The Sato Series, Episode 3: a new Frontier

Geejay sighed. “I tried to make myself not cry,” she said dejectedly. “But I don’t understand what’s so honorable about hurting people,” she puzzled over it. “Ja’Kir is just mean,” she reported. “And Katie is mean when she’s with him.”
“I have an idea,” Kieran said brightly. “Why don’t you and I have lunch together, and then you can show me your ship, since I showed you mine,” she offered.
Geejay perked right up. “Where can we have lunch?” she asked, suddenly animated.
“Anywhere you like,” Kieran promised. “What sounds good to you?”
“Can we sit at the Captain’s table in the Chimera?” she asked hopefully. “I don’t get to sit there, now that K-Mom is just an ambassador,” she added, feeling slighted by her mother’s reduction in status.
Kieran fumed inwardly. “Let me guess. Katie has been teasing you about that, too, because I’m the Captain now?” she speculated correctly.
Geejay nodded, rising from the Captain’s chair. “I never used to brag about K-Mom,” she replied. “I remember once, Na told me how you hate braggarts, so I’ve never been one,” she said thoughtfully. “Besides, I never wanted to make Katie feel bad about not having a captain for a mother,” she explained with the logic of a child.
Kieran took her hand and led her back to the turbo lift. “Main street,” she ordered the invisible sentry. “Do you think Katie did feel bad about it?” she wondered.
“I know she was embarrassed that Noah doesn’t have a job,” Geejay advised. “She used to think that was great, because he would play with her, but since the twins were born, he doesn’t have time to play much. And Katie said a couple of times he should put the twins and Kelsey in day care and get a job like normal fathers,” she added.
The turbo lift stopped and allowed them to exit, and Kieran put an arm around Geejay’s shoulders. “Okay, Sport, the Chimera it is. I’m glad you picked there. It’s my favorite,” she added.
Geejay smiled up at her, but her lip trembled as if she might cry.
Kieran knelt in the corridor, looking intently at the child who looked so much like Seven Kieran could hardly believe it. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” she asked, heart tugging at her. “Your moms tell me you almost never come out of your room, you hardly eat—we’re worried, Sport. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
Geejay considered, trying to gather her emotions under a tight rein. “Why do people stop loving people?” she asked innocently. “How can you love someone one day and then not love them any more?”
“Like for example?” Kieran pressed, smoothing Geejay’s hair with a gentle hand.
“Like when K-Mom and Borg Mom didn’t live together,” she replied. “Or you and B'Elanna. Why don’t you love B'Elanna any more?” she asked, troubled at the transience of love.
Kieran sighed softly. “It’s complicated Geejay. I do still love B'Elanna, very much. But I didn’t make her happy, and so we found partners who do make us happy,” she explained.
“Oh. So I don’t make Katie happy, but Ja’Kir does,” she reasoned. “So she stopped loving me,” she concluded, troubled by it. “But what if I still love her? What am I supposed to do? I miss her,” she added. “A lot.”
Kieran hugged her close, then, partly to comfort her and partly to allow a moment to get control of her own feelings. Geejay sounded so much like Naomi had as a child, and Geejay’s heartache made Kieran want to cry. “Oh, sweetie,” she said tenderly, “I know you do. But I promise, Katie hasn’t stopped loving you. She might think she has, she might even say she has, but she hasn’t. It’s like—like when you get a new toy, or a new holoprogram,” she analogized, holding Geejay by the shoulders. “You know how when you get a new holoprogram, it’s the most fun and exciting thing to do, and you do it every day?”
Geejay nodded. “Like Kit’s roller coasters. When she makes a new one everyone wants to ride it over and over.”
“That’s right. That’s called ‘novelty’,” Kieran explained. “The newness of something. But it wears off. Over time, that same roller coaster isn’t quite so exciting, and the more times you ride it, the less interesting it seems. The novelty wears off. It’s like that with people, sometimes, too. A new friend might seem more interesting, just because they’re new, than an old friend does. But when the novelty wears off, Katie won’t think Ja’Kir is so interesting, any more. Right now, she just knows he’s exciting because he is from a different world, a different culture. It’s why we all love space exploration so much, too,” she added. “Because we all love meeting new aliens, and learning about their cultures, and making new friends with them.”
Geejay nodded. “That makes sense. But what if the novelty never wears off? Like with you and Naomi, it never has, right?” she asked insightfully.
Kieran smiled. “Geejay, you never cease to amaze me,” she said appreciatively. “That’s exactly right. Naomi seems familiar to me, and the novelty has been replaced by something much, much more permanent than the initial excitement,” she explained. “It’s become a deeper attachment than when we were dating. The novelty wore off but in its place, there is love and devotion and respect.”
“That’s how I feel about Katie,” she agreed. “She isn’t new, and she isn’t exciting, exactly, but I care about her more now than when we were little,” she decided. “I just wish she wouldn’t ignore me completely,” she complained. “I think it’s good that she’s got Ja’Kir, but I hate it that she—replaced me with him,” she settled on a description for her feelings. “When you and Borg Mom were missing, Katie and I were so close,” she recalled. “We cried together all the time, and worried about you both, and we missed you so much. It was like we were each other’s family, then,” she described, trying to find the right words. “It didn’t make it okay that you were gone, exactly, but it made it—easier, a little bit. Does that make sense?” she asked hopefully.
“Perfect sense. Seven and I felt the same about you, you know,” she asserted kindly. “We missed you so much, but it helped that we had each other. Especially because Seven and you look so much alike,” Kieran advised her young companion. “It made me remember you every day, and that made me sad, but Seven helped me feel better.”
Geejay hugged Kieran tightly. “Please don’t ever get lost again, Kato. Everyone was so unhappy the whole time you were gone. Kit wouldn’t talk to me or come visit anyone, Cassidy moped around like the world had ended, even K-Mom wasn’t right,” she sighed. She touched Kieran’s cheek as if there were something else bothering her.
“Sport, what are you not telling me?” Kieran cajoled carefully.
“I always thought I could count on Katie loving me,” she explained sadly. “I never thought we wouldn’t be best friends. But if that can change—if she can stop loving me, then I guess anyone can,” she realized. “And I don’t have any control over it if they do. It’s scary.”
Kieran nodded. “Yes, it can be. Love is always a risk. But it’s worth it, honey, I promise. If Naomi stopped loving me tomorrow, I would be very sad. But it wouldn’t make me sorry we ever loved each other, just because it ended.”
“Katie said we would always be best friends,” she noted. “Why did she lie?”
Kieran shook her head. “I don’t think she meant to tell you a lie. I’m sure when she told you that, she meant it.”
“So when Borg Mom says she’ll always love me, she means it now, but tomorrow she might not?” Geejay asked, trying to understand.
Kieran laughed lightly. “I think it’s a safe bet Seven really will always love you, Sport. Don’t let Katie shake your faith in everyone, Geejay. That would be a shame.”
“What if you stop loving me?” Geejay asked, afraid of the answer. “I don’t think I could stand that,” she bared her soul. “It’s been hard with Katie, but I couldn’t ever get over it if you changed your mind,” she added.
Kieran’s throat tightened, and she couldn’t speak for a long moment. “Geejay, I will never stop loving you. There is nothing in this life that could change my mind about that. I swear it to you,” she replied seriously.
Geejay knew enough about Trill culture to know that if a Trill identified person swore on their life, on their fanua, that was as solid as a promise ever got. “You swear it on your fanua?” she asked, fretting.
Kieran nodded. “I do. I swear it on my fanua,” she echoed. “Okay?”
Geejay smiled. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Kieran agreed. “Let’s eat lunch.” I have got to remember to tell Pierre that Kathryn’s family can use the Captain’s table anytime they like. I had no idea Geejay would feel bad about that.
“Have you ever had Pipius claw?” Geejay asked Kieran as they entered the restaurant.
Kieran laughed. “Yes, I have. I don’t care for it.”
“Me, either,” Geejay asserted. “It tastes like smelly feet,” she added, giggling.
_____________
Captain Kieran Wildman wrapped her wife in supportive arms. “How do you feel, Be’thal?” she asked Lenara, who was pale and drawn looking. “Is it too much for you?”
Lenara shook her head. “No. Kathryn is being careful to take plenty of breaks, and P’Arth is being accommodating.”
Kieran scowled. “Accommodating? Is that what you call that forty minute filibuster she went on in opening remarks?” She kissed Lenara’s forehead tenderly. “I hate putting you through this, Le’sharon,” she whispered, pressing her lips against Lenara’s vallette.
Lenara leaned into Kieran’s embrace, sighing. “I am always so tired, no matter how much I sleep,” she admitted. “But really, shar cadre, she is very articulate, and I do appreciate her position. In fact, I agree with her. The Klingons befriended your people long before the Romulans, and I understand why they are insulted,” she admitted.
Kieran nodded. “I know. I can’t say I really see eye to eye with Starfleet on this one.” Kieran let Lenara rest against her chest, holding her possessively. “You know I love you, don’t you?” she asked.
Lenara eased back, gazing up at her wife. “Cha’malar'on, of course I do,” she replied, brow wrinkling with concern. “Are you all right, dre’on?” she asked, unsure of why Kieran was so pensive. She squeezed Kieran’s waist. “Naomi told you about the nightmares, didn’t she?”
Kieran hung her head. “Yes.”
“It was a dream, my love, nothing more,” Lenara assured her wife, her gray-green eyes warming. “Please, don’t worry yourself so,” she pleaded. “We are fanua’thal, and death can’t change that,” she asserted firmly.
Kieran closed her eyes against the sudden rush of tenderness welling in her chest. “Shar Lenara,” she whispered. “Don’t believe for a nanosecond that I could bear this life without you in it,” she replied.
Lenara touched Kieran’s face, thinking about how it had looked after the wormhole accident. “We have lost each other so many times, Kieran, and I need to know that if something happens, you won’t let it end our love, or the life we’ve built with Robbie and Naomi.”
Kieran’s words came out half-strangled. “The marriage survived when I was lost, that’s true,” she agreed. “But I don’t pretend it could survive losing you.”
“But it must, shar thala,” she insisted. “Please tell me you understand why, or I have completely failed this union,” Lenara said beseechingly.
“I do understand, and I know and will honor my vows to you. I will never leave the fanu’tremu, and I won’t let Robbie and Naomi forget what we promised one another.”
“Thank you,” Lenara said solemnly. “Because if the bond is broken, then I will truly cease to live on,” she asserted. “Except in the Kahn symbiont. I want more of me to carry on than only that,” she urged Kieran to understand. “Besides,” she tried to sound more upbeat, “Naomi has dreams all the time, and not all of them are prophetic. I think she is just anxious about the baby,” she decided.
Kieran nodded. “Probably. Oh, Nara, this little girl is going to be so incredible—brilliant and more beautiful than any child we’ve ever imagined,” she said softly. “I am so happy about this pregnancy.”
“As am I,” Lenara agreed. “I know I don’t say enough, I get so caught up in my formulas and my wormhole musings, but I have never stopped being grateful that you were able to accept the love Naomi and I share. Your support and your openness has given us this opportunity—all of us. You conceived of this marriage even before I did. I didn’t see it as remotely possible, not with two humans in the mix. It was brave of you to push Naomi in my direction that summer,” she praised her wife.
“Not brave,” Kieran disagreed. “Greedy. I loved you then, and I wanted to be able to express that love in a broader context than friendship.” Kieran smiled down at her Trill lifemate. “And you were the one who was generous, Lenara. After all, you forgave me for Seven,” she reminded the Trill.
Lenara’s expression softened perceptibly. “Kieran, there was nothing to forgive. If she had wanted to be part of this fanu’tremu, we would have opened our arms, and been happy for you both. I never gave it a second thought. Please, stop torturing yourself over that. Let it go. And know that the Wildwomen love you, endlessly.”
Kieran studied her, the kindness in her eyes, the gentleness in her touch, and she knew once again that she was a most blessed individual. “It’s time to go back. Are you up to it?” she asked protectively.
Lenara nodded. “The sooner we get back to it, the sooner it ends,” she decided, hugging her wife once more.

______________

Kathryn Janeway had heard it all before, and she was weary of it. P’Arth kept reminding the delegates how loyal the Klingon Empire had been to the Federation, how many Klingons had died not only in the Dominion War, but at Wolf 359, and in every major battle they had ever joined in on. She reminded them of her countrymen who served and continued to serve in the ranks of Starfleet. She detailed the close relations the Empire had with Deep Space Nine, with the Enterprise, with the various member worlds.
And of course, the Romulans pointed out that the Klingons turned on their Federation allies in the middle of the Dominion War, however briefly. P’Arth’s temper remained in check, but her eyes fairly blazed with anger at the reminder of the rift.
The problem was, Kathryn had very little to offer in the way of conciliatory gestures. The wormhole was a done deal, as far as Starfleet was concerned, and the United Federation of Planets could hardly refute their logic. The Romulans had superior technology to the Klingons, and a cold and calculating demeanor in battle, both assets the Federation could ill afford to ignore. The Romulans were a superior ally, and Starfleet knew it.
Lenara Wildman had put in her two cents for the cause, explaining in painstaking detail why the conditions in Romulan space were more favorable for the establishment of a permanent wormhole than the conditions near Qo’noS. P’Arth was not versed well enough in the science involved to argue it, and while it was never Lenara’s intention to undermine P’Arth’s stature, P’Arth felt humiliated. Like any true diplomat, even a Klingon, she schooled her outrage to passivity, kept her countenance under control, and appeared impervious to any perceived insult. But Detara, who attended the Chancellor, fumed visibly when Lenara had made her case. Lenara was uncertain of how she had offended the Klingons, and she had done her best to choose her words carefully, but it was clear they were upset. It didn’t help that the Romulan delegates had gloated visibly when Lenara was speaking. Kieran had tried to console her wife, reassuring her that the things she said were completely appropriate, but Lenara was uneasy.
“Chancellor,” she called after P’Arth in the hallway as the talks broke up for the day. “Chancellor P’Arth, please wait,” she urged, rushing after the Klingon contingent, her Trill robes flapping as she hurried.
Kit jogged to keep up, annoyed with Lenara for ignoring the way Kit discouraged her from pursuing a conversation with the Chancellor. “Lenara,” she hissed. “Don’t. You’ll only make it worse,” she whispered to her mother.
Lenara marched determinedly onward, making Kit hustle. P’Arth had pretended not to hear, but when they had gone nearly to the atrium of the building, she finally turned to face the Trill. “Doctor Kahn,” she acknowledged her. “Forgive me. Wildman,” she corrected herself.
“Please, Chancellor, tell me why you are angry,” Lenara requested, wringing her hands. “Did I say something to insult your honor?” she asked apologetically.
“Your briefing statement contained none of the scientific information you discussed today. The written documents you submitted mentioned none of the issues you raised,” she explained. It was customary to prepare written documents for such negotiations, so that every side had a basis for understanding and preparing their own counter arguments.
Lenara nodded. “I apologize, Chancellor. It was not even an oversight on my part, but something I only discovered after I had submitted my final draft,” she explained. “It wasn’t an analysis I even intended to run, but an artifact of some preliminary testing I have done in the Sol system. I did not mean to blindside you. Please believe that. I am more than happy to take you to my laboratory, to show you the findings, to explain anything you like,” she pleaded, hoping to save the day. “The relations between my people and yours are crucial, Chancellor. I have every intention of presenting only the most salient scientific data. I promise you, I do not have a political agenda,” she pledged, extending her hands to the Chancellor. “I am prostrate before you,” she added, covering her eyes and dropping to her knees.
P’Arth looked at Detara, then at Kit, fully bewildered. “You are—why are you shielding your eyes?” she asked.
Detara grasped P’Arth’s forearm. “qagh Sopbé,” she warned her mistress.
Lenara understood her perfectly, and directed her comment to Detara. “quvwIj DatIchpu',” she advised the young woman.
P’Arth was startled that Lenara spoke Klingon, but nodded approval and scowled at Detara, who had told P’Arth Lenara was acting suspiciously. Lenara had shot back with “you have insulted my honor.”
“bljatlh ‘e’ ylmev, Detara,” she growled at her vassal.
Kit intervened, for although she had no idea what was being said, the tone was unmistakable. P’Arth was furious with Detara, and Detara was furious with Lenara, and poor Lenara only wanted to appease everyone concerned. “Chancellor, let me explain. For a Trill to prostrate herself before you is the sincerest apology in Lenara’s culture. The symbolic covering of the eyes is to express her abject unworthiness to look upon your glory,” Kit played it up. “She is begging your forgiveness,” she added, a pleading tone in her voice.
“What is the proper response?” P’Arth said to Kit in hushed tones. “I am not familiar with this ritual.”
Kit leaned closer, and whispered the words in Trill. Then she repeated them once more, so that P’Arth could repeat them.
“What did I just say?” P’Arth asked, realizing she had taken Kit at her word without question.
“You said ‘uncover your eyes, all is forgiven’, Chancellor. That is the proper response,” Kit explained.
P’Arth was flustered, because Lenara remained on the floor. “Doctor Kahn, please, get up,” she insisted, feeling embarrassed. “Kahless in retreat,” she swore an oath. “I am not angry with you. If you tell me you did not intend to take me unawares with this information to rattle me, then I believe you. You are a woman of impeccable honor,” she complimented Lenara, reaching down to help her up.
Lenara smiled gratefully, her humility having won the day. “You are gracious, indeed, Chancellor. And I am your servant, however I may assist you. Would you like to see my data? Kit and I can certainly spend all evening, if you’d like. Please. Come to dinner at my home, let me go over the information with you. It is the very least I can do.”
P’Arth smiled genuinely then. “Your mother is charming,” she said to Kit. “How can I refuse such a sincere offer?” She turned to her vassal. “Detara, you may return to the ship,” she said dismissively, conveying extreme disapproval to her companion. “I will be home later. Please see that Ja’Kir has his dinner and does his homework. Don’t wait up for me,” she instructed her servant.
“Yes, councilwoman,” Detara replied, though she glared covertly at Lenara. She slapped her communication badge and barked something angrily into it.
Lenara watched her leaving, concern crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Chancellor, did I say something that Detara took offense at?” she asked reluctantly. “She does not seem to like me very much,” she added.
“Detara is very protective of me, of my honor, of my house,” she replied, touching Lenara’s arm. “Think nothing of her behavior. I will discipline her, if you wish.”
“Heavens, no,” Lenara replied, alarmed. “I simply did not understand why she was so upset.”
“She has delusions, I am afraid. Aspirations she can never achieve. She fancies herself integral to my happiness, to my well-being. She is an employee, but she wants to be more,” P’Arth explained. “And she is jealous of my esteem for you. She wishes she could impress me the way you have. Shall we?” she asked solicitously, holding out her arm to the Trill scientist. She held her breath, hoping the incredibly beautiful woman beside her would not refuse.
Lenara took her arm, smiling brightly. “Have you ever eaten Trill food, Chancellor?” she asked, following the Klingon’s powerful gait.
P’Arth smiled. “I would love to try it. Thank you for the invitation. Are you certain your wives won’t mind the imposition?” she asked politely. “More to the point, Doctor, are you certain you don’t mind? You have such important work to do, and I fear I am distracting you from it.”
“It is no imposition in either case,” Lenara assured her. “Naomi always makes more for dinner than our family could possibly eat, and we always have Trill cuisine on Thursdays,” she offered. “Naomi is considered an excellent cook, I might add.”
“You are kind, Doctor. I would very much like to have you show me your research, and explain it to me. I am afraid I am a very slow study in all things scientific. I’m a politician, and a warrior, not a scholar. When I was younger, I was familiar with your work, and I was very much in awe of you. But you may find that I am entirely too much a dullard to comprehend what you are doing, now. Your theories have advanced so much since I read your work,” she sighed.
“I’m sure they aren’t all that different, now, and I’ll try not to bore you to Sto’Vo’Kor,” she promised.
P’Arth regarded her with distinct delight, throwing her head back and laughing. “You are a very clever woman,” she said, chuckling long after the joke. “I can see why Kieran married you,” she added. “Or more precisely, why you married her,” she amended, grinning. “Your sense of humor is identical to hers,” she explained.
Kit Wildman followed behind the two women, grinding her teeth. It galled her that Lenara was sucking up to this Klingon, and it rankled in her even more that P’Arth was acting so chummy with her adoptive mother’s wife. She stowed her anger, however, and kept her face as inscrutable as a stone.
Naomi had made pra’gache, Lenara’s favorite Trill dish, and a favorite of Kieran’s, as well. Lenara and Naomi did their best to carry the conversation, and Kieran tried not to scowl at P’Arth, but she only marginally succeeded. When the meal was over, they had a drink in the living room. Robin served bloodwine to P’Arth, who glanced around Kieran’s quarters as if she hadn’t seen them before.
P’Arth wandered over to Naomi’s piano, touching the ivory keys. “I used to love this instrument when I was in school at the Academy,” she said to no one in particular. “There was a girl on our team who played—Kieran, do you remember her?” she asked, turning to the Captain.