Sunni Day Part III

April wasn't prepared for Sunni's appearance – in a striking yellow silk dress which went with her hair, peppered with woven red flowers, trimmed in sparkling Spican firestones.  She had her hair styled up; two braids dangled from each temple, the rest slightly curled, secured in a glittering gold barrette.  A faint accent of makeup brought out her eyes; her lips were a soft cinnamon red.

April didn't realize he was staring, until she cracked a smile and said, "Coming in, sir, or you going to stand in my door all shift?"

"Of course."  April started in; she stepped aside.

Music played on a low volume... more like a god-awful racket, growling vocals and thrashing drums mixed with a tribal beat, in a language indecipherable to his ears, reminding him of an audio malfunction at Starbase 514, during the viral sweep.  In fact, it sounded just like that.  Had she made a recording?  A scent lingered in the air, not unpleasant; he couldn't define the smell.  Cooking?  It could have been incense.

"I swear, sir... do you wear anything else?"

April looked down at his uniform, at which she was staring.  "Oh.  I, ah... guess I didn't think it was too formal for casual."  For him, the uniform was casual – he lived in it.  But then, was he to believe her appearance was nothing but?  He unfastened and slid out of the jacket portion.  He could have ordered a new outfit in place of the current, but didn't want to call on Cadie anymore today, or make her think he was.  Fortunately, Sunni kept a coat-rack of sorts (he hoped it was, it had nothing on it) next to the door.  He hooked the uniform jacket and looked around.

He had never been inside Sunni Moon's quarters.  Though reconfigurable into a larger span, like all quarters, regulations required standard dimensions.  Yet somehow she made the small space seem larger.  The furniture, brown and black imitation leather, provided a dark contrast to beige-colored walls and earth-tone carpeting.  Stout, glass-top, balustrade-support end-tables sat between the couch and single chair, with exotic decor and sculptures on the walls.  Not wholly remarkable, yet not plain or 'shallow' either.  Sunni had some depth, after all – and a woman's touch.  He didn't ask where her roommate was: After the downsizing, most crew-members got their own individual quarters.  Nor did he wonder where she slept or kept her lavatory and personal belongings: The advantage of reconfiguration, again.

He took interest in the walls: Writing flared across them – black, purple, red and complementary brown, in shifting lines, blocks and characters – reminding him of certain forms of aboriginal art, or Persian rug designs.  They bore a noticeable style, up, down, back & forth, around the quarters, like interlocking stick-figures with large, diamond-shaped heads.  April could have cued up complant analysis and translation – the script resembled ancient Greek and Arabic, but the elongated slant of the characters made it difficult to be sure.  This seemed to be the day for strange, unexpected alphabets, after what he'd seen in Cartography.  Did it mean anything?  Did Sunni know ancient languages?  Or was it simply a pattern she selected from the library computer, for looks?  He decided he did not want to know.  Mystery made it more appealing – like Sunni Moon.

"You like that?" she said.  "Want to know what it says?"

"Well, don't take this the wrong way, but... actually, for once, I'd rather not."  He hoped she wouldn't ask why, but wouldn't blame her if she did.

"Good," she said.  "Because I wasn't going to tell you."

He looked at her.  Sunni smiled and laughed, that unique Sunni Moon laugh, eyes twinkling, radiantly bright.  Maybe she was joking.  She was a hard one for anyone to figure out.

She leaned toward him and whispered, "It's a secret."

April looked around again.  They were alone.  "Okay..." he said, not understanding – but if she said so, then maybe he really didn't want to know, after all.

"Want a beer?"

So casual in tone, if not appearance.  "No thanks.  I don't drink."  She knew that about him, so why did she ask?  Maybe she thought he'd make an exception, and was being cordial.

"So what do you want?"

"Oh, how about... Evoran citrus punch."

She batted her eyebrows.  "No kidding.  I think I'll have one too."  She turned, spotting two glasses on one of the tables and snapped her fingers.  Orange liquid materialized in each.  She had nailed the routine of using the new interactive functions.  Some of the crew had trouble letting go of old ways and habits... still behaving like this was ten or twenty years ago.  Sunni went and got the glasses, handing him one as she turned.  "Ready to eat?"

April wondered if she was trying to rush him.  Maybe she wasn't used to entertaining guests, or maybe he made her nervous.  But he had no problem with it, considering.  He didn't have a problem with being here, either, as long as it stayed on the level, but at the same time didn't intend to stay longer than he absolutely had to.

"Sunni... what have you been doing?"  He noticed her fingers, as she handed him the glass.  Calluses lined her fingertips; the skin on her hands seemed worn, compared to the last time he had seen them closely.

She held up her free hand; the palm showed fading blisters.  "I'm working in Tactical now; we have to take regular cross-training updates in Security.  I couldn't get the marks I needed for personal combat fitness, so I've been doing exercises on the holodeck."

"Doing what?  Standing on your fingertips?"

She glanced sharply.  "How'd you know?"

"Are you serious?"

"That's just what I've been doing."

"You should see Tabatha."

"Nah, it'll be all right."  She motioned to the couch.  "Go ahead, make yourself home."

"You don't want to eat at a table?"

"I never do."  She plopped into the easy chair, slung a leg over the side.  April thought of a stage actress, portraying an eastern princess in a play – that was what she looked like – back stage after a break.  "Okay, computer, this is Sunni.  Make it like I said."

Plates, glasses and dining ware materialized on floating trays between them, followed an instant later by a complete transformation of her quarters.  Lush green trees replaced the walls, swaying in a breeze under a purple-gray sky.  They were sitting on a stone terrace; a mammoth white building exploded into view next to them.

Instinctively April looked up at the structure – unmistakably classic Greek architecture, with telltale, vertically grooved columns and a sloping, pointed roof.  A Doric temple, a replica of that on Delos, in Earth's Aegean Sea... begun over twenty-eight centuries ago, but never finished.  This one was.  He had studied the Greeks in school, and refreshed himself after taking command of Arcadia, driven by interest in the origins of his ship's name.  The original Delian temple was dedicated to Apollo.  He suddenly understood the connection.  Sunni was from Pollux IV.

Figures in the frieze depicted people and events with exquisite detail.  Chariots, horses, men, women and monsters... renditions of the sun-god in various acts... and – was that a Constitution-class starship?  Yes, of course – the second Enterprise, NCC-1701, commanded by J.T. Kirk.  April didn't know the Polluxians – they called themselves Olympians now – had carved the ship's encounter, in 2267, with the humanoid who claimed to be Apollo, on that very planet.

"Interesting," he said, eyes following the rest of the frieze.

"Not exactly home," Sunni said, "but as close as I want to get."

"What do you mean?"

"My parents are from Utopia Planitia," Sunni said.  "I was born there."

"But you didn't grow up there," April said, half-speculating.  Life in certain environments affected not only one's internal physiology, but their external, physical appearance.  Utopia Planitia was on Mars.  Martians weren't always to spot; they closely resembled humans, but a trained eye could pick them out.  He knew, by now, that Sunni Moon could not have spent any great deal of time there, either on the red planet's surface or in the orbital habitats.  Either environment would have had such an effect.

"No," she said, shifting in her chair.  "I grew up on Earth... Chandra Five... Pollux Four... Farius Prime... Delta Seven... Sherman Three..."  She was darting her eyes back and forth, head raised, as she named off all the places she had lived.  She continued until April had lost count, then looked at him.  "In that order."  She permitted a small grin at the look he was giving her, a shade of the old Sunni.  "I moved around a lot.  My father... well, he was a busy guy.  You used to remind me of him."

"What did he do?"

Sunni regarded him, looked away, looked at him again.  "All up and up, right?"  Puzzled, April nodded.  "I don't want to do that.  Parents, school, what was it like as a kid... That kind of small talk is so boring.  My parents were boring.  Their lives were boring; they were boring.  It's their fault I joined Starfleet."

April cocked his head.  "'Their fault'?"

"Yeah!  Moving me around, never letting us settle down – I have brothers and sisters, believe it or not.  I know I'm not the only one; I've talked to other people who moved a lot.  A lot of them have the same response: 'When we didn't have friends, we had each other'.  It wasn't like that for us.  Not for me.  We couldn't stand each other.  As soon as we grew up, we scattered.  I was so used to the life, after a while I joined Starfleet.  Figured, if I'm going to keep living this way, might as well really make a life out of it."

"You don't keep in contact?"

"Kitti, my one sister, sends letters once in a while.  She's somewhere in the Gamma Quadrant.  Other than that..."  She gave a little shrug, took a drink from her glass.  "What about you?"

"One brother."  April paused, added, "And... a half-sister, and a half-brother, I didn't know about until recently."

"Sounds mixed up."

April made a humorless smile.  "It's a long story.  And I don't want to talk about that, myself."

Sunni nodded, glanced at his hands.  "No ring?"

April looked at his hands too.  "Ring?"

"I thought when people got married, they wore rings."

"Oh... well, some do.  As far as Earth-born Terrans go.  But, not us."

"Don't want others to know?"

April gave a headshake.  "It's not that."  He sipped from his glass, made a face.  Evoran punch: It had bite.  "I'm lucky in that Brenda – well, Captain April, my wife—"

"I know who she is, silly."

"I'm lucky: She feels the same as I do about marriage.  It's a commitment.  We didn't get married for anyone else; we married for each other, because it was what we wanted to do.  We don't need to show off symbols for others to see.  We know that we're there for each other, when we need it.  That's commitment."

"I'd say she's the lucky one."

April opened his mouth, stopped, closed it, looking at her.  There was a glint in Sunni's eyes.  She was looking right at him.  April had been around enough women to know that look.  "Sunni—"

"How come I never got to have you?" she said.  "Didn't you ever want me?"

"Sunni... if I put my foot in my mouth with what I'm about to say, forgive me, but – I have to make sure I'm not getting the wrong impression.  Are you... trying to... seduce me?"

She had the look of a deer caught in headlights.  Then her old expression slid back into place, as she offered a playful grin.  "Of course not!  And no, I'm not offended.  But I'm not that kind of girl."  She paused.  "But... if I was..."  She tilted her head back, giving him that look again – unmistakable, grinning softly.  Playfully.  Seductively.  Her eyes were very blue.

Before April could get out a response she added, "What if I said I'd like to?"

April took a drink from his glass, gray-eyed gaze meeting hers head on, unwavering.  But it wasn't the kind of look she was giving off.  He swallowed and set the glass on the stone.  "I'd say you forgot that I'm married... and I severely outrank you."

"Does that have to be an issue?  Married people have partners on the side all the time."

"Some do.  We don't.  I thought you understood.  When you love someone... someone, one person, if you truly love that one person... you give yourself to that person completely.  That's what marriage is.  I married Brenda out of love.  Because she loves me, and I love her."

Sunni started smiling again.  "That's great.  Hey, really.  She IS lucky to have you.  But I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me; I'm not trying to get you in bed just for fun.  Yeah, I had a crush on you for a while; I know you know.  But that's not what this is about.  I don't want to get married.  I'm happy for you; you finally found someone you're comfortable with, taking it to that level... but it's not for me."

"Then... what is this about?"

"I'm getting older.  I want to be a mother.  I feel like time's running out; if I don't do it pretty soon, well... I'm just ready to do it now.  I'd like you to be the father of my child, sir.  If that's okay with you."

You have got to be kidding me, said the look on April's face.  He stared, again; again, speechless.

He set his glass down and looked for the door where he came in.  "Sunni... this isn't why I came."

"Oh come on... You said we could be rational adults.  I'm not going to rip your clothes off... sir.  It's just a question.  Were you ever attracted to me?"

April started to open his mouth again, stopped again, sighed.  "I don't see what difference it makes."  Of course, it was a lie... covering for himself.  It wasn't that simple.  It could make a very big difference – between knowing, and feeling encouraged, if he told her that the answer was yes, physically, he found her attractive – Sunni Moon was an attractive woman... and... not telling her, getting up, excusing himself and going out the door... leaving her wondering – but if she was intelligent (and she was not stupid), then not lost to the impression he would be giving her, that it was not a subject to be discussed between them.

In short, the smartest thing for April to do was to get up, now, and go.  He had been 'down the road'... and around the block.  He had been down this road, before.  His younger days came back, in a flash; all the women he had been with... he had been quite the player.  Nothing good ever came of his sexual irresponsibility.  The one good thing which came of his promiscuous past, when he had allowed himself to be promiscuous, was gone.  Nothing good could come of it, where April was concerned.  Something deep in his gut was telling him that, but he didn't have to listen – because on top of all that... he was married.  He couldn't do that to Brenda.  He wouldn't.

"Sunni," he started again, "I'm glad to get to know you, and I'm glad you invited me for a pleasant evening.  It has been pleasant so far.  Let's end it that way.  I think it's time I should go."  He got up.

She stepped up, blocking his way.  "Am I scaring you?"

"I don't think this is something we should be discussing."

"You don't have to be afraid."

"I'm not.  Fear has nothing to do with it."

"Denial.  And lack of communication."  She clucked, shook her head.  "That isn't good for a relationship."

"We don't have a relationship."

Her lips quirked in a grin; her eyes glittered.  He saw the tips of her teeth.  "We don't?"

"Sunni – don't fool with me."

Her playful expression took a walk.  "Don't leave until you've listened.  I'm not asking for a lifelong commitment.  You don't have to divorce your wife; we don't even have to sleep together.  Tabatha can do the insemination.  I want a child, that's all.  I'm thirty-five; my 'biological clock' is ticking.  I want you to be the father.  Is that so terrible to ask?  Think for a second.  Is it?  Is it, really?"

"What about Libra?"

"I'm not asking Libra.  I'm asking you."

"Sunni – You can make any request you want of me or another commanding officer – within regulations.  You don't ask us to be sperm donors."

"Why not?  How else can I ask?  You're an admiral now, sir, but you're a person – just like anyone.  I'm not asking my commanding officer – I'm asking you."

"A child isn't something you give away, Sunni!  It's a living flesh and blood person, with feelings, a life ahead...."

"I know that.  That's why I'm asking you.  I was hoping you'd see it as an honor: I'm asking you instead of someone else."

"Ask 'someone else'," April said and went around her.

"Is that a no?"

"Computer, exit."  The door to Sunni's quarters appeared; so did his uniform jacket, hanging on an invisible hook.

"Steve, wait... wait a minute.  Don't leave!"  She wasn't used to begging; he could hear it in her voice.  She never used his first name, personally, let alone on duty.  Her usual light-hearted tone had gone, dropped an octave; her voice was deepening with age.  "At least think about it."

He stopped inside the doors as they opened, and looked at her.  She was plaintive – almost desperate: He was sure this constituted a breach of the Starfleet code of conduct.  He didn't want to can her career or transfer her off-ship, but... A child?  With him?  Why did she want so badly to have his child?  He wanted to ask – but didn't want to know the answer.

A child.  His child.

He had only ever had one child.  He thought about Neria – and it put a chill in his bones.