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That is precisely the kind of purifictry Kobayashi Maru trains you to avoid!
Michael looked at the tall blonde woman before her on the screen. Rillak had gone planet side to trade out a peace treaty with the indigenous people, one that had turned their back on the Federation since the Burn.
Michael looked at the blue eyes squinting back at her, jaw squared and lips thin. How dared she be that infuriating? Was it because of their age gap, of their so-called delta in experience? What gave President Rillak the outrageous right to take a shuttle and go there alone?
She had explicitly refused any company, not to speak about bodyguards or weapons. She solely relied on her innate capacities to handle the bargain on her own.
Don’t misunderstand me, Captain, you are eminently qualified…
… But diplomacy is not my cup of tea, but yours and yours alone, isn’t it?
She watched as the face of the Cardassian-Bajoran woman, which was already pale by nature, started to lose its last remnants of pigmentation, all blood vanishing from the capillaries at her cheeks, chin and forefront, to concentrate on the white of her eyes and at the tips of her ears.
In a time of rebuilding there is a very fine line between a pendulum (pause) and a wrecking ball. And your actions are huge swings of the pendulum. (pause again) We cannot afford any diplomatic incident at this point just because you acted upon your personal feelings. We cannot risk losing the adherence of the Pak’Thar to the Federation, if only because of the huge deposits of dilithium on the planet. You will have to stay behind and let me play my part.
Michael’s cheeks flamed up. If it hadn’t been for the natural dark olive tone of her skin, she would have betrayed her feelings before she could say Jack Robinson. But her whole crew was there as witnesses. She was being bullied by that rude blonde, whose hairdos and costume creases were always so irritatingly impeccable it made Michael’s teeth screech and toes roll in her strong Starfleet boots. With much difficulty she inhaled the stark synthi-air on command deck of the Discovery, trying to stay as calm as her Vulcan tutors had seen worthy to teach her, Zarek head on. Of course she had failed many times, it had also been very difficult. She didn’t have the genes, like her brother. Amanda had always preferred him anyways, it was her own blood son after all. Michael, on the contrary… she had been a stray dog, put under their care. Amanda had looked after her, and Zarek had loved her too, but that was not the point. It was not about the fights between Spock and her or the mistreatments of other pupils.
Lieutenant Rhys, be ready to beam President Rillak at any time.
She saw the blue eyes grow steamy hot and for a moment she thought the Cardassian-Bajoran-Human hybrid would tear the screen apart to kick her ass without being asked twice. Instead, she turned around and walked away out of the shuttle.
The screen was still flickering lightly as Michael felt the distortion in the air. It was the Anomaly. She knew it before the sensors at Tilly’s console could register them. They were being wrapped in and there was no way out.
ALL HANDS! BRACE FOR IMPACT!
She shouted, wide-eyed and in frenzy, looking frantically around her, and waiting for bursts from the power cables to gush like geysers but no one moved. Still gripping the handrail behind her Captain’s chair, like she always did when danger was upon her, she swallowed hard, but her throat was sore from shouting. She sweated. Wasn’t it obvious that danger was imminent?
MOVE! MOVE!
She shouted, as much as she could, slowly coming out of her torpor, feeling like heavy honey all glued at her body. As a matter of fact, she looked around her and discovered with horror that all her crew had been frozen in a kind of amber jelly.
She was the only one who could still move.
Heart pounding, she redirected her gaze onto the big screen in front of her and discovered what she had feared most. There, in the jungle of Dath’Tak’Tar, she saw a wave of blond hair escape its stiff bun and a navy blue costume get so scratched the pink legs of the diplomat could be seen.
Listening only to her courage, Michael steeple chased between the masses of jelly in the corridors and gangways, and managed to reach sick bay, where Cu had prepared a serum for her. He still held the phial in his hand before he was gulped away by a cloud of smoky darkness.
She donned the serum and the next moment, she was floating in space.
In a frenzy she started swimming in the ocean of vagueness, her only goal the planet and the jungle of Dath’Tak’Tar, where the blond diplomat and member of her crew had disappeared.
Not on my watch, Laira, not on my watch, she repeated as a mantra to get past the many meteorites that protruded on her way. Like mushrooms of some spongy quality, they started multiplying around her, but she was quicker and, kicking on her boosters, she spurted herself and reached the atmosphere of the planet.
It was breathtaking. She flew like an eagle above the landscape, the green lush valleys with patches of color, the galactic blue of the fresh water oceans, closing up on falls so crystalline clear with their iridescent mist it made her heart clutch in her chest for a second.
She flew further north, because it was what her compass said and because whatever happened happened north, and landed in a red soiled village where all villagers were white in skin and nude to the bone. She swallowed, coughing at the dryness of the ground, getting scared as some of the autochthones were trying to take her mask off. She screamed and fought hands and feet to keep them at a distance, but she failed and to her horror, some hands pulled up her helmet and she tumbled on the ground, getting hands and knees dirty.
Oh fucking goodness, oh no…! Amanda is going to kill me when she sees all this dirt…!
She was starting to shiver as two gentle hands pressed against her temples and as she looked up, Laira was standing in front of her.
“Shshsh… everything is fine, Michael, everything is fine.”
Michael felt the urge to say something but it was a liquid that found its way in her mouth. The burn in her chest slowly recessed and she peered at her surroundings. Laira was there, wearing colorful attires and makeup. Yellows, blues, reds, greens. Her pale face was all of a sudden so – bright and full of light…!
You led your crew to the future, you deciphered the Burn.
Michael’s ears processed the information. She was here and her crew was safe in the stars. But Rillak wasn’t. Feeling the urge to get away, Michael looked around her, observing that no one was moving. Carefully, she went to the hut were she supposed Rillak to be, in search for the diplomat. But she stepped in a black hole inside the tent and lost foot. Unconsciously she shook her right leg, falling deeper in darkness.
She thought she’d die.
But the ground she landed on was soft. And warm. Like the womb of a mother. It radiated heat and was most peculiarly moist. To her right a big cavern opened up, and some diffuse light poured from the ceiling, plunging the blackness into a bluish light, as if waves of a dormant lake were reverberating at its walls.
Laira stood in the middle of that cavern, gently inviting Michael to join her. Michael knew it could mean danger, it could be a trap. With some apprehension she walked over, careful not to tread on that squashy underground, so jelly like and yet somehow firmer.
She reached Laira, who had donned her traditional navy blue costume. She was smiling, which brought Michael’s subconscious to blare klaxons and see red. Laira never smiled. This had to be a trap, and she had forgotten to take a weapon with her.
Madam President, we need to go. Now!
Why Michael? This planet is what I was looking for. I want to retire and stay here forever. And I will be a happy citizen of the jungle of Dath’Tak’Tar. See, I am already carrying the seed of life in me.
Out of curiosity, Michael peered down at the swelling belly the diplomat was wearing proudly under her flared jacket, one hand pressed against her flesh. She was still smiling.
Clouds started to gather in the sky. They were outside again, in the open air. Rillak’s smile turned to a grimace and she held her belly. Contractions started and Michael started to sweat again.
Madam President! We need to leave! Right now! Rhys will beam us up!
NO! I have to carry this pregnancy to the end, it is the gift of the Federation to the Dath’Tak’Tar people, they are expecting this kind of sacrifice from us!
Michael watched in horror as a lush arm of green wiggled its way out of the space between Laira’s legs. And it was okay. Because she was delighted. She looked at Michael with a big smile, holding her arm and looking deep inside her eyes.
Look, Captain Burnham, what a beautiful baby…!
She did as she was asked and discovered a big mushroom, yellow and pink, with protrusions on its corolla like Laira’s.
The new spore drive is ready! Isn’t it truly breathtaking?
The particles left the fungus and spread in the atmosphere.
Our job here is done, Madam President. Now we need to go.
“Michael?”
Michael clutched her hand and thought very clearly of where she wanted to be next. Rhys, transporter, two to beam up. Now!
It was a big leap of faith. But she had to do it.
"Michael!?"
She closed her eyes as hard as she could, and the next moment she was back on Discovery. The crew was safe, back at their stations. Her heart pounded too quickly. She ran to the lift, swept at the walls looking for signs, the doors opened on a darkened gangway. She ran for a long time, to sick bay, but Cu wasn’t there anymore.
“Michael!”
She stopped at once in front of a mirror, blood freezing in her veins. There, in the translucent pearly liquid of the surface, Laira Rillak was looking back at her.
You did it, Michael. You saved everyone. You sacrificed the many to save the few. I am proud of you. I am proud of you. Thank you.
Michael’s chest squeezed. Something was terribly wrong.
Laira! Laira! Stop! STOP! Don’t go! DON’T GO!
She knew it sounded like a plea, that she sounded rueful and desperate. It was heart-wrenching but she couldn’t let go.
The image faded away. There was soon nothing left but a hair of Laira’s beautiful hairdo, recoiling to Michael’s feet.
“Michael? Michael, I am here.”
Michael was panting, whining and clutching at her pants. She was ready to tear them apart if need be. It was so hot, so hard, so heavy.
A hand came to caress her forehead and she rejoiced in the sensation. It was smooth and gentle. The feeling of stress and capture slowly receded the more the fingers stroke her skin. She was trembling, she knew it. Sweat pricked at the base of her skull, under the heavy braids of her hair.
She tried to lick her lips but only hot air managed to pass the barrier of her clenched teeth.
The hand didn’t stop stroking her gently.
Slowly, as if the worlds fell apart, she woke up. She was in a hollow, in the dark. She winced once more, panting. But this time, she could breathe. She took a big gulp of air, jerking with her legs as she felt the ground disappear under her. Immediately a pair of hands was there to guide her in the night.
“Michael? Can you hear me? This is all a bad dream. You are having a Kanar shock. This is typical, but you will survive it. Michael, can you come back to me? Can you hear my voice? Can you hear me?”
Michael darted a dry tongue past her lips but the bloody sensation of losing her balance dissipated. Now she batted her lids, opening her eyes. Darkness. Space?
“Uhhhh…”
“Michael? Don’t overdo it, be friendly to yourself. Do you hear me?”
The voice was slow and gentle, warm as a whisper in her ear. The fingers cupped her face, she felt cared for. Was that Amanda? She swallowed. This time there was something to drink, a bit of saliva.
“Where… where am I?” She managed, but it felt like a tremendous effort.
“In your private rooms, on your bed.”
Michael processed the information. Then: “Lights. Ten percent.”
Heart pounding, she waited a few seconds that her eyes adapted to the new light arrangement, and slowly turned her head, panting.
And there she was, looking down at her, with her pale white skin and her steel blue eyes.
“Laira…” A little smile. Then: “Laira? Are you okay?” She tried to push herself on her elbow, but the magic hands were back on her and pressed her down.
“You, stay put. It’s an order. You are the victim of Kanar poisoning. It is unpleasant but not deadly. At least, not for us Cardassians, but I guess you have a strong stamina. You will probably survive.”
“Laira…” Michael stammered. “If that is an attempt to humor, there is still much room for improvement…” She huffed, but her smile betrayed her mood.
“Michael… I’m so sorry… I will bring you water.”
Michael felt the change in texture as Laira left the bed for the replicator. She came back a few moments later, sitting down next to Michael. She helped her up, helping her straighten up against the headboard.
In the dim light the Captain of the Discovery could not see much. But she heard her.
No sooner she felt the weight of the other woman hit the mattress, she fell atop of herself and held Laira in what she hoped would go through as a soft but strong embrace. She hid her face in her shoulder, repeating her name, Laira, like a mantra.
***
The diplomat squeezed Michael’s elbow, holding her in place. If felt good. It was a miracle the frail human body of the Captain could take so much, but again, she hadn’t been informed of the quantity of alcohol coursing through Michael’s veins. Only that much that Captain Burnham was going to have the hangover of her life.
***
Michael held on to the other woman like to a buoy. Fitting analogy. Again, like a mariner lost at seas trying not to sink in.
A strong arm pulled her close, making sure she wouldn’t fall. She closed her eyes.
Something hit her lips, cold, sleek, liquid. Sweet like chocolate, but it was only water.
She took a gulp, then another. Finally, she drank the whole glass, held at her waist by the strong lady by her side.
“Laira… you’re safe… aren’t you…?” She swallowed.
A little chuckle. “Of course I am. Now, rest again. First thing in the morning I will text Lt. Tilly to overtake for you in the first shift. Or maybe another devoted crew member, someone awake at least, like Cdr. Owosekun, might like the idea of sitting in the Captain’s chair for a few hours.”
Michael mumbled something unintelligible. She was feeling tired again, cold in her back, sweaty and sore from the feverish spasms. She felt as the hands pulled her back gently on the pillow, get on the other side of the bed, and talk swiftly to the computer. “Zora, lights out.”
It was a little later that Michael sighed deeply, turning to her left, fingers searching for the presence of the blonde woman. In that ocean of darkness, Laira was all she wanted now to survive the night. Who else would help her otherwise? She was thankful for the blackout in her mind, it felt very peaceful at once.
“Laira?” She managed a last time. “Are you… are you safe? Please, tell me you’re safe.”
There was a pause at first, a little hesitation before answering, as if the tall blonde had been pondering her words wisely. Michael listened, in order not to miss them.
There was another moment of stillness, and then: “I am safe, Michael. Thanks to you. Thank you, Michael.”
The latter shivered slightly, letting the air she had unconsciously kept back out of her lungs. It was the first time she had heard the seasoned diplomat say her name that way. And it was too good, too strong, too deep to just be a dream. This felt real, and at once she knew her sleep would be watched, by her guardian angel.