Zara08-Yum! Hahaha :-p And I think Elion will continue to surprise you, but I won't say how!
SeverusSnape'sLove-Your update, promptly delivered! :-)
The Romulan subcommander stared straight ahead, barely even reading the screen anymore. He had been assigned to this forlorn bunker an eternity ago. His thoughts drifted to his son and how quickly his face must be changing at such a tender age, caught between childhood and adolescence. His mother had already passed. A violent illness took her just as the boy was beginning to speak his first words, before this miserable war started. Hopefully it would be over soon and the subcommander could go home in time to teach his son to be a man.
But those were just idle hopes, he knew.
A heavy metal door swung open. Two of his officers marched in, throwing something to the ground. "We found this in the tunnels," one of them spat. "Now we know where our missing food went."
The subcommander stood up to get a better look. A scout. An infiltrator. A child. She shrank away from him, scooting back towards a corner as her breath rattled aloud. She was not much older than his son, he noted.
"Why is she dressed like that?" he asked. Though she was human, she wore the black and silver uniform of a Klingon. The pauldrons covering her shoulders stuck out absurdly far for her wisp of a frame, and an armored vest had been crudely cut to accommodate her smaller stature.
"Haven't you heard?" the first officer said. "Starfleet has been sending their young to live with Klingons now that their forces have been brought to their knees."
The subcommander's brows drew together. "Then a Bird-of-Prey must be nearby. Maybe even other scouts."
"The sensors have shown nothing-"
"You know this atmosphere is nearly impenetrable."
"Perhaps they left her behind to gather information and were planning on retrieving her later," the second officer proposed. He stalked towards the girl, who flattened herself against the wall as he approached. Her breathing quickened, escaping her lips in little whimpers.
"Well? Which is it?" he asked. But she kept her eyes to the ground, wincing with every word and shaking like a leaf. "Is your ship nearby? Were you working alone? Answer me!" His patience timed out. The back of his hand flew across her cheek. She cried out only once, then made a brave attempt to pull herself together again.
"You're wasting your time," the other retorted. "She doesn't know anything. They never do. Here, we might as well finish her off." He drew his disruptor from its holster.
"No!" The subcommander stayed his weapon. They cast him quizzical looks. "I mean...I'll do it."
"You?"
"Yes. But not here-I will take her to the surface first."
He brushed past both of his officers and took hold of the girl's arm. She recoiled instantly. At first he thought she was being defiant, then he noticed the way that she clutched her arm to her chest. It had been broken.
"Why the surface?"
"She is only a child; she should see the sky one more time."
"What does it matter? Your compassion is wasted on such a wretched creature. And there isn't even much of a sky."
True. This was a barren and hostile chunk of rock, with no forests, no mountains, no difference between day and night even. The subcommander clicked his teeth together. "Just stay here and monitor the sensors, in case something should come through. I will return shortly."
With a hand on her back, the Romulan guided her through the dark and winding system of tunnels. She had to jog to keep ahead of his long-legged strides. Imagine that, he thought wryly. Making her run towards her own death.
They approached a metal ladder. He climbed to the top and lifted a hatch. A howling wind caught its edge, throwing it open. Her eyes widened, frightened by the sound.
The Romulan climbed back down the ladder to where she stood. Then he picked her up, sparing her from having to climb with a broken arm. She felt so fragile, like she might break apart if he held her too tightly. Every bone beneath his hand protruded sharply, and her gaunt face had lost that child-like roundness that his son still possessed.
As he set her down on the coarse sand, she glanced about quickly, perhaps considering an escape attempt. But there was nowhere to go. Desolate flatlands stretched towards the horizon, broken only by towering spires of rock. Resigned to her fate, she pulled her knees beneath her and shivered in the icy, toxic winds.
The subcommander stood before her, feeling for the disruptor at his side. It was cold to the touch.
"You won't feel any pain," he promised, pressing the tip against her forehead. "Not for long, at least. It will be quick."
She nodded quietly, then closed her eyes. A single tear squeezed out from beneath her long, dark lashes.
The subcommander's hand began to tremble. This war had taken so many lives, torn apart so many families. How much longer until it called his son's name? Would he face death as silently, as demurely, as this child?
"You must have been very small, when this war started," he said, low at first as though he were speaking to the wind. "Do you even remember a life before all the fighting?"
She cracked an eye open, staring at his hand that held the gun to her head.
"My son was very small, too. I...I was never sure how to explain it to him. That we weren't always like this. We had passion once. We cared about things like art and architecture and music. We weren't just soldiers and commanders, we had a culture. We had lives. That was what I pictured for my son, the night I held him for the very first time. Not this. Never this."
Hesitantly, she lifted her gaze until it met his. Her eyes were blue as the Apnex Sea and swam with profound sorrow. Yet in the depths of that sorrow, he descried a faint and mysterious spark.
The Romulan sighed deeply. His disruptor fell to his side. "Tell me, what is your name?"
Nothing.
"What do they call you?" he tried again.
Her lips parted. She drew in a breath, but no sound came out. He sighed a second time, then turned and began climbing down into the hatch. Maybe her crew was nearby. Maybe not. But if she is to die, then let the elements be her murderer, not me. It was the cowardly way out, and he knew it. Still, he could not take a life that reminded him so much of his son.
"Qa'Hom."
The Romulan paused, hand still on the top rung. She had uttered a Klingon word of some kind.
"What did you say?"
"That is what they call me," she answered, her voice unexpectedly steady. "But my name is Carmen Riker."
Carmen jerked awake. The sudden jostle startled Riker, who was been sitting with his back to the wall and his legs drawn up. She had fallen asleep leaning against him, and he had stayed awake to keep an eye out for their captors.
"Whoa! It's alright, Carmen. I'm here." He waited for the alarm to fade from her eyes, aware of what a shock it usually was for her to return to wakefulness.
She blinked, bringing up her tied wrists to rub at her eyes. "I...I don't even remember drifting off. How long have I been out?"
"Not long. An hour maybe."
Then she noticed a pressure on her other side, and looked over to see Jora curled up against her. The girl's head was tucked under her arm, and her chest rose and fell with the gentle rhythm of sleep.
"You were both pretty exhausted," Riker said. "She's been sleeping much better than you, though. Nightmares?"
Nodding, Carmen stifled a yawn. "I was twelve again. It was one of my first missions."
"Do you...want to talk about it?" he asked, treading lightly. And she did. She told about him about how she had been charged with mapping out the Romulan bunker. She told him what it was like, to hide in those tunnels for days. To be captured and brought before the subcommander. To be taken above for one last look at the sky.
Then she told him about his mournful ramblings. She had never seen a Romulan so...well, so human before. Even Riker felt a sincere pang of sympathy for the subcommander, a stark contrast to the outrage that had swelled just a moment ago.
"And then he disappeared, back into the bunker," she continued. "Probably figured I wouldn't last long anyway."
"What did you do?"
"I ran and I ran, as fast as I could. Didn't stop until my feet went numb and my lungs burned like fire. I collapsed in the sand, and I can still remember how it scratched against my face. I thought...this is the last thing I'll ever feel. And that wind, that howling wind-that's the last thing I'll ever hear. Not the comfort of another voice. It was just me and the sand and the wind."
A lump formed in Riker's throat. "And then what?" he asked hoarsely.
"I fell asleep. When I woke up again, I was back in my bunk. My crew had found me just in time."
"And the Romulans?"
"They had abandoned the bunker. Must have seen something on the sensors after all."
Riker nodded slowly, still taking it all in.
"You know," she said, a cynical smile curling the corner of her mouth. "I used to hate that Romulan for letting me go."
"Why?"
Her jaw worked for the answer. "I may have been a child, but I was not innocent. Do you know how many lives I went on to take?"
He drew in a deep and troubled breath. "Carmen, you can't-"
"Picard knew. He read my record every day out of some obligation to my parents. That's why he was so disgusted with me, when I finally returned to the Enterprise."
She turned away, her lips wrenched in a grimace that mirrored her old captain's disgust.
"You're disgusted with yourself, too," he pointed out. "That's why you're not a monster. Monsters are the ones who don't feel shame. They're found on both sides of every war, unfortunately."
War. There was that word again. And there was that old shudder of fear. "Um, Dad?"
He squeezed her hand as it hung over her knee. "What is it?"
"I'm worried that...that this is all following me. Maybe I'm just fated to keep losing everything. To end up alone. Farrow said so, you know."
"Farrow? Wait, didn't you mention him last night, at the tavern?"
"Yeah. The one who had ditched the draft. He told me there's no such as thing as safe, no such thing as home. Not for people like us."
The commander scoffed. "Well there's his first mistake-assuming you two shared some sort of common ground."
"But what if he was right? What if I wasn't meant to have all this?"
"To have what?"
She squeezed his hand in return and leaned her head against his shoulder. "You. Mom. Home."
His chest rose and then sank with a sigh. "Look, I don't know the ins and outs of fate, but I do believe in second chances. And you got one hell of a second chance, Carmen. Don't spend it worrying about whether or not you deserve it. Spend it like a real Riker."
She lifted her head. "And how's that?"
"By letting yourself fall in love-with people, with places, with life. By not being afraid of getting hurt." He grinned. "And by practicing your trombone regularly, even when I forget to remind you."
She grinned back at him. "Yeah, yeah. Well...thanks, dad."
"Hey," he said, giving her a nudge. "Everything's going to be alright. You'll see. Just think about the wedding for now. Have you decided what you're going to wear to the second ceremony?"
"You mean the one on Betazed?" The color drained from her face. "Uh...the thing about that is…" She squirmed, and he sent her an innocent look of confusion.
"What is it?"
"Lwaxana said...well...she said that…"
"Spit it out Carmen."
She gulped and tried again. "She said Betazoid ceremonies are conducted...in the nude." She whispered the last three words as though divulging a dark and closely-guarded secret.
"Oh good, so you know already."
Her eyes flew wide. "Wait, you mean-you knew, too? All along?"
"Course I knew." He burst out laughing. "You should have seen your face!"
She punched him in the arm with the wad of rope that tied her hands together. "You're such a yintagh!"
He laughed all the more. She shook her head, trying to appear indignant even as she laughed along with him.
"As a matter of fact," he said, his eyes fading into memory. "The first time I saw Deanna was at a Betazoid wedding."
Carmen tilted her head, intrigued. "It was? Did it feel awkward?"
"Not really, no. Betazoids are very open people. They value complete and candid honesty, the 'naked truth,' if you will." He cast her a crooked smile. "It's a bit jarring at first, but eventually, you come to appreciate it. Kind of like Lwaxana's company."
She giggled, a fondness pulling at her smile. "You know something? I miss her. I wish we had more time together before all this came up."
Riker blew out of the side of his mouth. "How about this-when we get back, I'll put in some leave time for you to go to Betazed with her. She needs help planning the second ceremony, and you need...well, the company."
Carmen perked up. "You mean it? I can go?"
"Sure. Of course, we have to figure out how to escape this place, first."
"Right." She nodded dutifully and straightened her shoulders against the wall. "Any ideas?"
"I'm thinking, I'm thinking. By the way-when I said to fall in love, I didn't mean with guys named Farrow. Or Sheppard. Or some handsome, young Betazoid-"
"Daaaaad." She rolled her eyes.
"Just kidding. And what I said about not being afraid of getting hurt...I mean, sometimes it's okay to be a little afraid. You know, for safety's sake-"
"Dad!"
"Okay, okay. That's all."