Gun Brookes Advent Calendar 2012

Star Trek Voyager /Devil Wear Prada – Crossover

Dangerous by Design

Door 7


The bar was like nothing Seven had ever seen. Standing behind Kathryn and Miranda, she gazed around the Minya’ar club. Crystals, rare metals, adorned most of the walls and furniture. It would’ve given a cold expression, but the pulsating lights made it warm, inviting. Even sensuous. No doubt that was the intention.

A hostess walked up to them, smiling brilliantly. “Welcome to the Minya’ar, ladies.” She motioned with her hand. “Dining section or the stage area?”

“Stage area,” Miranda said.

“Certainly.” The woman, dressed in a glittering dress and with her hair in the most intricate braid Seven had ever seen, led the way. Soon they assumed their seats around a tall table by the stage that was really a long, winding runway. The hostess took their cocktail orders and hurried toward the bar, no doubt encouraged by the look Miranda gave her.

“There,” Kathryn murmured and motioned with her head toward one of the gilded cages dangling from the tall ceiling.

It took Seven a moment to recognize the shy and stumbling ensign she had found infuriatingly slow and inaccurate when it came to her work performance aboard Voyager. Here, Tal Celes was dressed in a miniscule golden garment, a sort of bikini, and was dancing provocatively to the sensual music. Every now and then she caressed herself, even her breasts, which Seven found equal parts curious and intriguing. She had never frequented an establishment such as Minya’ar, and certainly not seen anything like this in public.

“She’s stunning.” Miranda nodded approvingly. “I’d say she has the look that easily lends itself to change, depending on outfit and makeup.”

“Who would’ve guessed that our little awkward ensign could transform into this?” Kathryn smiled wistfully. “I did see her grow tremendously the last year aboard Voyager. I guess her development curve went straight up.”

“I’ll say,” Miranda said.

The hostess approached with the drinks and Kathryn turned to her with a confident smile.

“We’d like to talk to the girl dancing over there.” She pointed at the cage.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Golden Butterfly doesn’t perform in private. She only dances out here in the club area.”

“No, you misunderstand. We want to talk to her. Out here. In public.” Miranda nailed the hostess with what Seven had named her ‘evisceration’ glare.

“Certainly. Of course. I’ll tell her.” The hostess, several shades paler scurried off.

Seven sipped her glass after removing an odd and superfluous little paper umbrella. “She sees us,” She followed Tal as she climbed down the chain to the floor, avoided skillfully the groping hands of an inebriated man and the cat calls from a table where four women sat.

“Cap—Admiral Janeway,” Tal said as she reached their table. “It’s been a while.”

“It has.” Kathryn smiled and motioned to the chair next to Miranda. “I understand from Admiral Neyachev that you are the best person to assist us in our mission.”

“If you mean I’m the best person to introduce you to Maladorian’s next in command, I think there’s something you need to know.” Tal spoke in a low voice, carefully glancing around them. “Nash Forster and I didn’t exactly part on good terms.” She snorted and leaned back, a pained expression ghosting across her face. “She might actually kill me on sight.”


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