“I still don’t understand Human wedding customs,“ Vontar said after almost an hour.

Moira O’Shea sighed. “I told you it was complicated. There are just a lot of different customs and traditions and that’s for Earth only. I doubt anyone could explain all the different wedding ceremonies of the Federation member species in a lifetime.” She toyed with her empty raktajino cup for a few seconds before she put it down on her living room table. “I am curious. Why did you ask me about Human weddings?”

“I want to learn more about your ways. I know you have a very different attitude to combat than Klingons, so I thought it would be better to ask about your social customs first.”

“And now that the Captain is about to get married it was an obvious choice,” Moira added.

“Yes.” Vontar helped himself to another cup of bloodwine from the bottle he had brought with him. He took a long gulp as he contemplated what Lieutenant O’Shea had told him. What was most perplexing was the sheer number of different traditions the Humans had for a simple thing like marriage.

“The wedding of Captain Veal and Commander Tucker... what ceremony will they use? One of the ones you told me about?”

Moira shrugged. “Truth be told, I have no idea,” she replied. “I guess there are about as many different Centauran wedding customs as Humans have, but if it will be a Human or Centauran wedding or something in between I haven’t thought about.”

“But you must at least know if he is going to enter her family or the other way round.” It was a question even Klingon traditions were a little ambiguous about if applied to this case. The woman entering the man’s family was the usual way, but as Captain Veal was the more accomplished warrior it would be possible for Tucker to enter her family. Klingon history had certain precedents for it, even if they were rare.

“I don’t think one of them will enter the other’s family, as you mean it. Some Human cultures still handle it that way, but I’d say it’s not what this wedding is about.” She rose and walked over to the replicator to refill her cup, as Vontar replied.

“You were right, your customs are strange. Perhaps I should have asked about your way of doing combat instead. It can’t be more complicated.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Moira said, looking back over her shoulder. As she turned to the replicator she noticed the time-index displayed on the LCARS panel next to it. “Oh god, is it really this late!”

She just placed her cup into the replicator without bothering about recycling. “We will have to continue this another time. I have an appointment with Dar – Commander Enikal – on the holodeck and I am already late.”

“Of course.” Vontar rose and headed for the door, Moira following on his heels, but before the door had closed behind them the Lieutenant dove back into her quarters with a loud “Oh crap! Hold the lift!”

When Lieutenant O’Shea caught up with Vontar at the turbolift she had a large bag slung over her shoulder. “Can’t go into the holodeck without a proper costume,” she remarked with a wink.

As the turbolift started its descent Vontar frowned. “If there is anything more strange than your people’s wedding customs it must be what you call entertainment.”

Moira burst out in a short laugh and winked at the Klingon. “Like Commander Enikal you have no idea how strange it can get until you played a few scenarios of Gaslight Hunter.”

*****

“So, which role did you choose?” Moira called through the open doorway. “Oh, and sorry for being late, Vontar kept me busy.”

“Vontar? Really? I have hardly seen him since he came aboard.” Dar Enikal checked the padd again. Now the vest and then the gun belt... no, the suspenders first. There was no real need for them as he had replicated a well-fitting pair of trousers, but it was what the scenario called for. He was drawn from his thoughts by Moira’s reply.

“He wanted to ask me a few things about Human traditions. I think he really wants to understand us better, or at least get to know us well enough to judge if he wants to understand us or not.” For a few seconds there were sounds of things clattering on the floor as Moira dug through her bag until she had found the knives she had been looking for. “You haven’t answered my question. Who are you playing?”

Dar checked the padd again, to make sure he had the suspenders on right, and slipped into the brown leather vest before he replied. “The British big-game hunter, Timothy Iron. The briefing says he has spent the last fifteen years in Africa, so he should know little about what’s going on in England when he returns. Thought that might be best for someone who doesn’t really know the background.”

“Good choice,” Moira agreed. “And Iron is good with guns. I could use a partner with some long-range weapons.”

Dar slipped into the long leather trench coat before he asked. “Who do you usually partner up with for this program?” Judging by her enthusiasm, Gaslight Hunter was Moira’s favorite holodeck program, but why she had asked him to share it with her, Dar was not entirely sure. Neither was he quite certain why he had agreed to play along.

Moira started to lace up her boots as she replied: “I played with Rishana a few times, but that was years ago and she never found holonovels very entertaining. Guess it’s got something to do with being a telepath and suddenly being surrounded by all those people you can’t even feel are there.”

“Makes sense.” Dar started stuffing shotgun shells into his coat pockets. The last two he loaded into the big unwieldy rifle the program briefing had insisted he replicate for this scenario. He shouldered the rifle and compared his reflection in the dressing room mirror to the image on the padd. Something was missing. ‘Ah, of course, the scarf.’ Dar Enikal dug out the dark green piece of cloth from his bag and donned it. “I am all set. How about you?”

“Almost.” ‘Okay, what have I got,’ Moira thought, just as Dar almost derailed her train of thought.

“And who is it you are playing in this scenario?”

‘Two silver daggers, saber, hold-out gun, vial of holy water, all here.’ “Huh? Oh, I am Amber Fitzpatrick, daughter of a deposed Irish count. I came to London to seek revenge for my family’s misfortune, but quickly became embroiled in a struggle against more sinister forces than I had ever expected to face.”

“What do you mean by even more sinister? The padd briefing was a little fuzzy on the details. From what I have read we are some sort of freelance crime fighters in 19th century England, are we not?”

“That is as close to the truth as the average man on the street will ever know,” Moira replied with a wide smile. “But, there are dangers out there in the fog of Victorian London that take a special kind of men and women to fight, something that is too frightening for the average man to ever know about.”

She checked her look in the mirror, then stepped into Dar’s field of view. “Ta da! What do you think?”

“I think... I am... surprised.” Dar studdied Moira’s outfit closely. “Are these boots really authentic 19th century Earth?”

The boots in question reached over Moira’s knees, had high heels, and - to Dar - looked too tight to be very comfortable. At least they fit the rest of the costume well. Tight black trousers, a white blouse under a silver-studded black corset and a deep-red velvet jacket with gold embroidery.

“No of course not, silly, “ Moira answered with a wink. “But neither are the enemies we are about to face, or do you think vampires and werewolves actually existed?”

“Wait a minute! What do you mean? Vampires and werewolves? What kind of game are we talking about here?”

It was too late. Moira had already left for the holodeck and now all Dar could do was back off or play along. ‘Oh heck, I am supposed to be a hunter and she knows the game. All I have to do is wait until she points me in the right direction and shoot. How difficult can that be?’

*****

Dar grabbed Moira’s wrist and started to pull her up.

Below them a burning twisting silhouette disappeared in the mists rising from the Thames.

Just as Moira regained her footing on the crumbling parapet a splash far far below her signaled the demise of the disintegrating undead that had nearly taken her life.

“Oh god, I can’t believe that vampire’s minion really took my cross from me!”

Dar Enikal shook his head at her. “I know little about vampires or their minions, but I doubt there was anything you could have done.”

“Perhaps you are right.” She retrieved the saber that had been knocked from her hand during the fight and sheeted it. “I am just glad you were here to help me or I would never have made it alive.”

“Perhaps.” Dar looked over Moira’s shoulder and saw the first pink fingers of dawn reaching over the horizon and tearing at the mist shrouding the city of London.

He half turned towards the stairwell and offered his arm to Moira. “Shall we go, Miss Amber?”

“Yes, I think it’s time to go, Mister Iron.”

*****

“You know, you did pretty well for the first time. Gaslight Hunter is not an easy program to follow, but I was really amazed how well you adapted to the setting.”

“Just following your lead,” Dar remarked as he slipped into his uniform jacket.

“Oh come on. You know that doesn’t start to cover it. You did really well with those ancient guns and I would never have figured out the vampire’s lair was in the Tower Bridge.”

Dar raised his voice to be heard above the hum of the sonic shower Moira was taking next door. “Hey, I am still a security officer by training. That’s what I do - figure out who the bad guys are, find them, and take them out, only that I prefer to stun them in real life.”

“Still not bad at all. Hey, I have one or two more scenarios I haven’t played. It would be great if you could tackle them with me.”

“With you, any time,” Dar Enikal muttered.

“Say again? I didn’t get that.” Moira called out from the shower stall.

“I said I’d be interested to participate in another one of your games, if only you shared some more information about the setting with me beforehand.”

The hum of the sonic shower stopped and a few seconds later Moira responded: “Okay, I can tell you a bit more, but Amber only thinks she is an expert on the supernatural. Fact is she knows very little besides what she has actually encountered herself, but I see no reason why she wouldn’t share that with Iron.”

‘And what will you share with me, Moira?’

“Good. I’d like to be prepared a little better before I face my next vampire.”

“I doubt vampires will be our next problem.” Moira pulled on her gray uniform t-shirt and slipped into her uniform jacket without closing it. “That’s one of the things I like best about the Gaslight Hunter scenarios – they are full of surprises.”

“I was quite surprised myself.”

Moira stuck her head around the corner from the women’s dressing room. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” Dar Enikal started to pack up the gear and clothes he had laid out on the bench beside him.

After Moira had withdrawn her head with a shrug, the Bolian added: “Before we embark on another hunt for supernatural evil, why don’t you join me in one of my programs?”

“Sure. What is it?” Moira started to stuff her costume into her bag, but paused for a moment as she asked, “do you want to surprise me, or can you tell me a bit about this program of yours?”

“It’s no holonovel,” Dar said. “It’s just a simulation of a place I always liked, but I think it would be even more fun if I shared it with someone.”

‘Someone?’ Moira thought. ‘You never shared your life beyond duty and Ten Forward with anyone. Why can’t you just admit it?’

“Sounds good,” she said. “Where is it?”

“You’ll know it when you see it, but dress for an early San Francisco spring.” Dar grabbed his bag and made for the door. Just before he left the dressing room the Bolian stopped and a smile started to play around his features. “Oh and don’t come in uniform.”

Moira stepped through the holodeck doors into a brightly lit backstreet. Behind her the closing doors vanished into a brick wall and she looked around. To her right the alley opened into a wide street with people casually moving to and fro, most in civilian clothes, but some in Starfleet uniforms.

Her eyes wandered around and above and what she could see of the sky was hazy and indistinct, blue-gray, touched with the faintest orange of a beginning sunset.

As she turned to her left Moira O’Shea saw Dar Enikal at the other end of the backstreet and the Bolian waved at her. As she made her way to her waiting friend Moira drew her jacket closer around her. She was decked out in dark slacks, a thick blue sweater, and an almost-leather jacket that closely matched the color of her hair, but she still felt the cool evening breeze coming in from the bay reaching for her skin.

“I am amazed,” she said when she reached the Bolian waiting on the sidewalk running along the bay. She looked to her left and saw the silhouette of the Golden Gate Bridge standing out as a dark shadow against the sunset-lit haze. “Everything is just like I remember it. If I didn’t know better I’d say this really is San Francisco.”

“Thank you.” Dar showed her one of his rare smiles. “Took me a while to get all the details right, but I have been working on this program for years.” He gestured to his right, along the coastline, towards the Presidio district. “Shall we go?”

As they walked along the bay, Moira shot a few glances at Dar Enikal. “Aren’t you cold?” Like her the Bolian had opted for black shoes and black trousers, but there the similarity ended. His gray sweater looked rather thin and his dark-blue sports coat was certainly not designed to keep out the elements.

“No, I am fine,” Dar replied. “Besides, we are almost there.” He pointed his chin at a neon sign that had just lit up a hundred meters ahead of them.

“You are kidding me!”

Moira looked from the restaurant sign to Dar and back again. “You are not taking me to the Hawthorne Grill, are you?”

*****

Dar and Moira slid into a booth by the window, largely ignored by the crowd of Starfleet cadets that frequented the restaurant.

“Now I know why you didn’t want me to come in uniform,” Moira said as she picked up a menu and looked around. The Hawthorne Grill was what her history lessons would have called a classical American diner, at least as far as the layout was concerned. A long counter running parallel to the booths by the window, bar stools along the counter, the kitchen behind the counter, but there the similarity ended.

The furniture was made from the latest materials Federation technology could provide – ancient-looking yet comfortable seats, lights that perfectly simulated real daylight, tables that could be effortlessly cleaned from whatever soiled them.

“Yes,” Dar Enikal interrupted Moira’s survey. “As I said, I tried to make this simulation as realistic as possible and with so many cadets hanging out here, uniformed Starfleet officers walking through the front door would have caused quite a stir.”

Moira knew how right Dar was. There were a few places in San Francisco that were considered off-campus retreats for the Academy students and the Hawthorne Grill was one of them. There was an unspoken agreement in place that declared those places taboo for any graduate of Starfleet Academy and everyone honored that agreement, from the lowliest ensign all the way up to the highest-ranking admiral.

As a waiter stepped to their table Dar reclined in his seat, but his eyes never turned away from Moira’s face as he said: “I’ll take the usual.”

“The food is replicated I hope, and not just holographic,” she muttered as she skimmed through the menu. “Okay, I’ll take the Emperor Norton burger with fries and a beer.”

The waiter took a quick note on his padd. “Right. Two Nortons, one with extra onions, fries and two beers.”

“That’s your usual?” Moira asked, her eyes widening. “Just what I ordered, only with extra onions on the burger?”

“Yes.” The Bolian almost smiled before he turned to the window and looked out at the slowly darkening street. ‘And it might not be all we have in common, or perhaps... Oh come on, that’s not why we are here!’ For several seconds the silence between them was only filled by the background murmur of voices, before Dar asked: “I take it you know this place pretty well?”

*****

Moira O’Shea took a gulp of beer, before she finally answered Dar’s question. “Oh, I know this place alright. It wasn’t my favorite hangout when I was a cadet, but I must have been here at least ten or twenty times.”

“Let me guess - Five Stars?” Dar reached for his own glass and took a small sip. “That seemed to be the favorite place for most people when I was at the Academy.”

“Same when I was there. And yes, it was my favorite place, but not yours I take it?” As Dar just shook his head and continued to glare out the window at the people passing by Moira followed his gaze. “Watching people go by the window, just an arm’s length away and yet out of reach... I guess it makes sense for a security officer.”

“You have no idea.” Dar Enikal downed half his glass in one long gulp, before he turned to Moira. “Bolians like to live and work in groups, in tight-knit social units. But to be an efficient security officer I had to distance myself from the group, watching, observing, looking at what everyone was doing, without ever being a true part of it. Here, at this very table I would sit for hours and just watch.”

“But then why did you recreate it here on the holodeck? You are no longer an outsider! You are part of the group now.”

Dar snorted and shook his head. “Am I? I don’t think so. I may no longer be a security officer, but now I am the executive officer. To be that I have to be apart from everyone.” He sat his glass to his lips for another long gulp, but then lowered the glass slowly and carefully on the table.

“As the XO I have to be neutral. I can’t be part of the crew, because I am the Captain’s right hand. At the same time I can’t be too close to the Captain, because I also have to speak for the crew.”

“But...” Moira stared at him wide eyed. “But then why did you take this job and why did you become a security officer in the first place, if it places you so far from everything your people usually want?”

“Because...” Dar drew a deep breath and forced himself to hold her gaze. “Because I always thought the best way to serve, the best way to protect the people I care for, was to place myself in a position where I could become a protector. If I have to become the odd man out to keep others safe from harm I would make the same choice again and again.”

He looked down at the half-empty glass in front of him and softly, almost inaudibly asked: ”Does that make any sense to you?”

*****

Moira shoved aside the plate the waiter had just placed in front of her. “Yes, I think it makes sense in some way, but that’s not why you brought me here, is it?”

She leaned back and held the Bolian’s quizzical gaze. “No. You did not bring me here to ask me if you had made the right career choice, did you?”

“I thought I had.” The Bolian picked up a napkin and ran it through his fingers without unfolding it. “I never shared this program with anyone. Isn’t that enough?”

“No!” Moira insisted. “You didn’t bring me here to talk about your past. We both know that.” ‘I hope!’

“No,” she continued much more softly, “we are here because you wanted me to be part of your past, but that’s not enough for me. I want to be part of your present, maybe even of your future.” She reached out and wrapped her fingers around Dar’s hand. “I know you want it too.”

For a second Moira could feel the Bolian’s fingers grasping her hand, holding on to her, before Dar withdrew.

“No. I can’t do this. It would not be right. I don’t want to drag you any deeper into my problems than I already have.”

“What do you mean? Problems? What problems would you have? I don’t get it!”

*****

“Do you remember when we first met?” Dar asked carefully.

Moira’s brows furrowed for a few moments. “Not really. Must have been during our first few weeks on the Eclipse, but I am not sure when or where it happened.”

“Neither do I.” Dar took another swig and called for the waiter to bring a pitcher to their table before he looked at Moira again. “What I do clearly recall is our mission to L-351. Before that I just perceived you as a fellow officer – someone who had a name and a face and an efficiency rating, but not much more.”

“So what changed on L-351?”

Dar exhaled in what was almost a snort, something that almost sounded derisive, but Moira knew it wasn’t aimed at her. “What changed was that I placed all my responsibility on you. It was my mission to lead, but when everything went down in a handbasket I didn’t face my responsibility. I placed it on your shoulders and I was happy to do so.”

Moira inhaled and held her breath until her lungs hurt, then slowly exhaled. “And that is why we have suddenly become friends, because you thought you had something to make up to me?”

“Yes. No... I don’t know.” Dar rested his face in his hands and rubbed his brows vigorously. “For a time I thought I had to make something up to you, but that’s not it... I think.”

Moira refilled her glass from the pitcher and watched the bubbles rise in her glass, before she took a small sip of beer and reached out to the Bolian.

Her hand cusped his chin and she raised his face to meet her smile. “I took that responsibility not because you forced it on me. I took it because you offered me a chance to be more than I was and because it was the only thing I could do. What’s so wrong with that?”

Before Dar had a chance to respond Moira went on: “Do you think I spent all the time I did with you because you put me in a place I didn’t want to be?”

She let go of his face and her hand slumped down on the table. “Truth be told, I didn’t particularly enjoy our adventure on 351, but I enjoyed every minute I spent with you during the last few months. I hope you did too, so why don’t you just say what we both want you to say?”

“Because... because I thought we could only be friends. We are so different. What common ground could there be between us?”

Moira reached for his hand again and wrapped her fingers around it. “I see your point - I think.”

She raised his hand to her lips and gently brushed a kiss on his fingertips. “Maybe we have no interests in common apart from our taste in burgers, or our work as Starfleet officers, or our common friends, but what difference does that make?”

“I love you, Dar. Can’t that be enough?”

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