Work Text:
AN: This is just a little “moment” that I wanted to write. It’s for entertainment value only. I have a few other little pieces to this world that I would like to do, so I’m sure that I’m going to play around with those in the future. It’s just for fun, so please don’t take it too seriously.
I own nothing from Star Trek.
If you read, I hope you enjoy. If you do enjoy, please do let me know.
111
“Wow—did the entire atmosphere in here change? Did you feel that, too? Do I need to adjust environmental controls?” Jett asked. There was, of course, a great deal of teasing to her tone, but Nahla knew that there was a great deal of truth behind her words, too.
She sighed and walked the rest of the way into Jett and Lura’s private quarters.
“I brought the wine you mentioned,” Nahla said, offering the bottle to Lura.
“Château Picard,” Lura said, as though she hadn’t practically requested the wine. “Replicated…” she said, letting the question hang like it was truly neither a question nor a statement.
“From my own personal reserves,” Nahla said. “Not replicated.”
“What’s the special occasion? You were awfully secretive earlier,” Jett said, walking over to join them.
Nahla chewed on exactly how she wanted to dive into everything she’d learned in her meeting. She clearly took too long to decide exactly how she wanted to approach things. Lura drew her out of her thoughts.
“I’m not sure that I have ever seen you so—agitated,” Lura offered. She regarded Nahla as though she’d just shown some signs of revealing that she was some sort of impersonator and, more than that, possibly one who might prove a threat to everyone and everything around them.
“I think it’s time for a little wine,” Jett said, taking the bottle from Lura’s hands. “Unless—you’d rather have something else.”
“Romulan Ale?” Nahla asked. She offered a smile. “The Picard vintages are—honestly—something I use more for gifts than for my own enjoyment.”
“You don’t enjoy them?” Lura asked, distracted a little by the conversation at hand, so she stopped regarding Nahla as though she might not be who she claimed to be.
“Not usually,” Nahla admitted.
“A bold statement,” Lura said. Nahla laughed quietly and appreciated the gentle teasing from Lura--the most she could often expect from the woman.
“Romulan Ale—also not replicated. We pick up some nearly every year when we take shore leave together,” Jett said, putting a glass of the bright liquid in Nahla’s hand before serving Lura and then herself from the bottle of wine.
“You vacation at one of the Romulan colonies?” Nahla asked.
“We buy provisions as we travel,” Lura offered as an explanation. “Every Romulan colony produces Romulan Ale.”
“It’s easy to pick up a bottle or twelve on every trip. Please—sit,” Jett said, gesturing toward the table. “We’re trying a new recipe for a Gerovian dish. It still needs to sit for at least ten minutes.”
“I fear it’s going to be unforgivably bland,” Lura said. She made a face at Jett that suggested that the dish had been Jett’s idea and that, maybe, she hadn’t agreed with it from the start. Jett made a face back at her, and Nahla swallowed back her amusement.
“I’m so glad I came,” she admitted. “Thank you for having me, even though I—know I really invited myself.”
“When the Chancellor says she needs to talk to you about information she received in a meeting…” Lura started, never finishing her statement, because Jett interrupted her.
“What Lura means is—you’re always welcome to come to dinner,” Jett said. “The unforgivably bland dish is supposed to be a traditional Gerovian dish that’s something of a comfort dish. I picked it out after we talked.”
Nahla understood the gesture immediately and smiled.
“I’d…appreciate the comfort,” she said. “And I do appreciate the company.”
“If you’ll excuse us a moment, we’ll be ready to serve everything,” Jett said. “Dear…?”
Her request sounded a touch strained. Lura looked at her with a hint of a scowl, like she’d intended to be served and not to do the serving, but Nahla didn’t miss the exchange between them—silent but effective. It was the result of two people who were comfortable with each other and very well-versed in the kind of intimate language that develops when two people are very close and very interested in only strengthening their bond.
Nahla felt a slight ache as she watched it.
Lanthanite longevity meant that, if you were involved with partners outside of your species, you would have however many opportunities you chose to have to develop that kind of intimacy. The downside to that, of course, meant that there were a great many losses—some that were truly profound.
There was a certain type of loneliness, Nahla thought, to living practically forever.
She offered to help, as Jett and Lura both moved toward their little kitchen area—an area that was much larger in their quarters than in some others, given that they’d made the special request to have a food preparation area that suited their preference for non-replicated food—but they told her to remain seated at the table. She’d already known, of course, that they would say that, but it was still polite to ask.
Nahla had had the time to learn the rules of etiquette and politeness for numerous species and civilizations throughout her lifetime—so many of which no longer even existed outside of the memories of Lanthanites and a few other species who enjoyed similarly long lifespans. She might not follow all of the rules of etiquette all the time, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t well-versed in what was expected of her.
“Still hot,” Jett said, as she and Lura returned with the dishes. They placed a plate that was practically overflowing with food in front of Nahla. “Eat as much as you want. You can take some with you. There’s more than we’ll ever eat.”
“The recipe said it feeds four,” Lura said.
“What we forgot is that Gerovians eat a lot more than we do,” Jett said.
Nahla inhaled. The food might be bland, as Lura suggested it likely would be, but it smelled delicious. Nahla quickly announced that observation to her hosts as each of them took a seat.
“I did not choose the recipe,” Lura said, excusing herself once more from any kind of responsibility, just in case the dish wasn’t enjoyable. “Jett insisted.”
“You sounded a little—distressed,” Jett offered as an explanation and, Nahla knew, as a way to segue into what she’d learned in her meeting.
“Well, as you know, Starfleet couldn’t be happier with the Academy’s progress,” Nahla said.
“That’s hardly a reason for distress,” Lura said.
“They’re going through with the expansion,” Nahla said.
“That’s to be expected,” Lura said. “Otherwise, it would be a great waste that they spent so many resources making sure that the school was updated to allow for it.”
“New classes…new instructors…” Nahla said.
“The opportunity for some really exciting growth,” Jett said. “I’ve seen some of the courses that are being proposed, and I’m excited that we can offer so much more to our students.”
“We’re already contracting instructors,” Nahla said. “They’ll start as soon as they’re able to arrive and settle in. The new courses won’t become regular offerings until next semester, but they’re offering specialty seminars for the time being, along with the opportunity for a few independent study programs. That’ll give students time to get used to all the new offerings, it’ll give them time to explore some of the possibilities that are going to be opening up to them, and it’ll give instructors time to get acclimated to the Academy as it is now—especially since many of them have either never attended, or have attended an embodiment of the Academy that’s pretty far removed from what we have now.”
“So—if you don’t mind my prying—why the sound of agitation, as Lura put it, when we spoke earlier?”
Nahla laughed quietly.
“This isn’t bland,” she offered, focusing her attention on the food for a moment. “It’s—comforting. I feel a great deal better than I did.”
“Is there something we should know about?” Lura asked. “Is anyone leaving?”
“No—it’s nothing like that,” Nahla said. “In hindsight, it’s really no great tragedy. There are some positive aspects to the whole thing, too. It was more of a passionate—personal—reaction than a professional one.”
“Some old flame?” Jett asked with a smirk that said that she expected Nahla to tell her some story about how she’d once been in a relationship that, for whatever reason, had maybe not ended well. That person, perhaps, might have been contracted for a position in the Academy now that they were greatly expanding course offerings to fit the growing institution.
“That would be a great story, wouldn’t it?” Nahla mused. “An old flame…back from dead, or something like that. No.”
“If not a past partner,” Lura said, “what?”
“Or who?” Jett asked.
Nahla sighed.
“My mother,” she said.
“Your mother?” Jett asked.
“Of all the possible instructors they could have chosen for the History of Technology and Ancient Engineering seminars, they chose my mother. Of course, she’s probably agreed to teach any number of engineering courses, as well.”
“Your mother?” Jett asked again. Nahla nodded. “No wonder you’ve been acting a little…” She paused and made a gesture to indicate what she wanted to say without searching for words. Nahla watched her, and she bought herself a moment to consider speaking by taking a large bite of food. It really was nice, and she was enjoying it. Whether it was the food, the company, or simply the chance to actually think things through, Nahla wasn’t feeling quite as concerned as she had before. Of course, she also didn’t think that she’d come across as bothered as Lura and Jett seemed to indicate that she had. Jett continued talking before Nahla could find anything to say. “Across most species, mothers have a way of causing some pretty strong reactions.”
“I once tried to behead my mother,” Lura said, interrupting her partner before she could wax poetic on the relationships between mothers and their children.
“It’s not just my mother,” Nahla said. “Her current partner has been offered a position, too. In fact, knowing my mother, she used that as an advantage to help her secure the position. They’re coming together—sharing quarters together—the whole nine yards, as they say.”
“It’s like an instructor BOGO,” Jett said.
“BOGO?” Lura asked.
“Buy one, get one free,” Jett said. “It’s an old Terran saying.”
“It’s safe to assume that you have a tumultuous relationship with your mother?” Lura asked.
“I don’t know that I would say that,” Nahla said. “I don’t know what I’d say at all. It’s more that…my mother can be difficult.”
“As Chancellor, you will be in a position of authority over her,” Lura said. “Perhaps that will make her a little easier to govern.”
Nahla laughed.
“My mother is pure-blooded Lanthanite,” Nahla said. “She is almost entirely ungovernable, even on her best behavior.”
“Still—Starfleet had to think she was a good choice,” Lura said.
“In many ways, she’s the best choice,” Nahla admitted. “And in others—she might be the worst. Regardless, she’s on her way here. I guess that’s what—surprised me the most. I had only just ended the meeting, when I got the incoming transmission that she was on her way. Just like that.”
“Will she be arriving in the next few days?” Jett asked.
“In the next few minutes, more than likely,” Nahla said. She winced. “I’m sorry. I should have brought another bottle of wine. I should have asked—but I haven’t seen her in a while. I thought it might be less awkward if there was something of a buffer.”
“A buffer?” Lura asked.
“We’re the buffer,” Jett said quickly. She smiled—laughed quietly. “We’re the buffer.”
“There’s still time for me to let her know that she’s coming to my quarters—and not to yours,” Nahla said. “I should have asked.”
“Even if you had, we would have told you to have her come here,” Jett said.
“We would?” Lura asked.
“Absolutely! Mama Chancellor is always welcome here.”
Nahla apologized once more and thanked them both profusely. She promised another bottle of wine and something else from her private collection—a surprise that she hadn’t decided upon just yet—to say “thank you” for hosting all of them for the evening.
There was barely any opportunity for any further conversation before the door to their quarters chimed to announce the arrival of their unexpected guests.
“Surely a more—formal greeting—would have been better,” Lura said.
“For anyone else, maybe,” Nahla said.
“This is great,” Jett said, doing her best to be the diplomat. “It’s your mother. How formal can you be?”
“Not very—if you know my mother,” Nahla said.
“Do you want to get the door, or should I?” Jett asked.
“They’re your quarters,” Nahla said.
“She’s your mother,” Jett countered.
“Good point,” Nahla said. “Here goes…”
She stepped forward, took a breath, and reminded herself that her mother—though infuriating to many individuals in Starfleet—had always been a good mother. She had wished Nahla were a bit more relaxed, as she put it, sometimes, but she hadn’t been as critical as many mothers that Nahla had known over her lifetime.
“Mother,” Nahla said, as the door opened.
“Oh…Mother? I see how it is. I haven’t seen you outside of a viewscreen in nearly five years and the first thing you say to me is…Mother…like we’ve hardly ever met? Are you trying to impress your friends?”
Nahla couldn’t help but laugh. She opened her arms to her mother and, almost immediately, she was wrapped in her embrace. She squeezed every bit as hard as she wanted, and her mother squeezed her back with affection.
“Mommy,” Nahla breathed out, her earlier anxiety melting away entirely for the moment.
Her mother pulled out of the hug and smiled at her before looking at her friends.
“And—who might you be?”
“Commander Jett Reno,” Jett said, offering a hand. “And this is my partner, Lieutenant Commander Lura Thok. Welcome to our quarters…uh…Commander…Mommy?”
Nahla felt her face grow warm.
“Jett and Lura, this is my mother…Pelia.”
“Don’t bother with all the titles this and that…unless, of course, you’re my partner. She likes throwing all that around…mostly it’s just to watch the people squirm who take all that nonsense too seriously.”
“She didn’t come with you?” Nahla asked.
“She was a few steps behind,” Pelia said. She smiled. “Likes to make a grand entrance.”
A few moments later, the woman in question did, in fact, make an entrance. She walked in the door in a dress that made it look less like she’d been travelling—she hadn’t chosen to wear her uniform, if she was a part of Starfleet, as Pelia had, since it had been an expectation on the transport provided by Starfleet—and more like she was ready for some kind of diplomatic feast.
“I’m Nahla Ake,” Nahla said, as soon as the woman entered the room. She used all the polite behaviors that she knew her mother’s partner would expect. “You must be…”
“I’m Jevranna Troi,” the woman said. “Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed.”
“The new instructor of Communications,” Nahla offered to her hosts, as both of them looked at her.
The woman smiled.
“You’re thinking of other members of my family,” Jevranna offered. “Thank you so much for having us—and so late and at such short notice. And—yes—I would love some wine. Pelia would prefer Saurian Brandy, if you have it. She’s been thinking about it since Nahla suggested drinks and dinner before we retire to our quarters.”
“What can I say?” Pelia said, when Nahla looked at her and raised her eyebrows. “She’s a master at communication…and a few other things, if you catch my drift.”