Tarik decided to explore the amusements the SS Decadence had to offer while waiting for dinner at 1900 hours. As it so happened, the Decadence lived up to its name.
Tarik and Kassia found between them four separate buffet lines running on the ship, offering cuisine from all over the Federation and surrounding environs. Most of the wealthy, overfed matrons and patriarchs were steering well clear of the Klingon buffet line, Tarik noted, although their sons and daughters were somewhat less inhibited about their culinary preferences. He held back his laughter as he saw one young man gag on a mouthful of gagh.
~That wasn't a very nice thought!~ Kassia thought at him.
~It's not a very nice dish, trust me!~ Tarik thought in reply. ~You have to be either very drunk or very stupid to try those if you're not Klingon. He looks to be both, and it's not even noon!~
The younger people proved to be less inhibited as well when it came to the swimming areas. One pool on board the Decadence was designated as all-nude and screened off from the rest of the ship. There were a total of four swimming pools on board: in addition to the nude swimming area, there was one that simulated an Earth coral reef, with blood-warm waters and live tropical fish, one that simulated an Arctic ice floe, for more daring (or insane) humans and races that preferred cold temperatures, and a regulation Olympic swimming pool with lane markers for serious competition or exercise.
"We'll have to try one of these later on," Kassia said.
"You can keep the Arctic pool! The sauna looks nice, though!" Each pool came complete with co-ed saunas and steam rooms.
Rather than standard carpeting, Tarik noted that many of the decks were overlaid in genuine teak. As much of the atmosphere of 19th and 20th century Earth cruise ships as possible had been preserved aboard this vessel -- as it turned out, a converted surplus demilitarized Excelsior-class starship. The extra redundancies and systems required by a military starship had been gutted, freeing up a lot of extra room which went toward the luxuries discriminating cruise ship passengers demanded.
A traditional shuffleboard game was taking place at one end of the ship. Tarik had read that there was a null-gravity version of the game which was much more fast-paced. I'll have to try that as well. There was so much to sample that he was afraid of not getting to all of it.
They passed by the library, where several Vulcans and older humans were engaged in a spirited debate, to the childcare center where Tiyanna was busy with a dozen other children her age of various races building a castle with oversized construction blocks. She waved happily as she saw her foster parents pass.
"It looks like someone's having a good time!" Kassia commented as she waved back.
"That smile alone is worth the money," Tarik said. "I've got a feeling we may not be able to get her out of there come dinner time!"
The casino unfortunately was off-limits to Kassia: no telepaths allowed, to ensure the integrity of the gaming. Tarik learned that the cruise line, like most companies operating legitimate gaming establishments, employed telepaths as part of their security to ensure that no one with enhanced mental powers was taking advantage of the house or other players. Just as well, since he cared little for games of chance in any case.
"Sir, if I may have a word with you," a voice interrupted them.
"What can I do for you, Mr.--"
"Walter Donaldson, Federation News Network. You are the famous Colonel Tarik, are you not?" he asked, rather louder than Tarik would have preferred. Several other passengers in earshot turned and began commenting.
"That is correct, Mr. Donaldson. However--"
"I just wanted to ask you a few questions regarding the Mulluran Campaign. Your insight--"
"Mr. Donaldson, I am on holiday with my family. I would be happy to grant you and your network an exclusive interview in two weeks' time aboard Starbase 901 if you wish, but for the time being the war is the last thing we really want to be thinking of."
The reporter looked a little ashamed. "Ah, I see. I understand completely. Here's my card, give me a call when you're ready."
Tarik took the card with a nod. The reporter vanished.
"He seemed polite enough," Kassia said. "I think he understood he'd overstepped his bounds."
"Better than most of them. If he hadn't have backed off, he'd have gotten no interview from me!" The reporter had behaved courteously and professionally. Tarik made a mental note to call for the interview as soon as his leave was over. That would give him a chance to consult with Starfleet Public Affairs as well. The last thing he wanted was to say something on the record that could cause a problem!
Before long, it was time for dinner. A steward came by their quarters and escorted them to Captain Steubenberg's table. They were the first to arrive. Steubenberg was an older human, wearing the same white uniform as the rest of the crew but with substantially more braid and insignia. He reminded Tarik of a military dictator of some isolationist, underdeveloped world.
The man behind the uniform, however, was for real. Steubenberg proved to be ex-Starfleet, having served as a helmsman aboard the USS Helsinki during the Dominion War before being retired on disability. He joined the cruise line because he just couldn't get the stars out of his blood. "It'll be good to have a couple of people who know what's really going on at this table tonight," Steubenberg said. "You wouldn't believe how incredibly old it gets listening to some of these old farts who think they can just buy the galaxy and set it to rights!"
"We're just trying to get away from the war for a while," Kassia explained. "It's been a long time for both of us, and Tiyanna's never been away from it."
"Oh, I'm not just talking about that! I'm talking about real people, who know what it's like to get their hands dirty. People who work for a living!"
Tarik restrained himself from commenting that several hundred such people were currently residing in Third Class. Farmers, prospectors, and their families were just a little too real for the likes of Steubenberg, he perceived.
~The man's playing a game~ Kassia thought to Tarik. ~He thinks that we can improve his social standing, although I think a part of him really is craving deeper conversation.~
~I figured as much. It wouldn't hurt us to play along for one night.~
After twenty minutes seated at the table with five pairs of the Federation's elite, Tarik could see why Steubenberg would be craving deeper conversation. Captains of industry and scions of inherited money giving their opinions about 'the way things should be.'
"I think it's simply lovely that you two thought of adopting one of the war orphans," one wealthy matron commented to Tarik and Kassia. "Edgar and I have thought of adopting one ourselves!" she said, speaking as though she were thinking of purchasing a pet.
"There are certainly enough to go around," Tarik said. "And I'm sure you could provide a happy, loving, supportive home," he continued, not quite looking the woman in the eye. More than likely any child adopted by this couple would end up being raised by servants to become a servant herself.
"You should contact the station. There are at least five dozen there alone! The colonists have taken in as many as they can, but there's only so much they can do!" Kassia added.
"Yes, I think it's rather noble that the working classes can shoulder that burden!" 'Edgar' added. The subject of war orphans was dropped, and Kassia was sure that it would probably never be mentioned again by either Edgar or his wife.
"What the Mulluran Sector needs is proper economic development!" H. Pierpont Dupree, founder of Dupree Consolidated, said without prompting. "I think their new leader -- Francona, isn't it? -- has the right idea! Take the unemployed and force them to work!"
Better known as slavery, Tarik thought. "Francona's ideas are strikingly similar to those of 20th century fascism on Earth. I doubt very seriously that they will profit the Mullurans in the long run."
"Ah, Colonel, but they're a different society entirely! Perhaps it will work for them! I think he's just showing good business sense, by not allowing his worker resources to go unutilized!"
Tarik looked down at Tiyanna, who had suddenly stopped eating. Previously she had attacked her Chicken Cordon Bleu with gusto. "Are you okay?" he asked.
Tiyanna reached up to Tarik's ear and whispered into it. "That man is bad. He thinks bad thoughts. He doesn't know what it was like."
Tarik whispered back. "I know. He's a fool who thinks he knows everything. But the polite thing is to just let him make a fool of himself and not say anything." While he said that, he thought at Kassia. ~She doesn't need to hear this crap.~
~I was just thinking the same thing. Cover for us, would you?~
Kassia and Tiyanna left the table. "Kassia wanted me to give you our apologies. It seems our daughter isn't quite used to such rich food after years in a slave labor camp."
The entire table went silent. Pierpont visibly blushed.
"So, has anyone seen the stock figures for Amalgamated Dilithium? Ever since the collective bargaining agreement was approved by their board of directors, it would appear that both production and their stock have tripled!" Tarik said happily, attempting to both change the subject and make a point.
As rapidly as the mood had gone quiet, it had reasserted its jovial, superficial self...
"I didn't like those people," Tiyanna said. "They weren't really nice. They pretend at being nice, but on their insides they're cold."
"I know, honey..." Kassia comforted. "You know what I think we'll do since we missed dessert? I think when we get back to the room, we both take nice warm baths, slip into our nightgowns and order something really sweet from room service! What do you think?" Kassia asked with a twinkle in her green eyes.
Tiyanna immediately brightened. "That sounds yummy!!" she replied with enthusiasm.
Kassia laughed. But then, as they walked down the corridor toward their stateroom, she suddenly couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. She looked down at Tiyanna and she could see the feeling mirrored in her little girl's eyes. As she turned her head and looked behind them as they continued to walk she saw no one. But then, as she took another step, she was hit with a strong vision. She saw a man dressed as a steward carrying a phaser. As fear shot through her, it was Tiyanna that calmed her down in her peaceful way.
"It's okay, Momma. Bad men can't hurt us if we can see them... You know that."
With that, she smiled down at her daughter. But she couldn't help taking one more worried glance behind her.
Tarik did not stay for dessert. The mood was growing too superficial, too utterly self-absorbed for him. He gave his respects and returned to the stateroom. A steward was shadowing him the whole way. Tarik knew that ship's officers were often assigned to escort people back to their quarters -- women or children traveling alone, the elderly, or those who simply wanted company. But he fell into none of those categories, and the steward was making a very bad attempt at concealing himself.
Tarik ducked into a corner and waited for the steward to round the corner. As the steward came around, Tarik tripped him and pinned him to the ground. "Okay, pal, what's your game?" he asked.
The steward smiled, gurgled a bit, and passed out. Tarik checked the man's pulse. He was dead.
He frisked the body and found a small phaser concealed in the man's pocket. Tarik summoned another steward. "Get me the Captain and the Master-At-Arms, quickly!"
The two officers appeared within moments. "This man was trailing me on the way to my stateroom. I accosted him but he apparently killed himself. I found this on his person," Tarik said, handing the phaser to the Master-At-Arms.
"Get Dr. Stavenger at once!" Captain Steubenberg ordered the steward. "Colonel, have you had any threats made upon your life of late?" the Master-At-Arms asked.
Tarik explained that he was a long-standing target of the Tal Shiar. The Master-At-Arms produced a tricorder -- an older Federation model but still adequate for cruise ship security -- and scanned the body. He then addressed the captain.
"Sir, this man is a Romulan, surgically altered to appear human. I recommend that we gather the entire ship's staff in the main ballroom and scan them individually. Who knows how many more agents they may have on board?"