her mother had passed away some years previously;
and that she preferred new age music.
Riker feigned being wounded. "I must
introduce you to the joys of real music. This new
age stuff is just noise."
"So what's real music, then?"
He grinned. "Dixieland. Swing. The
big-band era."
"Big band?" she said, sounding puzzled. "You
mean they're excessively tall?"
"I'll explain it later," he said, for he
had spotted the chapel just up ahead.
He saw a number of Betazoids filing in
through the doors, smiling and greeting one another.
It was his first opportunity to see a large number
of them together, and he was struck by the feeling that something
seemed a bit wrong. Then he immediately realized
what it was.
There was hardly any talking.
People would nod, smile to each other, tilt their
heads as if they were listening intently to one another.
But except for the occasional stray ^w of
exclamation, or some random laughter here and there, not
a ^w was spoken.
"They're communicating telepathically, aren't
they?" said Riker in realization as they approached.
"Of course."
"Then this is liable to be a fairly dull
ceremony. Everyone standing around thinking things at
each other and we can't hear them."
"Oh"--Wendy waved off the concern and laughed
--?t won't happen. Weddings are always done out
loud, in consideration of any offworlders who might be
in the audience."
"That's a relief." He thought about it a
moment. "Will I be able to communicate with any of
them? Mentally, I mean? I've never met a
Betazoid ... I'm not sure what's
involved."
"You won't be able to, no. Oh, they'll be
able to pick up on what's going through your mind
easily enough. But for you to send and receive
projections, well ... it's a technique.
It's something that you have to learn, involving mental
discipline and learning how to clear your mind.
Unless, of course, you're dealing with a really strong
telepath."
He looked surprised. "You mean they're not
all equally adept?"
"Of course not. Are all humans equally
intelligent? Equally athletic? Equally
eloquent? No. All Betazoids are
telepathic to some degree. Most can read minds
without too much difficulty. But only a small
percentage are really so powerful, so ...
formidable," she said, for want of a better ^w, "and
they're the ones you have to watch out for. They're the
toughest."
"Toughest?"
"To know how to act around. They're so casual
about their abilities, it's hard to feel like
anyplace inside you is ... I don't know
... safe."
"I'll watch out for that."
They entered the chapel. The air inside was
cool and fresh. They entered a large room where
everyone seemed to be milling about, just conversing ...
or whatever one would call it ... with each other.
Riker looked slowly around the room. It was
fairly plain, although inscriptions written in
Betazed lined parts of the wall. What was also odd
were the recesses all along the side, and dangling
from the recesses were what appeared to be clothes
hangers of some sort. On the floor was a
series of small boxes. Riker idly tapped
one with his toe and the hollow sound confirmed that it was
empty.
Hangers and empty boxes. Probably for
days when the weather was inclement and people brought coats
and such.
At the far end of the room was a set of ornate
doors, closed. Riker presumed that the actual
ceremony would be through there, but they probably
weren't ready yet.
Several of the Betazoids seemed to pick up
on Riker's presence. They looked in his
direction, smiled and nodded. It was as if to say,
We know you're here. Welcome. And then they
went back to their own communications.
Riker had once been to a world where none of the
equipment. They communicated entirely through hand
movements. Riker had been to a party there, and the
silence was positively eerie. The only sound that
had broken the quiet was the slap of skin on skin
as their hands would come together to form certain ^ws.
This wasn't quite as bad as that ... but still, it was rather
disconcerting.
"A little difficult to deal with, isn't it," said
a voice from behind him.
Riker turned and saw a thin but
pleasant-looking Betazoid smiling at him.
"Pardon?" asked Riker.
The Betazoid gestured. "All this. The
quiet communion. You are from Earth, are
you not?"
Riker realized the man knew the answer to the
question already, but was doing Riker the courtesy of
allowing him to answer it. "That's right. Lt.
William Riker."
"Gart Xerx, your host."
"Ah. Congratulations, Mr. Xerx."
""Gart"' will do." Xerx nodded at Riker's
companion. "Good to see you again, Wendy."
"You too, Gart. I'm very happy for you and
Chandra."
"Thank you, Wendy." Xerx indicated the
closed doors with a nod of his head and said, "They
should be ready to start in just a moment or two.
Chandra's quite nervous, of course. She wants
everything about her appearance to be perfect."
"I know how it is," said Riker. "The bride
wants to make sure the dress looks just right."
Gart Xerx smiled politely. "Well ...
that might be true in your culture,
Lieutenant. We don't have that problem,
actually."
"Then you're very fortunate," said Riker.
The edges of Xerx's mouth turned upward
slightly. "You don't know, do you." It wasn't
a question.
"Know what?"
At that moment, the doors at the far end opened.
They moved very slowly and ponderously, and Riker
watched them, interested to catch a glimpse of the
wedding sanctuary within.
It was dazzling, filled from ceiling to floor with
flowers, all exotic and tropical. It seemed
as if a small jungle had been grown inside
the sanctuary specifically for the purpose of the
marriage. Riker caught a whiff of moist air
--obviously the climate was carefully maintained
in order to preserve the flowers to their maximum
advantage.
He turned back to Gart Xerx to compliment him
on the arrangement and was astounded to see that Xerx had
removed his shirt, revealing a bare chest that was
amazingly smooth.
"Excuse me ... what are you doing?" asked
Riker, trying to keep the astonishment out of his
voice. He turned to Wendy to see her
reaction.
What he saw was Wendy's l
ow-cut green
dress even lower than it was before ... namely on the
floor. She was stepping out of it, and
Riker was seeing a lot more of her cleavage than
had been displayed previously ... to be
specific, all of it that there was to see.
His now-nude escort looked up at him with
innocent doe eyes. "What are you waiting for,
W? Musical accompaniment?"
She laughed lightly, turned, and headed toward
the hangers, her dimpled backside swaying
cheerfully back and forth. And now Riker saw,
to his utter shock, that all of the guests were
stripping off their clothes and placing them on the
hangers provided.
Gart, who was naked and holding his clothes
draped over one arm, looked at Riker
sympathetically. "I'm very sorry,
Lieutenant. They should have told you. Perhaps Mark
Roper was concerned that, if you knew, you wouldn't be
interested in attending."
Riker's mouth was working, but at first he couldn't
get any ^ws to come out. Finally he managed
to stammer, "Is this ... standard?"
"Oh, yes," said Gart calmly. "At a
Betazed wedding, the bride, groom, wedding party,
and guests all attend nude."
"Why?"
"To symbolize that, physically and spiritually, there
is nothing to hide. That all are sharing in complete
cooperation in the spirit of harmony and unity."
Riker had a feeling that all the blood had
drained from his face. "Well ..." He cleared
his throat, unsure of what he should do.
Starfleet protocol required cooperation with
local mores and customs wherever possible, so
long as no violation of the Prime Directive was
involved. There was nothing in the Prime
Directive about getting naked in front of over
one hundred strangers, so he was clear on that
score. But even so ...
"Lieutenant," said Gart, trying not to show as
much amusement as he was clearly experiencing.
"If you don't go naked, I assure you, no
one will think the less of you. We believe in not
asking more of an individual than he is capable
of giving. This is a time of celebration, not
embarrassment. Attend the wedding in whatever
manner you will feel the most comfortable."
"I don't want to insult anyone ...," said
Riker uncertainly.
"Nor will anyone take offense. Now, if
you'll excuse me ... I have guests
to attend to." Gart walked to the hangers, leaving
Riker alone in the middle of a room of stripping
people.
Wendy walked back up to Riker and looked
at him reprovingly. She placed her hands on
her hips in a fashion that was probably chosen
to look especially provocative. "What's this,
W? Having trouble? Here ... I'll help."
She reached up to the fastenings on his uniform.
He grabbed her wrists, though not particularly
hard. Through a tight smile he said, "You could have
told me beforehand, you know."
"What?" She looked shocked. "And miss the
opportunity to see your expression?"
"You've seen it. How did it rate?"
"I think you'd look at a firing squad of
Klingons with less trepidation than you're looking
at a bunch of naked people."
"At least with the firing squad, I'd have a bit
of warning."
"Oh, W." Now she was grinning widely.
"Come on. You have nothing to be ashamed of." Then
she paused and raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.
"Do you?"
"No!" said Riker a bit too loudly, so
he repeated, "No," but more softly this time.
"Well then ...?"
"Well, to be honest ..." He put his fingers
to his forehead, trying to figure the best way
to put it. "I've never been in a position where
I'm trying to maintain my dignity and status as
a Starfleet officer without benefit of the uniform
... or anything else."
"Then don't worry about your position.
Worry about joining in the celebration. Look ...
if you don't want to strip, then don't. Come in
anyway."
"Okay. Fine. Thanks for understanding."
He went in with her to the chapel, and the full
fragrance of the flowers wafted through the air. It was
as if he'd stepped out from the city and straight into the
jungle.
Wendy guided him to an aisle seat about
halfway down. He looked around.
Naked people to the right of him, and to the left. In
front and behind.
Everyone seemed utterly casual, even
oblivious of their nudity. No one was tense or
embarrassed. In fact, they seemed even more
relaxed than they had been outside.
Even men and women who, by the standards of the human
ideal, would have been far better served wearing
clothes (if not pup tents) weren't the least bit
bothered by their nudity.
He felt as if everyone were staring at him.
Riker knew they weren't, of course ... but he
felt that way.
Turning to Wendy, he said, "Excuse me
... be right back," and he got up and walked out
before she could ask him where he was going.
She sat there, staring at his empty chair,
no.ing and smiling to the other people, and wondering where in
hell Riker had gone off to. Then she heard
him say, "Thanks for saving my seat."
She looked up and grinned. "So you decided
to join the party after all."
He sat down next to her, not precisely
sure how to place his bare legs. He wound up
just sitting with them flat, his hands on his thighs.
He noted for the first time that the seats were nicely
cushioned, for which he was grateful. Cold metal
would not have been especially appreciated right about
then.
Wendy leaned over and said softly into his ear,
"You were right, by the way ... you have nothing to be
ashamed of."
He liked the tone of her voice as she said it
... it had a certain degree of promise to it.
"Thank you. You're very kind."
She sat back and said, "I'm not sure why you
were so nervous. I mean, what did you think was going
to happen? Women were going to point and laugh?"
"I don't know. It's just a different situation
for me, that's all. I thought people might say things that
made me feel self-conscious."
"Oh, don't be silly. Like what?"
An older Betazoid woman was being guided
toward the front by Gart Xerx. Riker assumed
that it was probably his mother, or perhaps a
great-aunt. She stopped, looked at Riker, and
frowned. "You human men are very hairy. Why is
that?"
Xerx rolled his eyes in mild mortification.
Wendy put her hand over her mouth to cover her
grin.
But Riker, nonplussed, merely said,
"Traction."
Wendy emitted a quick burst of laughter, which
she ju
st as quickly stifled. Xerx was grinning openly.
The old woman looked at Riker through
narrowed eyes and then allowed herself to be led away.
"Traction?" whispered Wendy.
"I had to say something."
"Well, what you said was wonderful. You see?
And you were worried that you wouldn't be able to maintain
your dignity while naked. You handled that in a very
dignified manner."
"Thank you."
Wendy appeared to be sizing him up for a moment,
and then she coyly fingered a strand of his chest hair.
Riker crossed his legs.
At that moment, the ceremony started ... a
moment marked by the sound of a very loud gong.
The lieutenant focused his attention toward the
front of the wedding sanctuary.
The wedding party was entering, and yes, they were naked
as well. From one side of the sanctuary entered the
groom, in the lead, followed by his mother.
To Riker's surprise, the mother was pulling on
his arm, trying to stop him. He ignored her,
taking one implacable step after the other, toward the
middle of the room. Into his path stepped a man
whom Riker assumed to be his father. The father raised
a hand, putting his palm up, signaling the groom
to stop. The groom took his father by the forearm and
shoved him aside ... not roughly, and in fact,
Riker saw that the groom was taking care not to make
the action too violent, for fear of actually
causing the older man to stumble.
"Symbolic, I take it," Riker said in a
low voice to Wendy. She nodded confirmation.
The groom stopped in front of a clergyman
(presumably), who stood dead center of the room
with a long scroll between his hands. They looked off
to the right, and now the parents of the bride entered--the
bride's mother sobbing loudly onto the shoulder of
Gart Xerx. Too loudly--clearly more
symbolism, but Riker thought the mother might be
playing it up just a bit too much even for something that
was supposed to be representational.
And then the bride walked in. The bride ...
Walked ...
Riker blinked in that way people do when they're not
entirely sure they're seeing what their eyes are
telling them they're seeing.
She was gorgeous.
Her eyes were the most luminous that Riker had
ever seen. She held her pointed chin in an almost
aristocratic manner, and her dark hair hung in
thick ringlets around her head. Her
neck was slender, and her figure ... well, as
they said in old detective novels, her body
had the kind of curves that, if you were a car, made