[USS Tempest] Trip the Light Ferengi by Byron Matthews, Nat Lynley, & Rosie Le Beau

 
 
Rosie was grumbling, out loud and none too politely. It was her fourth  
diagnostic of the engineering computers alone and she was getting tired of  
seeing 
the same thing.  
"The captain's not going to like this," she said out loud. "I need another  
break." 
"So take one then. You owe me dinner." 
She sucked in her breath and scrambled from underneath the console. Nat was  
standing there, hands behind his back, with a smile on his face. "You didn't  
show up on time so I figured you were here." 
She put her arms around him and hugged tightly. "Oh, Nathaniel, I'm so sorry. 
 I forgot the time. This place is such a mess and I wanted to get it somewhat 
 better before the captain takes the official tour. Forgive me?" 
"Of course. I felt like such a slouch for walking about while you were  
working that I took the liberty of bringing up take away from the Bajoran cafe  
on 
station," Nat said, bringing his arm around front to show the basket he was  
holding. "This isn't quite a table at Sisko's and there's no candlelight but 
the  company is perfect," he said simply. 
She couldn't even think of resisting that hopeful smile. He looked like such  
a little boy when he did that. Skirting the basket, she reached up and kissed 
 him. "You're right. It is perfect." 
Byron's mood was taking a steep dive toward mildly miffed. He stalked toward  
Main Engineering, his PADD bashing against his thigh. Without looking up, he  
stormed in, saying, "I swear, if I hear the Accountancy Shanty one more time, 
 I'm going to scream! I mean, it wouldn't be so bad except it's in Ferengi!"  
Glaring at the PADD in his hand, he continued, "Every time I try accessing a 
new  psychology paper I get a short vid of three of the ugly little dwarves 
singing  the thing as they dance across my screen." 
Nat and Rosie both froze. They both knew that nobody, except for the dimmest  
of Pakleds, would ever mistake their position, Rosie's arms around Nat's neck 
 and his around her waist, as a platonic gesture between crew mates. As soon 
as  Nat looked up, he lost a bit of color from his face. He recognized the man 
from  the personnel records he'd been reviewing for Lindsey. Damn it all, he  
grumbled to himself, it would have to be the ship's counselor. 
As casually as they could, Nat and Rosie disentangled themselves. Nat was  
still holding the basket but Rosie looked up at the stranger and offered a wan  
smile. "Can I help you with something?" 
To say that Byron's jaw dropped was a bit of an understatement. "I... er...  
I..." Then his grin suddenly flashed, white teeth sparkling. "Well, don't I 
feel  like the goosebury. It was just a little technical difficulty, nothing 
that  can't wait I'm sure." He held out his hand. "I'm Byron Matthews, by the 
way, the  most inconvenient man on the ship." 
Nat put the basket down, on the floor because he knew engineers hated  
spillable things near electronics, and shook his hand. There was no use in 
being  
rude. It wasn't the man's fault after all. "Nathaniel Lynley," he said simply.  
"I'm the captain's aide." 
Rosie looked up at Nat for a moment. He had agreed to keep their relationship 
 quiet for her sake but he didn't seem like he was going to do that now. He  
obviously knew who this guy was and was not about to lie to him. Nathaniel, I 
do  hope you know what you're doing. 
"Rosie Le Beau," she finally added as she held out her own hand. "I'm the  
Chief Engineer so this is the place for technical difficulties." And other 
kinds 
 of difficulties, too. 
"Ah, well, good stuff then." Handing Rosie his PADD, he reiterated the  
problem. "The console's the same, always the Monty Python song sang by Ferengis 
 
that dance. I don't think I'd mind it so much if it weren't for the dancing.  
They can't, by the way, it's an officially noted genetic deficiency of the 
whole 
 species." Glancing between the two people, he smiled ruefully. "You know,  
perhaps Main Engineering isn't the place for a romantic tryst." Cocking his 
head  to one side, he said, "Unless you somehow wanted to get caught." 
"Oh my god...that's horrible," Rosie exclaimed as she watched the dancing  
Ferengi. 
Nat looked over her shoulder at the display and shuddered slightly. "Awful,  
truly awful," he stated. He looked up at Byron and offered him a frank gaze.  
"Counselor, I, personally, could care less who knows about our relationship. 
As  Rosemary once told me, I have enough time in the Fleet that I hardly have 
to  worry about disciplinary action, especially since anything after what I've 
been  through already is going to be minor in my eyes. Rosemary, on the other 
hand,  does not have anywhere near the same amount of time in as I do." 
"Please, call me Byron. And you are almost anticipating the disapproving  
reaction of your superiors, aren't you, Nat (can I call you Nat? I hope you  
don't mind)?" Byron smiled a tight-lipped smile, continuing to appraise the  
older 
man before him. "I've read your file, I know what happened. But what you  
have to remember is, I'm not your superior officer. Hell, I'm not even in the  
'Fleet. What would you like me to do? Go running to the Captain and tell her  
that her aide is kissing her Chief Engineer? Say that some antiquated, foolish, 
 
up-their-own-asses rule system laid down centuries ago is making two 
perfectly  innocent people feel guilty about completely acceptable feelings?" 
Placing 
a  finger on his chin, Byron said, "Your defense of your lady is admirable, 
but you  don't have to protect her from me." With a grin, he added, "Unless she 
likes to  dance." 
Nat could almost feel the relief of tension from Rosie and he simply reached  
over to squeeze her hand. He was also trying very hard not to laugh.  
"First of all, Byron, you may indeed call me Nat. Rosemary and my grandfather 
 are probably the only people who actually call me by my given name," he said 
 with a smile. He blew out a soft breath then, gathering his thoughts. "To be 
 perfectly honest, I've never questioned those rules until just recently. I 
thank  you for your candor but I am certain there are others who will not be so 
 accepting of things." 
"He means Fleet people, Byron. We still can't be open about us," Rosie added  
but she offered him a grin. "And I don't mind dancing." 
"Ah," Byron said with a look of deep regret on his face, "I see. I'm afraid,  
Nat, my friend, you will have a run for your money." Stepping close, he 
lifted  Rosie's fingers to his lips, grinning at Nat out of the corner of his 
eye. 
"A  beautiful woman who dances," shaking his head, he suddenly laughed, "who 
is  totally smitten with your good self. I don't stand a chance." 
Nat chuckled slightly and shook his head.  He'd had enough good natured  
teasing from Kaartaren.  "I should certainly hope not," he said simply as  he 
slipped his arm around Rosie's waist. 
Rosie's knees almost went weak with the tone of Nat's voice.  She gave  him a 
quick hug then waved the PADD at Byron.  "I was going to say it could  have 
been worse, like the Klingon macarena, but I doubt even that would beat  this.  
Where'd you get the PADD?  Ships' stores or downside?" 
"It was my personal PADD," Byron hurumphed.  "I linked it to my console  to 
download a few ideas for papers I'd had but all that happened was that awful  
song started up."  He threw up his hands in dismay.  "It's wiped the  entire 
drive, I'm sure of it." 
Rosie stared at the PADD, thinking.  Pushing a few of the white strands  of 
her hair from her face she said, "That is the first interesting thing I've  
heard since I started this mess.  I'm sorry it got screwed up because now  I'm 
thinking it's something on the ship if it was fine beforehand." 
"I do hope you had a backup of your work," Nat added. 
With a sour face, Byron shrugged.  "That was the back-up.  The  majority of 
my work was on the ship's computer."  He sighed and then  scowled.  "It's going 
to take me hours to get the stuff sent over from  Earth." 
"My very first commanding officer was a happy chap named Loojan, a  Bolian.  
He always told me that you should back up your important  information in at 
least three different spots.  That would explain why I  have certain 
information 
that certain bloody admirals don't know about," Nat  told him, his mouth 
tightening slightly at the last thought.  "He also  taught me how to fuss with 
these things after I lost some information on  him.  I could have a look if 
you'd 
like, even though I am, by no means, a  computer expert." 
Musing over Nat's comment about Admirals, Byron nodded.  "I'm sure  you'll be 
a damn-sight better at it than me.  I had a go at trying to fix  it and all 
that happened was they started singing in a slightly higher  pitch."  Sighing, 
he smiled wanly at them.  "I'm sorry for  interrupting your evening.  Can I 
leave the thing with you?" 
"Certainly," Nat said simply, accepting the PADD gingerly.  "And, thank  you, 
Byron.  I would hate to have to put Lindsey on the spot when she went  
through so much to get me here." 
"He even threatened to quit when we first talked about this," Rosie  added.  
She knew how much the deceit bothered him but she knew he loved  her.  Wanting 
to lighten the mood, she jerked her thumb at the PADD.   "If Nathaniel can't 
fix the thing, maybe you could sell it to Quark.  Might  have yourself a hit 
after all." 
With a cackle, Byron stepped up to Rosie and kissed her on the cheek.   "I 
may do just that.  Well, thank you both.  A word of advice,  though," he said 
as 
he eyed Nat carefully.  "Tell the Captain, she will  understand."  He waved, 
wiggling his fingertips as he bounced out. 
As the doors closed behind Byron, Nat shook his head and said, "Sprightly  
chap, isn't he?" 
"But very nice.  Doesn't seem like any of the counselors I've ever run  
into," Rosie replied.  She looked up at Nat, into those dark eyes.   "Are you 
going 
to take his advice?" 
He knew she was still afraid but he wasn't going to lie.  "Some  day--yes, I 
will.  Just not today.  Now, we have dinner to eat still  and afterwards, if 
you'll tell what to look for, I'll lend a  hand."

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