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The Future, is what you make of it	By : emeraldsyndicate Category: Star Trek > Discovery Views: 539 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek nor do I benefit financially in any way. I take no credit for these characters, I'm just playing with them, seeking a happy ending to a muse that sat upon my shoulder and murmured "what if...."

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
a short interlude to build the plot as the captian and commander both covetted, both judged, misjudged and covetted again, but there is an enemy in the shadows

The command crew sat around the table in the Captains quarters. Neither the Captain nor the Commander could bear to be to far from her although neither was yet able to voice it. Chris had carried the little Tal and the Admiral had lifted you carefully into his arms, his teeth gritted at your limp weight in his arms and transported in with the nurse who was ordered never to leave you alone. We’d laid you carefully on Chris’s bed and gently drawn up the covers, where the little tal simply couldn’t get close enough to you to soothe her. She had her thumb in her mouth and her little arm wrapped around your waist, her head cushioned on your shoulder as you slept.
Chris and I looked at each other over top of her and tried to find an answer to her pain. Chris managed to find some words for the child. He was far more comfortable with children than I was. Reassuring her that her sarisa would be alright. That she was hurt yes but we were taking care of her. That the commander and I would stay here and make sure she was okay. “Do you want to lie down with her? “he’d asked the child in a strategic stroke of brilliance “you need to be gentle with her and stay on her left side but you can cuddle. Would that make you feel better?”
At the little ones trembling nod Chris carefully lowered her to lay beside her sarisa and she immediately glued herself to your side. Later he’d coached the child to the table to try and get her to eat while she constantly looked back over her shoulder towards the bedroom. Then he’d gotten Ensign Tilly, apparently she could charm anyone, to help the little Tal get ready for bed and then tucked her back into emerald side where the child sighed with palatable relief, leaned up to kiss her sarisa’s cheek and snuggled in to go to sleep.
The commander sat silently, his face impassive but his thoughts a maelstrom. She’d done absolutely nothing wrong. Dear god Chris had been right. This was on him and his lack of control. The Tal children had spoken so lovingly of the sarisa. They knew it wasn’t a “scheduled” officer as the children had been left alone by accident. One shift transporting out, due to the virus, counting on the filters to help stop its spread and the next unable to transport in as deemed infected. When the children had requested a caretaker from the computer the sarisa had been grabbed out of mid-transport from and to somewhere else. You had been sarisa the moment you arrived. The children calling you sarisa and you’d kept correcting them, not understanding the significance of it, nor their sheer joy at your presence. The Tal had been enthralled. All 5 children to claim you as sarisa was almost unheard of. They’d been willing to overlook the grave insult of the missing guest with such a powerful incentive in place. But where was the sarisa?
One would think a transporter beam would be easy to trace but you didn’t trace anything in and out of the embassies. Diplomatic protocols were in full force. They said the sarisa had tried to transport out with the children. It was now clear that you’d intended to take them to the reception, but been unable to. The mystery of why was now solved as your transporter was enabled only for yourself. Nor would the computer let you move the children without an emergency.
You’d resourcefully tried to get the system to erect a forcefield over the embassy door so you could open it and flag down, well, anybody, but you had no codes and hence, no access. You’d apparently tried repeatedly, at least once an hour, to call myself and the captain. In fact, at some point you’d tried the entire crew, an alarm set to remind you every 20 minutes to call the crew but you’d got no answer as full diplomatic protocols were in place. Over 100 calls. You’d tried over a 100 times to contact us.
Your choice was to stay and be responsible for 5 small alien children on your own, a daunting task, or leave to the reception you'd been told was so terribly important. If you’d left there was a good chance neither you nor anyone else would be able to transport in as the computer kept insisting no Starfleet officers were available to take your place. The children would be alone.
So the selfish, self-centered, self-indulgent primitive had spent the evening taking care of the children instead of dining and dancing. My gut twisted every time I thought of it. I could almost see you fall, almost hear the thud of your body crashing into the floor, the sickening crack of bones….
The children had painted a picture of a devoted and loving caregiver. The children didn’t like the replicator food so the sarisa had taught them how to make pizza, piled high with healthy vegetables and ice cream piled high with fresh fruit. (with the sarisa constantly asking the computer if things were safe) The sarisa had played with them, taught them hide and go seek, told them stories and tucked them into bed. The sarisa had stayed awake all night trying to contact us and keeping watch over the children. In the morning it was “boobityy” berry pancakes made from scratch and fresh fruit. The minute the caretakers arrived she had left the embassy, via the door as the travel restrictions were lifted and rushed to find Chris and I to explain where she had been.
She’d never gotten a word in.
We’d attacked her.
We'd raged at her.
We'd frightened her, judged her...
...and punished her for our own weaknesses.
Now we all sat around the table, a war council of a kind. There was no doubt you’d been targeted. Nor was there any doubt the sarisa had been grossly mistreated, by starfleet. The sarisa Starfleet was heavily dependent upon for the alliance to the Tal and one word from you about how you came to be hurt would probably be enough to launch a war fleet if the child’s response was any indication. That empathic wave, my god. The intensity of the child’s pain. It was clear we had seriously misunderstood this bond and why it was so coveted.
“So what next?” tilly had asked. “The minute that little girl calls home and tells them we hurt her sarisa… well. I think they may get violent. They said sarisa is sala, family, and I don’t know anyone who takes family being hurt well.” She had continued her hands wrapped around her hot chocolate that had long ago gone cold. “That little girl, she…” tilly paused “ she is absolutely terrified her sarisa wont wake up. She just can’t understand why we let her get hurt. She’s a child. And umm, I’m not very good with kids but I’m not sure she can understand this. I’m having a hard time following it. I keep coming back to she didn’t do anything, but she was punished. That is what the child will understand and I’m pretty sure that means momma is gonna lose it.”
“My fault” the commander said quietly
“Sir” the captain had interrupted “I was just as much to blame if not more,
“I’m in command” Charles said
“She was on my ship… under my supervision” chris interrupted.
“SIRs!” Tilly interrupted. “ I’m not sure momma is gonna care whose fault it is when we are all wearing Starfleet uniforms, and not one of us,” she continued after squirming in her seat and clearing her throat “ and I’m not proud of this, no one, not me, not anyone, protected her. And we should of.”
- 8
- 9
- 10
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The Future, is what you make of it