Second Chances: Chapter 7
A/N: And here begins when I needed the research from watching DS9...
Lt. B'Elanna Torres wasn't surprised at all that Admiral Owen Paris had had someone—probably his aide, a snotty full lieutenant who thought that being an admiral's aide put him in a position of power over just about everyone else in Starfleet—do the legwork into finding Miral Torres. She had left Kessik IV shortly after B'Elanna did, which was the one thing she actually knew. She had spent a few years working in the Mekro'vak region before returning to her alma mater, the Imperial Klingon Academy, as an engineering professor. To the best of Starfleet's intelligence, she was still there, in First City, and since it was the middle of the academic year in Qo'noS, there was no reason to believe that she wouldn't be there.
Even though Torres had just started at Starfleet Engineering, and nothing that she had worked on with TPG was even remotely cleared to be shared outside of the Federation, Commander Johansen had gotten her on the list of officers who would be traveling to Qo'noS to attend an engineering conference.
At least she would have something to do if her mother had no interest in seeing her.
Her pregnancy had advanced to the point where she could no longer hide it nor wear her normal uniform, and as she discovered within minutes of stepping off the transport on Qo'noS, there were few things more novel on the Klingon home world than a pregnant half-Klingon in a Starfleet maternity uniform. Never comfortable with attention in any context, she was immediately put on edge. "Am I missing something here?" Lt. Robert Jay asked quietly, looking around at the people staring at the group.
"They've never such blond hair on such a skinny guy," Commander Johansen said sarcastically. "Don't be an idiot, Rob." He turned to Torres. "We'll just go straight to the conference center and get checked in, and take it from there."
She nodded, not looking at him or anyone else. It was pretty easy to see Jay's discomfort, and Johansen seemed a bit put off as well, but the attention didn't make her concerned for their safety; it made her angry. It reminded her of the attention she got growing up on Kessik IV and the attention she got when she started at the Academy, neither group accustomed to seeing Klingon ridges. Apparently, Klingons were no more accustomed to seeing ridges as faint as hers.
She seemed to be destined to never fit in, and for the first time, she wondered if her daughter was destined to the same fate, to the same second glances, to the same blatant stares and whispered questions.
Torres had thought that it might take a little bit of searching—and a lot of steeling her nerves—to find her mother, so she was especially surprised to find her as soon as they entered the conference center. "SoS," she said, so caught off-guard that she slipped into Klingon. "What are you doing here?"
Miral looked amused at the question. "I am one of the organizers of this conference," she replied. "The better question is, what are you doing here?"
"I'm looking for you," Torres said bluntly, and again, her mother appeared to be amused.
"It seems you have succeeded in your mission," she stated dryly. Torres suddenly remembered why it had been almost five years since she last spoke to her mother, all of the frustrations and annoyances that were still new when she arrived at the Academy now returning to the surface.
"Forget it," she snapped, turning away. "Enjoy the conference."
"Wait," Miral interrupted, and there was something in her voice that made Torres do just that. She stopped and turned back to her mother, raising her eyebrows challengingly. "There is a restaurant in this conference center. Go upstairs and get cleaned up. We will meet there for dinner."
Torres initially bristled at the words and how they were delivered as an order. Even after more than five years in Starfleet uniforms, she still didn't do orders well, probably because that was always how her mother had spoken to her, in orders. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that there was no reason to think this was any easier on her mother than on her. She was an adult now; there was no reason to fall back into the patterns she had had as a teenager challenging everything her mother said. "I will see you there in half an hour," she said instead. Miral nodded in agreement.
Thirty minutes later, now freshly showered, her hair down and curly and brushing past her shoulders, and in a tunic and leggings that accommodated her pregnancy just fine, she entered the restaurant, giving herself a few seconds to adjust to the dim lights that seemed to be universal in Klingon settings before she spotted her mother.
She took a seat on the bench across from Miral. "So you graduated from that school," Miral began. "I was not sure you would."
Torres gave a sarcastic chuckle as she took a drink from the glass of water. "You and some of my professors," she said dryly. She figured one dinner wouldn't be enough time to discuss the demerits during her plebe summer, much less that appearances in front of the disciplinary board or her fight just to maintain an even keel after her hospitalization her second classman year. "I was stationed at Utopia Planitia after graduation. I just moved back to San Francisco for an assignment at R&D for Starfleet Engineering."
"You became an engineer," Miral said. "That is not surprising."
"No, not really," Torres agreed. "I'm pretty good at it, too."
"Also not surprising." They paused their conversation to order; Torres was surprised to discover that she not only remembered enough Klingon to order, but also remembered enough about Klingon food to know what she didn't like. Which was most Klingon food.
They stuck to lighter topics while eating, such as competing on the track team and Miral's work as a professor. She didn't ask about B'Elanna's pregnancy, which surprised Torres and made her slightly on edge.
They were sipping raktajino after their dinner—the real thing for Miral, decaffeinated for Torres—when Miral finally asked the question Torres was waiting for. "Why did you come now?" she asked. "And do not tell me it was the conference, because I know you are not presenting."
Torres took a long drink of her raktajino before answering. "Because the thought of my daughter not speaking to me someday because of some slight, real or imagined, already hurts, and I haven't even met her yet. I can't even remember anymore why we aren't speaking, and continuing this because we're both stubborn is just…stupid."
Miral seemed to think about that for a long minute. "I did not know what to do with you," she finally said. "You had too much of me to be like your father, and too much of your father to be like me. By the time I realized that, it was too late." She took another drink of her raktajino. "I do not regret your father leaving," she said a minute later. "We were a bad match, and that was not good for you. I regret that you did not benefit from a human role model. I thought that you would get that by staying on Kessik IV, but that was not a good place for either of us. I do not know where would have been better." She paused again. "You live on Earth. Last I heard, your father does as well. Have you been in contact with him?"
"No," B'Elanna said flatly. To her surprise, her mother raised her eyebrows.
"Perhaps you should," Miral said simply.
"Why?" B'Elanna scoffed. "I have nothing to say to him."
"He is your father."
"You hated him."
"I loved him," Miral corrected. B'Elanna's surprise must have shown on her face, because Miral scoffed. "I loved him enough to marry him," she reminded her daughter, "and was married to him for ten years. I loved him enough to have a child with him. He was not strong enough to live with two Klingons and we were a bad match and marriage was far from our best decision, but we never hated each other. I still do not hate him, because I would not have had you if we had not been together."
B'Elanna scoffed. "I seem to remember you saying just the opposite when I was a teenager," she pointed out. Miral waved that aside, but didn't counter her words. B'Elanna knew she wasn't imaging the screaming matches in which Miral blamed John Torres for all of her problems, for the fact that she was stuck on a human colony with a half-human daughter who resented being different and couldn't be bothered to learn about anything Klingon.
"Your daughter's father… Is he a good man?"
"My husband. Tom," Torres corrected automatically, blinking at the sudden change of topic. She twisted the thin gold band she wore on the ring finger of her left hand; she didn't usually wear her wedding band—anything on the hands was a bad idea in engineering, even at R&D—but attending a conference was hardly something that would put her fingers at risk. "He's a great man, although I do not know why," she said with a snort. "He is often irreverent, reckless, and immature. The things he finds interesting baffle me. But he is loyal and strong, and just as stubborn as I am. He makes me a better person, and he loves me. And I love him. Very much."
"Then you will be fine," Miral said. "He will keep you from making the mistakes I made with you."
"He's gone," Torres said. She watched her mother's eyes flash dangerously.
"You said he is loyal," she pointed out, "but it sounds like you married someone just like your father. Someone who does not have the constitution to live with someone with Klingon blood."
"He's dead," Torres said flatly. "I think even you could find that to be a reasonable excuse to not help raise our child." She watched the emotions play out on her mother's face. "He was a Starfleet pilot," she continued. "A couple of months ago, his ship disappeared in the Badlands. There's no sign of any survivors."
"Ships do not simply disappear," Miral said, unknowingly echoing her daughter's statement.
"This one seems to have," Torres said softly. "Starfleet is still looking, but nobody is optimistic. But whether he's dead or just…lost, I have to do this without him. And I'm not sure I know how."
Miral thought about that for a moment. "Do not be too stubborn. I know that will be hard for you." B'Elanna snorted, thinking of one of Alicia's lines about pots and kettles. Miral fixed her with a look that was similar enough to one she got growing up that she immediately shut up. "Let her be her own person, but make sure she knows where she comes from."
"That seems to be a difficult balance," Torres said, thinking of how spectacularly Miral failed at it.
"Indeed," Miral said dryly, probably thinking the same thing.
Torres finished her raktajino and rolled the empty cup along its rim. "I'd like you to meet her, when she comes," she said, her words coming out in a rush. "I want her to know you."
To her surprise, Miral looked away and seemed to be contemplating the wall for a long moment. "That will be difficult," she finally said. "I do not think the Khitomer Accords will last that long."
Torres snorted. "You've been saying that since I was five," she reminded her mother.
"But this time, it is true," Miral said. She looked around and leaned forward. Involuntarily, Torres did as well, leaning toward her mother. "There will be a war soon between the Empire and the Cardassians. The Federation will object and it will end our alliance. Travel between Earth and Qo'noS will be…difficult, if not impossible."
"You don't know—"
"I do know," Miral interrupted. "Do not ask me how. I will try to see you and the baby after she is born, but I cannot make any promises." She paused again. "Tell your colleagues to be careful while on Qo'noS. They—and you—should not wear uniforms outside of this conference. The feeling toward Federations is not favorable right now."
Torres snorted. "The Empire and the Federation… Two stubborn governments who don't know how to yield."
"It is symbolic, is it not?" Miral asked with a slightly sad smile. "Enough about politics. Tell me about your daughter. When is she anticipated to arrive?"
"I'm twenty-two weeks now," Torres said. "My doctor anticipates another ten weeks."
"The last few weeks are a difficult and trying time," Miral said. "At least, they were for me. You were very active in the womb and did not seem to sleep."
"Tom would say the same thing about me now," Torres said with a laugh. "I guess some things don't change."
Miral smiled as well. "Do you have a name for her yet?"
"I don't know if I'll decide for sure until she's born, but I'm leaning toward Isela." She glanced down at her mug. "She died last year."
Miral nodded slightly. "Your grandmother was a fine woman. It would honor her greatly to give your daughter her name."
"I got to know her again while I was at the Academy. She came to some of my track meets." She paused, thinking about the words her mother had just said to her and not sure how much detail Miral would want. "My father remarried," she said in a rush. "He has another daughter, Navi. She's eleven."
Miral nodded again. "I know," she said simply. "Isela told me." B'Elanna must have looked surprised, because Miral smiled slightly. "I told you, your grandmother was an honorable woman."
"That she was," Torres agreed. "I miss her."
Miral looked like she wanted to say more, but changed her mind. "The conference is four days," she said instead. "I would like to be able to spend more time with you while you are here."
Torres smiled. "I would like that, too."