STTC Mission Log 7 JOURNEY THROUGH THE BAZAAR Hartman

JOURNEY THROUGH THE BAZAAR
Hartman
by Edward H. Bart IV

        The large primary Sickbay, which took up nearly half of Deck 12, seemed even larger due to its virtual emptiness. Only the requisite staff of two doctors and assorted nurses and technicians were in the Sickbay, along with one patient.
        Doctor Edward Hartman, the Courageous’s Chief Medical Officer, held up the sensor over a Vissian’s chest. He looked at the medical tricorder in his other hand, following the circulatory pathways that the sensor picked up. The doctor continued moving the sensor down to the ends of Kehri’s fingers.
        “Okay, Lieutenant,” Hartman said, motioning to the Vissian lieutenant to put her arm back down. “It looks good. No artery blockage.”
        “You don’t have to be so formal. You know my first name, use it.” Kehri Stahrcmil flexed her fingers. “That’s good news, but why do I still have a tingling feeling in my arm?”
        Hartman slid the remote sensor back into its receptacle in the tricorder and looked up at Kehri. “Okay, Kehri.”
        “Better.”
        Hartman grinned. “You have some minor nerve damage from your fall. I suspect you pinched a nerve but the stretching exercises you said you did before you came in to Sickbay must have released the trapped nerve or nerves. It should go away in a matter of hours. I can provide you with an analgesic if you need it now.”
        Kehri shook her head, which caused her tightly bound mane of reddish brown hair to bounce around over her shoulders. “That’s allright, doctor. If it’ll go away soon, why bother taking drugs? Save the raw stock for someone who might be worse off than me in the future.”
        “That’s an attitude I don’t see too often here,” Hartman said as he stowed the medical tricorder into his blue smock’s pocket. “Hardly surprising coming from a supply officer.”
        “That’s right,” Kehri smiled. Her eyes twinkled from seemingly deep socketed eyes, an illusion caused by the bony ridges that bracketed her face. “Usually the only people who think about replicator stock are the department heads who have to requisition it, or the supply officers who maintain it- such as me.”
        Hartman stepped back to the biobed and crossed his arms. “So... any plans for your shore leave?”
        The lieutenant shrugged her shoulders. “Catch up on the inventory check.”
        “Really? You’re not going to head over to the commerce station? Practically everybody’s going to beam over there. You sure you want to waste what might be our only real shore leave in months in the cargo bays?”
        “Not really interested in going anywhere for the moment,” Kehri said, sliding off the biobed to stand up. “Stons and I have parted ways for now.”
        “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Hartman frowned. “What happened?”
        “I learned that he had relations with another crewman behind my back, again.” Kehri shook her head and sighed. “It’s apparent he’s not ready to make the commitment to a spousal bonding, even if he says he is.”
        “Well,” Hartman grinned, “if you feel the need for a little revenge, you can always come to my quarters for dinner and more.”
        “I actually thought about that,” Kehri said.
        Hartman blinked. “Really? A date with me?”
        “No, revenge,” she shook her head. “Although a date with you does sound nice...”
        “Well, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere for shoreleave either. Seeing as neither one of us has any real plans, we could go see the station together. I hear they have many restaurants to go to. Besides, as the ship’s doctor, I have a duty to keep you out of the cargo bays... they can be dangerous, you know?”
        Kehri laughed. “It was just a malfunctioning anti-grav sled! It wouldn’t stay put, that’s the only reason why I tripped over it.” She gave the doctor a playful swipe at his arm. “I’m not that incompetent!”
        “I didn’t say you were. So, is it a date?”
        The lieutenant smirked, looking at Hartman. “Allright. Sure, why not. Just let me finish up what I was doing before the evil sled interrupted me. 1900 hours sound okay to you?”
        “Fine with me. Should I meet you at your quarters?”
        “Nah, I’ll meet you at Transporter Room One. Easier that way.”
        “Oh, okay. Sure,” Hartman nodded.
        “So are we done?” She looked at him.
        “Yes. I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
        Kehri gave the doctor a quick nod of her head then turned to walk out of the Sickbay.
        “Oh wait!”
        “Yeah?”
        Hartman walked up after her. “If that tingling feeling doesn’t go away like I said, then come back to Sickbay.”
        “Which tingling feeling?” Kehri winked at Hartman.
        “Uh...”
        “I’m just teasing you. Don’t worry, Ed, I’ll come back if there’s still a problem. In any case, I’ll be seeing you later tonight. Take care.”
        “You too,” Hartman said, smiling as she left. He turned around, fiddling with the tricorder in the pocket of his smock. Doctor Michelanos looked up from a computer terminal, his mouth upturned in a faint smile.
        “What?” Hartman asked, looking at the other doctor. “What?”
        “Nothing,” Michelanos shrugged.
        “That’s not nothing,” Hartman said, walking up to the terminal.
        The dark haired doctor smiled again, shaking his head as he looked down at the terminal monitor. “You like her. Quite a bit.”
        “Fascinating deduction,” Hartman gritted his teeth. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”
        “Oh see now? You’re getting defensive because I’m on target.”
        “I’m just getting to know her more, that’s all.”
        Thrusk, the Chief Nurse, wandered to where Michelanos and Hartman were standing. The Benzite glanced at the two doctors. “What are you two speaking of?”
        “Lieutenant Stahrcmil, the patient that Edward was examining quite closely. He’s taken a fancy to her. Or, biologically speaking, it.”
        “Ah yes, the lieutenant is a cogenitor, is she not? How is that dealt with grammatically?”
        “She prefers the feminine pronouns, but generally speaking cogenitors prefer to be addressed by their names,” Hartman said.
        “Interesting that you know that off the top of your head,” Michelanos remarked.
        “The lieutenant’s my patient so I needed to have a little cultural background,” Hartman shrugged.
        “Oh speaking of that,” Michelanos stood up, stretching his back. “Since you’re, ah, getting to know her, maybe it’d be best if I took over as her primary physician.”
        “I don’t really think that’s necessary,” Hartman demurred.
        Michelanos leaned back down over the monitor, tapping on the console. “Look at it this way, Edward... if you’re not her doctor, then she might be more willing to submit to a pelvic exam.”
        “Oh my God, you’re disgusting,” Hartman grimaced, resisting a grin.
        Michelanos laughed heartily. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” He took a deep breath, calming himself. “The point remains, though. She might be less intimidated once you’re not her doctor, but just her friend.”
        “I guess you’re right. Should I reassign her to you or one of the other doctors?”
        “I can take her on. She’s a dayshift crewman. You and I handle those.”
        “Allright. I’ll transfer the files to your caseload. When I see her tonight I’ll inform her of the change.”
        “Okeydoke,” Michelanos nodded. “Not that it’ll matter much,” he added quietly.
        “Excuse me?”
        Michelanos looked up into Hartman’s eyes. “That girl-” he waved a hand, forestalling any comments, “whatever, don’t correct me, is trouble.”
        “Is that because she’s younger than Doctor Hartman?” Thrusk inquired.
        Both doctors looked at the nurse. Michelanos shook his head. “No! I didn’t think Benzites would be ageist. Particularly since they age quite well.”
        “I was just making an observation, not a judgement,” Thrusk said, wiping down moisture from his breathing apparatus.
        “Oh. Well, it’s not that,” Michelanos said.
        “What is it, then?” Hartman asked curtly.
        “She doesn’t look too particularly broken up regarding her mate’s straying. I’ve seen her in Eleven-Forward talking with other women and men.”
        “That doesn’t really mean anything in and of itself,” Hartman said.
        “I know,” Michelanos replied, “but you’re a forensic scientist. You know that little things may not matter by themselves, but add them up, then you have a better portrait of what occurred, or rather what is occurring now.”
        “All of this is moot anyway,” Hartman shook his head, turning to walk to his office. “Nothing’s happening now. We’re just going to get something eat at the bazaar, on the station.”
        Michelanos looked at Hartman, keeping his expression neutral. He shrugged casually and turned back to the monitor, resuming his work.
        Hartman walked along the curved glass partition and stepped through the open doorway into the office. He could see most of sickbay through the transparent wall that separated his workspace from Sickbay. “Half opacity,” he called out to the omnipresent computer.
        The glass went opaque, gaining a bright gray tint, as if the partition suddenly transformed into frosted glass. Hartman could still see blurred silhouettes as the Sickbay personnel walked past his office. Hartman tapped his desktop monitor, activating the screen.
        “Computer, open medical files for Stahrcmil, Kehri, Lieutenant.” He looked at her picture displayed on the screen. “Tag stardate and time. Chief Medical Officer’s log, updated entry. As of this stardate, Doctor Aidan Michelanos will assume role of Stahrcmil’s primary physician. Transfer approved by both Doctors Hartman and Michelanos, pending patient approval. Note possibility of follow-up visit due to soft-tissue injuries on Michelanos’s schedule. End entry.”
        Hartman tapped the screen, closing the files. He tapped a series of commands out. “File transfers successful,” the computer told him. Hartman chewed the inside of his cheek and looked at the chronometer at the bottom of his monitor. He tapped the screen again, opening another file.
        The chime of a comm signal made Hartman stop in mid-tap. “Bridge to Hartman.”
        “Hartman here,” the doctor replied. The voice was his friend’s, the captain.
        “We’re receiving a transmission from the commerce station for you.”
        “Really?” Hartman frowned. “We just got here a few hours ago. I don’t know anyone there who would want to contact me.”
        “It’s not for you, per se,” Johnson said. “It’s for the ship’s doctor.”
        “Oh.” Hartman scratched his chin. “Put it through to my office.”
        He tapped the blinking comm indicator on the monitor, opening up a visual feed. His monitor now displayed the impossibly shiny, almost translucent visage of a bronze alien with strands of carefully braided tan and blond hair running across his or her scalp. Faint colored lines formed designs on the alien’s cheeks and neck. The alien wore a high collar of darkened cloth.
        “Are you in charge of your ship’s health and well being?”
        Hartman nodded, then said “Yes, I am,” in case the alien didn’t understand nods.
        “Your name?”
        “Doctor Edward Hartman,” he said. “I’m the Chief Medical Officer of the Federation starship U.S.S. Courageous.”
        “Excellent,” the alien said. “You are just the sentient being I wish to speak to. Allow myself to introduce I. My name is Xopui and I want to help you.”
        “Help me?” Hartman was puzzled.
        Xopui continued as if Hartman hadn’t said anything. “I want to help you maintain your crew’s health and well being. I want to help you safeguard your ship from the microbiological menaces that infest this sector of space. You certainly can’t appreciate brand new vistas while suffering from severe allergic reactions or gastrointestinal distress, can you?”

        “He represents a consortium that maintains a presence on the station,” Hartman said while rubbing a scuff mark on his black boot.
        Johnson nodded as he leaned back in his chair at his desk. “And Xopui’s a doctor?”
        Hartman smiled, looking up at Johnson across the desk. “Actually, no. He’s a salesman. He wants to meet with me on the station. He wants to offer me medical information regarding the Borderlands as well as medical technology. I could tell he had more to his sales spiel, but wanted to wait until I was there in person.”
        Johnson nodded, rubbing his short-cropped hair. “Sounds good. Arrange a meeting.”
        “He could be a snake-oil salesman for all we know,” Hartman said.
        “Huh? Snake oil?”
        “Sorry Tom, just something I picked up in the 19th century. I mean, someone selling worthless potions and making extravagant claims.”
        “You know our mission,” Johnson said. “New resources, technology, and allies. It can’t hurt to listen, and I’m sure if his consortium is reputable, they’ll let you verify their claims. You can check with the commerce station’s operations office for data on his business for impartial references.”
        “But I had plans tonight,” Hartman sighed.
        “Cancel them,” Johnson shrugged. “We secured a berth here for two days only, barring any unforeseen incidents. If you want, you can hand it off to one of the other doctors. It’s your prerogative as the CMO.”
        Hartman shook his head. “Nah. It’s because I’m the Chief that I should be the one to do it.” He stood up from the chair and tapped absently on the wooden desktop.
        “Good job,” Johnson said.
        Hartman walked out of the captain’s ready room.
        “Oh Ed?”
        Hartman turned to look at the captain.
        “Please keep me apprised, will you?”
        Hartman nodded. “I will.”
        Johnson smiled and picked up a PADD to read.

        Hartman walked back into the Sickbay, which remained bare of patients. He went to his office and tapped the monitor. “Open a comm line to the station.”
        “Transmission designation?”
        “Xopui of Microsciences Consortium.” Hartman sat down and stared at the monitor as he waited.
        “Doctor Edward Brent Hartman, how please I am to see you so soon,” Xopui said.
        Hartman blinked at the salesman’s use of his middle name.
        “Yes, I have been learning more about you,” Xopui said. “Your ship has shared a database with the station. I have been reviewing your cultural database in order to know your needs better, and anticipate any possible needs that may arise.”
        “That’s good,” Hartman said. “I’m interested in learning more about you and your business as well.”
        “Excellent,” Xopui said. “So you agree to a meeting?” He looked offscreen briefly. “I realize that your ship has only recently arrived, so your time may not be quite synched with station time, but would a meal be pleasing to you?”
        “Now that you mention it, we have a mealtime coming up in a few hours. That would be a good time for us.”
        “I love it when the universe offers us coincidences,” said Xopui. “Would your time of 1920 hours be appropriate? Am I using the time measurement correctly?”
        “That’s fine,” Hartman said. “You said it just fine. I can meet you at 1920 hours.”
        “Via shuttlecraft or matter transport?”
        “Probably matter transport.”
        “Excellent. Myself and another representative shall meet you at Guest Concourse Two. It’s just past the entry gates after you matter transport to the station.”
        “Okay.”
        “If there is nothing further, then I shall look forward to meeting you at 1920 hours, Concourse Two.”
        “Wait,” Hartman raised a hand. “I just thought of something. Would you mind if I brought a guest?”
        “Not at all,” Xopui smiled, showing light brown squared off teeth. “In fact, I can arrange for a guest for you. A lovely female guest, or male if you prefer.”
        “No, that’s allright,” Hartman waved his hand. “I’ll bring my own guest.”
        “Good, I look forward to meeting your guest. Rest assured, the meal will be compensated by myself and my consortium. Do not concern yourself with the expense of yourself and guest.”
        Hartman thought of Xopui’s frequent smiles. The teeth were flat, typical of herbivorous species, but Hartman had the distinct feeling that Xopui would probably be better suited as a carnivore. At the very least, the salesman was garrulous. Hartman suddenly felt very tired after listening to the alien’s rapid patter.
         He tapped his combadge. “Hartman to Stahrcmil.”
        “Stahrcmil here,” came the reply.
        “Hi, it’s Edward. Plans have changed for tonight.”
        “Oh, okay,” Kehri said.
        “I have to go to the station on an official function. I have to meet somebody.”
        “Thanks for letting me know. We’ll just get together some other time. Stahrcmil out.”
        “Wait, I wasn’t finished,” Hartman said. “It’s a dinner meeting so I thought you’d like to come along with me as a guest.”
        “That sounds good. You’re a really nice friend to invite me along.”
        “Yeah, don’t mention it,” Hartman said. “The meeting is at 1920 hours, so I’ll meet you in Transporter Room One at 1915 hours.”
        “Allright. I’ll see you then.”
        “Okay. Hartman out.”

        Since the captain had ordered uniforms to be worn by personnel visiting the station, Hartman’s choice of outfits was narrowed down considerably. He wore his standard uniform of black and gray with a blue undertunic. Three golden pips lined his blue collar. Since he wasn’t in the Sickbay, he didn’t wear his blue smock. Sometimes he wore it, sometimes he didn’t, although at the moment he wished he had the pockets to put his hands in.
        Hartman brushed off the end of his black sleeve, more out of finding something to occupy his hands than of necessity. He looked down the corridor again, hearing some footsteps approaching the transporter room. It wasn’t Kehri but someone else who kept walking by Hartman to the other end of the corridor.
        Hartman moved his attention from his sleeves to his combadge. He tried to figure out if the tip of the delta was pointing northwards properly. He was about to detach the combadge when he heard another set of footsteps. He looked up to see Kehri approaching him.
        “Sorry,” she said by way of greeting. “I wanted to finish up one last thing before I went off duty for the day.”
        “No problem,” Hartman said. “Let’s go in.”
        They walked into the transporter room and waited until the transporter chief told them to step up onto the platform. Moments later, they were in the reception area for visitors to the station. Uniformed station personnel looked them over and ushered them to a security checkpoint.
        After being scanned, they were allowed to enter the station proper. They stepped out into a large area, the guest concourse which Xopui had mentioned. Hartman swept the crowd of people, looking for the sales representative.
        He noticed two figures making their way out of the stream of new arrivals towards Hartman and Kehri. One was Xopui, and the other was obviously an alien of the same species as Xopui. However, where Xopui had a coppery sheen to his look, this alien had a blue-violet sheen, and the alien’s features were softer. Hartman assumed the companion was a female. Now that Hartman saw Xopui in person, he saw the other alien was a bit taller, about a half head taller than Hartman. Xopui’s companion was slightly shorter than Hartman.
        “Doctor Edward Hartman, I welcome you to the Bazaar!” Xopui held his hands out, reaching for Hartman’s hand. He clasped the doctor’s hand in a cloying and firm handshake, obviously his first handshake, performed for the human’s benefit.
        “Thanks, Xopui, good to see you,” Hartman replied.
        “Let us make introductions now,” Xopui declared. “This,” he looked to the companion, “is a wonderful colleague of myself. Her name is Ineid.” Xopui looked at Kehri. “And for your lovely companion, I am Xopui, chief marketing representative for Microsciences Consortium. Ineid is a representative as well, here to answer any and all of your questions.”
        Hartman looked at Kehri, then back at Xopui and Ineid. “This is Lieutenant Kehri Stahrcmil, a, uh, colleague of mine as well.”
        “She works with yourself?” Xopui asked.
        “No,” Kehri replied. “I’m a supply officer. I help oversee the replicator maintenance and raw stock for the Courageous.”
        Ineid said her first words, “Perhaps it may still be of benefit for yourself to listen to us. With your knowledge, we may be able to determine whether or not Doctor Hartman can synthesize our products on his own or if yourself will need to request a stockpile to take on the ship.”
        Xopui amplified his smile and said, “At the very least, yourself shall enjoy the fine cuisine of a marvelous restaurant, courtesy of Microsciences Consortium.”
        “Sounds good to me,” Kehri said. “Let’s go.”
        “Spoken well,” Xopui replied. “Follow myself.”
        They wended their way through the mass of aliens in the concourse, and all the while, Xopui gave a running commentary that amounted to be a travelogue for the commerce station.
        “Hundreds of major establishments in just as many sectors of space have formed a presence aboard this station or at least in this free trade sector of space. One such corporation is one that I represent, Microsciences Consortium. Ah, this particular branch of the station houses most of the fine crafts. Here yourself shall find many art galleries, studios and made to order businesses. Nearby is the Antiquities section. Most of the station is divided in subsections according to what goods or services are offered. You can easily find what you want from one of the complimentary station map devices, a slate. But you don’t need one now, not with myself guiding you. And I certainly wouldn’t want you to be wandering off before I have had a chance to speak business with you at least!”
        Hartman gave a mild chuckle, partly because he could tell Xopui was expecting a reaction. As Xopui continued talking, Hartman tuned him out, looking at Kehri instead. He felt a mild warmth. She was smiling and seemed to be happy to be here on the station, and to be with him. Hartman hoped that Xopui wouldn’t monopolize the night with business. Hopefully, he and Kehri would still have time left after dinner to enjoy their time aboard the station.
        “Do not worry yourselves if you experience any mild gravitational fluxes,” Xopui said as he led the party through a smaller corridor. “As we get closer to the center of the station, the rotational force of the station becomes milder. This station is very old and and it was deemed unnecessary to abandon a very efficient form of gravity generation.”
        “It doesn’t look all that old to me,” Kehri said.
        “Because the Bazaar is so very important to dozens of races throughout this swath of space, it is well maintained,” Xopui answered. “The station itself may be centuries old but the systems beneath ourselves are some of the most modern. In fact, the Operations Center is fully equipped with gravitational generators in case of catastrophic navigational failure. Also, beneath the quaint hull exterior are some of the most powerful sensors and weapons arrays money can purchase.”
        “It seems odd to maintain a facade of old tech,” Kehri remarked.
        “That happens in different cultures. You’ve seen it yourself. Starfleet Headquarters looks pretty much the same as it did in the 21st century,” Hartman said. “Also, I don’t know if you ever went to Washington, D.C. but the White House is the same as it was from the 18th century.”
        Kehri frowned and looked at Hartman “But isn’t the White House a replica anyway?”
        “Oh yeah, that’s right. World War III. But my point remains, though. The White House, the original one, if you don’t count the time it was burnt in the War of 1812, was pretty much kept essentially the same up until its destruction. The American people felt a certain sense of tradition.”
        “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?” Kehri smiled.
        “I guess,” Hartman laughed.
        Suddenly Hartman encountered a strong wall of aromas. Xopui confirmed his suspicions. “And now we have entered Restaurant Row.” A large curved corridor showcased a number of restaurants all with varying decors. Some restaurants offered open air dining with seats and tables set in front of the restaurants. Hartman wasn’t sure if it really could be called open air dining since it was station recycled air.
        The mixture of smells from different restaurants overwhelmed Hartman. He coughed slightly and blinked his eyes. “Are you allright?” Ineid asked him.
        “I’m okay. Just not expecting the smells.” Hartman rubbed his nose.
        “Ah, apologies from myself,” Xopui said. “Cileadans don’t possess as sensitive an olfactory system as another species may. I should have not neglected to warn you. I hope it does not bother you or Lieutenant Stahrcmil too much.”
        “Oh no, I think it’s so fantastic,” Kehri said, inhaling deeply. “I haven’t smelled anything like this since home.”
        Hartman explained, “She’s a Vissian. They have a highly developed sense of smell.”
        “How interesting,” Ineid said. “I hope to hear more from yourself about your people.”
        “That’s allright,” Kehri smiled. “I don’t mind questions.”
        “There shall be time for that,” Xopui said. “I have reserved a private booth for yourselves and myself at one of the finest places. The owner knows myself personally.”
        Xopui led them down the spacious corridor. Hartman looked at the fronts of the restaurants they passed. He hadn’t seen such an eclectic selection of cuisines and establishments since his last visit to Deep Space Nine’s Promenade. Actually, there were more restaurants than on the Federation held station.
        The party came to a halt in front of a restaurant with a long queue. Xopui told them to wait a moment, then he sidled his way up to the maitre’d, speaking quietly. Kehri looked over Hartman’s shoulder to the opposite side of the corridor. “Is that place abandoned?”
        Hartman and Ineid turned to look at the location opposite if the restaurant they were standing at. The other location was darkened. No signage of any sort was visible. No lights were on. However, two aliens walked into an open doorway then disappeared in the dark interior. Hartman noticed the alien’s visual apparatus. They had slitted compound eyes. The doctor formed a guess when Ineid spoke.
        “Oh, that place caters to those that see in a different spectrum of light than ourselves,” the Cileadan said. “If you could see in the higher wavelengths, you’d see the restaurant’s name and other advertising indicators.”
        “Please follow myself,” Xopui said, drawing their attention away from the dark restaurant. “Our hostess shall seat ourselves in just a moment.”
        They walked into the busy restaurant, bypassing line of waiting patrons. Hartman wasn’t sure if others were giving them dirty looks or if that was just their natural appearance.
        The hostess led them up a narrow staircase to the second floor of the restaurant, then to a small private room. The room had a large tinted window that allowed them to look down on the dining area of the first floor. Hartman realized the window must have been one of the two-way mirrors he saw from the first floor.
        They sat down at an small oval table. Hartman sat next to Kehri on one side while Xopui sat on the other side of the table, across from Hartman. Ineid sat directly opposite Kehri. The hostess waited a moment for them to settle then took their beverage orders.
        “Also,” Xopui said to the hostess, “with our meal, bring a bottle of your finest fermented Kalabarran berry.”
        The table’s surface attracted Hartman’s eye. He looked down on it and watched as the inky black surface was revealed to be a giant monitor, displaying four separate rectangular menus, one for each seated person. Hartman and Kehri’s menu were in Federation Standard while the Cileadans’ menus were in their native glyphs.
        “Allow myself to recommend the charred Tlapatan fish. Most visitors enjoy it,” Xopui said to Hartman.
        “Well, if you recommend it, I’ll order it,” Hartman said.
        Kehri shook her head and looked down at her menu, pressing a command to show another page. “I don’t really like fish.” She looked up at Ineid. “What else could you recommend?”
        Ineid smiled and thought for a moment as she scrolled through her menu. “Well, we do not eat meat, but it has been told to myself that the breast of Kukuana fowl, marinated in the chef’s sauce which is quite very good, succulent even. The sauce is patented, actually. You can’t get this sauce anywhere else on this station.”
        “Hm, I’ll try that then,” Kehri said.
        The hostess returned a few moments later to take their orders. After she left, the table stopped displaying the menus and began displaying advertisements for businesses aboard the station. Hartman looked at them, then looked up at Xopui. “Uh, while we’re waiting, why don’t we get started on business?”
        Xopui seemed slightly taken aback. “Are you sure yourself would not rather eat first then speak?”
        “No,” Hartman replied. “I was hoping that we could finish business a little early so that Kehri and I could have the rest of the evening free to look around the station.”
        “Oh don’t hurry up on my account,” Kehri said. “I’m sure Ineid could show me around if you guys are still talking after dinner.”
        “Oh yes,” Ineid said, “I would enjoy the company of yourself.”
        Hartman frowned. “Okay, that’ll be good, I suppose.” He turned back to Xopui. “So, why should the Courageous make any arrangements with you? What do you have to offer?”
        Xopui interlaced his fingers together. Hartman noticed for the first time that he had five fingers in addition to a thumb, tipped with dark nails. He glanced over at Ineid and saw that she too had five fingers.
        “It would not be wise of myself to belittle your obvious experience as explorers,” Xopui started. “As the ship’s doctor, you know that any new area of space to your people is full of trillions upon trillions of hostile organisms. Now, granted most humanoids’ immune systems are capable of resisting a large portion of these organisms, but it only takes one to end your mission of exploration.”
        Hartman smiled pleasantly. Xopui had a very nice script to work from. He continued looking at the representative, listening politely.
        “The biggest ally for yourself against these potential invaders is information,” Xopui nodded gravely.
        “And why should we buy this information from your company rather than say, Bimidal Corporation?”
        “Good...” Xopui smiled, his dark flat teeth in neat symmetrical rows. “An informed customer is always a pleasure for myself to work with.”
        “I’ve been taking advantage of my ship’s uplink with the station’s database. I’ve already received an invitation to speak with an representative from Bimidal tomorrow morning.”
        “Poachers,” Xopui sighed. “Allow myself to tell yourself something that Bimidal will not. They do not share breakthroughs with others. The Consortium does. It is the philosophy of ourselves that important discoveries are shared among the medical community. It pleases myself to tell you that we have been instrumental in discovering and distributing cures to many maladies in the last twenty cycles of business.”
        “At a price, right?” Kehri said.
        “Oh no, do not allow yourself to get the wrong impression,” Xopui said. “There should be no price on life or death. The breakthroughs ourselves make public help lead to cures and treatments that others, if not ourselves, innovate. Further applications of the new ideas ourselves come up with, yes that shall become proprietary information, which provides funds for ourselves.”
        “That’s why I told the Bimidal people that I’ll speak with them tomorrow morning, after I had listened to you first,” Hartman smiled. “Still, I’m not too sure if we need to buy what you’re selling. Most of the time we don’t have to buy medical information or unknown supplies as we go on our travels. Who’s to say our standard operating procedure won’t serve us well in the Borderlands?”
        “Ah, your point is well taken,” Xopui nodded. “Yes, as you arrive to a new world, the reigning government might give yourself free access to medical information. However, their information is lacking in one respect, interaction. How many species are aboard your ship?”
        “Twenty-two, not including mixed species crewmembers,” Hartman said.
        “And how many of these twenty-two species have ever interacted with the many many species aboard this station, and in this sector?”
        Hartman tried to remember the crew makeup of the Voyager. “About four, five, give or take.”
        “So would it be too improbable for myself to say that a landing party on a planet yourself already had known of, could result in disaster simply because one crewperson, of a species that had never been present in this sector before, reacted quite differently to the native pollen compared to the others?”
        “No, that’s a scenario that might happen.”
        “Whose fault would that be? Yourself? The alien government who offered their information to you? The answer, for myself, is neither. You merely suffered from a lack of information. Microsciences Systems has the single largest xenobiological division in this and the surrounding sectors.”
        The hostess arrived with a floating cart bearing food. The meals were quickly set on the table, and the hostess pressed an unseen console which caused the advertisements to cease playing on the table surface. Hartman sighed a mental thank you to the hostess. It had been difficult to focus on Xopui while the advertisements flashed across the table screen.
        An assistant brought a cask with a purple bottle that Hartman assumed was the Kalabarran wine. He poured the violet colored wine into small decanters and set them in front of the guests. Hartman took a surreptitious sniff of the wine, then sighed, setting it aside, opting to drink from his beverage.
        “This is a very fine wine,” Xopui said. “Will yourself not sample some?”
        “No,” Hartman said. “I’m fine with my drink. None for me, thanks.”
        Talk of business ceased as they began eating their meals. Ineid looked at Kehri. “Are you enjoying it?”
        The lieutenant nodded. “It smells somewhat bland, but tastes very nice.”
        “And yours, doctor?” Ineid asked Hartman.
        “It’s quite good, thank you.”
        “Good,” Xopui said.
        “So, continue with this cogenitor gender that yourself were speaking of, it sounds very interesting,” Ineid said to Kehri. “I know of several multi-gendered species but have never actually interacted with any myself.”
        Kehri shrugged. “There’s not much to say about it. Cogenitors naturally produce an enzyme necessary to produce pregnancies.”
        “And how does that work, if it is not a too inappropriate question for yourself?”
        Kehri smiled and shook her head lightly. “We don’t have a problem talking about biological functions. In a traditional pregnancy, the male would have sexual intercourse with a cogenitor. As the cogenitor becomes sexually aroused, it produces the enzyme needed for pregnancy. The male’s phallus is coated in it, and it also suctions up an amount of the enzyme as well. The enzyme works on the spermatozoa within the male’s phallus, activating it.                 “The male then has sexual intercourse with the female. The coated phallus begins a hormonal chain-reaction, causing the female to release eggs to be fertilized. As the male releases his activated spermatozoa, he also releases the enzyme he had withdrawn from the cogenitor. This deposit of enzyme reacts with the eggs, making them receptive to the spermatozoa. Fertilization is able to occur, although it does not always happen. However, without the enzyme reacting with the male and female, fertilization will be impossible.”
        “So a cogenitor is a different kind of female?”
        Kehri shook her head as she took a sip of her wine. “Wow, this is really strong.”
        “I’m sorry,” Xopui said. “I can order a different one, if you wish.”
        “No, it’s very good. Just wasn’t used to it,” she said. “Anyway, no, Ineid. A cogenitor isn’t exactly another kind of female. Yes, there is a resemblance in but there are structural differences. For example, we aren’t able to bear young naturally.”
        Ineid gestured with an utensil. “Naturally is a word yourself has mentioned a few times. Another is traditionally.”
        Kehri nodded, taking another bite of her blue coated meat. “Before my society encountered the humans, over three hundred years ago, it was different. Cogenitors are born in only a small percentage compared to males and females. So for my species to perpetuate ourselves, cogenitors had to be shared with many different pairs of males and females, usually married couples. It was impractical for couples to develop emotional connections with the cogenitors; also for them to participate in the rearing of the child born out of their trinity.
        “Socially, cogenitors gained a status akin to an non-sentient animal. Some sociologists believe it helped discourage intimacy which would’ve interfered with their main biological responsibility for conducing pregnancies. In any case, cogenitors weren’t given much to do other than participating in the fertilization process.
        “After a rough first contact with the human Starfleet, this had been pre-Federation, a highly respected captain started looking at the status of cogenitors. His opinions influenced a number of other important scientists. Research on cogenitors began, in spite of some mild social taboos. Within twenty-five years, scientists could synthesize the enzyme which could only be produced by cogenitors. Another twenty years later, three percent of Vissians born had been conceived without the use of a cogenitor.
        Kehri paused to refill her glass of wine. She took a moment to finish off the vegetables on her plate. “Not only was this a scientific breakthrough, it was a sociological breakthrough. Naturally, this led to a tremendous amount of social disorder. The traditional conception unit of father, mother, and cogenitor was no longer necessary. Scientists had removed the need for a cogenitor from the equation. It was a very difficult transition period for Vissian society.
        “We’re still feeling the aftereffects even today. There are still fundamentalists who believe children born without cogenitors aren’t true Vissians. Fortunately those are in a very tiny minority. Long story short: cogenitors were no longer regulated to being babymaking tools. They could be whatever they wanted to be, and form relationships with whomever they wished to be with. They could even join Starfleet.”
        “Like yourself,” Ineid smiled.
        Kehri nodded brightly. “Like me.”
        “That is fascinating,” Xopui said. “I would like to learn more about yourselves. Hopefully Doctor Hartman and myself shall be successful. The Federation database on the Vissians may be useful to some of my consortium’s clients. As myself has mentioned before, we know of a few tri-gendered species. Perhaps the biomedical and sociological research done on Vissian cogenitors may be utilized for other species.”
        “Maybe,” Hartman nodded thoughtfully. “And how much would these clients have to pay to access your new information?”
        “Nothing at all,” Xopui said. “All basic information we learn is free of charge, as mentioned earlier. It is only proprietary information which ourselves develop that comes at a price. The intellectual work and practical work which ourselves produce should be compensated.”
        He gave Hartman a knowing gaze. “Does that meet the approval of yourself?”
        Hartman laughed and sipped at his water. “Yes, that sounds fine. I assume the same would apply to us when we broker an arrangement with you?”
        “Of course. The consortium’s database would be, how do you say, public domain. You would also be apprised of research which might interest you, and be given the opportunity to read abstracts for yourselves.”
        “At a charge,” Hartman nodded.
        “For a nominal fee,” Xopui shrugged as if to say the price was so insignificant it wasn’t worth mentioning.
        Kehri’s laugh made Hartman turn to look at her. She was giggling and so was Ineid.
        “What’s so funny?” Hartman asked.
        Kehri shook her head. “Oh, nothing. Ineid told me a very funny anecdote.” She pushed her plate away, setting her fork and knife aside.
        “Are you finished?” Hartman asked. “We can order dessert, and Xopui and I can wrap things up by then.”
        “Oh, there’s no need to rush,” Kehri said. “Ineid told me about a bar so we’re going to get a few drinks there. You can stay and finish with Xopui. I’ll see you back on the ship.” She stood up, brushing off her uniform.
        Hartman sat at the table, staring up at Kehri then at Ineid, who was standing up as well. “What about our-”
        “I’m sorry, Ed,” Kehri said, putting a hand on Hartman’s shoulder. “I know we were supposed to see the sights, but I’ve been having such a good time with Ineid that I’d hate for it to stop. Of course I’ll make it up to you some other time. I know you wouldn’t mind.”
        Hartman blinked at Kehri and realized his mouth was still open. He sighed and closed his mouth. “Okay... uhhh... have a good time.”
        “Thanks, you’re such a good friend,” she said. Kehri looked up at Ineid and smiled. “Well, lead the way!”
        Ineid smiled and put her arm around Kehri’s waist, leading her out of the private dining room. Hartman looked back down at his plate, staring at the remnants of his dinner. He stood up and turned to look out the window at the floor below, catching sight of Kehri and Ineid weaving their way through the tables of the main dining area. They were holding hands now. He watched them as they reached the front of the restaurant and exited.
        “Just so you’re aware, Ineid was not a companion hired for this evening,” Xopui said. “She indeed is a valued associate of myself. It appears your friend and Ineid had a fortunate connection tonight.”
        “I guess so,” Hartman said, slowly turning away from the window.
        “Hopefully this did not disrupt any of your plans for the evening. If so, allow myself to apologize.”
        Hartman sat back down at the table. “Don’t worry about it.” He looked at his decanter, which had been bone dry for the duration of the dinner. “Is there any wine left?”
        Xopui looked at the bottle, which was in a chilling unit. He picked it up, swirling around the bottle, feeling its weight. “Yes, there is just a small amount left.”
        Hartman held out his empty glass. Xopui poured in a small amount then stopped. Hartman swallowed the wine quickly.
        “Did yourself appreciate the wine selection?”
        Hartman handed the glass back to Xopui.
        “More.”

        Hartman rubbed his eyes, looking around the corridor. He stumbled forward a little as he lost his balance, nearly dropping the bottles of wine he had in his arms. He thought he would have been able to handle the Kalabarran wine but it was more potent than he had realized. He stood up straight and made sure he had a good grip on the bottles.
        He tried to remember the return path to the concourse where he could be transported off the station. None of the stores seemed familiar to him. What he saw were places that seemed to be selling different products. The store nearest him was selling furniture, while the store next to it was selling what seemed to be art artifacts. The store opposite the furniture seller seemed to be a library of sorts, a bookstore probably.
        Hartman blinked when he thought he recognized another crewmember from the Courageous. A grey-haired Bajoran just walked out of the bookstore. Upon a second look, Hartman knew who it was.
        “Doctor Joh!” he called out. The woman was Joh Emmeril, the ship’s science officer.
        The woman turned to look at Hartman, surprised. “Doctor Hartman? I did not expect to see you here.”
        “Me neither,” Hartman said. “What are you doing here?”
        “I’m accompanying Raven. He’s in the store, speaking with the owner. And you?”
        “I’m a little lost. I was trying to find my way back to the concourse where I can beam off the station,” Hartman replied.
        “I see,” Joh said. “You just need to head into that direction, take a turbolift down to the deck below us, and continue on to your right.”
        “Back there?” Hartman said, looking in the direction Joh was pointing in. “I just came from there. Oh, I get it. I took the wrong turn when I left Restaurant Row.”
        “It would seem so,” Joh nodded. “Are you intoxicated?”
        Hartman stared at her blankly, then nodded quickly. “I guess so, but don’t worry. I’m off duty.”
        “That’s a great comfort,” Joh said. After a beat, Hartman realized she was being sarcastic. She looked at Hartman’s arms. “Taking some back to the ship?”
        “Oh these?” Hartman looked at the two bottles in his arms. “Gifts. From the man I had a business dinner with. I probably will give ’em as presents to friends.”
        “I see. Did you complete your business successfully?”
        “More or less,” Hartman shrugged. “What’s Raven doing here?”
        “He’s searching for some documents that he believes are related to the Bajoran religion,” Joh said.
        “Oh, that’s interesting.”
        “I think it’s a waste of time. His faith blinds him to pragmatic reality. In more familiar terms, he’s on a wild goose chase.”
        “Oh,” Hartman murmured. He looked at Joh, who stood guardedly by the door of the bookstore. Her arms were crossed and she gazed absentmindedly at the display window. Hartman frowned, “You look bored.”
        “That’s because I am,” Joh replied. “I was not expecting us to spend our shoreleave rummaging through dusty shops, looking for something that most likely does not exist. I haven’t returned to the ship yet because I feel obligated to at least respect his interests. He has shown me a tremendous amount of respect and he’s been very good to me.”
        “That’s nice,” Hartman smiled. “You like him a lot.”
        A small smile cracked across Joh’s face. “Yes, I do, in spite of myself.” Hartman suddenly realized that he hadn’t seen Joh smile very often.
        “He makes you happy?”
        “I suppose so. I haven’t thought much about it,” Joh shrugged.
        “It’s been a while...” Hartman murmured.
        “Pardon me?” asked Joh.
        Hartman shook his head. “Nothing. I was just thinking aloud. It’s been a while since I found someone that made me happy.”
        “I see.”
        “I’m not having a very good night.” Hartman looked up at the sign for the bookstore. “I came on the station with someone, and I’ll be leaving with two bottles of wine.”
        “Not a very pleasant sounding equation,” Joh said. “Might I assume that her rejection of you has something to do with your state of inebriation?”
        “Actually she didn’t reject me at all. It’s hard to reject something you don’t even realize is being offered to you.”
        Joh looked at Hartman with the slightest twitch of puzzlement. Hartman rolled his eyes and sighed. “Okay. I thought we were on a date. It turns out she didn’t see it the same way. She met somebody else at our dinner and now they’re off somewhere having fun and she’s glad her good friend Ed invited her along for dinner.”
        “I understand now,” Joh said. “I’m sorry.”
        “Me too.” Hartman frowned and shook his head. “The thing that gets me is, I thought my interest in her was pretty clear. Either she was so oblivious that she didn’t see my signals, or my signals were mixed up, or maybe I saw her interest in me as more than what it really was. Or maybe she wanted to maintain our friendship so she overlooked my romantic intentions... or maybe-”
        “That’s a large set of variables,” Joh interrupted Hartman. “Too many to compute, I’d say. In the end, whatever her reason is, the result is still the same. There is such a thing as over-analysis.”
        “Good thing alcohol dulls the thought process,” Hartman chuckled halfheartedly. “Do you want to try this Kalabarran wine? It’s good, very strong though.”
        “Hello, doctor.” The deep bass of Raven’s voice sounded in Hartman’s ears. He looked up to see Raven exiting the bookstore. The tall half-Bajoran stepped up behind Joh, placing a hand on her arm.
        “Hello, Raven.” Hartman had to look up to look at Raven in the eyes.
        Joh glanced back at Raven. “Did you find anything?”
        “No, the shopkeeper couldn’t recognize any of the Ancient Bajoran writings I showed him. However, he told me that the proprietor of another shop at the end of this corridor may have some information himself, or know of someone offstation.”
        “I see. Why don’t you go on ahead and I’ll catch up with you momentarily?”
        Raven bent to kiss Joh on the forehead. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” He turned to Hartman. “Have a good evening, Doctor.” He strode down the corridor, his silken white hair fluttering slightly as he walked quickly.
        Hartman looked back at Joh. “Well, have a good night.”
        “Perhaps you can save some of that wine for me to sample another time. Unless you really do intend to give these bottles away as gifts.” Joh paused for a moment then spoke again. “Doctor, you’re an intelligent and handsome looking man. You also seem like a very decent person. Those are very good things to offer. If I were in a position to accept such offerings, I wouldn’t reject them.”
        “Thanks, that’s kind of you to say,” Hartman replied softly. “Too bad you’re otherwise engaged, so to speak.” He looked down the corridor where Raven had walked down.
        Joh looked down the corridor as well. “I’m sure there are other people who aren’t. Don’t waste your time thinking about those who’ve rejected you. Use your time more productively.”
        “Easier said than done.”
        “Hmm,” Joh shrugged. “Good night, doctor.” She turned to follow after Raven.
        “Good night.” Hartman sighed, watching Joh walk down past the different storefronts. He shook his head, smiling slightly to himself. He set off down the corridor back to Restaurant Row.
        He made his way past the restaurant Xopui had taken them to and the darkened restaurant. He made his way through the late night crowds that formed. He noticed a flash of purple and saw Ineid, partially blocked by several people.
        Hartman kept walking on, then glanced over to Ineid again. The people in front of Ineid had moved. He saw Ineid kissing Kehri. He frowned, gritting his teeth and breaking his gaze away from Kehri.
        He stomped down the corridor, and stepped behind a bulkhead which formed a slight alcove away from the main walkway. He set one of the bottles down, and set to work opening the other bottle. With a slight hiss, the lid unsealed and Hartman took a gulp of the wine. He bent over to pick up the other bottle, taking care not to spill from the open bottle.
        “Stupid, crazy women,” he muttered to himself. He took another swig from the wine bottle, feeling the tangy warmth of the wine replacing his anger. He looked at the other bottle, trying to remember how much Xopui had spent on it.
        Perhaps he could barter it for drinks in a bar somewhere.

        “Come in.”
        Hartman walked through the door and into the captain’s ready room. Johnson looked up at Hartman from behind his desk and tilted his desktop monitor to the side so it wouldn’t block his view of the doctor.
        “Go ahead, sit down,” Johnson said. “I’m in between things, so let’s make this quick. What’s this I hear about you missing your meeting this morning with the people from Bimidal?”
        Hartman crossed his legs and rubbed at the heel of his boot. “I’m sorry about that. I admit it, I overslept. I had an headache, so I guess I just muted the alarm when it sounded and fell back asleep.”
        “Headaches again?” Johnson frowned. “I heard you had a problem with that for a while but it seemed to stop a month or so ago. Could this be a symptom for something more serious?”
        “No, sir,” Hartman shook his head.
        “Because if there’s something wrong with you, as the ship’s commanding officer, I should know. You’re the ship’s medical officer, I depend on you to inform me of the health and well being of my people; and that includes yourself.”
        “Yes, sir, I realize that,” Hartman nodded.
        “That being said,” Johnson scratched his bristly scalp, “that was pretty damn irresponsible of you to miss your appointment! What kind of image does that send to these people that one of this ship’s senior ranking officers blows off an appointment?”
        “It’s not a problem,” Hartman leaned forward. “I talked to them the first thing after I woke up and took a hypo.”
        “For your headache?”
        “Yes, right,” Hartman nodded slowly. “The headache. Anyway, they thought it was some kind of negotiating ploy and begged to reschedule the appointment so they could talk with me. I just got back from their offices five minutes ago.”
        “In other words, you lucked out,” Johnson shook his head.
        “I suppose so.”
        “Recommendations?”
        “For what?”
        Johnson stared at Hartman. “For what? For the medical information exchange and acquisition. What’s wrong with you? Looks like you’re off your game today.”
        “I’m sorry, Tom. Uh, I think that Microsciences Consortium has a better track record than Bimidal and they have a more extensive network. We’ll be able to learn more about places that aren’t on our mission flight plan. Xopui, that’s their representative, knows what he’s talking about and answered my questions well.”
        “Good,” Johnson nodded. “Establish a formal relationship with him and make arrangements for a data transfer. Something’s come up and I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be able to remain at the commerce station. Ambassador Favor’s on his way in a few minutes. We have some things to take care of on the station. Don’t worry about it, just get in touch with Xopui as soon as you can. If there’s any problems, inform Ambassador Favor. He should be able to smooth things over. Dismissed.”
        Hartman stood up. “Yes sir.” He walked out of the ready room.

        A few moments later, the doctor was in Sickbay, heading to his office. Doctor Michelanos walked up to him. “I covered for you at the start of shift briefing. Morning notes are on your terminal.”
        “Thanks, Aidan,” Hartman said.
        “Hope your headache is all better,” said Michelanos.
        “Yes, it is, thanks.” Hartman sat down at his white desk and tapped on his desktop monitor.
        Michelanos paused at the open doorway and leaned on his shoulder against the doorjamb. “Hope this isn’t a repeat of the spate of headaches you had a ways back.”
        Hartman sighed and squeezed his hands into fists, then stretched his fingers out, laying them flat on the top of the desk. He looked up at Michelanos. “Allright. I admit I had a problem for a few months. I realized what I was doing, and I stopped doing it. This morning was really a headache. So you can stop with your snide insinuations, okay?”
        “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Michelanos said as he stopped leaning and stood up. “I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better. You’re a good doctor and I like you. I don’t want to see something happen to you.”
        “Thank you. I’m sorry I snapped at you. The day started off bad, that’s all. I’m sorry, but I have things to do now.”
        “No problem,” Michelanos nodded. He turned to walk away but paused and looked at Hartman again. “Ed, if there ever is a problem, you can talk to me, you know that, right? I’d consider anything you said confidential. Doctor-patient.”
        Hartman smiled. “Get back to work, Doctor Michelanos.”
        The other doctor smiled and turned, walking away. He paused and leaned back in the doorway. “Sorry, but one more thing.”
        “What?” Hartman snapped.
        “Where did you go? My boyfriend and I are going over there tonight. Was the restaurant good?” Michelanos looked at Hartman.
        “I don’t remember the name but it was pretty good. It’s easy to find. Just go to the restaurant level, go all the way down to the end. It’s right across from a completely darkened restaurant. You should be able to find it.”
        “And how did it go with Kehri?” Michelanos smiled.
        “Later. I have work to do, Aidan,” said Hartman.
        “Right, sorry. I’ll leave you to it.”
        Michelanos finally walked away from Hartman’s office. Hartman watched him through the clear window partition then looked at his monitor. “Connect to Bazaar Communications, Xopui of Microsciences Consortium.”
        A minute later, the alien’s face was on the monitor. “Doctor Hartman, how wonderful that you are contacting myself. Favorable news?”
        “Yes,” Hartman nodded. “We’re interested in starting an official relationship.”
        “Wonderful. It shall take only a few moments for myself to transmit the standard terms of agreement.”
        “Good, we’ll look over that and get back to you as soon as possible,” Hartman replied.
        “If any part of the agreement causes yourself concerns, we can make appropriate modifications. This is a very exciting opportunity for ourselves as well, so it is the hope of myself to make our relationship as happy as possible.”
        “I appreciate hearing that,” Hartman said. “Oh, one more thing, before I forget.”
        “Yes?”
        “I, that is, my friends and I enjoyed the Kalabarran wine from last night very much.” Hartman paused, looking through the large window partition of his office at Michelanos and the others in Sickbay. He sighed and looked back at the monitor. “Where could I purchase it? And other beverages?”