January Afternoon

Few things were more pleasant than a squashy overstuffed sofa, a warm synthetic blaze crackling in the holo-fireplace, fresh snowflakes in the fairyscape of white outside, and a book in one's hand, Montgomery Scott reflected happily to himself. Many of his fellow crewmen tended to forget that, while the engineer loved his whirring and clanking machines, he also had an appreciation for literature (even of the non-technical-journal kind), and a heart full of warmth towards the galaxy's fauna and landscapes, particularly those of his beloved homeland. Scotland was snowy and cold(er) this time of year, but his and his "bairnie's" high-tech cottage was snug and immensely comfortable, and the shaggy cows and fuzzy foxes and other "beasties" outside had their thick fur and dens to keep them warm, just as they had through time immemorial.

Scotty had both feet propped up in fuzzy green socks, and was leafing contentedly through his book, a 22nd-century classic about a young boy from the nearby area in medieval times. Unlike many novels set during Scotland's past, it didn't center on historical warfare or political struggles, but rather on a youth's simple quest to win the esteem of his fellow clansmen. Right now they were in the middle of a stag hunt.

Orin, meanwhile, was hunting quite different creatures, and in a very different manner. The child loved old-fashioned books as much as her adoptive parent, bless her--even with all the books-on-PADD available, she appreciated having bound copies of poem collections and wildly colorful childrens' adventures there on her tiny bedroom shelves. But she also enjoyed the hologames that more modern times had brought. While Scotty tinkered, Orin *played* with technology. The little Dinarian was currently propped up at the main computer station of their small home, swinging her legs back and forth and clattering happily at the keys.

"Oooo! Oooo ooo! I got one! *I got one!*" the child suddenly bounced up and down in the seat happily. "Lookit Unca Scotty, lookit! It'sa Nowbee!"

Scotty propped himself up from the couch, smiling patiently, keeping place in his book with his thumb. "Och, a Nowbee? Now what's that be, Dairlin'?"

Orin moved over and twirled the chair around slightly to show her "Unca" the sparkly, snowball-like virtual creature. "It's one o' the Fuzzbuggles," she peeped, beaming quietly.

Scotty's eyes crinkled warmly as he saw the frankly adorable little face on the screen. It was peeping and jumping as happily as Orin. "Fuzzbuggles" were catchable and trainable fantasy animals in a hologame that had been around for a few decades. It was one of many "monster raising" childrens' games, a genre that had been around for well over two centuries by then.

"Demora caught one last week," Orin added almost breathlessly in further explanation. "Hers is named 'Yuki'. She says it's Japanese for 'snow'."

So that's what the lassies had been up to lately, chatting over their home computers so much. Scotty was vaguely aware that Orin had joined the same hologame as Sulu's daughter, but he'd been wondering why she'd been asking so often to climb up on the console station and send so many transmissions to Japan lately. Apparently the girls were competing, in a friendly sort of way.

"Well, he looks mighty happy for ye to've caught 'im, Bairnie," Scotty chuckled softly, reaching to pet the hologram creature that had "materialized" in the special, touchable box at the side of the main screen. It was a rather new and exciting technology, at least for private homes. The virtual "Nowbee" cooed almost like a tribble as its data registered his touch, and then sneezed what appeared to be a puff of pixelated snowflakes. Scotty couldn't help but chuckle again--what a cute game Orin had managed to find.

"Unca Scotty? What's the Scottish word f'r 'snow'?" the child suddenly asked.

"Ye mean in th' ancient language? Weel, best I remember, me auld Granpa had several Gaelic words fer 'snow'... comin' from a place where snow falls so often, ye ken, the Scots have had a lot o' ways o' talkin' aboot the stuff, be it the chilly-'n'-slushy or puffy-'n'-fluffy sort," Scotty explained to her, rubbing his plump jowls musingly.

Orin was already consulting the station's encyclopedia. "Comput-er?" she gave a friendly, and necessarily small, bark at the console, due to her teeny voicebox--still, Scotty couldn't help but swell with paternal pride at the way she had imitated his voice. Thankfully their household machine was much more fluent and responsive than that primitive box they'd encountered during their time-traveling adventure, a few years before.

"Computer, look up the Scottish word f'r 'snow'? Please?" Orin finished her request, Scotty smiling even more now at how his daughter had sweetly addressed even a computer with politeness.

"Work-ing..." its mechanical chirp answered her, then reported (while bringing up a larger article page on the screen), "Taking in-to account both Scots-Gaelic and regional ver-nac-u-lar terms, Scot-land has o-ver four hundred words for 'snow'."

Orin's mouth dropped open, her tiny hands almost slipping from the keyboard. Scotty clapped a meatier hand over his own mouth to stop the spluttering giggle from erupting, but to no avail.

"Over *four-hundred*! OVER FOUR-HUNDRED!" he suddenly burst into lilting chortles, falling over on the carpet. Even *he* hadn't realized the list would be *that* long!

Scotty must have been in an even jollier mood than normal, for somehow the simple shock of that fact had tickled him to the core. His own mirth was quick to infect his bairnie too. The wee Dinarian's eyes twinkled merrily as she saw her guardian rolling on the floor, his ample belly jiggling around like a bouncey ball. Soon she was giggling up a storm, half of her tiny frame draped over the back of her chair for support. One of the joys the little family held so dear was how the happiness of one could affect the other, even over the simplest thing.

Still, Scotty hoped he hadn't unintentionally hurt his child's feelings, laughing so much at her quandary. He pulled himself up and ruffled her head, kissing the top of it. "Why don't ye jest name 'im 'Snowflake'?" the old engineer suggested sensibly, with a warm but much calmer chuckle this time.

"Okay," Orin peeped with another, also quieter giggle of her own, brown irises still twinkling.

Scotty hummed and headed to the kitchen to check on the baking butterscotch rolls, while Orin started petting "Snowflake" and getting him ready for his first contest.

~~~

Inspired, as you may have guessed, by playing Pokemon lately, but also by having the same experience as Orin (minus addressing the computer by voice, of course) with looking up "Scottish word for snow." I'm not sure why, but I suddenly saw Scotty getting absolutely tickled pink over that in my mind, and it was such a happy image, I just had to draw and write it.

(As always, this is a work of fanart + fanfiction. Orin is my personal Star Trek fancharacter, and her species, the Dinarians, are also from my imagination. Oh, and I suppose "Snowflake" and the "Fuzzbuggles" are now too. )