When they were on the Defiant,the crew usually bet whatever personal items they’d brought with them that didn’t exist in the replicator database. Ezri, swearing she had a sure thing, had begged him to loan her Kukalaka after she lost her last bag of jumjachews to Bowers. Their present resource scarcity required they be even more innovative.
Gordimer offered his sleeping spot in the darkest, least trafficked corner of the room for the night. Bashir wanted to play for that bet alone. Chao threw in a headset that emitted wave frequencies that improved REM sleep. After coming up empty, Rahim raided Leishman’s candy supply, reasoning that Nog wouldn’t give his engineers long enough breaks to come back to quarters and takea candy break. For her part, Tenmei had a Tholian silk nightshirt Chao and Lankford coveted. Bowers, who won the last hand, currently had possession of the best sleeping spot in the room, the headset, Leishman’s candy and Prynn’s nightshirt. If Julian didn’t sign off on Tenmei’s pillow, she was out of the game.
Bashir punched and hefted it, rested it in his lap, raised it to his nose to take a whiff. “Ah! Lavender. Very nice.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Prynn said hopefully.
No one made any cracks about Tenmei’s relationship to Vaughn earning her Julian’s favoritism. Her fellow crewmates were smart enough to know they’d be talking to Julian about mending a deviated septum if they did. Squeezing Prynn’s pillow, Julian had to assess its value under the present circumstances.
“Fine. The house agrees to accept Ensign Tenmei’s pillow as a raise,” Bashir said. “Lieutenant Bowers?”
“Fold,” Bowers said with a sigh, tossing in his cards.
Tenmei chuckled contentedly and gathered up her winnings. Cassini emerged from his sleeping bag, retrieved her cards and looked at them. “Two pair? I gave up my self-heating slippers for three of a kind and I could’ve beaten you.”
Tenmei shrugged. “Take my advice, Cassini, stick to dabo. Poker’s not your game.”
Before Cassini could fire off a retort, the door slid open, admitting the two Yrythny technologists who’d been helping the Defiantcrew, Tlaral and Shavoh. “We finished our shifts and wondered if there was anything—” Shavoh began. Puzzled, he looked back and forth over the unoccupied dining area and computer station, which blocked their view of the poker game.
“Over here,” Bashir called out.
Grabbing Tlaral’s arm, Shavoh guided his friend to the rear of the room where the cots and sleeping bags were laid out. Both Yrythny engineers looked confused.
“You’d better have a seat before Lieutenant Nog notices you’re here,” Tenmei said, patting the spot on Senkowski’s mattress pad next to her. Like Leishman, Senkowski wouldn’t be back any time soon to use it. The redshirts and blueshirts had begun their joking predictions as to what the yellowshirts would do when Nog finally eased up. While everyone did what they could to help, Nog allowed only the nonengineers to leave at shift’s end.
“We’re here to help,” Shavoh offered. “To work on the Defiant.”
“Of course you are, but we’ve all been ordered to mix and mingle. Cultural exchanges and all that. Consider sitting for part of your duty,” Tenmei said. “Right, Doctor?”
“Absolutely,” Julian confirmed. “We’re glad to have you, especially since I think several of our players are going to be tapped out in a minute. Are you interested in learning to play cards?”
Tlaral and Shavoh exchanged glances and Tlaral said, “You’ll teach us?”
“Happy to,” Tenmei said with a small smile.
Julian winced, knowing Defiant’s conn officer was eager to teach their “green” alien friends a thing or two about Alpha Quadrant gambling. That, and to further line her coffers.
The two Yrythny engineers cautiously eased down on the floor, trying to situate their legs comfortably. Both settled for lying on their sides and draping their legs out behind them.
“I believe it was your turn, Ensign Lankford,” Julian said.
Wrinkling her nose, she shuffled and reshuffled the cards in her hand, allowed Tenmei to cut the deck, then dealt. “First bet goes to Mr. Bowers,” she said after everyone anted.
“I’ll open with Burning Hearts of Qo’noS.”
Chao groaned. “The Klingon bodice ripper? I’ll fold.” She threw her cards into the pile.
“I take exception to the characterization of that novel as a bodice ripper, Chief,” Bowers said with a wink.
“What would you call it? A face biter? I just can’t believe someone finally pried it away from Nog.”
“Lieutenant, Chief,” Julian said, holding up a hand in the direction of each woman, “by the end of this journey, I suspect everyone on Defiantwill have read Burning Hearts of Qo’noSso I’d advise you both to—Tlaral? Are you all right?”
The Yrythny technologist swayed where she sat, her lashless eyelids flickering. “I’m sorry—I feel a little unwell.”
Grabbing the tricorder beside him, Julian performed a quick scan. “Obviously, I’m not well versed in Yrythny physiology, but I doubt the level of fluctuation I’m seeing in your readings is normal. Electrolytes, pulse, temperature, hormones…”
Tlaral tipped again, this time forward. She threw down her hands to prevent a fall. “I think I need to lie down,” she whispered.
Shavoh helped Julian ease Tlaral onto her back. Prynn shoved the pillow beneath her legs, elevating her feet. Bashir ordered Bowers to retrieve his medical bag while Chao doused a cloth in water and draped it over Tlaral’s forehead.
“I probably haven’t eaten enough today and I’ve worked a double shift,” Tlaral said weakly. Her eyes rolled, her lids dropped and she went limp.
Julian scanned Tlaral with his tricorder. “Prynn, help me examine her for any external injuries.”
While Tenmei went to work removing the Yrythny’s tunic, Bashir rechecked his tricorder readings before turning his attention to Tlaral’s back. “What’s this on her shoulder—a birthmark, an old injury?”
Shrugging, Shavoh covered his eyes, worried. “I don’t know. She had an accident in engineering last spring, but I think she broke her foot.”
“Her heart is racing—I think it’s related to the hormonal surge I picked up with my tricorder.”
“Wait!” Shavoh said suddenly.
“Is there something I need to know?” Julian asked.
“Check her palms, Doctor.”
Tenmei lifted Tlaral’s arm and turned over her hand. Her palms bore the faint imprint of a blue starburst.
Relieved, Shavoh sighed. “She’s ready to go into the waters! It’s her time to mate. This is her first time and I’m sure she didn’t know what to expect. But she’ll be fine. I’ll fetch her consort. Minister M’Yeoh will be pleased.” Shavoh sprang to his feet and ran out the door.
Julian dropped back on his heels as Tenmei eased Tlaral back into her tunic. “Learn something new all the time. Today it’s Yrythny fertility.”
After a few minutes, Tlaral’s lids flickered back, her eyes darting anxiously around the room. “What happened—I was sitting and then it all went black.”
“As your colleague Shavoh put it, you’re ready to go into the waters. She’s gone for your consort.”
She pressed her hands to her temples. “Oh. That’s unexpected. I didn’t think it would be for another year,” she said nervously.
“Breathe a little more slowly. You might hyperventilate.” Julian rubbed her shoulder, hoping it would calm her down. “The scar on your back—it’s directly behind your heart and your pulse is highly irregular. Did you have an injury?”