Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Paramount/Viacom. This story is the property of and is copyright (c) 2008 by Mistress V.  Rated PG.


The Bridesmaid

by Mistress V


Christine Chapel let herself into the quarters she and her husband shared. It was 20:00 and there was a subspace call due from Kala in a few minutes. She gave her still damp tresses a shake and threw her gym bag into the sleeping alcove, then ordered some pomegranate juice on the rocks from the replicator and sat down at her computer.


The Enterprise was five days out of Terra and everyone was working double shifts to make sure the ship was ready for midmission inspection. Christine pondered the logic of this--after all, there would be a complete overhaul---and wondered if it was some sort of head game played between captains and admirals. She shrugged. Whatever. After mandatory three days of debriefing, she and Spock were off to do precisely nothing except enjoy the wonders of Florida...and each other. Then New York.


Her screen opened up on a fashionable looking Upper East Side penthouse. Kala was seated at a glass desk, her back to the 360 degree view of the New York City skyline. Obviously, her mother's diplomatic background had its benefits. The living space was impressive but not austere, and showed an interesting mix of Terran and Klin influence.


"Hey, doc," Kala said. "Is that a suntan I see?"


"Yep," Christine laughed. "Rigel was hot." That was an understatement. Hot weather and hot sex, the perfect combination.


"So, how did you like the bathing suit? Did it stand up to use?"


Christine felt her cheeks flush. She hesitated. Surely Kala was inquiring after the suit's general wearability, after all, she was its designer. "Uh huh, no complaints in that department."


Kala leaned closer to the monitor with a sly grin. "Did it stay on at all?"


"KALA!" Christine's face was now scarlet. She looked hesitantly around and also leaned forward. "Not for long but yes, he liked it. I did too. Can't wait for Florida."


"Good, I'll have some more surprises by then. Hey, where's Spock, anyway?"


"I sent him off to play chess with Jim. He and Scotty had their heads up the Jeffries tube these past two days and he's getting as ornery as a le-matya with a hangnail." She took a sip of her juice and let out a long breath. "Everyone's on pins and needles, waiting. Mendez can be so vindictive. Has Greg heard anything?"


Kala shook her head. "No, just that the preliminary assessment will be at McKinley, then you proceed to San Francisco with Mendez on board. Greg'll be checking you in, though, so at least you'll be seeing a friendly face. And he was just flabbergasted about that Gorn hockey story."


"He wasn't the only one." Christine held up a bottle of turquoise liquor. "Tek and Thul sent a half dozen bottles of their best meridor, for your wedding gift and for your father's club. I'll have to teach the bartender how to pour wormholes. Better keep the team away, they're lethal."


"Meridor?" Kala sounded impressed. "My dad can't keep it in stock, it's so scarce and so costly. And don't worry about the team, Kluth has made them swear they won't dishonor my family's name by behaving unreasonably."


Christine laughed. "Whatever THAT is! Yazzie and Julia are wondering what Klingon hockey player are like. They're rumored to be, you know, tall and sexy. So I'm guessing there'll be plenty of interspecies relational studies at your reception." Lt. Cho and Lt. Singh were speculating endlessly on the Klingon hockey team's presence at the festivities.


"Them? Sexy? Well, maybe." Kala now shrugged. "So, let's look at your cha'DIch'aa dress, shall we?"


After inserting a holochip Kala had sent, Christine hit a button and watched as a miniature 3-d version of herself appeared on the desk next to her keyboard. Over in New York, the same thing happened at Kala's monitor.


"What color?" she asked her friend, admiring the gown's simplicity. It was high necked, long sleeved, and had a nipped in waist. There were exotic cutouts over the collarbone.


Kala made some calculations and the image changed from colorless to deep maroon, delicately embroidered with traditional designs. "360 degree view," she told the computer.


The image on Christine's desk turned around. She turned even redder than the fabric. "I can't possibly wear that!" she gasped. There was no back whatsoever to the dress, which plunged in a deep v to just above the base of where her spine would be.


"Why not? It's a Klingon ceremony and, as my cha'DIch'aa, you need to dress accordingly. Remember, only a married woman may attend the bride, and since none of my female relations will be there, you have to stand in for our family's honor."


There was a special part of the ceremony where the bride took off her jinaq, now being mated, and handed it reverently to a married female relative. This woman safeguarded the necklace until after the wedding night and would be there when the bride then presented it to her own daughter, many years in the future. As Christine was married, she was the only one of Kala's friends who could perform this duty, and she was pleased that she could do so.


"It---has---you know, no back! Spock would murder any male that even glanced in my general direction! Even the shuttle driver!"


Kala raised an eyebrow, something she'd learned hanging around the couple. "That's a traditional style, and only married women may show their back, maids cannot. No warrior would dishonor another by looking at his wife disrespectfully, you know." She sighed with a smile. "But for Spock's insanely jealous sake, I'll put a sheer overlay across the rear. Your dignity will be safe, don't worry."


Spock's somewhat possessive tendencies were well known among their friends and most of the crew. It wasn't really a problem, just more of an amusement. Jealousy was very much an emotion, and that was what made everyone shake their heads when he strutted around in his Vulcaner than thou mode on occasion. They knew better.


"I worked up something for you to wear over your wedding dress at our registry office ceremony," Kala continued, punching in some codes and changing the outfit the holo wore. "You can drape that shawl your mom sent over your shoulders, it'll look gorgeous." A moment later, a short, mohair looking hyacinth hued coat appeared, complemented by high suedish boots in a deeper shade, a fake fur muff and hat. December would be cold, especially in a carriage ride through Central Park.


"I'm speechless, Kala. Where do you find the time?" Christine marveled at her friend's talent, which had only begun to come to fruition during her time as spa coordinator on board the Enterprise. It was clear she had a bright future ahead of her.


"It's a living. And speaking of time, call me when you get to New York, we can have a last fitting. Maybe you and Spock can come over for Christmas breakfast here. The view's worth it. Oh, and Greg will have some stuff for you to take to Florida when the ship docks." Kala made some more notes on her PADD.


"Will do. So, you ready for Tahiti?" Ensign Pauulu had arranged for the couple to honeymoon at a private resort island his brother worked at as a chef.


"Absolutely. I think Greg's more excited about the fishing, to be honest." Kala gave a snicker. "I'll have to convince him otherwise."


"He and Spock must have been separated at birth. Just don't do anything we wouldn't." Christine winked at her friend as they prepared to end the transmission.


"Us? You two wrote the book, honey!"




After signing off, Christine gave a stretch, pleasantly tired from the water movement class Yasmine Singh had taught that evening. She looked at the chronometer. Still early, those chess games went on for hours sometimes. Maybe some Thalian chocolate mousse and a holo. She'd been wanting to watch the original "Charade," the version with Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn, and now was the perfect opportunity. She started humming the theme as she headed over to the bookshelf.


"Good evening, doctor."


He was leaning around the doorway of their sleeping alcove, a benign smile on his face.


Christine felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. It was painfully obvious he'd heard every single word of the transmission, so it was pointless to try to claim otherwise. She swallowed back her nausea. "What---what are you doing here?"


He raised an eyebrow. "What am I doing here? I live here, do I not? Or have you divorced me since alpha shift ended?"


Tears threatened to spill over her lashes. He sounded mad, but why? He was the eavesdropper. And besides that, he could have as easily heard it all through their bond, the nosy bas**rd. She could just murder him sometimes. But she wasn't backing down.


"Of course I haven't divorced you." Ordinarily she'd interject some cute remark. Not now. "I thought you were playing chess with Jim?"


"Yes, that. Jim begged off with a headache, he informed me there was too much paperwork he had to wade through tomorrow and he wished to have an early night. So I came home. In fact," he continued as he drew his trembling wife into his arms, "I had hoped to surprise you."


Christine finally realized he was wearing jeans and nothing else. She'd been too terrified to notice before. "Oh?" she asked in a small voice.


"Th'yla." Spock held her even closer. "Why do you worry so much about what I shall think? Did we not discuss this awhile back, that each of married the entire person, including their uniform and the duties that came with it? Perhaps I should expand on that to include the person's friends and their life." He paused to kiss her. "I do not mind what you said to Kala, nor what she said to you. I found it rather amusing."


"Remind me to hire a fly on the wall the next time you and Jim get together, then." A smile crept onto Christine's features and she allowed herself to relax, feeling the intensity of her husband's love her pouring across their link.


"A fly on the wall? Really, doctor, there are no insects on board that I know of. Now, about this book Kala claims we have authored? I can think of a few chapters that might be worth re-reading this evening." Spock let his hands drift across his wife's waist, heading south.


"So can I." She slid her fingers beneath the denim he wore, enjoying the soft gasp the action produced.


"Then let us...compare notes?"