231: The Enemy of My Enemy

By Vedek Jariel and Dane Cristiane
80321.2300
Concurrent with A Better Mousetrap


Having paid his required visit to both the Grace/Reece marriage blessing and also having literally walked from end to end through holodeck two so he could honestly say he had seen and been seen at the promotions party, Dane retreated again from the crowds.

He hated crowds.

He had avoided running into her and that was the only positive thing he could say about his evening so far.

He hated her.

Now taking up a comfortable window seat in the empty Afterthought Café at the far end of the Serendipity, he stared out at the stars, beyond the confines of space dock all around them.

He felt as if he were running in place. Constantly working his ass off but never getting ahead, and exhausted all of the time from the effort.

Like the Sera herself, he ended up confined, clamped down by moorings that could only be removed by others’ permission, or else he’d tear himself apart in the process of trying to break free.

He was tearing himself apart.

He held a bottle in his right hand, and he held his TI encoded ID badge in the other. Staring at it, he wondered how he had managed to end up here. He’d had a chance to really make something of himself, but somehow, he had managed to blow it. Paying the penalty meant suffering under the choking grasp of Zanh and her crew, a crew among which there were a few decent people to be sure, but no one who could understand what it meant to belong to nothing, and no one.

There was no one like him.

He tilted the tall, clear bottle to his lips. He’d procured this from Trick London for a song; the bartender taking pity on him it seemed, for some unknown reason.

He hated pity most of all.

Still he’d accepted the bottle after London guaranteed that if he drank its contents, he ‘wouldn’t be hating anything for at least the rest of the night’.

You have to be able to remember, to be able to hate.

He’d been drinking for a while now, and a warm haze enveloped him. Heat radiated from his mouth down his throat and into his chest every time he swigged another swallow of the unnamed liquid, and he was grateful that for once, he may have felt alone, but he did not feel frozen all the way through.

His mind wandered as it often did, back to the day he’d had the luck. . . misfortune. . .the. . .curse of meeting Zanh Liis. She was working under cover, trying to gather information, and she was wearing a very elaborate disguise.

As her day at the spa had progressed, Zanh Liis found that those very helpful and skilled 'professionals' at Epicure included a young man with long dark hair and large eyes.

-=Flashback=-

He had appeared at the foot of the massage table while her eyes were closed, and his soft voice startled her, prepared to offer her services that weren't in the published brochure.

"Are you dreaming, my lovely?" he whispered, so near to her she could feel his breath. She jumped, and sat up. She quickly realized that he wasn't a hologram like some of the rest, and she had told him later that it bothered her to think of the life that he led and what he did to earn his living. Especially since he couldn't have been a day over twenty.

"No, I was thinking that I can't wait to get off of this stinking station," she replied.

"Surely you can find something beautiful to help pass the time during your stay... or at least, pleasurable. I'm sure I could assist you in finding something to do."

As he continued, his offers were laced with clear innuendo. Prostitution was illegal on the station but that didn't mean that Karr hadn't found a way to run a tidy little business out of the spa.

Liis was truly bothered by the vacant look in his eyes. He was too young to be so jaded. He was soulless.

"What's your name?" she asked softly.

Dane was taken aback by the question. No one had ever asked his name.

He shook off the surprise, and merely lowered his eyes, grinning at her slyly.

"For ten bars of latinum, you can call me whatever you like."

She rejected his advances, or to put it more properly, she turned down his business proposition and that amused him. Did she find him unattractive? Doubtful, no one ever had. He had enough of a combination of 'brooding leading man' and 'lost little boy' in him to make him desirable to not only those waiting for their prince to come but also those whose fascinations bordered on being criminal.

There were some strange people on the station. Strangest he’d seen in his nineteen years. But this woman really intrigued him. Her accent was as phony as his bosses’ hair color. Perhaps she, like him, knew there was much more going on there than met the eye and was also looking to sell some wares of her own.

Yes, she was definitely hiding something. It took an expert to know.

He was tipped off the moment he heard her voice from the next room, but then there was more. There was something a little too studied in her behavior, a little too...precise. She had mentally bitch-slapped the boss, Vaudri Karr; he heard that clearly enough from the next room. She seemed to have a method to her madness, and the facade was as clear to him as glass.

What was she really after?

-=End Flashback=-

She’d been after information, and he’d been able to convince her to add him to her payroll. Their relationship had been so simple, a transaction consisting of money for names and communications records.

It wasn’t until the station’s environment became unstable and Starfleet ordered all civilians to withdraw that things had become complicated.

She’d saved his life- of that he was certain. But the question he asked himself, every damned day now was the same again and again.

Was this really living?

He took another drink, and a moment later he heard the back doors to the kitchen swish open. He also heard the sound of soft, gasping breaths. He knew the sound well.

Someone was crying.

He stayed where he was, not wanting to move and startle whoever it was, figuring they had come here for the same reason he had, to be alone somewhere besides their confining, suffocating standard issue Starfleet quarters.

The woman rounded the corner and began to swear.

“My god, will you people ever stop coming here in the middle of the night and scaring the life out of me?” She demanded. She hurried to wipe her eyes on the back of her hand, smudging dark makeup across her lids in the attempt to hide her tears.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be here at this hour.” Dane shrugged.

“Pfffftttt. Neither did I.” Fleur grumbled. She had planned to get a jump on tomorrow morning’s bakery, but now she thought that if she tried, like everything else she’d attempted tonight, the effort would only end up a miserable failure.

“What is that?” She gestured toward his bottle.

“This is. . .strong.” Dane replied. He held it out toward her. “Want some?”

Without answering, Fleur crossed the room in quick strides and grabbed it from his hand. She threw it back and gulped down several swallows. She handed the bottle back to him- her eyes were not even watering.

”French chick can drink.”

“Damn right.”

She felt the rush of heat from the alcohol a moment after she consumed it, and wondered for a moment if this was how Alice felt when she drank the bottle labeled ‘drink me’ while she was gallivanting around Wonderland.

Dane noticed that she was still standing there, and gestured for her to take a seat, if she wanted. He didn’t know much about her, only that that did have one very unique thing in common among people aboard this ship- they both loathed its Captain.

Dane had heard the rumors, that the reason Fleur hated Zanh was because she wanted her man. But Dane detested gossip, and besides, there were so many good reasons to hate Zanh Liis, why should anyone be limited to only one?

She held her hand out as if to suggest if he gave her the bottle back, she might consider it.

Dane slowly took another drag from it, and then offered it up.

Fleur sat down.

Gray Goose.” She said, before she downed another shot glass worth of the clear liquid. “It’s French you know.”

“It’s intoxicating.” Dane said to emphasize his disinterest in the origin of the bottle.

He reached for the bottle and she jerked it away from him. Fleur stole another swig before returning it to him.

“Don’t you want to know?” Fleur asked, as she stared straight ahead at the window. The alcohol was rapidly making its way through her petite frame, and she already was beginning to feel its effects.

“Know what?” Dane had a feeling he knew what was coming, but also felt like it was really none of his concern.

“Why I am here crying like a baby.”

“Probably for the same reason I’m here with a bottle trying to forget about everything. Zanh Liis.” Dane shook the bottle to see how much alcohol he had left. The supply was dangerously low, especially if he intended to share with a woman who was in love with another woman’s man.

“Zanh…. Liis.” Fleur said slowly. She had been so close this evening. Camen had walked with her, and almost, just almost held her hand.

When all was said and done however, he had an excuse not to walk her home. Normally he may have said yes, but only because he was blissfully ignorant of her advances. Tonight when she asked, he seemed genuinely uncomfortable with the idea. Perhaps he was becoming aware of her desire and it made him sick. Or maybe he shared her desire, and that’s what scared him…

“Or maybe I am delusional.” Fleur said out loud.

“Say what?” Dane asked.

“Nothing. Tell me, Mister Dane, what is your beef with the great Captain Zanh Liis?”

Dane handed the bottle back to her, and Fleur quickly took another swig. “She’s just so damn… I don’t know. Nothing is ever good enough for her.”

“If only that were true.” Fleur mumbled. Dane continued on.

“I work my ass off and she doesn’t even notice. I didn’t ask to come here, and she treats me like she’s doing me a favor by making me the ship’s errand boy. I don’t have any say in anything.” Dane gave a snort at the irony of just how low he was on this ship, as he regarded the woman he was sitting next to. “According to her, even you outrank me.”

Fleur downed the rest of the bottle, and set it gently on the floor. She struggled with the simple task of turning her head to face him, and as she spoke her speech began to slur.

“Then, my fine young man, I order you,” She emphasized the word “you” by poking him in the chest, “To get me more to drink.”

“Yes ma’am.” Dane said, finally feeling like there was an order worth following. He never cared much for talking, to anyone, but the booze was loosening his lips a bit, and having a sympathetic ear to speak to helped as well.

At last he had found someone who shared his favorite topic of discussion, how unbearable Zanh Liis was. It was a topic he didn’t bother discussing with anyone else, since he knew everyone else on this ship would follow Zanh Liis anywhere she led. He did not understand why she deserved such blind loyalty.

Dane’s search was less than exhaustive. He settled on the first thing he found that smelled like it had alcohol in it. He read the label, and grabbed two glasses. He walked back over to Fleur, handed her a glass, and began to pour.

“What is this?” She asked.

“This, is a rare vintage of something, from a planet.” Dane said.

“Perfect. Continue.”

Cristiane flopped back down onto the seat beside her. “When I was on the Admiral’s ship, the Executor, I thought I was dead. But instead of letting me be put out of my misery, she had to show up and save my life. Yes, Zanh Liis, you’ve done it again! The best Captain ever has once again saved the little idiot boy from his own stupidity.”

“The nerve.” Fleur slurred.

“You are a cook, have you ever made a meal for a hundred people, only to have someone tell you they don’t like the way you folded the napkins? That’s what Zanh Liis is like. She has me trapped here like a rat and she loves taking every chance she can to let me know I wouldn’t have a chance in hell in the Universe if it weren’t for her. That’s why she couldn’t wait to bail me out from the Executor, so she could rub it in.”

Dane finished his glass. Deciding pouring was a pointless endeavor, he went back to drinking straight from the bottle. He passed it on to Fleur as if to say, “your turn.”

“Someday Dane Cristiane, you will earn a promotion off of this scow. Me, I will be in her shadow forever. I love him. I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop. I can’t get him to understand how I feel, or see anything else but her, even with the very Gods on my side.”

Her head lolled to the side, becoming too heavy for her neck to hold up. It fell with a small thud on Dane’s shoulder, as she continued on.

“She does not appreciate him, or understand him. She should be waiting for him, and tending to his needs, not the other way around. He is a brilliant man, who deserves a woman who will cater to his every whim, fulfill his desires and have his children. But he is in her trance and lives on her schedule. I do not understand what he sees in her.”

Fleur shut her eyes as the room began to swirl from the effects of the alcohol. Dane unconsciously wrapped his arm around her shoulder. He snagged the bottle from her weakening grasp and raised it into the air.

“To the Serendipity! Our own little slice of hell in outer space, where the only escape from is Zanh Liis the airlocks.”

He drank from the bottle, and handed it back to Fleur, who used whatever motor skills she had left to take her swig.

They sat in silence for a minute, before Fleur finally spoke.

“I should have just kissed him.”

“What do you mean?” Dane asked.

“Camen. I should have just kissed him, told him how I feel once and for all, so he could just reject me and put me out of my lonely misery.”

She sat up, and looked at Dane, thinking how misery loves company, there was no reason for them both to be stuck here alone, feeling sorry for themselves because of Zanh Liis.

“Maybe I should just kiss you.”

Before Dane could even answer, Fleur pressed her lips to his. She fumbled with the pins she wore in her hair to let it down. Dane, for his part, recovered quickly enough from his initial surprise to conclude that he had no intention of stopping what, to this point, was the best thing that had ever happened to him on this ship.

Fleur pressed him back into his set, and held his face in her hands as she kissed him. Dane held her with one arm, and his bottle with the other.

*French chick could kiss as well as she could drink* he thought.

[O’Sullivan to Cristiane.]

The sound of Keiran’s voice in the quiet room caught Fleur completely by surprise. She jumped back from Dane, and steepled her hands at her lips, as if silently asking, “What have I done?”

WHAT?” Dane answered angrily, unable to believe the timing.

[Sickbay, now.] Keiran replied, his tone indicated he couldn’t care less if he was bothering Dane or not.

Dane leapt up from his seat. “Sorry.” He said simply, unsure exactly if he really meant it, or if he even had anything to be sorry for. It just seemed like the thing to say. Fleur did not respond, she just sat motionless as Dane hurried out of the café.

“Mon Amie, what have I done?” Fleur said to herself, before exhaustion, sadness and intoxication took her over, and she fell fast asleep where she sat.


Vedek Jariel Camen
Ship’s Chaplain/Counselor
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

and

Ensign Dane Cristiane
Communications Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012