Reception for Kirk-Pike wedding [open to EVERYONE]

[guinan_listens]

The ceremony had been beautiful, and a perfect way to open the new recreation area on board the Enterprise. It felt strange calling it a bar, since it opened up to a huge observation desk, stars floating in the distance as music played from a five-piece band, hastily tossed together from volunteers

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[hart_of_time]

There was cake. Why had no one told John there was cake? He didn't know whose wedding it was; didn't, in fact, care, beyond the fact that it was a wedding, which meant there was cake.

So he was crashing the wedding reception of someone he didn't know. He had been in far worse situations. And the cake looked delicious. John moved to the edge of the dance floor and began dancing, kind of, while waiting for the cake to be cut.

[outcastprince]

The thing about being telepathic was that you could pick people out of crowds by a variety of signatures; some people stood out given the right environment. He had met or at least been exposed to most of the people in the room, and for the ones he didn't know, he was fixing that gap in knowledge. It was easy to slide in between people, linger as if he had other business, and then suddenly be next to this strange new gentleman.

"Evening." He smiled. "I don't believe we've met."

[hart_of_time]

John turned toward the voice at his side. His eyes slid over the man, observing and noting the small details of his appearance--the pointed ears, identifying him as one of two races; the smile, which was certainly unusual for a Vulcan; and the laugh lines around his eyes, suggesting that the smile was not simply an affectation for the sake of the social gathering, but more of a habit for this man.

"No, indeed," he answered, "I'm sure I'd remember if we had." He held out his hand. "Captain John Hart."

[outcastprince]

Oh, another person who hadn't take Vulcan culture with Starfleet--or was even Starfleet personnel at all. The jacket wasn't anything he recognized from the databases. Interesting.

"Sybok," He took the man's hand and shook it firmly, skimming what thoughts he could off the top. "So, what niche do you have aboard the Enterprise?"

[hart_of_time]

John remembered full well the way Vulcans reacted when he touched their hands. Given the apparent lack of aphrodisiac soft drinks at the reception, he was a little surprised at how easily Sybok had accepted the advance, and the strength of his grip. Here was a man who knew what he wanted.

"I'm a visitor, really," he summarized. "Just passing through." In truth, Kirk hadn't found a specific use for John, leaving him with a dangerous amount of free time on his hands.

[outcastprince]

"A visitor? That's a rather vague job description, don't you think?" Sybok chuckled, and moved from the inside to the outside edge, so that he wouldn't have other thoughts bombarding him as loudly as he talked to John. "Where are you heading?"

[hart_of_time]

The question of where he was heading was more complicated than it had any right to be. He searched his brain for something clever to serve as an answer, and came up with something that seemed suitable, at least. "Where no man has gone before." And he mentally shushed the nagging voice that said perhaps that wasn't a John Hart Original.

[outcastprince]

Sybok laughed, not so much at the choice of words but the fact that John would need to resort to using them. "Is it that bad? Do you plan on hitching a ride into Klingon territory? There's much easier ways to do that than stowing away on a Starfleet vessel."

[hart_of_time]

John's eyes widened, the picture of innocence. "Who said anything about stowing away?"

[OOC - Sorry about the delay >.> ]

[outcastprince]

Somehow, it didn't fit on the man's face, just like it wouldn't fit on his own. For Sybok, it was because he knew too much and he based his confidence on that knowledge; for this man...something about having the means or the inclination to be a 'visitor' in uncharted space.

"From what I know, Starfleet doesn't usually ferry people around unless they're dipolmats, and since you're not--forgive me if you are--and you're not working, that leaves very few options open."

[hart_of_time]

The man's effortless evaluation of John made him grin. It was accurate, too; any lies would doubtless be detected just as effortlessly. It couldn't really hurt to tell Sybok the truth, could it?

"I'm a sort of...consultant, you could say," he told the Vulcan. "My point of origin has technology which could be valuable to the captain, and to the Federation. So could theirs be to me. Kirk has graciously allowed a trade of knowledge and expertise, provided I don't get into too much trouble."

[outcastprince]

Sybok liked that word, consultant; it fed him as a last result and was the entire reason why he had full reign over the galley and a nice-fitting dress shirt right now. (Well, that and a little fraternal nudging.)

"This technology wouldn't happen to have anything to do with transcending space at transwarp speeds, would it?" he ventured, curious. It was always his first question concerning 'new technology.' "Because I could think of a few circumstances where that would be very valuable--for the ship, of course."

[hart_of_time]

"It might," John answered truthfully. Funny how Sybok had jumped immediately to the right conclusion. He held up his wrist, displaying the device in question. "Very useful thing, this."

[outcastprince]

His eyes were immediately drawn to the watch. Something in the back of his mind was a little disappointed that something he coveted would be so small and innocuous. Assuming it did what John hinted at. He had seen a lot of toys in his search.

"How useful?"

[hart_of_time]

Had John heard the thought, he would have been offended to know Sybok considered the wriststrap "small and innocuous". Luckily, he was far from telepathic.

"How useful it is would depend on what it is you want to do."

[outcastprince]

"I suppose, for example, if you had a large mass--over a teragram--" Sybok moved his hands in a rough sphere, "and you wanted to move it five thousand light-years to start out with. Could it be done?"

He kept calm. Emotion control could be useful sometimes; he never argued that.