Activities, Nocturnal and Otherwise By Astra Admiral Necheyev was almost asleep when the moaning started. Again. She sighed with frustration and rolled onto her side, turning her back on her companion. *Twenty minutes,* she thought with disgust. *And now he's snoring away.* From overhead the sounds continued and she checked the chronometer, just to torture herself. *They've been at it nearly three hours. I don't hear _him_ snoring.* There were more sounds from overhead - definitely not snoring. Alynna buried her head under the pillow and scowled, just barely resisting the urge to kick her partner. *So much for younger men!* It really didn't help that there was no soundproofing in this hotel. Just what she should expect in a place like this. If it weren't absolutely necessary for her to attend this conference she wouldn't get within ten star systems of this backwater mudball. The noises overhead changed again, growing louder and more urgent. Alynna tossed the pillow away, surrendering to the absurdity of it all. It wouldn't be so bad if she didn't know who was making all that noise. That she had absolute proof of one of the fleet's longest-standing rumors was little comfort right now. Her companion shifted, snoring loudly. She gave him a shove and felt some satisfaction as he tumbled onto the floor. *Serves him right.* Undisturbed he kept snoring. Overhead the moaning continued. Alynna flopped back onto the bed and let out a moan herself. She just knew that somewhere, someone was having a laugh at her expense. ***** She lingered over breakfast, having sent her partner off somewhere with instructions not to hurry back. She had filled her sleepless night with plotting. Not as satisfying as the activities going on above her, but something she fully intended to enjoy. *There.* They walked close together, not quite touching. His manner gallant as he held the chair for her, then seated himself. They were smiling at each other, chatting. It certainly didn't look as if they'd had no sleep. Still, she had heard them, and now she had to let them know, to somehow gain the upper hand again. She'd been annoyed by the constant rumors of her favorite captain's association with her least favorite medical officer. Until now she was sure that the rumors were just that… unfounded. But now, with proof at hand, she had to decide how best to use it. There were still things she wanted from Jean-Luc Picard. Now she had the means to get them. She waved a waiter over and ordered more coffee and a croissant, smiling at the irony of it. From her table in the corner she had a perfect view of them, but they had yet to notice her. She waited a while, watching them become more openly affectionate. Good. She propped her tiny data recording unit against a water glass, making sure it was properly aligned to capture all of the couple's movements. She was too far away to make out their conversation, but the actions were clear enough. Didn't that woman ever get enough? They leaned closer, ready to kiss. Alynna checked the recorder again to be sure it got everything… "Admiral Necheyev!" "What?" She snapped at the ensign. She'd been so intent on watching the couple she hadn't noticed his arrival. "The information for today's meetings, sir." The man moved directly in front of her, standing at attention… directly in front of the recorder. "Yes, yes. Fine. Dismissed." Alynna motioned, trying to get him to move before he ruined everything. "But sir." "Dismissed." He hesitated another moment before wilting under Necheyev's glare. "Yes sir." As he turned to leave, he bumped into someone, then, realizing who it was, snapped into formal stance again. "Captain Picard. Dr. Crusher." "You may go, Ensign." Picard stated, allowing the man to leave before turning towards the table where Necheyev sat. "Admiral Necheyev, what a pleasant surprise." "For you, perhaps, Picard. If you'll excuse me." Putting on her iciest manner, Necheyev gathered her materials and left. "Well that went rather well." Beverly stated. "Yes." Jean-Luc agreed. "Exactly as planned." ***** The idea came to her in the middle of her second sleepless night. She'd sent her companion home on a slow transport ship and wasn't sad to see him go. She had more important things to concentrate on. The data recording had been ruined by that brainless ensign, as had all her other attempts to capture visual proof that the captain and doctor were more than just good friends. It wasn't just her personal feelings about Picard or Crusher that were at stake here. She finally admitted the truth to herself. There was something much more important- the largest betting pool in Starfleet history would go to the person who came closest to guessing the date when there would be conclusive proof that this particular couple were romantically involved. If she could get that proof, not only would she be the hero of Starfleet, but since she had choosen this date, she'd also win the all that latinum. Then she could finally retire and open that exotic lingerie boutique she'd always dreamed of owning. She just had to get proof. "Ooooooooohhhhhhhhh Jean-Lucccccccccccc." *Oh brother.* She scowled up at the ceiling wishing laryngitis, bad hair and other unpleasant things on the doctor. A mere CMO had no business having that much fun. Something landed hard on the floor above, followed by another thud and more moaning. It gave her an idea. Now all she needed was to wait until morning. She was so pleased with herself that she barely noticed the noises for the rest of the night. ***** Years of bullying her way through Starfleet paid off again as she implemented her plan. It was child's play to intimidate the poor hotel worker into letting her into their room, and even easier to get back in the next day to retrieve her recorder. She hadn't been disappointed by last night's antics either. If anything, the couple was louder and more athletic than either of the previous evenings. The recording should prove most interesting. She might even learn a few things. Now all she had to do was get back to HQ and decide the best way to share her proof. She could almost feel all that latinum. It surprised her to see Picard and Crusher waiting in the lobby. She acknowledged them coldly and accepted their good-byes before boarding the transport for her ship. It wasn't until much later that she began to suspect- ***** "That really wasn't very nice, Beverly." "Whatever do you mean, Jean-Luc?" She was the picture of innocence. "You know exactly what I mean. Putting four hours of arkarian puffrat mating calls on that recorder." "With visuals." She reminded him. "Yes, mustn't forget the visuals." He leaned over to show her a few other things she shouldn't forget but was interrupted by the door chime. "Come in." Beverly called, straightening her top. "Can't you two keep your hands off each other for ten minutes?" The young man asked as he entered carrying a bottle of champagne. "Why should we? Thanks to that holo you took three days ago, we'll be the talk of Starfleet for weeks. And, a certain very fortunate young man will have made a great deal of money." "Not quite so much after you two get your share." He reminded them, opening the bottle and pouring. "But more than enough for you to buy this hotel and the island it sits on." Jean-Luc reminded him, reaching out to take two of the glasses, then handing one to Beverly. "True." He lifted the glass in a toast. "To the winners of the largest betting pool in Starfleet history." "To Walker Keel, for cooking up this plan all those years ago." Beverly replied, returning the toast. "And to Admiral Necheyev, for all the amusement she provides. No matter how unintentional." Jean-Luc countered, offering his own toast. "You know," the young man said, after taking a sip of the champagne. "My uncle would have loved this. You know what he thought of Necheyev." "Wilson, all of Starfleet knew what he thought of Necheyev." "Especially after she threw herself at him and he turned her down. Three times." Beverly laughed. "Why do you think she was always sending his ship into uncharted territories?" "Which is exactly where he wanted to go." Wilson added. "So, what are you going to do with all that latinum?" Jean-Luc looked at Beverly, who smiled. "I wonder how much Starfleet would want for a used starship?" :::end:::