DS9 FanFic, "Tattoo," Ensemble, G/B implied, PG, 1/1
Title: Tattoo
Author: PrelocAndKanar (Prelocandkanar@aol.com)
Series: DS9
Part: 1/1
Rating: PG
Codes: Ja, S, S(senior), B, O’B, W, Qu, G/B implied
August Challenge: Tattoo
Summary: Jake discovers things about the residents of DS9 that he never knew.
Author's Notes: Thanks, as always, to Jen Ingram, who does good even when she’s feeling bad.
This little bit of fluff was written in response to the ASCEM August 2008 challenge, “Tattoo.” Without the challenge, it would never have been conceived or written.
Comments, constructive criticism and other feedback are very welcome!
Disclaimer: Paramount owns these characters, even though it never it never played with them enough. I only borrow them.
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“Here, Dad, I’ll get it for you,” said Jake, getting up from his seat and reaching for the Yamok sauce on the high shelf.
“Just because you’re as tall as I am-”
“Taller.”
“Don’t smirk at your dad-” Sisko broke off. “Jake. Come over here.”
Jake paused, his back to the room, and sighed. Then he straightened his shoulders, turned around and approached his father.
Sisko gave him that look. “Push up your sleeve.”
“OK, Dad,” said Jake, and he pushed up his right sleeve. “You want to see my muscles, huh? I’ve been working on them.” He flexed his arm.
Sisko sighed. “C’mon, Jake. Not that one.”
Well, he knew he couldn’t keep it a secret. Silently, he slid up the sleeve of his left arm. He held his arm down straight at first, then brought his forearm up at a right angle, flexing his bicep. He looked down at it approvingly, a smile growing on his face, then looked up at Sisko.
“Isn’t it glide, Dad?”
Sisko didn’t respond. He peered closer. It was at times like this that he wished the Prophets would speak to him, tell him something useful, like what were the right words to say. What the devil did the boy think he was doing? Of all the lame-brained, idiotic, adolescent- Take your time, he thought. Don’t blurt out anything stupid. He took a breath.
“Is that... razor-cat fur?”
Jake nodded, and looked down again proudly. A band of fur encircled his upper arm, honey-gold, speckled with irregular black marks. The skin was still a bit puffy around the edges.
“They call it getting a wild, Dad. Don’t it roar? Alkorzaz got a little patch of field-lion fur right here -” he touched the spot under his lower lip, then stroked it absently. “And Tomassin got a hair-inhibitor and covered his whole head with veldt-runner fur. I thought that was too much,” he confided. “But this -” he ran a finger over the band of fur with evident delight. He looked up again and his face was glowing. “It’s just right.”
“Jake.” Sisko sighed. It was hard to be furious when his son was so pleased. “Sit down.”
Jake pushed his sleeve back down somewhat reluctantly and sat. “I know I should have told you sooner-”
“Told me? Whatever happened to asking?”
“Dad. I’m almost grown up. And it’s my body. I don’t have to ask your permission for something I do to my own body,” Jake retorted indignantly.
Wrong approach, genius. He’s not a little kid anymore.
“Almost grown-up? You’re fourteen years old. I know, I know-” he held up his hands to stop the angry words about to tumble out of his son’s mouth. “I just think something like this defiles your body, Jake-O.” He couldn’t miss how Jake’s face twisted with irritation. He had to remember not to call him that anymore.
He cleared his throat. “You know I’ve always taught you to respect your body. Watch what you put into it. Be healthful. Be strong. Take care of the fine body you’re lucky to have.”
“But, Dad. How is this not being respectful? I’m just... adorning it. Showing pride. It... calls subtle attention to how fit I keep myself. It’s a personal expression. Besides, doesn’t it look good against my skin?”
Sisko had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t going well. “I’ve never seen this kind of thing before, Jake. Is it even safe?” He knew, as the words left his lips, that he had lost.
“Oh, absolutely safe, Dad. I did some research first, you know. It’s pretty new, but they guarantee that it’s safe. I even shopped around, and found a place that had the highest recommendations. They’re all over Bajor now. Well, in the big cities, at least. All the kids are getting them.” He leaned back with a confident and relaxed expression.
“Can it be removed?”
“...yes...” Jake admitted. “They don’t do anything to your skin, it’s just grafted on top. But I’m not getting rid of it. I like it. You can’t make me-”
Sisko held up his hands. “I’m not going to ‘make’ you do anything, son. I’m just wondering if you’ve thought about this enough.”
Jake crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, scowling at the floor.
“You know we’re scheduled to go visit your Grandfather in a few weeks. What do you think he’ll say?”
“I’ll bet Grandpa will love it.”
“We’ll see.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“I’m looking forward to seeing you, too, Grandpa,” said Jake. “I can’t wait.” He paused. “Hey, Grandpa... want to see something?”
“Sure, Jake.”
Jake stood up and went closer to the viewscreen. He pushed up his sleeve and showed his arm off, straightening and flexing and posing.
All was quiet for a moment as the Earthbound Sisko tilted his head.
“Is that... leopard fur?”
“Uh-uh. It’s Bajoran Razor-Cat. Do you like it?”
To his surprise, the deep voice began chuckling. “Well, it’s certainly different.”
Jake pushed his sleeve back and returned to his chair, flopping down.
“Dad’s all twisted up about it,” he grumbled, glaring at the floor and muttering something else under his breath.
A broad smile appeared on the well-lined face. “Is he, now.”
“Yeah. He says it’s defacing my body or something.”
The elder Sisko burst out laughing. “Your father says - Well, Jake, you better just ask your father about his tattoo.”
“His what?” Jake sat up straighter and looked back up.
Sisko looked liked he was enjoying himself thoroughly. “When your father was, well, he must have been about your age, come to think of it, there was kind of a craze among the young people for historical fads.”
“Fads?”
“They looked to ancient history for odd things to do. Mostly about fashion or hair or other ways to drive their folks crazy. After all, what else can kids do these days that hasn’t been done already,” he mused. “Hair has had about everything you can think of done to it. Clothes, it’s hard to come up with anything new there, either. Now that- ”
he nodded to Jake “is something I’ve never seen before. Good for you!”
“What kind of fads, Grandpa?”
“Well, one of them was called a ‘tattoo.’ The idea was to get something, usually a picture of some kind, printed on your body. It was very popular in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Or was it the nineteenth? I forget. Anyway, your father came home one day with..., well, let me see. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this.” He leaned back. “You should ask your father.”
Jake looked dubious. “He’s never said anything about that before.”
“You just ask him.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“Oh, that underhanded old man,” muttered Sisko.
“Dad? Is it true?”
His father sighed. “Yes, Jake, it’s true. It was a foolish and childish thing to do. I didn’t think about it very much. It was an impulsive thing that I did for only one reason.”
“What?”
Sisko seemed lost in thought, but for a moment, a quick smile played across his face. In an instant it was gone, replace by that “father” expression that was so annoying. “I was young, and kids do stupid things.” He snorted. “At least I have that excuse. I was a kid. Now, Julian, on the other hand...”
“Julian? You mean Dr. Bashir? Does he have a, a tattoo, too,” asked Jake, stumbling a bit over the words. He forgot to be angry at the blatant hypocrisy, he was so surprised. He didn’t notice that the conversation was veering away from his father’s youthful indiscretion.
His father beamed. “I know. Why don’t you go ask him?”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“A what?”
“A tattoo. Is it true? My dad said…”
Dr. Bashir looked indignant. “No, it’s not true. I do not have a tattoo.” He turned away and busied himself with his instruments. Jake sighed, disappointed.
“It’s more of a…brand, really.” Bashir muttered.
“A brand??”
“Well… see, uh, a friend of mine got, uh, well, he got Marked by-”
“ ‘Marked’??”
“…and it was a long time before I could convince him to get rid of it, and in the meantime, it just seemed only fair if I…, uh,…”
Bashir’s face began to redden slightly, as if he’d gotten too much sun, as his words trailed off.
Jake looked puzzled. “Well, roll it up, doc.”
“Hmmm?”
“Your sleeve. Can I see?”
“It’s, uh, not on my arm, Jake.”
“It’s not? Well, where is it?”
“It’s… private.” Bashir, who was leaning back against the bio-bed, shifted his hip away from the edge, looking uncomfortable.
“Oh.” He digested that for a moment, then his eyes widened slightly. He hesitated, then asked, “If it’s so ... ‘private,’ then how did Dad know about it?”
“Not every race has the same sense of modesty and taboos that we do, Jake. They don’t all associate nudity so closely with sexuality,” said Bashir, shifting into his “doctor” voice. Jake could see him relax. “The Betazoids associate nudity with purity, for example. Well, the Akimeras associate nudity with trust. It’s openness, you see? Historically, they proved they were not concealing weapons by meeting enemies naked. Even to this day, ceremonial events are conducted in the nude.”
“And you and Dad...”
“The Akimeras joined the Federation last year. Your father and I were part of the group of Federation representatives at the ceremonies.”
Jake grimaced as he tried not to picture this, then thought about it some more. “Who else was part of that group? Was Jadzia? Was-”
Bashir gave him a stern look, and he broke off.
Jake tried another tactic. “Well, what is it, anyway? Oh, wait, I bet I know. It’s that, what do you call it, that doctor symbol, right? That capacious. Only you have the snake uncoiling from the stick, right? And it’s hissing and rearing up and-”
Bashir smiled. “No, Jake. It’s not a caduceus.”
“Oh. Well, what is it?”
“It’s a phrase, actually, in, uh, a foreign language.”
“A phrase?” Jake looked dubious. “Well, what does it say?”
A strange look came over Bashir’s face, half smile and half something else. His eyes seemed to drift out of focus, as if he were lost in thought. “It’s private.”
“Oh.”
“It’s not easy to explain. It has... layers of meaning. It’s complex.” Bashir’s eyes came back into focus and he looked earnestly at Jake. “It’s really quite literate.” He seemed to be trying to convince him of something.
Jake said nothing, but he scratched his arm absently.
Bashir instantly returned his eyes to Jake’s arm. “Let me take a look at that, Jake.”
Jake pushed the sleeve up and Bashir peered at the band of fur.
“It itches a little, doc.”
“Hmm. Well, that’s natural, immediately after a graft. It should settle down in a few days. Shall I take a closer look?”
“No, that’s OK.” Jake rolled the sleeve back down.
Bashir’s face took on that funny, far-away look again. As Jake turned to go, Bashir rubbed the back of his hip as he repeated, “Literate. Sure. You could say that. At least it’s not obvious and juvenile, like Miles’...”
Jake turned back. “Chief O’Brien has a...???”
Bashir’s face cleared and he turned back to Jake with a wide grin.
“Ask him to show it to you. Ask him to make her dance.”
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“He told you what? Why, that little snitch! The next time we play darts, I know what I’ll be aiming for... Look, Jake-” he gestured to a chair in which Jake sat, listening closely. “I was undercover, see? My assignment was to infiltrate a criminal organization. The head of the group was beginning to trust me. In fact, he had just decided that I was to be let into his inner circle. We all went out together. He’s the one who suggested we all get ‘em...” O’Brien shook his head. “Besides, we were all drinking pretty hard that night. I don’t think I could have objected, even if I’d wanted to. If I hadn’t already been a champion drinker myself, I -”
“Can I see it?”
O’Brien hesitated. “I don’t think so, Jake. It’s not like you’re a child or anything,” he added quickly. “I just... don’t feel comfortable showing it.”
“You mean it’s that bad?”
“Bad?! Of course it’s not bad! It’s... pretty.”
Pretty? Right. “Chief,” Jake shook his head with disgust. “I’m not six years old like Molly, you know. It’s a girl, right?”
O’Brien smiled. “Well, a woman,” he agreed. “A beautiful and very friendly woman. Nothin’ wrong with that, is there?” He watched with amusement as Jake tried on a leer.
“Well, it must be extreme, if you don’t want to show me,” Jake challenged him. “Bashir said you could make her dance.”
“Extreme?” O’Brien looked indignant. He said nothing about dancing. “It’s not extreme in any way. Why, it’s practically a work of art.” He looked genuinely insulted. “Extreme! What am I, Worf?”
“Worf?”
“If you want something to send chills down your spine, then you go see Worf. Just don’t tell him I said so.”
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Worf looked at Jake. His eyes were unreadable, but his deep voice was mild.
“Yes, I have an emblem on my body. It is a tradition, after the Rite of Ascension, to celebrate with some permanent reminder of the importance of conducting oneself with honor.”
“Can I see it?”
“Certainly.” Worf pulled the neck of his uniform aside and revealed his left shoulder. Jake looked eagerly, leaning in close. He could see the most vicious creature he’d ever seen. It was big and shaggy, with huge teeth. As he watched, it seemed to look right at him and snapped its jaws, snarling. Jake jumped back in surprise, then tried to look casual.
“Wow. What is it?”
“It is a sabre bear, a dangerous carnivore from Qo’noS.” He looked at it with affection. The beast seemed to look at him in response and snarled again, but in a gentler-sounding tone. Or so it seemed to Jake.
Worf re-adjusted his uniform. “It is the mark of a young adult Klingon, ready to begin the life of a warrior. It is a symbol of honor.”
Jake rubbed his fur. He hoped the itching would go away soon.
Worf regarded the young man for a moment, then said, “I like yours. It suggests courage. In order to endure the pain of receiving this, you have proven-” Jake shook his head. “What? There was no pain? Oh. Then what was the point?” Jake shrugged. The smallest smile played on the corners of Worf’s mouth. “Well, at least you have chosen a worthy creature to emulate. Warriors often use such totems. It’s not entirely frivolous. Or decadent.” His eyes darkened, but seemed to shine. “Not like Jadzia’s. Hers has no other purpose other than to incite...” A smile re-appeared. A dangerous-looking smile.
“Jadzia?! A tattoo?! What does a Trill need with a tattoo? And where exactly is it...?” Jake asked eagerly.
The smile disappeared and Worf growled, “Forget I mentioned it. Do not speak of it to Jadzia. Ever.” He glared at Jake, eyebrows lowered.
Jake nodded and gulped. He thought he could hear the sabre bear snarling.
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“Root beer, please, Quark.”
Jake scratched his fur again.
“Here you go. So. That’s what all the fuss is about.” Quark looked at the fur with a thoughtful expression. “You say it’s all the rage? How much did you pay for it? Do you remember the name of the shop? I wonder...” He started punching buttons on a nearby PADD.
Jake took a sip of his drink. “Well, I’ve sure learned some interesting things about some of the grownups around here.” He shook his head. “You must be the only one who hasn’t done something like that, Quark.”
“Hmm?” Quark looked up. “Oh, I have something.”
“You do?”
“It’s right here.” Quark tapped his chest, right over his heart. “It’s the symbol for latinum. I got it when I made my first profit with someone who wasn’t a relative. My parents were so proud.”
Jake stared at him, then scratched again. The itching was driving him crazy. Suddenly, he couldn’t stand it another minute. He beckoned for the PADD and thumbed for his drink, then pushed off the stool. “Thanks, Quark.”
Quark had resumed his calculations. “Don’t mention it,” he mumbled.
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“Doc?”
“Oh, Jake.” Bashir almost jumped, and quickly snapped off the viewscreen.
Jake got a fleeting impression of Garak before the screen went dark. He thought he recognized what Garak was holding.
Bashir seemed nervous. “Back again?”
“Yeah. Hey, Doc, do you ride?” Jake was intrigued. He was quite a fair equestrian himself.
Bashir’s ears turned bright pink. “Excuse me?” he squeaked.
“I said, do you ride?”
Bashir just stared at him, as still as a bulkhead. Jake shook his head, wondering if the doc was addled. He had sure been acting strange lately. “Ride?” he tried again, helpfully. “Horseback riding, you know? I saw Mr. Garak had a crop, so I thought you might be going riding together.” Bashir took a breath, and seemed to be able to move again. He still didn’t answer, though. Jake, amused by this display of total idiocy, decided to keep going until he got an answer. “So, do you ride?”
“I ... have ridden, on occasion,” answered Bashir so carefully that Jake was beginning to be concerned.
This behavior was just too weird, so Jake just decided to ignore it. He held out his arm, pushing the sleeve up. “Uh, doc, would you take a look at this? I think the itching is getting worse, not better.”
“Certainly.” Bashir seemed to be relieved to return to “doctor” mode. He gestured to the bio-bed and picked up an instrument. Jake studied him surreptitiously for more signs of craziness.
“Well, the skin around the graft looks fine. Let’s just take a closer look here... Oh!”
“What? What is it?”
Bashir straightened up. “I know why it’s itching. Young man, I hate to tell you this... but you have fleas.”
“Fleas?” Jake chirped, his voice breaking.
“Yes. Fleas. I can give you a powder...”
Jake shook his head. “Doc? Can you just take it off?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It somehow doesn’t seems quite as genius as it did a few days ago.”
Bashir turned to chose his instruments. He was a bit distracted, though. He had an appointment in a few hours. Sort of a language lesson, as it were. He would be demonstrating his understanding of a few specific Cardassian phrases. There were shades of meaning to the phrases. He hoped he could live up to them. He’d better not forget the regenerator this time. Perhaps he should have a protein drink, first...
Jake watched the dusky glow spread up the back of Bashir’s neck. What the heck was that about? He snorted. If they all did stuff like this, it must be pretty lame.
Maybe he should look into some other of those archaic fads... He wondered if he could replicate something he had seen called a Harley. He was pretty sure none of the adults here had one. That sounded glide...
Author: PrelocAndKanar (Prelocandkanar@aol.com)
Series: DS9
Part: 1/1
Rating: PG
Codes: Ja, S, S(senior), B, O’B, W, Qu, G/B implied
August Challenge: Tattoo
Summary: Jake discovers things about the residents of DS9 that he never knew.
Author's Notes: Thanks, as always, to Jen Ingram, who does good even when she’s feeling bad.
This little bit of fluff was written in response to the ASCEM August 2008 challenge, “Tattoo.” Without the challenge, it would never have been conceived or written.
Comments, constructive criticism and other feedback are very welcome!
Disclaimer: Paramount owns these characters, even though it never it never played with them enough. I only borrow them.
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“Here, Dad, I’ll get it for you,” said Jake, getting up from his seat and reaching for the Yamok sauce on the high shelf.
“Just because you’re as tall as I am-”
“Taller.”
“Don’t smirk at your dad-” Sisko broke off. “Jake. Come over here.”
Jake paused, his back to the room, and sighed. Then he straightened his shoulders, turned around and approached his father.
Sisko gave him that look. “Push up your sleeve.”
“OK, Dad,” said Jake, and he pushed up his right sleeve. “You want to see my muscles, huh? I’ve been working on them.” He flexed his arm.
Sisko sighed. “C’mon, Jake. Not that one.”
Well, he knew he couldn’t keep it a secret. Silently, he slid up the sleeve of his left arm. He held his arm down straight at first, then brought his forearm up at a right angle, flexing his bicep. He looked down at it approvingly, a smile growing on his face, then looked up at Sisko.
“Isn’t it glide, Dad?”
Sisko didn’t respond. He peered closer. It was at times like this that he wished the Prophets would speak to him, tell him something useful, like what were the right words to say. What the devil did the boy think he was doing? Of all the lame-brained, idiotic, adolescent- Take your time, he thought. Don’t blurt out anything stupid. He took a breath.
“Is that... razor-cat fur?”
Jake nodded, and looked down again proudly. A band of fur encircled his upper arm, honey-gold, speckled with irregular black marks. The skin was still a bit puffy around the edges.
“They call it getting a wild, Dad. Don’t it roar? Alkorzaz got a little patch of field-lion fur right here -” he touched the spot under his lower lip, then stroked it absently. “And Tomassin got a hair-inhibitor and covered his whole head with veldt-runner fur. I thought that was too much,” he confided. “But this -” he ran a finger over the band of fur with evident delight. He looked up again and his face was glowing. “It’s just right.”
“Jake.” Sisko sighed. It was hard to be furious when his son was so pleased. “Sit down.”
Jake pushed his sleeve back down somewhat reluctantly and sat. “I know I should have told you sooner-”
“Told me? Whatever happened to asking?”
“Dad. I’m almost grown up. And it’s my body. I don’t have to ask your permission for something I do to my own body,” Jake retorted indignantly.
Wrong approach, genius. He’s not a little kid anymore.
“Almost grown-up? You’re fourteen years old. I know, I know-” he held up his hands to stop the angry words about to tumble out of his son’s mouth. “I just think something like this defiles your body, Jake-O.” He couldn’t miss how Jake’s face twisted with irritation. He had to remember not to call him that anymore.
He cleared his throat. “You know I’ve always taught you to respect your body. Watch what you put into it. Be healthful. Be strong. Take care of the fine body you’re lucky to have.”
“But, Dad. How is this not being respectful? I’m just... adorning it. Showing pride. It... calls subtle attention to how fit I keep myself. It’s a personal expression. Besides, doesn’t it look good against my skin?”
Sisko had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t going well. “I’ve never seen this kind of thing before, Jake. Is it even safe?” He knew, as the words left his lips, that he had lost.
“Oh, absolutely safe, Dad. I did some research first, you know. It’s pretty new, but they guarantee that it’s safe. I even shopped around, and found a place that had the highest recommendations. They’re all over Bajor now. Well, in the big cities, at least. All the kids are getting them.” He leaned back with a confident and relaxed expression.
“Can it be removed?”
“...yes...” Jake admitted. “They don’t do anything to your skin, it’s just grafted on top. But I’m not getting rid of it. I like it. You can’t make me-”
Sisko held up his hands. “I’m not going to ‘make’ you do anything, son. I’m just wondering if you’ve thought about this enough.”
Jake crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, scowling at the floor.
“You know we’re scheduled to go visit your Grandfather in a few weeks. What do you think he’ll say?”
“I’ll bet Grandpa will love it.”
“We’ll see.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“I’m looking forward to seeing you, too, Grandpa,” said Jake. “I can’t wait.” He paused. “Hey, Grandpa... want to see something?”
“Sure, Jake.”
Jake stood up and went closer to the viewscreen. He pushed up his sleeve and showed his arm off, straightening and flexing and posing.
All was quiet for a moment as the Earthbound Sisko tilted his head.
“Is that... leopard fur?”
“Uh-uh. It’s Bajoran Razor-Cat. Do you like it?”
To his surprise, the deep voice began chuckling. “Well, it’s certainly different.”
Jake pushed his sleeve back and returned to his chair, flopping down.
“Dad’s all twisted up about it,” he grumbled, glaring at the floor and muttering something else under his breath.
A broad smile appeared on the well-lined face. “Is he, now.”
“Yeah. He says it’s defacing my body or something.”
The elder Sisko burst out laughing. “Your father says - Well, Jake, you better just ask your father about his tattoo.”
“His what?” Jake sat up straighter and looked back up.
Sisko looked liked he was enjoying himself thoroughly. “When your father was, well, he must have been about your age, come to think of it, there was kind of a craze among the young people for historical fads.”
“Fads?”
“They looked to ancient history for odd things to do. Mostly about fashion or hair or other ways to drive their folks crazy. After all, what else can kids do these days that hasn’t been done already,” he mused. “Hair has had about everything you can think of done to it. Clothes, it’s hard to come up with anything new there, either. Now that- ”
he nodded to Jake “is something I’ve never seen before. Good for you!”
“What kind of fads, Grandpa?”
“Well, one of them was called a ‘tattoo.’ The idea was to get something, usually a picture of some kind, printed on your body. It was very popular in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Or was it the nineteenth? I forget. Anyway, your father came home one day with..., well, let me see. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this.” He leaned back. “You should ask your father.”
Jake looked dubious. “He’s never said anything about that before.”
“You just ask him.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“Oh, that underhanded old man,” muttered Sisko.
“Dad? Is it true?”
His father sighed. “Yes, Jake, it’s true. It was a foolish and childish thing to do. I didn’t think about it very much. It was an impulsive thing that I did for only one reason.”
“What?”
Sisko seemed lost in thought, but for a moment, a quick smile played across his face. In an instant it was gone, replace by that “father” expression that was so annoying. “I was young, and kids do stupid things.” He snorted. “At least I have that excuse. I was a kid. Now, Julian, on the other hand...”
“Julian? You mean Dr. Bashir? Does he have a, a tattoo, too,” asked Jake, stumbling a bit over the words. He forgot to be angry at the blatant hypocrisy, he was so surprised. He didn’t notice that the conversation was veering away from his father’s youthful indiscretion.
His father beamed. “I know. Why don’t you go ask him?”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“A what?”
“A tattoo. Is it true? My dad said…”
Dr. Bashir looked indignant. “No, it’s not true. I do not have a tattoo.” He turned away and busied himself with his instruments. Jake sighed, disappointed.
“It’s more of a…brand, really.” Bashir muttered.
“A brand??”
“Well… see, uh, a friend of mine got, uh, well, he got Marked by-”
“ ‘Marked’??”
“…and it was a long time before I could convince him to get rid of it, and in the meantime, it just seemed only fair if I…, uh,…”
Bashir’s face began to redden slightly, as if he’d gotten too much sun, as his words trailed off.
Jake looked puzzled. “Well, roll it up, doc.”
“Hmmm?”
“Your sleeve. Can I see?”
“It’s, uh, not on my arm, Jake.”
“It’s not? Well, where is it?”
“It’s… private.” Bashir, who was leaning back against the bio-bed, shifted his hip away from the edge, looking uncomfortable.
“Oh.” He digested that for a moment, then his eyes widened slightly. He hesitated, then asked, “If it’s so ... ‘private,’ then how did Dad know about it?”
“Not every race has the same sense of modesty and taboos that we do, Jake. They don’t all associate nudity so closely with sexuality,” said Bashir, shifting into his “doctor” voice. Jake could see him relax. “The Betazoids associate nudity with purity, for example. Well, the Akimeras associate nudity with trust. It’s openness, you see? Historically, they proved they were not concealing weapons by meeting enemies naked. Even to this day, ceremonial events are conducted in the nude.”
“And you and Dad...”
“The Akimeras joined the Federation last year. Your father and I were part of the group of Federation representatives at the ceremonies.”
Jake grimaced as he tried not to picture this, then thought about it some more. “Who else was part of that group? Was Jadzia? Was-”
Bashir gave him a stern look, and he broke off.
Jake tried another tactic. “Well, what is it, anyway? Oh, wait, I bet I know. It’s that, what do you call it, that doctor symbol, right? That capacious. Only you have the snake uncoiling from the stick, right? And it’s hissing and rearing up and-”
Bashir smiled. “No, Jake. It’s not a caduceus.”
“Oh. Well, what is it?”
“It’s a phrase, actually, in, uh, a foreign language.”
“A phrase?” Jake looked dubious. “Well, what does it say?”
A strange look came over Bashir’s face, half smile and half something else. His eyes seemed to drift out of focus, as if he were lost in thought. “It’s private.”
“Oh.”
“It’s not easy to explain. It has... layers of meaning. It’s complex.” Bashir’s eyes came back into focus and he looked earnestly at Jake. “It’s really quite literate.” He seemed to be trying to convince him of something.
Jake said nothing, but he scratched his arm absently.
Bashir instantly returned his eyes to Jake’s arm. “Let me take a look at that, Jake.”
Jake pushed the sleeve up and Bashir peered at the band of fur.
“It itches a little, doc.”
“Hmm. Well, that’s natural, immediately after a graft. It should settle down in a few days. Shall I take a closer look?”
“No, that’s OK.” Jake rolled the sleeve back down.
Bashir’s face took on that funny, far-away look again. As Jake turned to go, Bashir rubbed the back of his hip as he repeated, “Literate. Sure. You could say that. At least it’s not obvious and juvenile, like Miles’...”
Jake turned back. “Chief O’Brien has a...???”
Bashir’s face cleared and he turned back to Jake with a wide grin.
“Ask him to show it to you. Ask him to make her dance.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“He told you what? Why, that little snitch! The next time we play darts, I know what I’ll be aiming for... Look, Jake-” he gestured to a chair in which Jake sat, listening closely. “I was undercover, see? My assignment was to infiltrate a criminal organization. The head of the group was beginning to trust me. In fact, he had just decided that I was to be let into his inner circle. We all went out together. He’s the one who suggested we all get ‘em...” O’Brien shook his head. “Besides, we were all drinking pretty hard that night. I don’t think I could have objected, even if I’d wanted to. If I hadn’t already been a champion drinker myself, I -”
“Can I see it?”
O’Brien hesitated. “I don’t think so, Jake. It’s not like you’re a child or anything,” he added quickly. “I just... don’t feel comfortable showing it.”
“You mean it’s that bad?”
“Bad?! Of course it’s not bad! It’s... pretty.”
Pretty? Right. “Chief,” Jake shook his head with disgust. “I’m not six years old like Molly, you know. It’s a girl, right?”
O’Brien smiled. “Well, a woman,” he agreed. “A beautiful and very friendly woman. Nothin’ wrong with that, is there?” He watched with amusement as Jake tried on a leer.
“Well, it must be extreme, if you don’t want to show me,” Jake challenged him. “Bashir said you could make her dance.”
“Extreme?” O’Brien looked indignant. He said nothing about dancing. “It’s not extreme in any way. Why, it’s practically a work of art.” He looked genuinely insulted. “Extreme! What am I, Worf?”
“Worf?”
“If you want something to send chills down your spine, then you go see Worf. Just don’t tell him I said so.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Worf looked at Jake. His eyes were unreadable, but his deep voice was mild.
“Yes, I have an emblem on my body. It is a tradition, after the Rite of Ascension, to celebrate with some permanent reminder of the importance of conducting oneself with honor.”
“Can I see it?”
“Certainly.” Worf pulled the neck of his uniform aside and revealed his left shoulder. Jake looked eagerly, leaning in close. He could see the most vicious creature he’d ever seen. It was big and shaggy, with huge teeth. As he watched, it seemed to look right at him and snapped its jaws, snarling. Jake jumped back in surprise, then tried to look casual.
“Wow. What is it?”
“It is a sabre bear, a dangerous carnivore from Qo’noS.” He looked at it with affection. The beast seemed to look at him in response and snarled again, but in a gentler-sounding tone. Or so it seemed to Jake.
Worf re-adjusted his uniform. “It is the mark of a young adult Klingon, ready to begin the life of a warrior. It is a symbol of honor.”
Jake rubbed his fur. He hoped the itching would go away soon.
Worf regarded the young man for a moment, then said, “I like yours. It suggests courage. In order to endure the pain of receiving this, you have proven-” Jake shook his head. “What? There was no pain? Oh. Then what was the point?” Jake shrugged. The smallest smile played on the corners of Worf’s mouth. “Well, at least you have chosen a worthy creature to emulate. Warriors often use such totems. It’s not entirely frivolous. Or decadent.” His eyes darkened, but seemed to shine. “Not like Jadzia’s. Hers has no other purpose other than to incite...” A smile re-appeared. A dangerous-looking smile.
“Jadzia?! A tattoo?! What does a Trill need with a tattoo? And where exactly is it...?” Jake asked eagerly.
The smile disappeared and Worf growled, “Forget I mentioned it. Do not speak of it to Jadzia. Ever.” He glared at Jake, eyebrows lowered.
Jake nodded and gulped. He thought he could hear the sabre bear snarling.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“Root beer, please, Quark.”
Jake scratched his fur again.
“Here you go. So. That’s what all the fuss is about.” Quark looked at the fur with a thoughtful expression. “You say it’s all the rage? How much did you pay for it? Do you remember the name of the shop? I wonder...” He started punching buttons on a nearby PADD.
Jake took a sip of his drink. “Well, I’ve sure learned some interesting things about some of the grownups around here.” He shook his head. “You must be the only one who hasn’t done something like that, Quark.”
“Hmm?” Quark looked up. “Oh, I have something.”
“You do?”
“It’s right here.” Quark tapped his chest, right over his heart. “It’s the symbol for latinum. I got it when I made my first profit with someone who wasn’t a relative. My parents were so proud.”
Jake stared at him, then scratched again. The itching was driving him crazy. Suddenly, he couldn’t stand it another minute. He beckoned for the PADD and thumbed for his drink, then pushed off the stool. “Thanks, Quark.”
Quark had resumed his calculations. “Don’t mention it,” he mumbled.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“Doc?”
“Oh, Jake.” Bashir almost jumped, and quickly snapped off the viewscreen.
Jake got a fleeting impression of Garak before the screen went dark. He thought he recognized what Garak was holding.
Bashir seemed nervous. “Back again?”
“Yeah. Hey, Doc, do you ride?” Jake was intrigued. He was quite a fair equestrian himself.
Bashir’s ears turned bright pink. “Excuse me?” he squeaked.
“I said, do you ride?”
Bashir just stared at him, as still as a bulkhead. Jake shook his head, wondering if the doc was addled. He had sure been acting strange lately. “Ride?” he tried again, helpfully. “Horseback riding, you know? I saw Mr. Garak had a crop, so I thought you might be going riding together.” Bashir took a breath, and seemed to be able to move again. He still didn’t answer, though. Jake, amused by this display of total idiocy, decided to keep going until he got an answer. “So, do you ride?”
“I ... have ridden, on occasion,” answered Bashir so carefully that Jake was beginning to be concerned.
This behavior was just too weird, so Jake just decided to ignore it. He held out his arm, pushing the sleeve up. “Uh, doc, would you take a look at this? I think the itching is getting worse, not better.”
“Certainly.” Bashir seemed to be relieved to return to “doctor” mode. He gestured to the bio-bed and picked up an instrument. Jake studied him surreptitiously for more signs of craziness.
“Well, the skin around the graft looks fine. Let’s just take a closer look here... Oh!”
“What? What is it?”
Bashir straightened up. “I know why it’s itching. Young man, I hate to tell you this... but you have fleas.”
“Fleas?” Jake chirped, his voice breaking.
“Yes. Fleas. I can give you a powder...”
Jake shook his head. “Doc? Can you just take it off?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It somehow doesn’t seems quite as genius as it did a few days ago.”
Bashir turned to chose his instruments. He was a bit distracted, though. He had an appointment in a few hours. Sort of a language lesson, as it were. He would be demonstrating his understanding of a few specific Cardassian phrases. There were shades of meaning to the phrases. He hoped he could live up to them. He’d better not forget the regenerator this time. Perhaps he should have a protein drink, first...
Jake watched the dusky glow spread up the back of Bashir’s neck. What the heck was that about? He snorted. If they all did stuff like this, it must be pretty lame.
Maybe he should look into some other of those archaic fads... He wondered if he could replicate something he had seen called a Harley. He was pretty sure none of the adults here had one. That sounded glide...