Episode 47
Prologue
“Nanook?”
“No.”
“Kor’cha?”
“No.”
“Ethyl-Marmalade?”
Rolling my eyes with exasperation, I heaved
a long sigh and shook my head at the one and only Alan Christopher. We were curled up on the soft, black sofa in
our quarters attempting to find a name for our unborn child… but after hearing
Alan’s first several suggestions, I was starting to think that ultimately, the
decision would be mine alone.
Slowly, I turned my head to meet his curious
gaze—and shook my head again. “Can’t
you think of anything halfway normal?”
He chuckled. “What’s wrong with Kor’cha?
That is completely normal.”
I shook my head. “For a Klingon. The last
time I checked, I was human.
We’re still trying to figure out what you are.”
He shrugged indolently. “Maybe I’m part Klingon.”
I didn’t believe him for a second, and
quickly worked to disprove his alleged theory.
“Then where are your ridges?” I asked, pointing at his forehead.
Quickly, Alan pulled in a deep lungful of
air. “We do not discuss that with outsiders,” he said, imitating the deep, powerful voice of a
Klingon.
Giggling like a schoolgirl, I sheepishly buried my head in Alan’s
shoulder and shook my head. “You’re so
silly,” I told him amidst my giggles.
“Watch your tongue,
human,” said Alan, continuing his Klingon ruse, “or I may be forced to extract
your heart with a … dagger-like-thing… and… eat it before your very eyes.”
It was then that I realized Alan was no Klingon warrior, for all
true warriors knew their weapons like the back of their hand. I very much doubted that many Klingons were
proud to wield a ‘dagger-like-thing.’ Slowly, I raised my lips to his ear and
whispered, “d’k’tahg.”
He rolled his eyes. “Since
when are you the Klingon expert?”
“Since the course on
Klingon culture at Starfleet Academy… you know, the one every cadet is required
to take?” I scooted a few centimeters
away from him, and rose to my feet. “I
guess you slept through it.”
Almost immediately, Alan cast me a sarcastic look, then proudly
proclaimed, “nuqDaq ‘oH puchpa’’e’”
I only smiled, and let him believe he was the master of all things
Klingon. Of course, I wanted to be
there the day he arrived on the Klingon Homeworld and asked some mighty warrior
were the nearest waste extraction facility was located. Perhaps after that, Alan would even get to
see a d’k’tahg.
But for the time being, I would have to settle for him seeing the
interiors of sickbay. It was time for
my prenatal exam, and today’s meeting with Doctor Hartman was the one I had
been anticipating for weeks: we would soon know the gender of our child.
My heart raced with excitement at the prospect. I very much wanted a daughter; I could teach
her all sorts of girly things, mess around with her hair and dress her up in
the cutest little outfits. Of course,
if it was a boy… I guess I would be a bit disappointed—but I wouldn’t go so far
as to complain.
Swiftly, I grabbed Alan’s hand and—at seeing his relative
resistance—practically dragged him from the sofa. He quickly came to his senses and rose to his feet before he
could fall to the floor—a sight that would have been humorous, but ultimately,
wasting time. From what I could tell,
we were already running behind schedule, and this was one appointment that I
didn’t want to be late for.
“Come on,” I chirped, again grabbing Alan’s hand and leading him
through the doors.
As they hissed shut behind us, we quickly ventured through a
series of short corridors before coming upon a turbolift. After a brief ride therein, we arrived on
deck five, and shortly thereafter, stood in the middle of sickbay.
Doctor Hartman stood waiting with her hands on her hips, and a
frown on her face. “You’re late,” she
said sternly as we wandered closer.
The Doctor was never one for pleasantries. She simply did her job, and nothing
more. Of course… she did her job very
well, which very much justified her lacking bedside manner—to a point. But not wanting to quarrel with her on this
day, I simply smiled and rolled my eyes back to Alan. “He was fooling around,” I said cheerfully.
Immediately, the Doctor’s eyes darted to Alan. “Men,” she grumbled with a hint of a
smile on her face. With that said, she
hastily came about and headed for the surgical bay in the back of the
sickbay. I started to follow, but even
before I could move an inch, a pair of hands gently fell upon my shoulders,
holding me in place.
“I was fooling around?” asked Alan softly.
Without looking back, I shrugged and said, “You think a delicate
flower like me could be at fault?”
Alan smiled—though I couldn’t see it, I just knew he did. “Of course not,” he said warmly, releasing
me from his gentle grip.
“What do you think about Angela?” I asked Alan as I made my way to
the surgical bay. After a brief moment
of silence, I turned to him to see a quirky look resting upon his face.
“Angela?” he repeated.
I nodded. “You know, if
it’s a girl, we could name her Angela.”
“And what if it’s a boy?”
I shook my head. “It won’t
be,” I chirped, sounding much more sure of myself than I actually was.
“Hell, with instinct like that, who needs me,” said Doctor Hartman
as I came up alongside of her. Her gaze
shifted to the bed. “Up you go.”
I nodded, and started to make my little hop up to the bed—but
quickly found that particular task not as easy as it had been four months
earlier. Slightly embarrassed by my
inability to complete such a simple task, I blushed, and sheepishly turned to
Alan. “Help?”
A smile melted his face, and he quickly came to my side and helped
me onto the bed. “What would you do
without me?” he asked.
“I might be a little thinner,” I quipped. Carefully, I scooted onto the bed and made
myself as comfortable as possible—quickly noticing that comfort was a relative
term. I felt bloated, my back was
killing me, I ached almost everywhere else, and a sudden wave of nausea seemed
to be coming over my body. If I had
known pregnancy felt like this, I probably wouldn’t have been so eager
to start a family.
Once I was settled, Doctor Hartman stood at the foot of the
bio-bed with her medical tricorder in hand.
“Are you ready?”
My gaze shifted from the Doctor, to Alan, and back. “Yes,” I said confidently. I could feel the excitement flowing through
my veins, an excitement that grew as the gentle chirps of Sarah’s tricorder
started to float through the air—but just as suddenly as it started, the
chirping stopped. “What is it?” I
asked, concerned that something was wrong.
But when my gaze fell upon Doctor Hartman, I knew my fears were
unjustified. The smile on her face was
wide—something I had never seen before.
“Nothing is wrong,” she said.
“You’re daughter is perfectly healthy.”