Foreword:
Welcome to Book 3 of Love And War. Jason and Delaara face a few more adventures in this one, and so do their squadron mates! Sex is a bit more prevalent in this story than in the previous books, but I don't think it detracts from the overall plot. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)
I.D.
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The Land of the Risian Sun
Captain Rachael Thatcher had been on birth control tablets for years, since she'd never wanted to have children until she was retired, if even then. She had nearly a year and a half left on this tour. The complication was that now she was pregnant. She looked at her tiny baby bump under her uniform in the mirror and smiled. No matter what happened, and why the birth control had failed, it was a blessing for her. Her husband, Lt. Commander Ryan 'Rash' Rasher put his arms around her from behind.
"I love you, bunny," he said with a smile. "You're the most beautiful mom-to-be in Starfleet."
She turned and kissed him lovingly. "Thank you, darling. At least the morning sickness is pretty much gone."
"That's great, honey! Hey, I just had a thought. Do you think Q had anything to do with your birth control failing?" Rash had his theory.
"It's possible. Maybe trying to make up for making 4 years of our lives mean absolutely nothing?" She shrugged. "Well, if he IS responsible, I think we should thank the bloody wanker."
Captain Rachael Thatcher was born in Suffolk County, England, and raised in the Upper East Side of London. She had attended Oxford before going to Starfleet Academy. Her tours of duty on various starships had seen her receive commendation after commendation. She'd been promoted fairly rapidly, but not nearly as fast as most of the senior Starfighter Pilots on her carrier, the USS Nimitz.
The Quasar Class Carrier was based on the Nebula Class design, with the weapons pod on top of the saucer section replaced by a large three squadron flight hangar deck. Two squadrons launched from the forward hangar, while one squadron launched from the aft hangar. Her pilots had many names for it. The hangar deck, The flight deck, or sometimes just The deck.
"Honestly, honey, I think we might have been a little harsh on him. He did make sure that we could all stay together with none of us dying." He shrugged and smiled.
"You were the one who beat the tar out of him, sweety." Rachael was grinning at the memory of her husband beating the hell out of one of the most powerful beings in existence.
"True, and it did feel good at the time," he agreed with an impish smile. He had enjoyed it quite a bit. He was pissed off. At Q for kidnapping them. At Q for stealing 4 years of their lives that would now have to be replaced. At Q for coming into their Quarters in the middle of the night when they'd only been asleep for a few hours, and he had to use his standard double espresso medium hot to wake up enough to beat the hell out of the all-powerful turd.
"Yeah, on second thought, I don't regret a thing," he shrugged and grinned. "Especially not getting you pregnant, my Captain," he nuzzled her neck.
"Ok, hubby o' mine. We're going to be late for shift." She giggled like a school girl when she thought of him, more than 20 years her junior, loving her more than his own life. The truth was that she felt exactly the same about him, and blessed the day she'd promoted him from Ensign to J.G. and he'd used that horrible, yet somehow charming pickup line on her in 11Forward.
"Yes, dear," he said with a wink and a grin. "Make sure you eat enough for the baby, honey!" He called as he went out the door.
*****
Jason and Delaara stood across the mat from each other, padded short staves in their hands. She was instructing him in the use of Ra'Tra'Ora fighting staves. The short staves were only 60 centimeters long, but when used properly, could disable or even kill an opponent very quickly. She was a 27th degree shonn in the art, but he was a quick learner. Their sparring sessions were exhilarating for both of them.
Jason, for his part, had studied Escrima stick fighting while in High School and Starfleet Academy. The Phillipino martial art wasn't very different than Ra'Tra'Ora. He had surprised her in their first bout when he had actually beaten her handily.
"You've studied Ra'Tra'Ora before!" She had accused him.
"Not a day of it, sweetheart," he'd said in return. She knew he was telling the truth, but she also knew he was holding something back.
"Well, if I win the next round, you will tell me what you did study that was similar, deal?" She'd said it sweetly with a smile.
"Deal, honey," he'd said.
It had taken her two more matches to win one against his Escrima style.
As she had him pinned to the mat with her staves crossed over his throat, he'd finally relented. "Ok, ok. It's called Escrima, and it's a Phillipino martial art from Earth." He'd smiled and shrugged.
She had studied what she could from the Nimitz's database, and had discovered that nearly every Ra'Tra'Ora move had its counterpart in Escrima. There were a few differences. The length and width of the staves was slightly different, and there were a few moves in one art that weren't in the other, and vice versa. Other than that, they were identical martial disciplines.
"Ok, hotshot. One more before shift?" She asked, grinning and breathing heavily. They had a small audience watching their bouts.
"Sounds good to me, sweetheart," he grinned back, breathing a bit heavy himself. He'd beaten her 1 out of 2 so far, and she always wanted 2 out of 3.
They took their places. "Ra shar!" She said, starting the bout. Their sticks moved like lightning, too fast for the untrained eye to follow. Soft clacks of the padded staves hitting each other sounded through the ship's dojo. Alex, Jenny, Roy, Mariel, and Gabrielle were all watching them intently as they duelled.
Jason was getting winded, in spite of his excellent physical shape and wiry muscles. His breathing became even heavier as they duelled back and forth across the mat. Delaara wasn't faring any better. She was coated in a sheen of perspiration, her skin glistening in the long form fitting shorts that came to just above her knee and the tank style halter top she wore. Her bare midriff looked as if it belonged to a warrior goddess.