The Sato Series, Episode 3: a new Frontier

P’Arth stretched languidly. “I’ll walk you there. I need some fresh air,” she decided.
The early January night was damp and cool, and the two cadets realized as they exited P’Arth’s quad that they were very drunk, indeed. Kieran stumbled and P’Arth caught her, and though P’Arth was nearly eight inches shorter than Kieran, she held her up by brute strength. P’Arth was solid muscle, head to toe, and what she lacked in finesse on the Velocity court she compensated for with power and raw athleticism.
Kieran giggled as P’Arth steadied her against a light stanchion. “You humans cannot hold your liquor,” the Klingon accused, grinning. She took Kieran’s arm and they leaned on one another as they wandered across campus to Kieran’s quadrangle. P’Arth accidentally let go of Kieran who sagged to her knees momentarily. P’Arth pulled her upright again.
Kieran laughed raucously, stopping to double over.
“What is so funny?” P’Arth demanded.
“You Klingons cannot hold your humans,” she replied.
P’Arth thought that was uproariously funny, and she howled with laughter, leaning on her own knees as if out of breath as she guffawed.
Kieran put her finger to her lips, hissing “Shhhh. For fuck’s sake, P’Arth, you’ll wake up half the campus.”
P’Arth laughed louder. “Good. Honorless bastards, let them wake up,” she decided, but sobered long enough to resume the trek toward Kieran’s dormitory.
They managed to get into Kieran’s quarter of the room, and Kieran flipped off her workstation, where the blinking pattern of the message light indicated multiple calls.
“What does that mean?” P’Arth asked, grasping Kieran’s hand in her own and studying her upraised middle finger.
“It means—P’taQ,” Kieran replied, whispering. “I know those messages are from one—my mother,” she added, grinning and flopping down on her bed. “Thanks for walking me home. Only, how are you going to walk back without me to lean on?” she asked, as if it were a mystery of the universe.
P’Arth collapsed beside her. “I have no idea,” she admitted, chuckling. “Morning assembly is in three hours,” she noted. “But I’m not really sleepy,” she added.
Before Kieran could put together a coherent thought, P’Arth was kissing her, strong hands grasping the short strands of Kieran’s spiky blonde hair. P’Arth’s kiss was partly a kiss and partly a bite, but Kieran was drunk enough that the pain didn’t register, and the slight trickle of blood from Kieran’s bottom lip inflamed P’Arth instantly. Kieran didn’t notice the brutality of the sex, only that someone wanted her, wanted to be with her, and that she needed to connect, to feel a part of something and someone.
She was much rougher with P’Arth than she had ever been with Jenna, but the more aggressively she touched the Klingon, the more P’Arth responded, until Kieran was actually clawing and scratching and biting the woman beneath her, and P’Arth was begging for more. Jenna had never begged, or done much more than sigh gustily when Kieran made love to her, and P’Arth’s responsiveness was enthralling, from the groaning and gasping to the desperate clutching and writhing. No one had ever talked to her with such frank abandon, and she was fascinated as much by her own arousal as she was by the words spilling out of P’Arth’s mouth, a guttural mix of Klingon and English. Kieran didn’t understand Klingon, but she certainly understood when P’Arth bit her shoulder and growled “fuck me hard”, and she understood what it was P’Arth wanted as she pressed her fist into her lover’s opening and felt the Klingon ballooning to take the width of her fist. Kieran had only read about fist fucking, and she certainly never intended to do it to another human being, but then, P’Arth was not human, and P’Arth was urging Kieran on. P’Arth shrieked as she came, and Kieran kissed her to muffle the sound of her orgasm. Once the fierceness of the frenzy had passed, P’Arth was suddenly aware that she was with a human, not a Klingon, and her own attentions became much less aggressive. Kieran was beyond a response, however, as she was bruised and bloody, and feeling pain acutely now that the alcohol was gradually dissipating in her bloodstream.
She stopped P’Arth, then, curling into her arms. “Just hold me, please,” she requested. P’Arth was already passed out, though, overcome by alcohol and bloodlust and exhaustion. Kieran noted that the pain was intensifying, and she extricated herself from the tangle of P’Arth’s body, dressing in loose sweat pants and a sweat shirt. The campus infirmary was just across the way, and she dragged herself over to the emergency entrance.
Kate Pulaski had been in surgery, treating a Trill whose symbiont’s connection to his body had been severed, and it had been an arduous undertaking, but both had survived. She was leaving as she saw Kieran coming into the facility.
“What the hell happened to you?” she demanded. “Cadet,” she swallowed her fear, “have you been sexually assaulted?” she asked, seeing that Kieran was guarding her vaginal area as she walked. “Good Christ, Kieran,” she helped the cadet into the examining area, “you’re soaking your sweats with blood.” Kate helped her onto the biobed and scanned her. “Now tell me what happened, besides the fact that you’ve been drinking,” she ordered the young woman. “Did you get in a fight with one of your quad mates?”
“No,” Kieran replied. “I swear. It wasn’t a fight. And it wasn’t rape.”
“Can you turn onto your side?” Kate requested, hiking Kieran’s sweatshirt up. What she saw almost made her vomit. “Hold still and let me treat these scratches, or you’ll have scars,” she said gently, suspending the interrogation for the moment. She closed the gaping gashes in Kieran’s back with a dermal regenerator, starting to put together the puzzle pieces. The bites and scratches and their placement registered finally, and Kate knew Kieran had been sleeping with a Klingon. Which meant one of two cadets on campus, or possibly one professor.
When Kieran was mended and inoculated for infection, Kate Pulaski sat down beside her. “You’re not going to morning assembly. That’s an order,” she staved off the inevitable protest. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice,” she added sardonically. “Interspecies relationships require blunt communication about what does and does not feel good. I suggest you learn to object when someone crosses that line, or you won’t last long in the relationship.”
Kieran considered lying. “But—”
Kate held up her hand to forestall the excuses. “I’m not asking you to confirm or deny anything, Cadet. I’m asking you to be more careful, in the future.”
Kieran nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”
Kate smiled faintly. “What you said in class the other day was brilliant,” she noted, trying to reassure the Academy’s star prospect. “Is this your first time away from home?”
“Sort of. I mean, I’ve been to conferences and summer camp, but this is the furthest I’ve ever been from my sister,” she noted.
“Easy to feel adrift in a new environment,” Kate said knowingly. “I see dozens of first year cadets in here at the beginning of every semester,” she added. “You’re probably the fortieth this week, already,” she added, chuckling. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, Ma’am,” Kieran replied, hopping off the biobed. “I’m sorry to have imposed,” she began, backing away.
“It’s what I’m here for,” Kate replied. She grabbed a PADD and keyed in data. “You’re excused from assembly. It’s logged in the central computer. Get some breakfast before your first class. I was just about to go to the officer’s club for some grub, myself. Why don’t you join me?”
Kieran’s deep brown eyes widened. “I couldn’t, Doctor,” she protested. “My clothes are a mess.”
“No they aren’t. I recycled them,” Kate informed her, handing her the freshly laundered sweats. “You must be starving after being up all night,” she added kindly.
Kieran took the clothing and stepped inside the changing cubicle, shedding her hospital gown. She knew she was not going to get out of breakfast. “Okay,” she agreed, emerging fully dressed again. “Thanks for the offer.”
____________
Kathryn Janeway regarded her captain with astonishment. “That’s how it started? And you stayed with her for two years?” she asked incredulously.
Laren was nodding agreement. “Jesus, KT, she nearly killed you the first time she so much as kissed you,” she pointed out.
Kieran shrugged tiredly. “I know it sounds crazy. Looking back though, I had zero self-esteem, and very little conception of what a Klingon lover should be like, and less of an idea of what it means to be in love. And I was so angry with my parents, and felt so guilty about Cassidy,” she explained.
Kathryn felt her composure threatening as the realization hit her. “You thought you deserved it,” she stated.
Kieran nodded. “My parents had spent so much energy making me feel worthless, I started to believe it, too, I suppose.” She considered momentarily. “And then when the abuse got so bad that it was really becoming dangerous, I didn’t do anything about it because I was using it to punish myself for Cassidy’s illness.”
Laren stared in disbelief. “And so you graduated first in your class to get even with your parents?” she asked in amazement.
“You could say that,” Kieran agreed. “At least, it started out being about that. After the first couple of years, though, I wanted it for other reasons—for me, to prove to myself I could do it.”
Kathryn smirked. “And that’s how you got to be friends with Kate Pulaski. Did you ever admit what had happened?” she wondered.
Kieran smiled. “I didn’t have to. She knew, and she didn’t make me tell her. She just got accustomed to seeing me every month or so, when P’Arth would shred me beyond what I could fix myself with my own med kit. Until P’Arth started breaking bones, and then Kate forced me to tell her the truth. Of course, that was after I had knitted my own several times. P’Arth left me unconscious one weekend, and my teammates—Stephanie Moss and Ericka Jones, in fact,” she explained, “had to transport me to the infirmary. They thought I was dead.”
“We did think she was dead,” Stephanie Moss put in as she entered the Captain’s Mess. “I got your comm message and came as soon as I was awake, KT.”
“Thanks, Mossy. You look great in that fourth pip,” Kieran advised her.
Mossy smiled. “If Jonesy and I had found P’Arth that day, I’d be spending life in prison,” she smarted.
Kathryn smiled, waving Mossy into a seat and pouring her a cup of coffee. “Finish the story, Kato,” she said in her command tone, then glanced up as if to apologize. Kieran only grinned at her. Old habits were hard to break.
“When Kate realized I’d been knitting my own bones, she was livid with me. She made me go to her house and stay until P’Arth could be expelled. Only Amanda never got the chance, because P’Arth hopped a transport home. She realized she had really crossed a line, and she knew she’d be court-martialed, I imagine. Mossy and Jonesy went to hunt her sorry ass down. Coach Kilkenny stopped them from killing her, thank God, and P’Arth high tailed it out of the Sol system one step ahead of the authorities.” She smiled warmly at Stephanie. “How are my girls settling in?” she asked to change the subject.
Stephanie had absorbed some of Kieran’s former basketball players, the ones Kieran couldn’t find slots for on Sato. “Shane Bilbrey is a kick ass number one,” she replied. “I like her, KT. She’s high spirited and she doesn’t take any shit. Kathy Simmons is adjusting. Running my Ops department is a major challenge for her. She came from a Constitution class ship, you know. Supremacy is a whole nother animal. Oh, and Icheb is having a ball in Astrometrics. He’s like a kid in a candy store, with all that top of the line equipment. I don’t think the man ever sleeps,” she laughed. “When I busted his chops for it, he actually told me ‘I am Borg. We do not become overtired.’ I laughed my ass off, and let him go back to work,” she related. “Penny Carpenter is doing really well in security. She’ll be running the department in six months, a year tops,” she told her former teammate. “You raised them right, KT.”
Kieran glowed with pride. “I know I don’t have the right to brag on them, but damn, I love them all,” she admitted.
“Well, there’s bad news, too,” Mossy explained. “It’s the reason they promoted me before we could do this investigation, in fact. The Cardassian terrorists are raising hell along the border again, and Sagan is going to keep the peace,” she sighed. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to help you figure out who tried to kill Kate.”
“Damn,” Kieran swore. “So soon? You’re leaving already?” she groused.
“Today,” Mossy affirmed. “But we’ll see each other before you hit the Beta Quadrant, KT. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Can you at least stay for the Captain’s Ball tonight?” Kieran asked.
“No, sorry. Keep me apprised of the progress of the investigation, though, okay?” she replied, standing to go.
Kieran stood to hug her goodbye. “I love you, Steph. Be careful out there,” she said, a distinct catch in her voice. “Take care of my kids. Oh—and be sure to run dolamide signature sweeps,” she began, sounding like she was lecturing.
“KT,” Mossy laughed. “I’ve read your mission logs, honey. I know all about the dolamide mine and the weapons. Stop worrying. And hey—I’ve got it under control. I love you, too,” she added, hugging her close. “Good luck with the wormhole problems. When Sagan catches up with you again, we have got to shoot some hoop,” she vowed.
“You bet, Mossy,” Kieran promised, easing from her embrace. “Damn, you’re a good looking CO,” she teased. “I wish I had your back.”
Mossy nodded. “Me, too, Kelsey. Me too. You know how I hate Cardies.” Stephanie shivered as she exited the Sato’s Captain’s Mess, thinking about her own captivity during the war. Jesus, I hate Cardies she repeated silently.
______________

Seven of Nine adored dancing with her wife, and Kathryn Janeway was simply breathtaking in the slinky black evening gown she sported. Her auburn hair glowed, as did her face, and Seven was enchanted. She could not remember when Kathryn had seemed so at ease, or so alive.

“You are radiant, my love,” Seven said against Kathryn’s cheek. “What is making you so ebullient?” she asked.
Kathryn smiled up at her. “For once, I’m not hosting this shin-dig, for starters,” she replied, emphasizing the point by twirling them around with a flair. “And I am escorting the single most gorgeous woman in the Quadrant,” she added mellifluously, stealing a kiss.
Seven colored prettily. “You flatterer,” she accused. “We both know you are the one making all the heads turn tonight,” Seven returned the compliment. “You really don’t miss being the Chief of all these Indians?” she pressed.
Kathryn laughed. “Are you kidding me? Kieran hasn’t sat down for three hours, she’s so busy meeting and greeting the crew. I, on the other hand, have been able to devote all my time to you, darling,” she flirted, grey-blue eyes twinkling. “And, Kieran will have to stay until the New Year is well and truly rung in and Auld Lange Syne has been sung. I, on the other hand, can spirit you off to make passionate love with you anytime we like,” she added, waggling her eyebrows.
“Masher,” Seven teased. “I love you, you know,” she returned, kissing Kathryn soundly.
“I do know,” Kathryn agreed. “This is better than any party I ever threw,” she said lightly, gazing around the huge ballroom.
Seven lowered her voice. “That is because this is catered by the Chimera staff, not Neelix,” she pointed out, grinning.
“There is that,” Kathryn chuckled. “Poor Neelix. He tried so hard,” she credited the former Talaxian morale officer. Kathryn stopped cold. “Holy shit,” she muttered.
“What?” Seven asked, glancing in the direction Kathryn was looking. “Oh, no, she wouldn’t,” Seven said darkly.
P’Arth had come to the party, and was actually asking Kieran to dance.
“Kato can’t say no. Come on, let’s go cut in. Which one of them do you want?” Kathryn asked.
“I’ll take the Chancellor,” Seven growled angrily. “By the short hairs.”
“Seven,” Kathryn’s tone was warning. “You can’t assimilate her, toss her out an airlock, or pour punch in her lap. Understood?” she demanded.
“Why Kathryn, I am appalled,” Seven feigned outrage. “I am the wife of an Ambassador. I know the protocol.”
“Harumph,” Kathryn replied. “Let’s hurry, Kieran looks apopleptic.”
Kieran Wildman was leading, but whatever P’Arth was saying was not making the Captain happy. Kathryn caught the dregs of the conversation.
“Did you forget that you left me unconscious?” Kieran was asking. “For Christ’s sake, P’Arth, you damn near killed me,” she accused.
“I—Lukara, we had been drinking. You passed out, but I did not injure you,” the Chancellor protested. “What are you talking about?”
Kathryn stopped Seven. “Wait, let them finish.”
Kieran gritted her teeth. “I’m talking about your having to leave before you got court-martialed,” she replied hotly.
“Lukara—” P’Arth seemed truly flabbergasted. “I left because we were not getting along and I was homesick. I knew we could not make the relationship work, and I was ready to go home.”
Seven had heard enough. “Chancellor,” she said smoothly, “I have been watching you all night and wondering why you have not asked me to dance,” she lied, stepping between the two leaders. “Please, honor me?” she offered.
P’Arth stood there, hands out to Kieran, baffled. “I—of course, Seven, forgive me,” she stammered. “Lukara, I would like to talk later,” she said to Kieran hopefully.
“Stop calling me that, P’Arth. I’m done talking to you,” Kieran retorted. Kathryn whisked her away, dancing in the opposite direction of Seven and P’Arth.
“Kato, take a deep breath and count to ten,” she advised.
“That fucking P’taQ! She pretends not to know why I can’t stand the sight of her,” she hissed. Her composure threatened. “I have to get out of here and pull my shit together, Kat,” she begged.
“Of course. Come on,” Kathryn held her hand and led her out of the holodeck and across the corridor into Oasis Central. “Let’s sit,” she tugged Kieran over to a table. “Tell me about Kit’s bridge officer’s exam—it’s next week, right?” Kathryn asked, knowing Kieran needed the distraction.
Kieran couldn’t manage it. “Jesus,” she muttered, holding her head in her hands. “She acts like it never happened, Kathryn. Like I made it all up.”
Naomi Wildman had seen them leaving and had followed them to the juice bar inside the wellness center. She sat down beside her wife. “Honey,” she said softly to Kieran, kissing her hair. “You know abusers rarely face up to what they’ve done. You didn’t expect her to acknowledge it, not really, did you?” she asked, arms twining around her wife.
Kieran rested her head on Naomi’s shoulder. “I don’t know what I expected,” she murmured miserably, lifting her head to meet Naomi’s eyes. “God, Na, could I be the one that’s wrong?” she pleaded for understanding, brown eyes desperate. “Did it happen differently than I remember it?” she asked, utterly confused.
“Kieran,” Naomi said firmly, cupping the Captain’s cheek in her palm. “You know what happened. Just because she isn’t willing to see the reality of her actions doesn’t make your perception wrong. Honey, you’re a psychologist. You know these things. It’s just hard to apply what you know to your own circumstances.”
Kieran studied Naomi’s face, seeing only sincerity and concern. “You’re—right,” she exhaled slowly. “I do remember. I’ve seen the medical records.”
Kathryn touched Kieran’s hand across the table. “So have I, Kato. That woman beat you to a pulp. Stephanie and Ericka found you unconscious. It’s not all in your head.”
“P’Arth said we’d been drinking that night,” Kieran offered contemplatively. “She’s right. She said I passed out. Do you think it’s possible she doesn’t know she hurt me? That she thought I was just—drunk?”
Naomi bit her lip. “Kieran, she broke bones. Surely she remembers hitting you.”
“But Worf said—” Kieran began, then stopped.
“Worf said what, Kato?” Kathryn encouraged her, wishing for all the world they could convince Kieran she was not crazy.
Kieran sighed, slumping in her chair. “He said what I described didn’t sound like much more than any normal Klingon romance,” she admitted. “He told me it is very unwise for humans to become sexually involved with Klingons for that reason—our bones are too fragile. He said biting and hitting and name calling are not out of the ordinary. So what I considered abuse, P’Arth may have considered a normal relationship,” she explained, troubled by it.
“Maybe,” Naomi allowed, “but she was in your solar system, at our Academy, and she should have known how to play by our rules,” she insisted. “She read the Academy handbook, she knew the regulations, and violence is strictly prohibited. Besides, honey,” Naomi tried to console her wife, “she should have figured out something was wrong, when unlike a Klingon who would bounce right back, you had to go to the infirmary. She had to know she was damaging your body,” she argued. “Don’t try to use her culture to excuse her behavior.”
“You said yourself she seemed like a nice enough person, Na,” Kieran pointed out.
“I wasn’t trying to take sides, Kieran,” Naomi said gently. “I was only trying to tell you my impression of her, and that it was contradictory to what I knew she was really like deep down. I was trying to tell you she doesn’t fool me,” she asserted.
Kathryn had had enough. “Kieran,” she said resolutely, “you have to stop second guessing yourself like this. Abuse is abuse. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck,” she contended. “P’Arth may have reconstructed her memories to make them more palatable to herself, but that doesn’t make your memories inaccurate. When Naomi was sick, and you played in that exhibition game, Stephanie Moss and Karen Weaver both told Naomi and I how horrid P’Arth was to you. You didn’t make any of it up,” she urged her to believe.
Kieran nodded. “Okay. I should know better than to expect her to validate anything I feel or know,” she agreed finally. “How many times have I counseled Kit about that very thing, telling her not to contact Kenny McCallister for the same reasons?” she chastised herself.
Naomi kissed her tenderly. “Knowing it and applying it are very different things, love,” she said sympathetically.
Kieran kissed her back. “Thanks—both of you. I feel better. I should get back. After all, it’s my party,” she reasoned, though her tone was not at all enthusiastic.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, you look amazing,” Naomi flattered her, smoothing the placket of her dress whites and straightening her plethora of medals and ribbons. “And this is an impressive lot,” she added proudly. “Kit is green with envy.”
Kieran laughed. “That may be the first and only reason I’ve ever had to like them,” she joked. She studied her wife appreciatively, smiling fondly. Naomi was wearing a sky blue gown, her alabaster shoulders bare and her throat looking delicate and lovely. “Besides, you’re the most beautiful woman at this event,” she said sincerely.
“Then come and dance with me. Robbie and Lenara are having one of their intense evenings of being infatuated with each other,” Naomi giggled. “It’s adorable, but I’m the odd woman out.”
Kieran stood and offered her arm to the strawberry blonde Ktarian. “Never odd, sweetheart. Let’s go.”
Kathryn smiled at both of them, following them out. She realized, in that moment, that she didn’t have to be running the ship to be useful. It was a revelation that comforted her immensely.

___________

Kathryn Janeway wiped the sweat from her brow, her wrist band thick with perspiration. “Nice match Kit,” she complimented Kieran’s daughter. “You’re so quick, I can barely track you visually,” she added, slapping Kit’s back.
“You buying the beer?” Kit chided her grandmother.