Dialogue Prior to Act Three

[Tachyon 0]

“Dialogue Prior to Act Three”

Cdrs. Tandaris Admiran and Laarell Tekyier

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"... and that, you can imagine, was quite unexpected, but not in the least bit unpleasant. Alas, it was not to be. As I told you before, Lyrin later escaped from the slavers thanks to a faulty alarm circuit--not to mention some Pakleds, perhaps the most unintentionally helpful species in the galaxy. And that was the end of Admiran's experience on Calufrax Minor," Tandaris concluded, looking over at Laarell, hoping she had not fallen asleep during his recount of Lyrin Admiran's capture by the Orion Syndicate.

 

She certainly hadn't, and was smirking at him with the expression only lazy cats and Orion females had perfected. "Later," she purred, "you'll have to show me exactly how she did that. Though I'm slightly surprised. I'd think by—oh, seventh or eighth host?—you'd have been used to ... all the tricks in the book."

 

Tandaris rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, as if to say, "Humanoids!" He replied, "Lyrin was number three. This was back when the Federation was in its infancy, and the Orion Syndicate really was Orion"—he smiled—"very Orion."

 

"They still are, at the roots ... just ... not quite as green as they used to be," Laarell yawned, winding the sheet around her body a little tighter as she reached for the tray of foods. "Not that I mind. They were a black mark on my species, even if they did spread some interesting rumours about our females."

 

"I never have had a chance to go back to Calufrax Minor since then, nor have I had the opportunity to separate truth from fiction on that point," said Tandaris. "At least, not until now," he added.

 

"Do we match up to our reputations?" the Orion asked, nibbling on a gagh worm between bits of an unfamiliar fruit. "And what is this?"

 

Tandaris glanced at the food. "Looks like an alsnip--sort like a very blue apricot from the rainforests of Delvia. Funny, I thought those went extinct two hundred years ago. Someone must have found an extant subspecies--or maybe someone committed the molecular pattern to replicator before the species went extinct. Excellent!"

 

"I'll have to find out. Or perhaps it was preserved in some arboretum. It's rather sweet." She offered him one. "I like it. I'll have to make a pet project out of it."

 

This elicited a raised eyebrow from Tandaris as he accepted the fruit. "Project? Is that what I am?"

 

"The plant, dear, not you." She eyed the Trill. "Though I could make a project of you..."

 

"Uh ... no thank you. I've seen what you do with your projects. Speaking of which, you still haven't told me about your experience in the Archives yet. I'm rather jealous of that." In fact, when they had first met for dinner—at least, what began as dinner—Tandaris had been unable to talk about anything else.

 

"My projects all enjoy themselves," Laarell retorted, before relaxing into the pillows. "The archives were ... astounding. I wish we'd been encouraged to browse more than just the information on the one location. I did stumble across a few texts of ... other interest...."

 

The other eyebrow followed the first. "Oh really? You'll have to share those with me."

 

"Well ... Satarimi have some interesting ... ideas on ... intimacy."

 

"It's been my experience that every culture has their own take on that subject. You've certainly ... been no exception."

 

"Thank you." She grinned at him. "Likewise, Trill are very ... versatile." She poked at a few red-colored stalks of a vegetable. "These are good."

 

"They're also poisonous in combination with alsnips," he remarked offhand. With a small yawn, Tandaris stretched. "While you've been reading in a library, I've been dealing with our Pakled stowaway-turned-engineer." While he had gotten past the initial resentment of being forced to accept such an unconventional crew member under his command, Tandaris was still not happy about the arrangement, and determined to stay unhappy for as long as possible. That was his prerogative as a senior officer, after all.

 

Laarell glared at him, turning slightly greener than usual, and tried to spit the red vegetable into a napkin as delicately as she could. "I haven't heard much about ... her? Her, right?"

 

"Indeed, although—and don't make too much of this—apparently, she's lived much of her life disguised as a male in order to escape the oppression of her gender." He laughed. "In fact, you two might want to compare notes some time."

 

"Now ... that would be interesting."

 

"Speaking of notes," Tandaris said, "it's your turn to tell me a story. You may not be three hundred years old, but I imagine you've already collected a number of interesting experiences."

 

"Ohh ... a few." She smirked. "Welll ... what do you want to hear about? I could almost do a 'plant or mineral' question and a devious look, but ... well ... my Horta and I ... well ... that's a bit acidic, even for my tastes."

 

Glancing at the tray to the side, Tandaris said, "I'm starting to get an idea of where your tastes lie. What I haven't figured out is whether or not they've got any limits...."

 

"They don't," she assured. "Let's see. There was the time ... oh ... that's ... a bit much for you, I think. Then there was the time ... that one too ..." Laarell considered a moment. "There was this time I was in a club on Argelius. I didn't know that it was attached to this other bar, and I was fairly wasted...."