Onari
Waiting was hell, but it was all B'Elanna could do. Wait for painkillers, wait for real medical attention…wait for news of her husband. Commodore Paris wasn't among the casualties brought in to the overcrowded hospital. No one had seen him since the explosions that devastated the Palace, killing and wounding hundreds. The official casualty count mounted steadily as rescuers searched for victims in the rubble. The likelihood of them finding him alive diminished with every hour.
B'Elanna tried to keep her mind busy, stranded as she was in the hospital bed. She sent Commander Solek on errands back and forth and attempted to contact the Federation Embassy, or the USS Venture, her husband's command for the past nine years, with no success. Anything was better than thinking about Tom lying crushed beneath tons of rubble in the banquet hall.
Frustrating her most was the fact that she couldn't just get up to look for him; she was helpless. Her leg was trussed up in the most primitive splint she'd ever seen, and it hurt like hell. She didn't blame the doctors, they had only the most archaic medical supplies at their disposal, syringes, knives, ether… and they still worked valiantly to save lives. Overrun with casualties, they were stressed to their limits. With all those billions in economic aid the Federation poured into this system, B'Elanna couldn't help but wonder why the Onari government couldn't spare any of it for decent medical facilities.
A clicking sound snapped B'Elanna out of her musings. The door opened and a young nurse peeked her head in through the entryway. The girl's dark hair was disheveled and the small nurse's cap perched precariously on top was inside out. "May I get you anything, Ambassador?"
This was the same nurse who had clumsily bumped B'Elanna's leg when they brought her in on a stretcher, causing B'Elanna to shriek in pain. The poor kid. Judging by her attire, she was probably a nurse's aide and had never experienced a crisis of this magnitude.
A doctor would be nice, she thought, but this girl was clearly too frazzled to be of any real help. "No, thank you. I'm fine," B'Elanna said, hoping her expression didn't belie her true feelings.
Relief eased tense lines in the girl's face. She bobbed once and closed the door.
Letting go a heavy sigh, B'Elanna pushed errant strands of her own hair out of her face and tried once more to contact the Federation Embassy. She flipped open the communicator and uttered a low growl. The primitive devices in the hospital's supply were not efficient enough to break into airwaves now laden with thousands of active communicators vying for airtime. She turned the small frequency dial at the bottom. No signal, just frustrating static. Instead of throwing the ineffective child's toy across the room, as she was wont to do in such circumstances, she used this moment to measure her self-control, laying it ever so gently on the table beside her bed.
That wasn't so hard, she thought, I am a rock.
The door opened again and Solek entered. Aside from the small bandage above his ear, he appeared to have been unscathed in the blast. "I have been in contact with Venture," he said.
"You actually contacted the ship?" She repeated. She knew the Vulcan didn't approve of redundancy but her shock overwhelmed her. "Are they here?"
"They are en route," he replied, "Estimated to arrive in two days."
"Two days!" She lay back on the pillow; she couldn't bear to be in this so-called hospital another minute, let alone two more days.
"The Onari's have sealed off the system," said Solek. "It will take at least that long to get any ships through, perhaps longer. No one is entering or leaving the system until the uprising is abated."
"I should have expected that," B'Elanna said. The meager dose of medication she received at the palace had now completely worn off and the pain in her leg was misery. Her temper flared. "Has anyone found Commodore Paris yet?"
"I spoke with several members of Palace Security." said Solek, "From what few witnesses they could find, they have discerned that he was last seen responding to an urgent call. He'd left the building minutes before the explosions. They have reason to believe he is in the hands of the Shantak Rebels."
"What?" B'Elanna said, sitting up so fast that a fresh wave of pain hit her. "Damn," she hissed and took a calming breath. "Why," she said when the pain momentarily abated. "He didn't have anything to do with the negotiations or the treaty. He was there for me."
"He wore a Starfleet uniform, did he not?" Solek replied. "That in itself would be reason enough."
B'Elanna threw up her hands. "If only I could walk out of here," she said, "Solek, search around. This place should have Federation medical equipment stashed away somewhere. We've been sending supplies for years. Maybe there's an osteotractor or a protoplaser lying around. Something to help speed up my recovery."
He nodded. "I concur with your hypothesis. There may indeed be Federation medical supplies 'lying around'. I will see what I can find." He turned to leave the room.
"Solek," B'Elanna said, suddenly feeling like an overbearing monarch ordering her subject about. "Thank you for helping me."
"I believe the proper response is 'your welcome'," he said, pausing at the door, "but logic would have led me to the same course of action." He closed the door behind him.
Leave it to a Vulcan to deny a proper thank you. She sat back, and for the first time since the attack, she held a glimmer of hope.
Starfleet Academy
There was a light spring in Miral's step as she made her way across campus to Admiral Janeway's office. Things were starting to go right for a change. The weight of the physics exam was off her shoulders and despite T'Paq's threat, Miral believed she'd done better overall than she'd expected. Bishop had thrown her a loop but she handled it. Wow. Just the thought of Bishop made her pulse quicken. She'd never even considered him approachable until now. The best news of all was that her parents were coming home after months of being away. She would convince Dad to get her those new skis she wanted so desperately. Her birthday was only three days away after all; she knew she could soften him up.
Yep, she thought, things are definitely looking up.
She rounded the corner of the Administration building and a commotion brought her out of her reverie. Beyond the gates a throng of reporters had set up camp. Vans full of equipment, cameras and even a few tents were cluttered around the entrance. They looked like they were hunkering down to stay a while. This was the first time she'd ever seen the gates closed to outsiders. She paused when she saw the guard with a phaser rifle in his arms, strange to see a weapon so prominent and close to civilians.
Several of the reporter's hov-cams jetted about unmanned taking random video of anything that moved. Miral remembered those awful things from when she was little. The press followed her everywhere back then just because she was born on Voyager at the precise moment it so miraculously returned from the Delta Quadrant. She froze; one of them had turned its lens on her.
"Come inside quick," said a woman's voice. An older woman at the admin doors gestured with quick hands for Miral to move.
When Miral stepped through and the doors slid closed behind her, she felt as if she'd just narrowly escaped a hunter's trap.
"Those hounds are coming after everyone who tries to enter the building. Don't worry dear, they won't bother you as long as you're in here."
There was sympathy in the woman's eyes. She was Betazoid, Miral quickly realized, and seemed to understand her fear. "Thank you," Miral said, "I guess I just get nervous when I see them."
"I get nervous too," the woman said as they walked away from the windows, "but as awful as they seem, they do serve a purpose in times like these."
The woman gave her a gentle wave and departed, leaving Miral alone in the lobby. Miral turned and looked back out through the doors, hov-cams floated outside the glass vying for the best angle. The emergency stairs were two steps away and she made a break for it. Punching open the door, she hopped the stairs two at a time up to the Admiral's floor, pausing at the top to catch her breath. At least she was away from their prying eyes. Whatever happened to bring the press here, she hoped it would blow over soon.
She reached the admiral's door and was about to ring the chime, but a thought occurred to her. Maybe the admiral did want to speak to her about the rolling of T'Paq's house or maybe she found out about the time she and Inge used a transporter to send a rival school mascot to…oh no not that. That was a long time ago. Miral decided the best way to get out of it was to present her self as a model cadet. She brushed out errant wrinkles in her uniform and squared her shoulders. A confident approach could get her out of any mess. She stepped up to the door and rang the chime.
"Enter."
The doors slid open and Miral stepped in, keeping her eyes ahead. Janeway rose to her feet behind her desk.
"Cadet Paris reporting—" she noticed another figure in the room and couldn't keep from glancing over.
"Uncle Chakotay!" She ran to him throwing her arms around him. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you! When did you get back?"
"I came in just last night," he said. He pulled away to look at her. "I've been gone too long, Miral. You're all grown up."
Her heart warmed at the appraisal. He'd been like a second father to her when she was a little girl. How she'd missed him when Annika took a position at the science colony on Aristarchus. His hair was a little more flecked with gray, but other than that, he still looked the same as he did four years ago, but she detected a note of sadness in his eyes.
A sudden fear struck her. "Is your family well? How are Annika and Erin?"
"They're fine," he said and his smile faded.
"Joaquin?" she said, fearing some disaster had perhaps befallen his son.
"He's here, he's looking forward to seeing you again."
"Cadet Paris."
Omigods…Miral stiffened, she'd forgotten all about protocol and had ignored the Admiral entirely. She turned and stood at attention, sure that Janeway would tear her down for the blunder. Miral berated herself. How could she be such an idiot?
To her surprise, the admiral wasn't angry or insulted. She actually stepped out from behind her desk and gestured to a plush sofa. "Please sit down."
A bit confused by the gentle treatment, Miral sat down and sank slowly into the soft vinyl cushions. Janeway took a seat adjacent to her.
The admiral's face was too serious. Miral was in trouble. "I'm sorry ma'am," She blurted out, sure that one of her pranks had been found out. "It was completely my idea. No one helped me." Embarrassment rushed to her cheeks in a hot wave. "I'll replace the coils with my own credits." She added hastily hoping that would be enough to make amends.
Chakotay, who had remained on the other side of the room, made a small noise in his throat. Miral wasn't sure how to interpret it, but her spirits brightened thinking she might have amused him.
The Admiral didn't appear to notice Chakotay's reaction. "Miral, you're not in trouble," she said.
Miral felt the tenseness in her shoulders relax, but she was perplexed. There was a long pause in which she realized the admiral was combating strong emotions. She cocked her head and glanced up at Chakotay. He now sat on the edge of the desk, hand rubbing his forehead. It seemed that he too knew something she didn't. Remembering the reporters camped outside, a cold fear took hold of her. Something was terribly wrong. She looked back to the Admiral. "What's happened?"
Janeway drew in a long breath and said it, slowly and concisely. "There's been an uprising on Onari Prime. Two explosions destroyed the Palace. We believe your parents were inside when it happened."
Miral did not move. It was as if someone had yanked the floor out from underneath her and this was the nanosecond before the plunge. "But that's not true." she said, hardly able to get the words out. She glanced up at Chakotay, but he was far away, she could no longer see his features draped in shadow. "I just talked to them yesterday. They said they were coming home soon."
Janeway took her hand, clasping it firmly, as if the contact would ease the awful news. "We haven't been able to get much information yet, but we do know there were survivors—"
"No!" Miral jerked her hand away. "It didn't happen. I know, because they said they were coming home." She moved to get up, but the Admiral was in her way.
"Miral."
"Ma'am, please," she said, "I have to go."
Janeway sat up and gave her room to pass. Miral got up and took two unsteady steps to the doors. Her heart pounded and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. But where would she go? Outside, the reporters would confront her. "What am I going to do?" she said, then she looked at Chakotay. "Uncle, please tell me what to do."
Chakotay moved forward and Miral sank into his arms. "Have faith," he said, "as long as there were survivors, there's still hope. You must believe that."
She looked up at him and his calm reserve bolstered her, she wiped away a tear. "I'll try," she finally said. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady beat of his heart.