Fun and Love

Love is blind, they say.  April did not know all of the reasons he loved his wife – in fact, when it came down to it, he knew very few.  They did not seem the perfect match, on the outside.  Captains, equal-ranking officers, often had trouble maintaining long-distance relationships, much less marriages.  Far fewer such relationships existed and survived than those that did.

For over a year now, they somehow made it work.  She certainly wasn't the cerebral, intellectual, and when driven to action, obsessed type of person Stephen April was.  He loved his wife – and one reason, he suspected, was her youthful vitality.  It also helped that she turned him on, every time she got close or touched him.

That youthful exuberance charged her moves as he watched her on the dance floor.  Multicolored beams strobed and filled the place with a frantic, frenetic frenzy of flashing light.  There was an ancient Earth word for the club, which April could not immediately recall.  After an hour of debating it off and on, it came to him: Discotheque.  It was intense – a bit too intense for April.  Winding down in his older years, he had come to appreciate the value of softer, subtler atmospheres.  Apparently it did not bother his wife.  It was her idea to come here.

I thought I knew a lot of people, he mentally ruminated.  Brenda seemed to know just about as many, and had far more friends among them, everywhere she went.  April's friends were more of associates.

April had never been much of a dancer.  He enjoyed it on rare occasions, but very rare.  Music: A soulful, innate thing for him, if it was the right kind of music – a symphony in sound to stir the spirit, meant to be experienced in the nether regions of consciousness... a hint of an elusive order pervading all the layers of infinity.  He would still the mental waters and with Zen-like hunger open up, fully absorb its deep touch, without the distraction of physical accompaniment.  But, just now and then, even he could not resist the need to get up and let it move him, outwardly as well as inwardly.

The current fast-paced, synthesized melodies he found spiritually shallow.  They vibrated through his cells, but did not touch his heart.  It took more than this.  Yet, determined not to spoil Brenda's fun, he adopted a happy face and pretended to enjoy himself.  April felt a pang of guilt for enjoying himself as much as he was.  He thought of a young man named Jeremy Haskins, his first officer over a year ago.  Haskins' actions in an encounter with the Kazons, and his actions alone – his decision to order the needless taking of lives – had spelled the end of his tenure as Arcadia's XO.  April felt partly responsible for breaking him up with Mala Hendriksson, although it was, ultimately, their decision to keep in touch, or not.

At the moment he was taking a break, nursing a glass of golden El-Aurian ale.  Brenda and one of her innumerable friends, an attractive dark-skinned woman named Utrez, tripped the light fantastic, while April sipped his drink and watched, imbibing the life of the venue, letting it wash over him, idly picking up bits of chatter and nearby conversations.  He didn't know how popular discotheques were back in the day on Earth, or if those who revived them were even aware that they previously existed, but this place was certainly popular with its patrons.  Denizens from several different races shared the outing, standing, sitting, drinking and dancing, maturely and responsibly.  He placed a hand over his mouth, hiding a grin at the sight of a Ferengi and an Andorian in a distant corner.  They wore immaculate, matching white and black outfits.  He wondered if they were merely dance partners, or more.  Trying to imagine the children of such a union, he envisioned blue Ferengi with white hair and antennas.  For some reason, he found it funny.  He looked down at his glass.  Must be the drink, he thought.

Brenda returned, flushed, breathing hard.  "That gal sure can dance, can't she?"  She smiled and slid into the booth next to her husband, leaning against him.  Noticing April's hand around his glass, she said, "What's your other hand doing?"

April pulled his other hand out from under the table, holding it up, palm open.

"Okay.  Just making sure you aren't reverting to your old bad habits."

"Like what, hiding a tricorder, or an armpadd?"

"Wouldn't be the first time, now would it?" she chided.  "The ever duty-conscious admiral, unable to leave work behind even when he goes on vacations.  Remember Sirigul Twelve?  I broke you of that though, didn't I."  She picked up her glass – an ugly olive-green concoction of fruit juices and vegetable alcohol, though it tasted pretty good (April had tried it) – tipped it to her lips, replaced it on the table, then grinned.  "Tell me something: How many captains get to boss admirals around?"

"Oh, whatever."

She laughed and pushed her nose into his cheek.  April breathed in the scent of her perfume.  A chill ran through him, and he smiled back, admiring the glow of her face in the rainbow lights.

"Whoa... Captain?  Captain April?"

April looked past Brenda at the sound of a male voice.  Both turned their heads.  There in the discotheque, they were treated to a sight not unexpected for this place, but unexpected nonetheless: Simon Ringo, in mid-step, passing by, a tray of drinks in hand.  Judging from his attire, as gaudy as the surroundings, he wasn't waiting on tables.  He stopped and did a back-step.

"Mr. Ringo," April acknowledged with cursory pleasantness.  They had not parted on the best of terms: Ringo found April's stiff adherence to the letter of regulations a turn-off, and eventually requested transfer off Arcadia, around the same time he got married to Eve Ordalani.  Ringo had fallen madly in love with Eve, so much so that he convinced Milla Q to turn him into a Bartokian, just like the Arc's former ops officer, now captain of the USS DeSoto.  Since then, Ringo had resigned his Starfleet commission altogether.  Some people didn't devote their entire lives to the service.  But, that was years ago – water under the bridge.  This was now.  April wasn't the type to hold a grudge, if others wouldn't, and the man had greeted him.

Ringo didn't know April had accepted promotion, as April wore plain clothes, a snappy custom-fit black casual suit, offsetting Brenda's more elegant white dress.  "Actually, it's admiral now."  Brenda glanced back and forth between them, realizing it was not her that Ringo addressed.  She was not the only Captain April in the Federation, but she was the only one here.  April gave her a lavish glance.  "This is my wife."

"Brenda," she said, smiling.  "I'm the Captain April between the two of us, if you want to be formal."

Ringo's jaw fell slightly, eyes darting between them.  "You, sir?" he said to April.  "An admiral?  Married?"

"Happily," Brenda said, wrapping her fingers around her husband's.  "And what's your name?"

"Uh, Ringo, Simon Ringo."  He carefully nestled the tray of drinks in the crook of his left arm, and shook her other hand.  "Wow.  Captain... I mean, Admiral, sir... That's... that's extraordinary.  I never saw you tying the knot."

"Times change.  So do people," April said.  "How's Eve?"

"We have a daughter."

April nodded.  "So I've heard."  He hoped he wouldn't ask about Neria.

"Yeah, and well, she's still only a kid, but... the way time flies, it won't be long before she hits puberty, and... you know what happens then...."

April had to think about it for a second.  He lifted his chin perceptively.  "So you don't want to have sex with your own daughter, is that it?"

Ringo made a face.  "That's basically it.  Not to mention when she gets married, the father-in-law gets to bang her, like he has a right, and let's face it, the guy's got no right!... and I'll end up in prison, or worse, get the death sentence for killing him, I swear...."  Ringo shook his head.  "Eve and I started getting into fights over it.  Things got said, one thing led to another, and... We decided it was best to split up, take a breather."

Separated.  April took this in.  "I can see where you're coming from," he offered, pondering the circumstances Ringo described.  He was no stranger to the extremities of Bartokian culture, himself.  It wasn't easy for everyone to adapt to the ways of alien species, especially in such matters as sexual intercourse with one's children.  Bartokian customs were more severe than some.  He frowned.  "You're still Bartokian, aren't you?  Didn't you know about it, when you made that choice?"

Ringo shrugged.  "Guess I'm still more human deep down than I thought.  There's times I'm still startled to see I have blue blood."

"I can imagine.  But you didn't answer my question.  You and Eve don't see each other anymore?"

"Only for Cerina's sake.  Eve's doing all right.  Being captain now herself keeps her pretty busy."

It had been a year since Stasia Nyerko joined the Arcadia.  April wondered if Ringo knew his wife had a clone around.  But it wasn't his place to disclose such potentially sensitive information.  That matter had been left to the Ordalanis and the Bartokians to resolve, so he kept mum on the subject.

Someone yelled for Simon, and Ringo shot a glance across the club.  Returning the tray to both hands, he prepared to depart.  "Looks like I'm being summoned, so... it was good to meet you, Mrs. April.  Congratulations to you, Admiral.  You both take care now."  He gave each a nod and left.

"You too, Simon," April said, hoping the personal touch would further help to mend fences between them.  Even if they never saw each other again in this life, it was still worth it, for its own sake.

After watching him depart, Brenda said speculatively, "Former officer... gave up the uniform."

"You got it right."