Transitions by Liz Voyager has just returned to the Alpha Quadrant, and B'Elanna finds herself in unfamiliar territory. Set two days after "Endgame." Rated PG. Disclaimer: This story and website are in no way affiliated with Star Trek: Voyager, and are in no way meant to infringe on the copyright and trademarks of Paramount Studios, a Viacom Corporation. All characters, barring those created specifically by the author for her own sole use, are © Paramount/Viacom and are used here without permission. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ For the first time in her life, B'Elanna felt the desire to hang curtains. It had nothing to do with her new status as a mother. It had everything to do with the presence of Earth outside the windows of their quarters. The sun's light was glaring off the planet's surface in such a way that made it eternal daytime, thanks to the direction and speed of their orbit. The rest of the crew didn't seem to mind; they wanted all the natural sunlight they could get, not to mention the grandiose view of North America beneath them. B'Elanna, on the other hand, simply wanted a few minutes when she could forget where they were— and what might happen soon. Voyager had returned to the Alpha Quadrant, and her occupants would have to leave the ship before long. Most of the Starfleet people would go to their families. Those they'd picked up along the way—Seven and Icheb—would find a new home. Tom was expecting a hearing soon to confirm his status as a pardoned citizen of the UFP. But for some people, the outlook was not so certain. B'Elanna and the other Maquis were still waiting for word on their status. They had no official Federation citizenship and therefore no guaranteed protection of the law. They had never been given any promise of a pardon should they return to Earth. At the moment, they were a problem, a sticky situation for the Starfleet brass. Prison time was not too far a stretch of the imagination, regardless of what Tom said to reassure her. And that still left one more category: the two children who had been born on Voyager. Naomi and Miral would of course not be put on trial—the thought of a two- day-old infant being guilty of anything besides a leaking diaper (B'Elanna really had to get the hang of fastening that thing) was laughable. But still, what place did they have in this new world into which they were being thrust? What would happen to Miral, both of whose parents had colorful criminal records and whose unique genetic inheritance had already made her the object of intense medical curiosities? In short, B'Elanna wanted very badly to cover the windows and hide any trace of a future that would harm her family. On Voyager, they had had the comfort of thousands and thousands of light years to insulate Miral from these threats. Now B'Elanna had nothing— Oh, stop it, she told herself. This is ridiculous! She was exhausted and feeling a little uneven, and it was interfering with how she viewed the situation. She had a right—Miral had only been born two days before! Still, that was no reason to give in to all of her combined fears about the future. Tom was right: they weren't alone in this. His father was already pulling strings—regardless of whether Tom wanted him to or not, but that was another issue—to make sure that the newest member of the Paris family would have a good home with two respected parents who were specifically not in jail. What's more, even if they were still in the Delta Quadrant, she and Tom would still have plenty of reasons to be afraid and anxious for themselves and for Miral. B'Elanna heard a whimper from the foot of their bed, where they had placed Miral's cradle. She roused herself from the mass of blankets she'd replicated for herself the day before in a spree of spending (okay, she admitted that the lack of replicator restrictions was nice) and moved around the bed so she could check on the baby. Miral was awake and beginning to cry. Okay, what did that mean? B'Elanna mentally went through the list of possibilities: hungry, tired, wet, too cold, too hot, sick… Which one was it? The Doctor had promised that she'd pick up on Miral's signals before long, but she sure didn't understand them yet. B'Elanna picked up her daughter, bouncing her gently. Okay, she told herself, treat this like an engineering problem: Every problem has a solution. Diaper: not a problem. Miral didn't feel too hot or too cold. She'd just been sleeping. So… Well, it's not as if B'Elanna could feed her too much. She took Miral to the couch and lifted her shirt to nurse. Whether or not that was the reason Miral was crying, she definitely was hungry, so B'Elanna decided that she was doing the right thing. This time. B'Elanna was forced to admit something she would never say as chief engineer: She had no idea what she was doing. What's more, she needed help. Tom was far from neglectful. In fact, B'Elanna had even encouraged him to return to the bridge so he could attend however many more senior staff meetings there were. She herself would be attending again soon, regardless what the Doctor said, but today she was just too tired. At least if Tom was there, he could tell her what was happening to her engines. She'd assured him that she and Miral would be fine in his absence. It was a different kind of help she wanted. B'Elanna had dim memories of looking through a family picture album as a child and seeing pictures of herself as a newborn in her grandmother's arms. That was what B'Elanna desperately wanted. She wanted to have her own pictures of Miral being held by her grandmother, someone who knew how to take care of babies from experience and not just textbooks. She wanted to be able to look back on images of the elder Miral, smiling proudly as she beheld her first grandchild… B'Elanna wanted her mother. That was impossible, though. As B'Elanna had known through instinct, her mother had died almost two years before. Her transport ship had been raided during the Dominion War. A document recorded at the time said that her mother had bravely taken the lives of two Breen before a phaser blast sent her into a coma. She died only a few days later. The Klingon doctor who recorded the circumstances of death made note that it was an honorable death, but that gave B'Elanna little comfort now. Her eyes wandered around their quarters. Pretty soon they would have to move all of their things to another home: the television, the blankets, even the toaster. Tom's parents had offered to help with the packing, but B'Elanna wasn't sure she wanted to explain to Owen Paris why there was an antique bat'leth hanging on the wall. Neither he nor Anne Paris had uttered a word to suggest that they were anything other than accepting of B'Elanna and Miral, but all the same, how would she explain that whole fiasco with the Klingon ship and their Kuvah'Magh? B'Elanna laughed quietly, looking down at Miral. The thought of her daughter being a savior at this stage in her life was absurd. Miral was adorable, of course, but completely helpless. Not exactly the type of warrior to defeat 10,000 enemies. B'Elanna thought about Kohlar, the leader of the Klingons. He had been a good man. At first, B'Elanna had angrily resented his decision to bring himself and his 200 shipmates with him to Voyager, but after talking with him and realizing that he was more than a religious fanatic, she had grown to respect him. Her own brief time at a Klingon monastery as a child had jaded B'Elanna into seeing all Klingons as blind spiritualists who disregarded reason in favor of blind faith. Kohlar was different, though. He honored Klingon traditions even as he questioned the more radical elements, all the while maintaining a strong and fair leadership among his people. He had been disappointed in her at first, she recalled. To his chagrin, the mother of his savior was a cynic, one who maintained nothing of Klingon tradition besides the recipe for raktajino in her database. Not quite what he had anticipated. Yet for all that, he had not batted an eye when it was revealed that her "mate" was human. He'd even taken both her and Tom under his wing in the short time he was on Voyager, showing Tom how to fight with a bat'leth, reminding her of legends, and praying for her ancestors along with his. B'Elanna looked at the floor where Kohlar had knelt that day, thinking. Tom wasn't due back for another thirty minutes. It wouldn't be any disruption for her to— But that was ridiculous, B'Elanna scoffed. She was a grown woman now, a scientist, and she didn't want to resort to superstition just because she was feeling a little down. After all, it was only the crazy imbalance of hormones coursing through her system that was making her feel this way. They would resolve themselves in time. But she couldn't shake the idea. True, it wouldn't accomplish anything. Maybe she would feel foolish. B'Elanna realized, however, that it also couldn't hurt. Anyway, Miral might be far too young to know what was going on, but she should at least have the chance to experience something positive of Klingon culture. Putting her engineer's mind to the problem, B'Elanna decided that it was a very small expenditure of energy in exchange for a much larger potential gain. "Computer," B'Elanna said, clearing her throat, "engage privacy locks on the door." Tom could of course unlock the doors if he came back early, but this way she would have time to hide what she'd been doing. With one arm securely holding Miral, B'Elanna stood up carefully from the sofa and went to the bed. With her free hand, she grabbed the top blanket, the soft fleece she'd replicated just yesterday. Bunching it up, she carried it to the empty space on the floor and spread it out. It took a little effort to spread it evenly without dropping Miral, but B'Elanna managed to do it. B'Elanna blushed, even though she was the only person in the room, and knelt on the blanket, still holding the baby at her breast. She had to concentrate for a moment to remember the first lines of the prayer, but the words came back to her before long. She closed her eyes. "Kahless," she murmured, wondering even now if someone could hear her. "We implore… I mean, I implore you to remember those warriors who have fallen in your name." She took a deep breath. "Lift them out of the cavern of despair, and reveal yourself to them, um, in all your glory. "Remember Joe Carey, son of… Mr. and Mrs. Carey," B'Elanna said, feeling completely stupid now. If Kahless were real, then he'd certainly reject this prayer. She continued anyway. "Remember L'Naan, daughter of Krellik. And… remember Miral. Daughter of L'Naan." B'Elanna opened her eyes. The baby had fallen asleep again. B'Elanna raised her to her shoulder so she could rub Miral's back. When she did so, she realized that the gesture had been automatic. She had known exactly what to do! When had that happened—in two days? Well. Tiny or not, it gave B'Elanna a small nudge of confidence. B'Elanna stood up cautiously and crossed back to Miral's cradle. She hesitated before laying her down, though, and decided that she'd rather just hold her daughter for now. There was no real reason to do so, but it made her feel good. Sitting down on the bed, B'Elanna took a moment just to observe Miral's sleeping form. The dark fuzz covering her skull and the puffy wrinkles making up her face made her look a little comical. More importantly, she was healthy and content. B'Elanna looked at the light from Earth shining on her daughter's peacefully sleeping face. The glare was bright, but it didn't matter—she was safe in her mother's arms. ------------ My web page with many more P/T stories may be found at http://www22.brinkster.com/lizc/ . Not all ISPs allow access to Brinkster, but it's worth a couple tries. Otherwise, email me at el_kobogo@yahoo.com if there's a particular story you want to read. Thanks!