worse, or depressing state, than loneliness," Burgoyne replied. "It can be all-consuming. It can and will destroy you. I can think of no sadder state."
"And that," Selar said softly, "is why you will do whatever you can to avoid it. Cast about for bed-mates, flirt shamelessly, do whatever it takes to make certain that you are not alone. I pity you, Burgoyne."
Burgoyne's face clouded. "Save your pity for someone who needs it. I'm happy. Happy. You understand? Happier than you will ever be."
"As opposed to loneliness, happiness is overrated."
Selar left her drink behind as she headed out of the team room, Burgoyne calling after her, "It's been great talking to you, too!"
S/he plopped down into the chair Selar had just occupied, still feeling her warmth from the seat cushion. Burgoyne shook hir head. "Women," s/he sighed.
McHenry had entered the team room, and now he spotted Burgoyne by hirself. He strolled over to hir, reversed the chair and straddled it. "You look lonely, Burgy."
"You look off-duty, Mark."
"I am."
"You doing anything?"
"Well," McHenry told hir, "I'm reading a quantum physics review article."
"What?" Burgoyne looked at McHenry's empty hands, then over hir own shoulder to see if there was something visible behind hir. "What are you talking about?"
"I have a photographic memory," McHenry told hir. "Some new articles came through the ether this morning, but I didn't have time to sit down and read them. So I kind of glanced at them and just made mental snapshots. Now I'm pulling them out and reading them while we talk. Although if you find that distracting, I can stop."
"No, it's quite all right. About how much of your brain functions does that occupy?"
"Maybe thirty percent."
"I see," Burgoyne said thoughtfully. "And tell me, Mark," and hir small tongue strayed across hir distended canines, "how much of your brain function does sex require?"
"Fifty, maybe fifty-five percent."
"So what do you do with the remaining fifteen percent?"
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word, Selar wished that she could have the sentence to say over again. But that wasn't possible, for Burgoyne had quickly picked up on the slip. "Considered what? Me? You and I? Us?"
"No," Selar said flatly. "I was going to say, I do not know why I even considered the possibility of talking to you simply as one individual to another. You are"
"Dashing? Charming? Wonderfully open?"
"I believe 'insane' is the word I was searching for.'
"I'll take that as a compliment. Insane, as in crazy about you."
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"Burgoyne, you are intoxicated. It is prompting you to say things that you would not ordinarily say, which is, in and of itself, surprising to me, for you have rarely shown any restraint before in saying whatever comes to mind. But I believe you have set a new standard for yourself with this conversation."
"But I'm happy for you! Can't you see that? I'm just pleased you're not lonely!"
"Lonely?" She gazed at hir with what seemed a distracted air. "Do not dismiss the concept of loneliness, Burgoyne. There is much to be said for it. There is much comfort that one can take in it. Once one adjusts to loneliness, one can never be hurt again. Yes, indeed . . . loneliness is underrated."
"I can think of no worse, or depressing state, than loneliness," Burgoyne replied. "It can be all-consuming. It can and will destroy you. I can think of no sadder state."
"And that," Selar said softly, "is why you will do whatever you can to avoid it. Cast about for bed-mates, flirt shamelessly, do whatever it takes to make certain that you are not alone. I pity you, Burgoyne."
Burgoyne's face clouded. "Save your pity for someone who needs it. I'm happy. Happy. You understand? Happier than you will ever be."
"As opposed to loneliness, happiness is overrated."
Selar left her drink behind as she headed out of the team room, Burgoyne calling after her, "It's been great talking to you, too!"
S/he plopped down into the chair Selar had just occupied, still feeling her warmth from the seat cushion. Burgoyne shook hir head. "Women," s/he sighed.
McHenry had entered the team room, and now he spotted Burgoyne by hirself. He strolled over to hir, reversed the chair and straddled it. "You look lonely, Burgy."
"You look off-duty, Mark."
"I am."
"You doing anything?"
"Well," McHenry told hir, "I'm reading a quantum physics review article."
"What?" Burgoyne looked at McHenry's empty hands, then over hir own shoulder to see if there was something visible behind hir. "What are you talking about?"
"I have a photographic memory," McHenry told hir. "Some new articles came through the ether this morning, but I didn't have time to sit down and read them. So I kind of glanced at them and just made mental snapshots. Now I'm pulling them out and reading them while we talk. Although if you find that distracting, I can stop."