Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [52]
And so, after only a few moments’ hesitation, he said, “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Ensign-ah…”
Again, the short laugh. “You may simply call me Gres, Mr. Johnson. It is usually the best that human tongues can do with my name.” His tone grew more wistful. “Samantha was the only human who was ever able to pronounce it properly.”
“Of course. And please, call me Mark.”
“Very well, Mark.”
They quickly worked out the specifics. Gres promised to have quarters arranged on the station, and then he signed off.
Deactivating the viewer, Mark reached down and gave Molly a little scritch behind the ear. That got her to raise her head-she was always willing to make it easier for Mark to scritch her.
To his delight, Mark found himself looking forward to something for the first time—
For the first time in eleven months, really.
Mark stood facing a difficult decision.
Do I go for the meat, the fish, the fruit, or the vegetables?
Before him was laid out an impressive display of delicacies, most of them apparently Bajoran. Since Deep Space 9 was technically a Bajoran station, though Starfleet administered it, the choice of foodstuffs made sense.
Mark had arrived late-the transport he took had had several delays-so the gathering was in full swing when he arrived. The attendees were a wide range of people, some Starfleet, some not. A small group stood quietly next to the window. Mark noticed that they all had deep black eyes, and deduced that, since they were not speaking yet all stared at each other attentively, and since one of Kath’s bridge crew was a Betazoid named Stadi, these were her family.
A group of about half a dozen Vulcan civilians were all gathered around in one corner. Mark had recognized one of them as Tuvok’s wife, T’Pel, and the young man next to her-My God, he had realized with a start, that’s Sek! The boy had grown quite a bit since Mark had seen him last. T’Pel had given him a brief nod when he had come in before returning to her conversation.
A Ferengi was flitting about the place, holding a tray of drinks, making sure everyone was happy and comfortable. He had steered Mark to the hors d’oeuvres table and encouraged him to sample everything.
“Having trouble deciding?” a voice asked next to him.
Mark turned to see a woman in a Starfleet uniform. It was just like Sisko’s, so he figured she was also a commander. She had olive skin, a huge mane of brown hair hanging loose about her shoulders, a thin face, and a disproportionately wide mouth. In response to her question, he said, “Actually, yeah. Decision-making was never my strong suit. I usually need about three weeks’ notice.” Kath was always the big decision-maker, he thought wistfully.
“Well, I recommend the kava fruit.”
“Which one’s that?” Mark asked, peering at the part of the table that had the fruit.
The woman pointed at the bowl at the upper-right-hand corner. “That.”
“Okay.” Grabbing a toothpick, Mark speared two slices of the pale fruit and popped them into his mouth. The fruit was quite watery with a soft texture and a taste that reminded him at once of both cantaloupe and oranges, but with an oddly salty aftertaste. “This tastes-very confusing.”
Laughing at that, the woman then offered her hand. “Dina Voyskunsky.”
“Mark Johnson,” he said, returning the handshake.
She squinted. “Okay, you’re too young to have a child on Voyager, so you’ve got to have either a spouse or a parent.”
Mark grinned. “We haven’t quite made it to the spouse stage yet. I’ve been with Kath-Captain Janeway-for a while now. In fact, we’re not even at the living-together stage-though we are at the I’ll-keep-an-eye-on-your-dog-while-you-go-to-the-Badlands stage.”
“Well, that puts you one up on me.” Dina shook her head and grabbed one of the vegetables. “Kind of fitting we met, actually. I’m sorta-kinda with Janeway’s first officer, Aaron Cavit.”
” ‘Sorta-kinda’?”
Still holding the vegetable, she