Star Trek - NF - 005 - Martyr

by Peter David

 

  "Sometimes two people just clicklike Christiano and I did," admitted Beth with a grin. "And other times, well, two people can't even work together without getting on each other's nerves."

 

  "You're very likely correct, Ensign. It would probably serve us best if we didn't discuss it anymore." S/he went back to the energy wave readouts. "Look at this. This is interesting."

 

  "What do you see, Chief?"

 

  "During those periods when the energy drain slows down, it occurs when the Excalibur speeds up. The faster we go, the slower the energy drain. And when we go in excess of warp five, there's never any drain at all. Those are the points at which the energy wave indicates growth."

 

  "That's right," Beth said slowly.

 

  "Of course that's right," Burgoyne said archly. "I said it. Therefore, by definition, it's right." S/he drummed hir fingers in annoyance. "I should be able to figure this out more expeditiously," s/he said. "I've just got to get my mind clear."

 

  "What's on your mind, Chief?" asked Beth.

 

  And for just a moment, Burgoyne allowed hir thoughts to stray to a face that had a perpetual stoic pout, framed by the loveliest pointed ears.

 

 

 

 

 

  "Just someone I can't work with," Burgoyne said with a trace of sadness.

 

  On the bridge of the Excalibur, Calhoun leaned forward in the command chair and said, "ETA at

 

  Zondar?"

 

  "Three hours, eleven minutes, sir," McHenry said crisply. As always, he didn't even bother to check his instruments. The first several times, it had been a bit disconcerting to Calhoun, and extremely so to Shelby, but by this point they were accustomed to it.

 

  "Keep her steady on course, Mister McHenry," Calhoun told him.

 

  "Steady on, sir."

 

  Lefler glanced at the captain, who seemed to become involved in conversation with his first officer. Then, very casually, she sidled over from her post at Ops and murmured, "Haven't seen you around much after hours."

 

  "Hmm?" He looked up at her, apparently surprised that she had come over. "What?"

 

  "I said you're something of a stranger off-duty these days. Don't see you in the team room, or any of the usual haunts. What have you been up to?"

 

  "Oh, that," said McHenry. "I've been busy."

 

  "Busy . . . how?"

 

  He shrugged as if it was no big deal. "I've been spending a lot of time with Burgy."

 

  "'Burgy,' is it? Very friendly nickname to be

 

  using." "Is it?" McHenry seemed unimpressed. "I didn't

 

  think so especially."

 

  "So what do you guys do? Talk?"

 

  "No, we have sex," McHenry said matter-of-factly.

 

  Now, Lefler didn't fancy herself as a prude, but nonetheless she was still caught a little flat-footed by

 

 

 

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  the frankness of his response. "Oh," was all she could think of to say.

 

  "That's what you wanted to know, isn't it?" He seemed rather amused by her expression. He leaned toward her and said, "Robin, I may seem distracted all the time. I may seem in my own little world. But I'm not stupid. I know what you want to know. What's it like? What's s/he like? Right?"

 

  Lefler squirmed slightly, suddenly feeling that she should be elsewhere. Anywhere else, in fact, which was odd considering she usually was the most frank and open of people. She made vague gestures in the direction of Ops and said, "I, uh . . . I should really get back to"

 

  But he put a firm hand on her wrist, and she was surprised at the forcefulness of it. The cheery manner never left his face, but there was strength in his grip that seemed at odds with the lackadaisical demeanor. "S/he's amazing, Robin," McHenry told her. "Very free, very open with hir body. Very eager to please, and also eager to be pleasured. The fact that s/he is both male and female probably adds to hir expertise, because s/he knows what men like and what women like. S/he sees life, love, and sex from all angles."

 

  "That's . . . uhm . . ." Lefler found herself completely tongue-tied. She'd always considered herself something of a free spirit, a "party girl" who was open to all manner of experimentation. "And, you're, uh . . . you're not distracted by the, uhm . . ."

 

  "The what?"

 

  "The, uh . . . hir . . . male aspect? That doesn't, you know . . . give you navigational difficulties?"

 

  "Not especially. It's nice to have someone who knows what a man wants."

 

  "Oh? And what does a man want?" Lefler said challengingly.

 

 

 

 

 

  McHenry looked her straight in the eyes. "If I tell you," he said, "will you be sure to jot that down so it can be in the next newsletter."

 

  They laughed together at that point, and then Lefler said, "Lefler's Law number fifty-two Never underestimate a man's ability to make you laugh."

 

  "Laughing at a man is okay," McHenry said. Then, as an afterthought, he said, "Unless, of course, you're pointing while you're doing it. Laughing and pointing . . . bad combination."

 

  Lefler laughed more loudly at that. She took care, however, not to point.

 

  And then she said, very softly, "Do you love hir?"

 

  "Love?" For the first time, McHenry looked uncomfortable. "We . . . haven't discussed that."

 

  "Why not? Don't you think that's important?"

 

  "To some people, yes. Not to me. I'm not interested in falling in love. I'm not sure how Burgy feels about it; I haven't asked hir."

 

  "Why aren't you interested in falling in love, Mark?"

 

  He stared at her. "Tried it once. It didn't take."

 

  "Didn't take? Why not? I mean, if you don't want to tell me . . ."

 

  McHenry seemed to stare off into space for a time. This was not atypical for him, but there was a different feel to it this time. "Mark?" she prodded gently. "Why didn't it take?"

 

  He returned his gaze to her and smiled a sad little smile.

 

  "She tried to kill me," he said.

 

  Lefler's jaw dropped, and she tried to find a way to frame a follow-up question. But then from behind her she heard Shelby's voice. "Lieutenant, is there a problem? Something I should know about?"

 

  Lefler stood up, smoothing the front of her uniform. "No, sir," she said briskly, all business. "Just

 

 

 

  ") else document.write("

 

  the frankness of his response. "Oh," was all she could think of to say.

 

  "That's what you wanted to know, isn't it?" He seemed rather amused by her expression. He leaned toward her and said, "Robin, I may seem distracted all the time. I may seem in my own little world. But I'm not stupid. I know what you want to know. What's it like? What's s/he like? Right?"

 

  Lefler squi
rmed slightly, suddenly feeling that she should be elsewhere. Anywhere else, in fact, which was odd considering she usually was the most frank and open of people. She made vague gestures in the direction of Ops and said, "I, uh . . . I should really get back to"

 

  But he put a firm hand on her wrist, and she was surprised at the forcefulness of it. The cheery manner never left his face, but there was strength in his grip that seemed at odds with the lackadaisical demeanor. "S/he's amazing, Robin," McHenry told her. "Very free, very open with hir body. Very eager to please, and also eager to be pleasured. The fact that s/he is both male and female probably adds to hir expertise, because s/he knows what men like and what women like. S/he sees life, love, and sex from all angles."

 

  "That's . . . uhm . . ." Lefler found herself completely tongue-tied. She'd always considered herself something of a free spirit, a "party girl" who was open to all manner of experimentation. "And, you're, uh . . . you're not distracted by the, uhm . . ."

 

  "The what?"

 

  "The, uh . . . hir . . . male aspect? That doesn't, you know . . . give you navigational difficulties?"

 

  "Not especially. It's nice to have someone who knows what a man wants."

 

  "Oh? And what does a man want?" Lefler said challengingly.

 

 

 

 

 

  McHenry looked her straight in the eyes. "If I tell you," he said, "will you be sure to jot that down so it can be in the next newsletter."

 

  They laughed together at that point, and then Lefler said, "Lefler's Law number fifty-two Never underestimate a man's ability to make you laugh."

 

  "Laughing at a man is okay," McHenry said. Then, as an afterthought, he said, "Unless, of course, you're pointing while you're doing it. Laughing and pointing . . . bad combination."

 

  Lefler laughed more loudly at that. She took care, however, not to point.

 

  And then she said, very softly, "Do you love hir?"

 

  "Love?" For the first time, McHenry looked uncomfortable. "We . . . haven't discussed that."

 

  "Why not? Don't you think that's important?"

 

  "To some people, yes. Not to me. I'm not interested in falling in love. I'm not sure how Burgy feels about it; I haven't asked hir."

 

  "Why aren't you interested in falling in love, Mark?"

 

  He stared at her. "Tried it once. It didn't take."

 

  "Didn't take? Why not? I mean, if you don't want to tell me . . ."

 

  McHenry seemed to stare off into space for a time. This was not atypical for him, but there was a different feel to it this time. "Mark?" she prodded gently. "Why didn't it take?"

 

  He returned his gaze to her and smiled a sad little smile.

 

  "She tried to kill me," he said.

 

  Lefler's jaw dropped, and she tried to find a way to frame a follow-up question. But then from behind her she heard Shelby's voice. "Lieutenant, is there a problem? Something I should know about?"

 

  Lefler stood up, smoothing the front of her uniform. "No, sir," she said briskly, all business. "Just

 

 

 

  ") if( !cssCompatible ) document.write("

 

  consulting with Mister McHenry on some crosschecks."

 

  Shelby nodded, apparently satisfied, but there was clear curiosity in her eyes. Lefler quickly crossed back to her station and sat. Several times for the rest of the shift, she glanced in McHenry's direction. Not once, in all that time, did he meet her gaze again.

 

  Doctor Selar had taken a brief break, returning to her quarters to get some rest. She lay on her bed, able to feel the slow percolating of her hormones within her. She knew that the Pon Farr would be back in full phase before very long. However, she didn't wish to deal with it immediately. She knew that the ship was on a mission, heading for the world called Zondar. She knew that the captain was some sort of focal point for these people, and he had to keep his mind clear and focused. It would have been irresponsible for her, she felt, to pull Calhoun into the world of the Vulcan mating ritual at this particular moment in time. She had warned him of how all-consuming the interest in sex became once the Vulcan and her selected mate were in the throes of Pon Farr, but the fact that he had joked about it led her to believe that he did not fully grasp the reality of the situation. Since she herself knew what was to be expected, therefore, she felt the onus was upon her to try and act in as responsible and intelligent a manner as possible.

 

  She decided to meditate a bit, to give her mind and body some time to calm down. However, a chime sounded at the door in the midst of her musings, disrupting her, throwing her off-balance. She had been reclining, but now she pulled herself to sitting, her legs securely folded. "Come," she said.

 

  The door slid open, and to her surprise she saw Burgoyne 172 standing there.

 

 

 

 

 

  "Doctor," s/he said, nodding hir head slightly in acknowledgment. "They said you were here in your quarters. It's nice to see that they spoke truly."

 

  "Yes. I came here for the purpose of being alone."

 

  "Ah. I see," said Burgoyne, stepping in so that the door slid shut behind hir.

 

  "I do not think you truly do see," Selar pointed out, "considering the fact that you have entered my quarters, thereby precluding my being alone." She hesitated. "If there is a matter that you wish to discuss, Lieutenant Commander, then kindly do so and be done with it."

 

  "I was just interested in . . ." S/he cleared hir throat. "I just wanted to congratulate you."

 

  "I see. And why would that be?"

 

  "Because of you and the captain," Burgoyne said. S/he felt a little odd that s/he had to explain it to Selar. Didn't she know the details of her own affairs? "It is my understanding that you and he are . . . involved."

 

  "Very delicately put," Selar said with an ever-so-slight hint of surprise. "That is unusual, to say the least. You are not generally known for your delicacy. Rather, bluntness seems to be your stock in trade."

 

  "You seem to be someone who prefers delicacy. I just . . ." S/he seemed to have trouble phrasing what was on hir mind.

 

  "You just what?" prodded Selar, curious in spite of herself to see where the conversation was going.

 

  "I just wish you had been honest with me."

 

  "Honest?" Selar was far too controlled or thoroughgoing a Vulcan to allow outright astonishment to creep onto her face. Nonetheless, her surprise was evident if one knew where to look. "I have not lied to you, Lieutenant Commander."

 

  "You asked me to leave you alone, without telling me why," Burgoyne said with ill-concealed annoy-

 

 

 

  ") else document.write("

 

  consulting with Mister McHenry on some crosschecks."

 

  Shelby nodded, apparently satisfied, but there was clear curiosity in her eyes. Lefler quickly crossed back to her station and sat. Several times for the rest of the shift, she glanced in McHenry's direction. Not once, in all that time, did he meet her gaze again.

 

  Doctor Selar had taken a bri
ef break, returning to her quarters to get some rest. She lay on her bed, able to feel the slow percolating of her hormones within her. She knew that the Pon Farr would be back in full phase before very long. However, she didn't wish to deal with it immediately. She knew that the ship was on a mission, heading for the world called Zondar. She knew that the captain was some sort of focal point for these people, and he had to keep his mind clear and focused. It would have been irresponsible for her, she felt, to pull Calhoun into the world of the Vulcan mating ritual at this particular moment in time. She had warned him of how all-consuming the interest in sex became once the Vulcan and her selected mate were in the throes of Pon Farr, but the fact that he had joked about it led her to believe that he did not fully grasp the reality of the situation. Since she herself knew what was to be expected, therefore, she felt the onus was upon her to try and act in as responsible and intelligent a manner as possible.

 

  She decided to meditate a bit, to give her mind and body some time to calm down. However, a chime sounded at the door in the midst of her musings, disrupting her, throwing her off-balance. She had been reclining, but now she pulled herself to sitting, her legs securely folded. "Come," she said.

 

  The door slid open, and to her surprise she saw Burgoyne 172 standing there.

 

 

 

 

 

  "Doctor," s/he said, nodding hir head slightly in acknowledgment. "They said you were here in your quarters. It's nice to see that they spoke truly."

 

  "Yes. I came here for the purpose of being alone."

 

  "Ah. I see," said Burgoyne, stepping in so that the door slid shut behind hir.

 

  "I do not think you truly do see," Selar pointed out, "considering the fact that you have entered my quarters, thereby precluding my being alone." She hesitated. "If there is a matter that you wish to discuss, Lieutenant Commander, then kindly do so and be done with it."

 

  "I was just interested in . . ." S/he cleared hir throat. "I just wanted to congratulate you."

 

  "I see. And why would that be?"

 

  "Because of you and the captain," Burgoyne said. S/he felt a little odd that s/he had to explain it to Selar. Didn't she know the details of her own affairs? "It is my understanding that you and he are . . . involved."

 

  "Very delicately put," Selar said with an ever-so-slight hint of surprise. "That is unusual, to say the least. You are not generally known for your delicacy. Rather, bluntness seems to be your stock in trade."