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Sometime after midnight, long after the music had been turned down, after Hikaru and Ben Sulu had left the room together, shortly followed by Nyota Uhura and Commander Spock, when the buffet was empty and Montgomery Scotty had fallen asleep, Jaylah set down her last drink and asked, “What are we doing here?”
Scotty, half slumped over the armrest of the sofa opposite to her, jerked awake. His gaze flickered over the last few dancers, over the remains of Leonard Bones’ impromptu decoration, over the numerous empty glasses on the table between them, until it finally focussed on her, if only with slight difficulty.
“What were you saying, lassie?”
The last memories of a half-forgotten dream still clung to his voice, but Jaylah was too interested in an answer to feel sorry for waking him up.
“What are we doing here?” she repeated with a gesture that included the whole room. Once she’d correctly interpreted Montgomery Scotty’s blank expression, she added: “Why are we all here? Why do you celebrate?”
He blinked, obviously already regretting the fact that he had joined her in what the others had called a well-meant, but completely vain attempt to “get her to loosen up”.
“Why we’re celebrating? Well, it’s the Captain’s birthday,” he said, not sure what she was aiming at.
She waved her hand impatiently. “I know this. Leonard Bones explained to me. But why are you celebrating?”
The confusion on Montgomery Scotty’s face morphed into something else, something she only partly recognised. She hadn’t yet spent enough time in the company of her new family to be able to get to know and analyse all the quirks of this species called “human” ... but was it possible that Scotty was eying her with pity?
“That’s how it works, lass. You celebrate birthdays. Don’t people do that where you’re from?”
Her look told him everything he needed to know, and he hastily backtracked. “I mean, that’s no problem. You’ll learn all about our habits in no time, you’ll see. And celebrating birthdays is just one of those habits, you know.”
Jaylah thought about his words, frowning. Celebrating birthdays ... no, this wasn’t common on her homeworld. And even if it had been – during the past years, she hadn’t exactly had lots of opportunities to commemorate the day on which she’d been born, quite the contrary.
She stared at the glasses in front of her, wondering whether she should get herself another drink – these human beverages tasted pleasantly sweet, sweeter than anything she’d ever tasted before –, before she decided to bring her current line of thought to a satisfying end first. “I still don’t understand. Why should you wish to celebrate the day on which you arrived at this world?”
The corners of Montgomery Scotty’s mouth twitched and as usual, she didn’t know what had caused his amusement; really, these humans were more difficult to read than any tricky construction plan. Jaylah waited patiently until his expression turned serious again.
“Well, you do it to show people how good it’s that you’re here,” he answered slowly, just as if this was the first time he’d actually pondered on the issue. Jaylah drew her eyebrows together, still not being content with this insufficient explanation, and Scotty quickly continued speaking. “And I think that, above all, it’s about celebrating life. To show us how precious it is.”
This sounded more interesting, and Jaylah started to regard the whole topic from another point of view. She let her gaze slide through the room, over the dancers, over a grinning Pavel Chekov, over James T. and Leonard Bones ... they all seemed so happy, so relaxed.
In Jaylah’s mind, the pictures mixed with other, older pictures ... her father, her little brother ... No, you didn’t celebrate birthdays where she was from. But there was a festival to celebrate life in general – this was something she could relate to.
Meanwhile, Scotty went on talking, obviously eager to explain another of their confusing human customs to her, and she cut him short, coming to a decision.
“Come, Montgomery Scotty.”
She stood up, gesturing for him to do the same.
“What are you doing?” he asked, getting to his feet when she wordlessly urged him another time – not without swaying dangerously and pressing his fingers to his temples with an expression of great suffering.
“I want to celebrate life,” she said curtly and left him standing next to the sofa, rightly assuming that he’d follow her.
“What?”
Cursing, he hurried after her, over to the big box in which the music was hiding.
Jaylah examined the console, contemplating. The technology was unfamiliar to her, but that wasn’t much of an obstacle. She’d dealt with bigger challenges before, and it didn’t take her long to reach her aim. Just flipping a few switches, entering some orders ... and soon the quiet, lulling music changed into a deafening roar. Beats and shouting, just as she liked it.
“Now wait a minute, lass, what ...,” Montgomery Scotty yelled over the sudden noise. “That was not what I meant, you cannae just ...”
Everybody was staring at them by now, some of them bemused, some irritated, and some with a barely concealable grin.
“You said we should celebrate life!” Jaylah shouted back at him. “The beats and the shouting make me feel alive!”
And that’s what they did, more than ever. The music was pulsing through her veins, the drums and basses set the rhythm of her heartbeat, and she felt the sounds take over her body and her mind.
Scotty next to her looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or to turn tail and flee, but other guests actually seemed to appreciate the change in music. James T. was among the first to raise and head for the empty space in the middle of the room that served as a dance floor, dragging along a rather disapproving Leonard Bones. Pavel Chekov and his latest acquaintance followed them as well as others, and soon two groups had been formed: those who fled from the noise into the quiet safety of Yorktown and those who gratefully accepted the opportunity to bring a bit more colour to their lives at this late hour.
All remaining guests crowded the dance floor, and Jaylah darted an inviting look at Montgomery Scotty. “Come!”
Shrugging, he pressed his fingers to his temples once again, then he took her outstretched hand and let her drag him to the centre of the action – straight into the mass of spinning and sweating bodies, into the beats and the shouting.
The next hour blurred into a vague mixture of music and dancing, of racing hearts and breathless laughter, and later she’d remember James T.’s mouthed “Thanks” and the feeling of being part of something bigger, something important, something strangely comforting.
She danced with Montgomery Scotty and James T., with Leonard Bones and Pavel Chekov. She even danced with Scotty’s little friend Keenser, and she enjoyed every single second of it. Maybe, she thought while Keenser’s short fingers tightened around hers, maybe human habits were easier to understand than she’d initially thought.
And maybe she felt so alive because this night, for the first time ever, she wasn’t dancing alone.