San Francisco

Home now, after what seemed to be the longest day of her life, Kathryn Janeway washed her dishes. The ritual usually calmed her mind when she was troubled. Lifting a fragile cup from the warm soapy water, she studied the fine hand-painted flowers, pink and delicate. She tried to imagine the artist's hand as he masterfully brushed them on so many generations ago. This exercise used to come easy to her, but now she could not see it. "It's just a cup," she stated aloud. "It's just a damned cup." Would it make her feel better this time if she shattered it against the floor?

She sighed and rinsed it. As she set it gently on a towel, she thought about the young girl whose life was so instantly and irrevocably changed today, and Kathryn hated herself for being the cause of it.

B'Elanna had told Kathryn she wanted to retire from public life, to be home, to help Miral through the academy. But Kathryn convinced her to go back to Onari one last time to help seal the fragile peace treaty with the Shantak.

She took another cup and ran the sudsy cloth over it. Command decisions come at a price, she told herself, they always have. This time the price was too high, and she may have cost B'Elanna her husband, and Miral a father because Kathryn thought she knew what was best. "Damn it." she muttered.

The door chime rang and she quickly rinsed the cup and set it beside the other. She dried her hands on a dishtowel, contemplating the evening ahead. She decided it would be best not to reveal any doubts while Chakotay was here. He wasn't necessarily on her side anymore.

When she opened the front door, he was there, damp from the rain showers that had built up toward evening. "Chakotay." She smiled despite her misgivings. "Please come in."'

"Thank you, Kathryn." His voice was formal and bore little evidence of their once strong friendship. It was a defense mechanism to be sure. Neither of them wanted to be hurt again.

"Let me take your coat."

"I can't believe the rain," he said. He slipped the damp coat off and handed it to her. "I'd nearly forgotten what it's like.

"Yes, I don't imagine you get much rain on Aristarchus." Kathryn hung the coat in the hall closet. "I understand the climate can be quite arid."

"It can," he nodded, but didn't offer more. "Joaquin's coming by in a little bit. He wants to see Miral. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. It'll be good to see him again." She quietly closed the door. "Won't you sit down?" she said. "You look like you need to."

"It was a long trip," he said.

The living room was open to the foyer and to the kitchen beyond it, but the sitting area was sunken giving it a cozy feel. A small end table lamp and fire in the hearth offered soothing low light.

Chakotay stepped down into the rectangular space and sank into one of the faux burgundy leather sofas. Propping his elbow on the arm of the couch, he rubbed his eyes. He did look tired.

"How's Miral?" he asked without looking up.

"She's asleep." Kathryn stood by the bar to get herself a drink. She had a feeling she would need it before long. "She was very upset of course. She wanted to go home, but I thought it best that she stay here at least for tonight."

"That's generous of you."

"Generous," she said with a huff. "It was all I could do. We managed to get hold of her aunt but she won't be in until Thursday. I couldn't very well leave Miral alone at a time like this."

"I didn't mean—" but he stopped and shook his head.

"That's alright, Chakotay," she said with a small wave of her hand. "I know you meant well." She lifted her glass and took a generous sip. "Brandy?" she said, offering him a snifter, but then she paused. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. Aristarchus is a dry planet in more ways than one. I have tea and juice…"

"No, no," he said with a slight smile. "I'll have the brandy."

Kathryn relaxed a little and poured his drink. She stepped down into the living room and sat on the couch beside him. She handed him the glass. It seemed they were picking up where they left off years ago, when he suddenly broke it off to live with Sev—no, the former Borg was now Annika. Kathryn would do well to remember that.

He lifted the glass. "Here's to old habits," he said, apparently sensing her train of thought. After he sipped the brandy, he got to the point. "Have you heard any other news from Onari?"

"Not since late this afternoon, when we got word, thank God, that B'Elanna survived." She swished the dark liquid in a circular motion. "She was lucky to have only gotten a broken leg from that terrible ordeal."

"No word of Tom?"

"None," she said. "It doesn't bode well, Chakotay. If he's not trapped in the rubble it's possible the Shantak have him. It's only a rumor at this point, nothing conclusive…I intend to find out more first thing tomorrow."

"God…the Shantak." Chakotay spoke in a low whisper, but Kathryn detected the strain in his voice. "They don't take prisoners, Kathryn."

"I know."

She knew all too well. If Tom was indeed their prisoner, he would be lucky to survive the next few days. Shantak brutality was legendary, worsening daily along with their desire to remove the Onari people from their planet. Federation intervention to halt decades of violence seemed to be the right course of action in the beginning, but now Kathryn wasn't sure.

"Does Miral know?" Chakotay asked.

"God no," Kathryn said, taken aback.

"You have to tell her," he said. "It would be terrible if she had to find out on her own."

Kathryn drew a steady breath, determined to remain calm. "The girl is distraught," she said evenly. "You saw her in my office. I'm not going to tell her half-truths that would only serve to upset her. I fully intend to speak to her in the morning. At least by then, I'll have more information to give her."

Chakotay sighed and gave a slight nod. He ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry Kathryn. I don't know what's gotten into me. Of course you're doing the right thing. You've taken good care of her."

"I wish I could do more," she said. "Like send a fleet of ships to go get her parents out of that mess. I wonder what it would take to do that." She kicked back the rest of the brandy and set the empty glass down on the coffee table.

"Well," said Chakotay with a smile. He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. "I might be able to give you justification for at least one ship."

"How so?"

"It's the reason I came back to San Francisco—"

The door chime rang.

"Hold that thought," she said as she bounded up the steps. "I want to hear every word."

She opened the door and there stood Joaquin. It had been so long since she'd seen him she did a double take. He and his father were so alike in stature that for a fleeting moment it seemed Chakotay was at her doorstep again.

"Evening Admiral," Joaquin said, wearing that quick smile that had always charmed her.

"Come in Joaquin," Kathryn said stepping aside to let him in. "It's a pleasure to see you."

"Thank you, ma'am." He scraped his boots on the mat and stepped inside.

He looked a bit like a cowboy with the jeans and ochre-hued suede jacket. This was in stark contrast to the sharp image she'd last seen of him when he'd attended the academy those two years.

She led him to the sitting area and thought it a good idea to start the conversation light. "Your father has told me you've made some important geological discoveries on Aristarchus."

"Yes, a few."

Kathryn waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't, so she pressed on. "There are quite a number of geologists at the science colony, aren't there?"

"Yes. Fantastic place for geologists," he replied. "Lots of rocks." He rubbed his hands together. He had taken a seat on the couch across from the two of them and looked expectantly from one to the other. Leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees he looked as if he was about ready to stand up again.

"You want to see Miral," stated Chakotay.

"Yes sir, I do," the young man said, not embarrassed in the slightest.

"I must apologize for my son, Kathryn," said Chakotay. "He will be incapable of carrying on a simple conversation until he's seen her." He shrugged.

Joaquin turned an innocent gaze to the Admiral. If it was a tactic to get her permission before going up, it worked.

"Upstairs, first door on the right," Kathryn said with a wave of her hand. "But she's probably asleep."

He got up and went toward the stairs.

"If she is asleep," Chakotay said over his shoulder. "Don't wake her. She needs the rest."

"No problem, sir," he said and went lightly up the stairs.

The Admiral assumed her young houseguest was sleeping, and Miral didn't want her believe otherwise. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she watched the news with the sound turned down. How could she sleep? She'd seen the same awful footage of the bombings on Onari time and again. There was devastation everywhere.

She didn't know why she kept it on, maybe because it was the only news she could get, but the more she watched, the more anxious she became and Miral had no one to talk to about her mounting fears. Earlier, she tried to call Inge. Miral had expected her closest friend to be available to her and was hurt to find she wasn't home. Even Janeway didn't seem to have time to help her sort things through. When she told Miral to get some rest, that they would talk more in the morning, the girl felt as if she'd been brushed aside.

Surely Janeway felt sympathy for her ordeal, but it soon became clear that the Admiral had other plans for the evening. Miral knew Chakotay was downstairs; she could hear the their voices, but her eyes were so puffy and irritated from crying that she didn't dare venture down to see him now.

If only she could close her eyes for a little while. Kicking off her shoes, she peeled back the downy covers on the bed and crawled in, but wrapping the covers around her like a cocoon gave her little sense of security. What she really wanted was to be home in familiar surroundings, but without her parents it wouldn't really feel like home.

Everything was so wrong; she couldn't believe she'd ever feel good again. Hugging the soft comforter closer to herself, she longed to hear her mom's voice telling her that she and Dad were all right, but she didn't know when she'd be able to talk to her. She burrowed deeper into the covers and a self-pitying whimper escaped her throat. She was building up to another good cry when a soft rapping on the door stopped her short.

Startled, she jerked the covers up completely over her head and lay still, praying that whoever it was would go away.

The door creaked open.

"Miral?"

It was a man's voice, one she didn't recognize. Her head popped up off the pillow in alarm, the covers still draped over her head. "Who is it?" she said, trying to sound assertive which was very hard to do.

"Hey, Ladybug, it's me."

Only one person in the galaxy could call her Ladybug and live. Miral flung the comforter off her head. She could see his shadow at the door. "Joaquin?" She brushed her hair back and sat up. "Is that you?"

"Who do y'think?" he said. "Can I come in?"

"Just a minute," she said. She found her handkerchief and dipped it in a glass of water on the nightstand. Pressing it to her eyelids for a moment, she let the cool feeling soak in. She knew it wouldn't miraculously relieve the puffiness, but it was all she could do to make herself feel more presentable. She straightened the covers. "You can come in."

He eased the door open a little more and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe to peer in. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

Leaving the door open, he came into the room. "They said you'd be asleep."

"Not hardly," she said. "I'm glad you're here." When she was little, whether her trouble was a scraped knee or the death of a pet, she could always run to Joaquin for help. That instinct was still there even after all these years. She reached up to him. He took her hand and sat on the edge of the bed.

The mere idea that she wasn't alone anymore brought on fresh tears. "I'm sorry," she said, wiping her eyes. "I can't seem to stop."

"Don't be sorry, Miral," he said. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "You're allowed to cry."

She tucked her hair behind her ears. "I must look awful."

He reached over and lightly lifted her chin. "Now that's impossible."

When she looked at him she saw genuine concern in his eyes. Her feelings mattered to him, and she was so relieved to be with someone who really cared. She managed to smile, just a little.

"That's better," he said.

He'd changed a bit since she'd last seen him. Living on Aristarchus had toughened him, his body was lean, like an athlete's and his skin was tanned a toffee brown. His hair that used to be kept in a military cut, was longer now and tousled. She reached up and flipped a strand out of his eyes. "You need a haircut," she teased.

He grinned and rolled his eyes. "Chakotay tells me that all the time, but I don't know. I think it makes me look dangerous," he said wiggling an eyebrow.

"About as dangerous as a beagle puppy," she said.

"Thanks a lot. I guess I'll have to grow that mustache then." Joaquin looked over at the monitor on which a news anchor mutely chattered on. He frowned. "How long have you been watching this?"

Miral shrugged. She couldn't answer. It had been on for hours.

"Would you look at that," he said, shaking his head, "They've already got a damned logo."

A graphic in the top corner of the screen read 'Onari Crisis – Day One' in flaming orange letters. "I think we've seen enough for today," he said and leaned over to turn it off.

"Don't," she said. "Please. I have to see."

"They only show the worst, Miral." He switched it off. "You need good news."

"There isn't any," she said, a lump tightened in her throat causing her words to falter.

"Come on." He stood up and offered his hand. "Let's get out of here."

She took his hand and climbed out of the covers. "Where are we going?"

"Out."

He went to the door and peeked around the corner as if he was on a covert operation. Curious, Miral took a peek too.

"Just as I suspected," he said, again shaking his head. "They're still at it."

"Who's still at what?" Miral asked, puzzled.

"Chakotay and the Admiral," he said bringing his thumb and fingers together several times in a talking gesture. "Is there a way to get outside without going past them?"
"Through the Admiral's bedroom there's a sliding door," she said pointing down the hall. "It leads to a balcony with stairs."

"Through the Admiral's bedroom, eh?" he said thoughtfully. "I don't suppose she would mind. I am on a mission after all. Follow me, my little soldier," he said, as he stepped out into the hall.

She followed him into the darkened room. It was clear to her when she stepped in that the admiral was a very orderly woman. Everything was so pristine and still that Miral cringed at the loud racket Joaquin made when he fumbled with the blinds at the sliding door.

"How do you open this thing?" he said, and then the latch popped and he slid it open. He ushered her through with a wave of his hand. "After you," he said holding back the blinds.

When she stepped out onto the balcony, she discovered that the night had turned chilly after the rain. The smooth tiles were cool and damp against her bare feet, but it felt good.
As he slid the door closed, she looked over the railing at the quiet bay whose shores bordered the elegant backyard. The cool salty breeze was a welcome change to the still and stuffy air of the small room she'd been languishing in. It was soothing to watch the moonlight dance on the waves and the tiny city lights glittering along the distant shore. A small vessel caught her eye as it glided silently though the waterway. She envied the people in that boat. They couldn't possibly have a care in the world.

Joaquin came up beside her. "Beautiful view," he said. "Isn't this better than being cooped up in that little room?"

She nodded and her breath hitched. "A little." She felt a slight shiver.

"Here." He slipped of his jacket and tucked it around her shoulders. "That better?"

"Yeah. Thanks." It smelled of rain and held his warmth. She wrapped herself in the comfort of it.

"Y'know, this view kinda reminds me of the subterranean lakes on Aristarchus," he said, and leaned his elbows on the railing. The breeze that now scattered the clouds tossed his hair, giving him an untamed look. "The cavern systems that lead you to them are incredible. We go spelunking down there when we get the time, my friends and I. We don't even need lamps a lot of times. Luminescent crystals line the caverns and they shine like crazy in fantastic blues and greens. There are pink one's in some places, though they're rare. They've got a funny nickname. Want to know what they're called?"

Miral nodded.

"Cupid's Glow."

"That's not very scientific for a science colony," she said.

"You cut me to the quick, Ladybug," he said placing a hand over his heart. "Scientists have feelings too, y'know. Besides, I named them."

"Sounds like something you'd do." she chuckled. "You were never too serious about anything. And why do you still call me Ladybug? I was seven when I wore that awful spotted dress, and I only wore it once!"

He shrugged. "I like the name. It reminds me of an innocent time I guess. Before I learned too much about life." He shook his head as if to dispel a bad thought. "But I'm forgetting my mission." He looked up at the night sky, "Now let's see, where would it be?"

"What?" she asked.

"I want to show you…" he began, "Ah. It's behind that tree," he said, gesturing to a young live oak near the shore. "Come on." he said and he started down the stairs.

She stayed at the top. "I don't want to play around, Joaquin. I've got a lot on my mind."

"I really think you want to see this," he said, looking up at her. "You won't be disappointed."

"Alright," she relented. "It better be good."

She followed him down the stairs and into the damp grass. There was a white awning-covered swing by the wooden dock that the Admiral, having no boat, rarely used. After swiping the water droplets off the swing, he motioned for her to sit.

It would be a romantic spot under different circumstances, the moon shone through the leaves of the oak tree as the boughs swayed in the breeze. The last of the rain clouds scurried by, leaving behind a clear window to the stars.

Joaquin sat beside her. He reached in the jacket pocket and withdrew a small pair of binoculars. He put them up to his eyes and searched the sky. "There it is," he said after a moment. "It's good the clouds are leaving." He handed the binoculars to Miral. "If you look just past that bottom branch about a half a meter or so you'll see something incredible."

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Alright." She looked through the binoculars and followed his direction, but she knew where this was headed.

"If you look closely, you'll see a red star."

"Okay," she said. "I see it."

"There's a smaller white star just below that," he said, "and that's the Onari star."

"I know." She pulled the binoculars away from her eyes and set them in her lap. "My parents and I talked about it. We came out and looked at it together before they left." Disappointed that he would lead her to this, she shook her head. "What's so incredible about that star? That's where my parents are. That's where that terrible fighting is. Why would you want to show me that? To make me feel worse than I already do?"

"No," he murmured. "I wanted to give you hope. If you focus on that hype that you were watching in that tiny room up there, it'll strip away every last shred of it that you have, I don't want that to happen. I thought it would help if I could show you a peaceful view of Onari."

Miral looked up at the distant light from Onari, light years away, winking like the rest of the stars, giving no outward clue as to the trouble that surrounded it. The fighting, the chaos, all the terrible images on the news was indiscernible at this great distance. It was a perfect little diamond in the night sky. She might wish on it if she believed in such things, but wishing wouldn't bring her parents home.

They were quiet for a long time. Joaquin had dug his boot heels into the grass, gently rocking them, and the swing creaked softly to a placid rhythm. The lapping of the waves on the shore, and the crickets chirping from their hidden shelters of grass and clover should have soothed her, but it was all too quiet, sending Miral deeper into her melancholy.

"When your mother died," she said, a little weary of breaking the silence, "how did you…I mean…"

He looked over at her for a moment then said, "How did I get through it?"

She nodded, but tried to take it back. "How could I ask you such a thing? It's too personal."

"Miral," he said. "It's okay. I don't mind talking about it." He crossed his ankle over his knee stopping the motion of the swing. "Where to start? It was so long ago. I was ten when she passed away. She'd known for a while that she was dying so she talked to me about it, to prepare me for it. But nothing really prepares you for something that final. It was a bad time. She had no close relatives and I didn't know what would happen to me when she was gone."

"But you had Uncle Chakotay."

"I have him now," he said, " but not back then. I didn't meet my father until I was nine." He shrugged. "I guess he'd been gone so long in the Delta Quadrant that when he came back she didn't want to saddle him with the responsibility of fatherhood. I guess she figured she'd done fine on her own until she realized she was too sick to raise me."

"But not to tell him he had a son…" Miral said.

"I can't judge her reasoning," Joaquin said, "from what Chakotay has said and from what I remember of her, they had a respect for each other, but never love. It happens I guess."

"He loves you." she said. "He's proud of your accomplishments."

He nodded. "I think so. We've built a good relationship over the years, but we have our moments." He smiled, as if remembering one. "Boy, do we have our moments."

Miral let him muse about whatever it was he remembered. She had disagreements with her own father and knew it was a normal part of a healthy relationship. Though at the time they happen, they sure can hurt. She wished she could take back every time she argued with her father, every time she disappointed him. She sighed.

"I have this picture at home," she said, after a moment. "It's my favorite. I'm about five and Dad is pushing me on the swing. We've both got these goofy grins on our faces, like we're having the time of our lives. How perfect that day must have been. But I was too young to appreciate it. If only I could go back and relive that very moment, be his little girl again, but I can't. I can't go back. Oh, Joaquin," she said, sorrow now choked her words. "I've lost my daddy." She broke down then, after finally admitting to what she was most afraid of, she could no longer hold back.

"No." Joaquin put his arm around her and held her. "No you haven't. Don't talk that way." He brushed a hand over her head smoothing her hair.

"It's true," she sobbed. "Commodore Preston was talking to Admiral Janeway, when they thought I couldn't hear. He said that if my father wasn't dead yet that it was only a matter of time. Why would he say that if it wasn't true?"

Joaquin uttered a low curse. "You mean why would Preston be such an insensitive prick?" Then he calmed himself. "Now, listen. Your dad is a fighter. He doesn't give up for anything. Remember how he went into that ion storm and rescued that freighter? Venture took heavy damage, and people said he was crazy for doing it. But right now, there are 167 people out there who owe him their lives because he had the guts and determination to do what others considered impossible."

She looked up at him. "But this is different."

He pulled back to look into her eyes. "Yes. It's different. It's frightening, too and it's difficult to have faith, but…I know your dad, and he will do everything in his power to get back to you."

"He will?"

"You bet he will," he said, and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Don't give up on him, Ladybug."

Her heart warmed a little. He was right; her dad was a fighter. Miral looked up again and found the tiny Onari star, and finally she felt a spark of hope. Joaquin had given her that which she needed most.

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered.