December 2365

Chapter 2

How hard is it to walk off a goddamn ship? B'Elanna Torres raised herself up on her toes and tried to see down the narrow corridor, but the broad back of a Klingon man was all that met her eyes. She wanted to shove past him – get off this slow-moving ship she'd been trapped on for the last four days – but glancing around, she saw that everyone was queueing in an orderly fashion, humans and Klingons alike.

So, she waited, letting out long sighs as she tapped her foot.

The slow, luggage-burdened throng moved out of the ship and into the spaceport at Qam'Chee, the capital city of Qo'noS. The moment the blast of terminal air hit B'Elanna, she immediately wanted to retreat into the climate controlled ship. As the crowd pushed her towards the immigration station, sweat beaded on her brow and she could feel her hair frizzing.

Now in yet another queue, she set down her heavy duffle and stripped off her jacket, stuffing the garment into the bag. She most likely wouldn't be needing that for the duration of her stay. Digging into her pocket, B'Elanna found a hair tie and pulled her shoulder length (and definitely frizzing) dark brown hair into a high ponytail, feeling a bit of relief as the mass was separated from her now sticky neck. The line moved, and B'Elanna nudged her bag with her feet across the stone floor. Behind her, a child was screaming, evidently enjoying Qo'noS as much as she was.

Finally, at the head of the queue, B'Elanna hoisted her bag back on her shoulder and, once called, moved to the immigration station.

A dark-skinned woman, dressed in the typical garb of a warrior, sat behind a high counter. She had the forehead of someone from the southern continent, a set of high central ridges that looked like a mountain range to B'Elanna. B'Elanna wondered if this, or her family's flatter, more 'V' shaped ridges, was what Klingons considered attractive. Either way, one thing was for sure, B'Elanna mused as the officer's dark eyes looked at her soft cranial ridges with an air of disdain, my forehead isn't going to win me any Klingon beauty pageants. "Papers?" the woman asked in Federation Standard.

B'Elanna dropped her bag onto the floor and pulled her Klingon identification card from her pocket, placing it on the counter. The officer didn't try to hide her surprise. "You're a citizen of the Empire?" she questioned, now in Klingon.

"Yes, I am," B'Elanna replied in their lingua franca – although from the expression on the other woman's face, B'Elanna suspected she was not impressed with B'Elanna's accent. Not willing to let the woman treat her differently than any other citizen, she continued. "That's what my papers say, don't they?"

The woman raised an eyebrow as she scanned B'Elanna's credentials into the computer. "It says you have not been in the Empire for five years. Why are you here now?"

Because I'm a failure that couldn't hack it at the Academy. "I'm coming to live in my grandfather's house, with my mother – Miral, daughter of L'Naan."

The woman glanced at the terminal. "Where have you been the last five years?"

"What?" Had she heard correctly? Did this woman want her to list everywhere she'd been for the last five years?

The officer scowled. "Where did you reside?" she repeated in Standard.

Oh, come on, my Klingon isn't that bad. Not willing to give in, B'Elanna continued in Klingon, trying to mask her accent as much as possible. "I lived on Kessik IV until two years ago, when I moved to Earth. And now I'm moving here."

The woman typed the information into B'Elanna's record. "Your house?"

"Ma'Leth."

"Give me your new address."

Miral had told B'Elanna the officials would ask. "Ma'Leth compound, K'Tet district, Qam'Chee."

The woman entered the information into her terminal and handed B'Elanna back her credential. "Go," the woman said, then looked over B'Elanna's shoulder and called out, "Next!"

B'Elanna grabbed her bag and moved further into the crowded terminal. Large windows lit the high-ceilinged space, which seemed to be a large holding room. Travelers milled about or rushed into one of the dim hallways that branched out from this main room. B'Elanna stopped, trying to get her bearings, when someone smacked into her. She stumbled, but caught herself, looking up to see a warrior who must have been two and a quarter meters tall. A warrior that smelled like he'd just left the battlefield. "Watch yourself, Hur'q!" he bellowed, before heading off to one of the side corridors.

Watch myself? B'Elanna thought as she glared at the man's back. "Fuck you, asshole," she muttered in Standard… a bit louder than she'd intended. Her heart skipped a beat as she imagined the man confronting her over her words. Thankfully, he didn't seem to hear or understand.

Taking a breath, B'Elanna moved forward again, trying to make her way through the sea of people. The ship she'd traveled from Earth on had carried an even split of Klingons and Federation citizens. Not that B'Elanna had socialized much on the trip; she'd only left her small room when she had to eat or use the facilities. But as she moved further from the immigration station, the percentage of Klingons went to nearly one hundred. A cacophony of noise assaulted her as men and women laughed, talked, - hell, did everything – loudly. They even seemed to walk loudly, hulking across the hard ground, the thudding of their boots adding to the overwhelming din.

Looking around for a sign – "Meet me at Gathering Area Four," her mother had said – B'Elanna couldn't help but feel incredibly small as the crowd swirled around her. She remembered feeling this way when she was young - when she and her mom would visit the home world - but she'd written this off to being a child. But now… she was just small. At one hundred and sixty-five centimeters and just under sixty kilos, she was sure almost every Klingon here could bench press her – even some of the children.

Spotting a sign, she hurried towards it, thankful that it was written in Standard as well as Klingon. (She could speak and understand reasonably well, but reading was a whole other can of worms – or can of gagh, as it were.) The hallway she needed was to the left, right after the food court.

B'Elanna attempted to hold her breath as she walked past the fragrant stalls, each displaying a food that was more horrifying than the last. Halfway through she had to take in another breath and gagged from the smell of stale fish and rancid meat. Is this really where I'm going to live?

Finally through the food court gauntlet (although not completely away from the smell), B'Elanna walked through a narrow hallway. The tunnel echoed with the voices and footfalls of her fellow travelers, and for a moment, B'Elanna wished she was still in her quiet, climate-controlled dorm room at the Academy. The hallway opened into another room, one filled with benches and a sign: Gathering Area Four.

"B'Elanna!" Though the voice was not her mother's, B'Elanna instantly recognized it.

"VavnI'!" B'Elanna headed towards the bench her grandfather, Ma'Leth son of Markek, was rising from. He was a small man (for a Klingon), barely reaching one hundred and eighty-five centimeters, with wavy grey hair hung far past his shoulders. His skin was almost milky white – having been sheltered in his kitchens from the harsh sun. "I thought Mom was going to meet me."

"She had to work, so you get me instead. Disappointed?" the large man said, his smile reaching his light blue eyes as he wrapped B'Elanna into a tight hug. Pressing her face against his barrel chest, she let his familiar scent fill her nose, one of old leather and a fragrant, earthy soap. I guess not all Klingons smell bad, she thought as she closed her eyes and leaned against the old man.

But why had her mother not come? Was she the one that was disappointed? Was B'Elanna leaving the Academy the final straw in their tenuous mother-daughter relationship? Fuck, this is getting off to a great start…

"I'm not disappointed," B'Elanna half-lied once her grandfather let her go. "I just wondered."

"It was unexpected." Ma'Leth took B'Elanna's bag from her shoulder despite her protest. "There was a problem at work that Miral had to attend to, but she will be home in time for the welcome feast your aunt and uncle are preparing. Come now. I'm sure you're tired after your trip. What is it, five days?"

"Four."

"Oh. Perhaps they go faster than they used to. When your grandmother, may she find honor in Sto'Vo'Kor, and I visited Earth, many years ago, it was five days. I was so relieved to finally get off that transport and get my first lungful of Qam'Chee air."

Relieved? To be here? B'Elanna thought as they headed towards the door.

Ma'Leth paused as they stepped outside, giving B'Elanna a concerned look. "It's a bit cold today. Are you okay dressed like that?"

B'Elanna, already dripping with sweat, didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I'll manage."

=/\=