To his left, what used to be the office room was now the Situation Room. A young man dressed as Data was bound to a chair.
As two men in fleet uniforms entered the hallway, they nodded at Ghost. The Dom had a chief medical officer insignia. His boy wore Captain’s rank.
Ghost’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re keeping the captain under your thumb, Doctor?”
The Dom laughed. “Ever since I was a kid, I wanted McCoy and Kirk together…with Bones in charge.”
The very submissive Kirk dropped his gaze under his Master’s slow smile.
Ghost grinned at the Dom. “In that case, beat on Captain Kirk for me, will you? If I’d pulled some of the crap Kirk did, the military would’ve booted my ass out.”
“Colonel, it’ll be my pleasure.” Chortling, McCoy led the poor captain away.
After finishing his walk, Ghost swung by the bar and stopped beside Z. “Admiral.”
“Captain. Excellent theme night.” Z tapped a finger on his chest and gave Ghost a narrow-eyed look…because his black uniform jacket held an overwhelming fruit salad of military medals and ribbons. The brightest ones Ghost could find in the costume store.
“It actually wasn’t my idea. Sally, Josie, and Holt wanted a sci-fi night and bribed me by saying they’d do most of the decorating.”
“They did a fantastic job.” Cullen was dressed as Q, complete with black headgear and a fulsome red robe. “You’re going to get requests from the Star Wars fans, next.” He set a cobalt-blue drink in front of Ghost.
“What the hell is this?”
“Buddy, don’t you recognize Romulan ale? Sure, it’s outlawed in the Federation, but hey, so is half of what we do here.” Cullen grinned. “Josie and I researched recipes. It’s blue curacao, vodka, seltzer, and a squeeze of lemon.”
Ghost tried a sip. “It’s damned good.”
He spotted Saxon approaching. Saxon’s blond hair had disappeared under an odd cap. The bandana around his neck, leather bomber jacket, and red raggedy shirt didn’t come across as futuristic at all.
“Who is he supposed to be?” Cullen asked.
“Ah, he’s Zefram Cochrane who invented the warp drive in 2063,” Josie called as she leaned past Cullen to grab a bottle of gin.
Although not Black, she was dressed as Guinan, the bartender on the Enterprise, wearing dangling earrings, a long, elaborate mahogany dress. Her distinctive Guinan-hat looked like a beret turned into a flat-topped, flying-saucer. She wasn’t Whoopi Goldberg, but she’d caught the style.
“Right, I knew that,” Cullen muttered.
Z’s eyebrows went up. “I believe Cochrane caught a feline in his spacecraft.”
Stepping up to the bar, Saxon had his hand wrapped around a young woman’s nape. She wore cat ears, painted-on whiskers, a fuzzy shirt, and a long tail.
And if a cat could cringe, this one was.
Ghost nodded at Saxon and asked, “Does your kitten have a name?”
Realizing she had Ghost’s attention, the young woman hunched even lower.
“Spot, of course,” Saxon said.
Ghost had to wonder how many Spots—Data’s famous cat—were running amok in the area he’d sectioned off for pet play.
“Did…Spot…misbehave? Your feline doesn’t appear to be happy,” Z commented.
Recognizing Z, the kitten let out a dismayed squeak.
“I told her to meow at a Dom in the pet play area, and she chickened out. Her punishment is to work for an hour.” Smiling evilly, Saxon called, “Got room for another barmaid, Josie?”
Josie was pulling a beer at the other end. She eyed Saxon and the kitten in his grip and half grinned. “Let Q decide where she’ll work. He’s in charge of the waitstaff tonight.”
Cullen’s laugh rang out. “Okay, Spot. You work the section from the very front to the back wall, but only on this side of the bar. If a conversation is intense, don’t interrupt, simply pause for a few seconds in case they want you.”
She nodded and almost whispered, “Take orders, pick up empties, and clean up?”
“No, tiny cat.” Saxon handed her a pad and pencil and frilly apron. “Since there’s more than one of you working there, you are only taking orders. Now get to work.”
She fled.
Chuckling, Saxon told Cullen, “She and her friend joined the club, but she’s too shy to meet anyone. If given the option, she’d spend the entire hour cleaning—and not talk to anyone.”
“We can always use more volunteer waitstaff,” Cullen said.
“Great,” Saxon said. Then, if Spot doesn’t panic, can you…suggest…she sign up for more volunteer hours?”
“Be my pleasure, buddy.”
“Nicely done,” Z said to Saxon.
“Part of the job,” Saxon said, heading away.
Ghost exchanged pleased glances with Z. Master Saxon had impressive skills and power, and he’d always helped with dungeon