"Blue Tears" by Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, don’t make money off ‘em. Pairings: Hayes/Sato, Shran/Jhamel Notes: The political storm is brewing in the wake of the Weytahn/Paan Mokar conflict. Talla finds out about Hayes’s death, and Hoshi visits Columbia. Daniels reveals another side of himself that startles and disturbs Malcolm. Please leave a review! Thanks! The next story, “The Needs of the Many” is coming soon! Nine Talas ran down the corridor, ignoring all the salutes on the way. Her body felt like one big bruise and tears stung her eyes. The memory of her brother’s blank look, his flat tone, terrified her. She wondered if Jhamel’s horrible experience had unhinged Shran’s mind as well. Talla—her niece was remarkably resilient, and Talas was proud of how the little girl had acted under fire. Talla was a warrior, just like her father. Talas was sure she’d be a good soldier someday. She skidded to a halt in front of the airlock. The young crewman there gave her a terrified look, but swiftly pressed the access button. Both of them knelt as the imposing form of General Linha came aboard Hanrii. Talas kept her eyes lowered, both out of respect and fear. “Milady General,” Talas said and was surprised at how calm her own voice sounded. “Welcome to Hanrii.” “Lieutenant,” Linha answered, her own tone icy. “Report.” Talas did so, not leaving out any detail of the operation. When she was finished, there was a beat of silence. Then her mother spoke again. “You did well, Daughter. You bring honor to our Clan. Your brother—“ “He is at his mate’s side, and his daughter is under care as well. Jhamel’s condition is...tenuous, at best.” “How many casualties?” Her shoulders flinched, despite her effort to stop the movement. “Forty-six, Milady General.” “And the Humans?” “We know of at least five from the assault teams, but the total is unknown. The Earth ship was severely damaged in the assault.” Again, a leaden pause, then Linha said, “Rise and lead me to the medical bay.” “Yes, Milady.” They made their way to the medical deck in silence. Talas glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye, but Linha only gazed straight ahead at their destination. The women were only meters away from the door when a howl of anguished grief echoed from behind it, and then a screech of metal was followed by a crash. Talas’s hand automatically went for her sidearm, but Linha put a hand on her wrist. “Jhamel?” Linha shook her head. “No, not Jhamel. She still lives.” She went past a stunned Talas and into Medbay. After a moment, Talas shook off her paralysis and followed. Jhamel turned her head to “see” her visitors, then struggled to rise. Talas hadn’t thought she could be any paler than the Aenar’s chalky white, but Jhamel’s features seemed chiseled out of diamond. “Lady Mother—“ “Do not rise, Second-Daughter,” Linha told her quietly. “Save your strength. You are still healing.” Jhamel didn’t seem to hear her and it took both Linha and Talas to force her back onto the pillows. “Lady Mother, I’m sorry—“ “There is no need to apologize, Jhamel.” Linha looked over at her son, who grasped his wife’s hand, but was hunched over in agony. A shattered PADD lay nearby; Talas stared at the indentation in the wall above it. He’d hurled it with enough force to dent the steel. Linha sighed and put a hand on Shran’s shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice his own mother’s presence. “I have lost a son, and you have lost a brother.” Shran raised his head, visible tears on his cheeks. “He died a warrior, Mother, with honor. I should not have left him...I swear, a minute longer, two, and he would have survived.” “Draw comfort in the fact that he felt little pain, Shran.” Linha shook her head. “The ones who killed him will pay for their crimes.” Anger suffused his features. “The Vulcans.” Jhamel made a feeble noise of protest, but it went unheard by her second-family. Talas’s knees failed her and she sat down hard in a nearby chair. Talas had been so busy with Second Squadron’s own repairs to ask how the Humans fared. She knew that Columbia had taken extreme losses with the explosion in their engine room, but-- I did not know that Hayes is dead. The man was whole and alive the last time she’d seen him...he must have been killed during the retreat. Talas’s mouth worked, but her voice wouldn’t obey her. Finally, she rasped, “Talla. Does Talla know?” “Not yet,” Shran whispered. “I’d just gotten the news myself.” “Someone must tell her before she hears it from elsewhere.” “I will send for her,” Jhamel whispered. “She will be devastated, but I will tell her.” The Aenar’s eyes were haunted with guilt and grief; the only ones who kept the madness at bay were her husband and daughter. Talas didn’t want to think about what would happen if she lost either one. Linha gave her a solemn nod, then turned back to Shran. “I hate to intrude on your grief, Shran, but I bring news from the High Council and the Clans. This...incident has united us now like at no time before in our history. Now we must see what must be done.” The reminder made him straighten up in his chair and his antennae rose again. “Yes, Mother, you are correct, as usual. Then let us consult with the Council without delay. Talas, stay with Jhamel and Talla. I will return as soon as I can.” Jhamel began to say something else, but then the doors hissed open to admit Talla and one of Shran’s lieutenants. The girl saw her grandmother and rushed into Linha’s arms. “My little warrior,” Linha whispered. She allowed herself to hug Talla, then let her go. “Your mother needs you now. Go to her.” “Yes, Foremother.” Talla managed a tremulous smile as she went to Jhamel’s bedside. Linha beckoned to Shran, who squeezed his daughter’s shoulder as he followed his mother. Talla remained sitting where she was, unable to breathe as Jhamel looked straight into Talla’s eyes and gripped her daughter’s hands. “Talla, I have news to tell you...” Hoshi stood outside of Cargo Bay Four on Columbia. There was no avoiding this, as much as she wanted to turn tail and run. No matter how far she could run, there was no denying the truth. Doctor Arroyo had been forced to convert CB 4 into a makeshift morgue for Columbia’s dead. Nineteen in all, so far. Including Matt. She closed her eyes against another surge of grief. Matt was dead. Her husband was dead. He’d died a hero, but all she could think about was how lonely life would be without him. “Hoshi?” She glanced over her shoulder at the gentle voice. “Give me one more minute, Malcolm.” “Take all the time you need.” She saw her chief medical officer look over at J.T. Daniels, who stood stiffly at the door. Hoshi worried about Daniels; rumor had it that Matt had plenty to do with getting the staid science officer to relax. Now that Matt was gone, Hoshi saw the little glimpses of humanity fade. It was as if Daniels had sworn off tears forever, and sought refuge in cold rationality. The “Human Vulcan” had become more “Vulcan” than ever. She took a deep breath and nodded. Silently, J.T. punched in a code and the cargo bay opened. Hoshi squared her shoulders and walked inside. Immediately, she shivered at the frigid temperature in the room and her nose wrinkled at the sharp smell of antiseptic. Nineteen torpedo tubes lay on makeshift platforms, each one covered with a flag. There were several with the flag of Terra, but only one was edged with the gold of command. “Attention,” said Lieutenant Hawkins. His quiet tone sounded too loud in the room. The honor guard around the torpedo tube snapped to attention as ordered. Hoshi noticed Hawkins and one other member of the Armory crew, but the other two were Andorians from Shran’s detachment. She was touched at their presence. As she approached, the two Andorians knelt with their heads bowed, their antennae lowered in respect for her. “All of Andoria grieves with you, Milady Captain,” said the elder of the two in his native language. “Rest assured that we will support you in whatever endeavor you undertake in the future.” His simple words brought more comfort that anything Admiral Gardner had told her on subspace only an hour before. She nodded and replied in Andorian. “You have my eternal gratitude, First Rating.” Hoshi paused and laid a trembling hand on the surface. “May I have a few moments alone?” “Of course, Milady Captain.” The First Rating glanced at Lieutenant Hawkins, who nodded. The honor guard filed out, saluting J.T. and Malcolm on their way out. Daniels nodded at Hawkins in gratitude; Hawkins only managed a weak smile before the doors closed. Hoshi stared down at the coffin. Matt’s final instructions had been specific; he hadn’t wanted to be launched into space, like many others in Starfleet. Instead, he’d requested to be brought back home, to the Colorado mountains he loved. Hoshi was determined to do as he asked, and damn the hero’s funeral that Starfleet Command wanted to give him. Suddenly, her knees failed to support her and she sank to the floor. She leaned her head against the torpedo casing and cried, not caring who saw her. And she stayed that way for a long time. Malcolm had to turn his head away from the sight. Her pain lanced through him like a knife, but he did nothing to stop it. He didn’t raise any of his mental shields and instead, he grieved with her. He knew this would happen, but he hadn’t interfered. Even if he had, he might have only delayed the inevitable. Better that Hoshi would never know. Hayes is not long for this world. Do not envy his joy in the short time he has left. Silik’s prophecy had come true. At least, Hayes had been happy in the precious short time he had with Hoshi; Malcolm hadn’t liked him, but he couldn’t have begrudged the older man. Still, the guilt gnawed at him. The woman he loved was hurting and although he was a doctor, this was one hurt he couldn’t heal. And although he’d mentally prepared himself for this moment, it paralyzed him. “Rosie said he was shot by a disruptor.” The quiet menace in Daniels’s voice brought Malcolm back to reality. He replied, “Yes, I saw the autopsy report.” “Travis identified what was on the sensor readings...they’re cloaked vessels.” That caught Malcolm’s attention. “I’Rhiamanau? They were the ones who took over Paan Mokar? Why?” Malcolm finally looked at Daniels and the science officer’s gaze was locked on the opposite wall of the cargo bay. “Paan Mokar—Weytahn—is midway between Andoria and Vulcan. If they wanted to set the Vulcans and the Andorians against each other, that’s one way to do it. Travis and I talked with General Linha...she is examining the information herself. She warned that even if it’s confirmed by independent inquiry, the Andorian High Council might not accept it. They might not care.” Malcolm nodded in grim agreement. “Yes. Andorians have always been highly emotional.” “And the Vulcans...Minister T’Pau’s in charge now that V’Lar’s been declared insane.” Daniels’s voice was still neutral, as if he was only discussing the weather. “She’s not exactly happy about what happened on Paan Mokar.” “Vulcans reacting emotionally.” “Never thought I’d see the day, Doctor Reed.” “Neither did I.” Malcolm winced. The Vulcan High Command and the High Council had stonewalled themselves from everyone as they “conducted their own investigation.” Daniels’s eyes hardened. “We owe the dead justice, Doctor Reed, and I’m sure the majority of Earth’s public will want that. The media will have a field day with this one. ” Malcolm scowled. “You’re talking about war, J.T.” “Even if you don’t start a fight, you have to finish it.” Malcolm stared at him. This was a new side of Daniels, one that Malcolm had never seen before. He shivered as he thought about the repercussions on Earth, once Starfleet Command heard the news. If Hoshi’s wedding had taught him something, it was never to underestimate the power of the media. He had to admit that J.T. was probably right, that this would be the spark that lit the powder keg. It only deepened his inner feeling that this was all wrong. His instincts screamed at him and he could only compare his dread to that of a man watching a train wreck in slow motion. Back to Part 8 This series continues in "The Needs of the Many"

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