Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

"Is this going to be one of those 'time is a river' arguments?" Captain Sisko leaned forward in his chair.

"No," the temporal agent said. "We hear a lot of those."

The other agent nodded. "None of them are valid."

Sisko shrugged. "You're the experts. Explain it to me, then: Why is Deep Space Nine a..." he enunciated carefully, "Time Convergence Area?"

"A TCA is cross-temporal point in the chrono-matrix which is both stable, and the terminus of several-" the agents exchanged glances.

"...streams?" Sisko suggested.

"It's not a river."

"In short: Weird things happen here."

The agents nodded, slowly.

"So what you're telling me," Garak leaned across the table, eager eyes unreadable, "is that they're not married."

"Jake and Nog?" Julian frowned. "No, they're friends."

"Friends." Garak appeared to taste the word. "Yes. The universal translator struggles with this word, I think. No term in Cardassian really fits, depending on context."

"You don't have a word for..." Julian struggled to elaborate, "companion? Social bonds that aren't familial?"

"On the contrary; we have more than 700. In fact, a young Cardassian who does not cultivate a varied social circle is..."

Julian nodded for him to continue, but Garak just shrugged.

"Our children", Worf whispered in her ear, "will be glorious."

"Okay," Jadzia yawned, fighting the remnants of sleep, "settle down. This is only our third real date. The holodeck doesn't count."

"I will teach them the traditions of their ancestors, so that they may stand with pride among the generation born in the stars."

"Too early," she muttered into her pillow.

"You are not taking this seriously."

"Okay, fine. I'm sure whatever children you-"

"You and I."

"-I know you'll raise them to be proud Klingons."

"Borscht."

"...what?"

"My mother's recipe. It must be honored."

Jazia went back to sleep.

„Aaaargh!“ Quark let out what could only be described as a guttural squeak. „What are you putting on my lobes, hu-man?! Are you trying to kill me?!“
„You did ask for natural remedies. Let’s see.“ Julian raised the jar and looked at it under a better light.
„You’re only checking now?!“
„I assure you, it is completely safe.“
Quark sunk back into the chair, awaiting his grisly fate.
„It’s sage! Or Salvia officinalis, if you will.“
„I will not,“ Quark growled.
„On Earth it is also known as old crone’s ear. Fascinating, isn’t it? Quark? Quark!“
The mighty Ferengi fainted.

"It's about immersion."

Quark hunched down and looked at the bottle Julian handed him. "Are you sure that's not Odo? I'm not sure I want to shake that thing."

"What?"

"Wouldn't be the first time. But sure, I'll give it a go." He glanced at the recipe on the padd. "Three measures of gin..."

"Gordon's gin. Specifically."

"Whatever. This one, right?" He shook the bottle.

"Careful!" Julian reached to steady it.

"You wanted it shaken!" When Julian glared, he grinned. "Just kidding. I still don't get it though."

"Immersion." Garak smirked, winding an arm around Julian. Quark rolled his eyes.

"Don't keep all of your eggs in one basket," Julian said, to Quark's blank stare.

"Why are all Human expressions about farm animals?"

"They're not. I suppose it just feels a bit like a chicken coop in here." Julian absent-mindedly stroked a tribble, as another attempted to climb his leg.

"There's a Ferrengi expression," Quark groused, shooing another dozen out of the replicator. "Roughly translated, it means 'too many hens make a lot of noise'."

The bar echoed with the undulating purring of endless fur balls.

"It's also the plural noun for women."

Julian scoffed, but it was worth it.

Garak took another sip of his drink. From his vantage point, Julian could not see him, nor could the charming girl with whom he was engaged in conversation. They had just returned from the holosuites.

"That was amazing." The girl laughed. "We don't have anything like that on Bajor."

"No holosuites?"

"Nowhere near as advanced. I felt like I really was on a Terran sailboat."

Julian took her hand. "It's just lights and omicron particles. None of it really exists." He looked into her eyes. "A journey into emptiness."

As they kissed, Garak sighed. A journey into emptiness. How appropriate.

It isn't really water. Of course she knows that; how could she not? Brains are funny though - look out on an expanse of endless liquid, and it tells you, here is an ocean.

Kira sits by the edge of the Great Link, legs pulled upt to her chest, exhales, and lets her brain keep telling her she should be hearing par-gulls and smelling salt; hearing the calls from fishing boats returning to the harbor with their catch.

She cannot sit here forever, literally or metaphorically, but it is only her twentieth visit. She can procrastinate.

The tide might come in.

"Was it something I said?" Julian craned his neck, toward Major Kira's retreating back, as though it would explain what had just happened.

"Really, Julian." Garak sighed and gestured to one of the waiters.

"All I said was that I enjoyed Bajoran opera!"

"And..." Garak's eyebrow ridges did not raise, but there was, Julian felt, a clear implication thereof.

"I don't know!"

"You said," Garak cleared his throat, "that you wish they'd written more of them."

"So?"

"Inter arma silent Musae."

"Pardon?"

"Just an Earth phrase I picked up while taking measurements. Latin, I think." He raised a glass, smiling.

If he could remember why they were on the floor next to Miles's couch rather than on it, Julian felt everything would be a lot clearer to him. It was probably something to do with the Andorian brandy on the table, and the nearly empty tumbler of same in his hand.

"Because I love my wife," Miles said.

"Is that why we're on the floor?"

Miles frowned. "Nuh. Is... us."

"We love your wife?"

"No!" Miles reached for his own glass. "Us. Y'know."

"Do I?"

Miles had fallen asleep, glass in hand. Julian sighed. He probably shouldn't have kissed him.