Day of Honor - Michael Jan Friedman [6]
You've been living among humans too long, she thought bitterly. They've made you weak and sentimental.
Suddenly, B'Elanna knew without being told. Her mother could see it in her eyes. "It's Daddy," the girl whispered.
There, her mother thought. Your duty has been done for you, p'tahk. "Your father is leaving us," she said. "In some ways, he is already gone."
B'Elanna didn't understand. "Where is he, Mama?" Her little girl's voice was little more than a whimper.
Her mother jerked her head in the direction of the front door. "Making arrangements at the administration office. There is a ship coming by in a few days. He will be on it when it departs."
"But why?" asked B'Elanna, still numb, still disbelieving. "Why would Daddy want to go somewhere
else?"
Her mother shook her head, her long red tresses sweeping her shoulders. When she spoke, her words were like knives, cutting them both.
"You will have to ask him that yourself, child."
It can't be, B'Elanna thought.
She ran across the plaza in the direction of the administration building, her breath rasping in her throat, her heart pounding from more than her exertion.
It can't be, the girl repeated. It's not fair.
She had thought she was going to make her father proud of her. She had imagined he would listen to her story and tell her how brave she was, and want to stay with her forever and ever. But now her father was going to leave anyway, no matter how brave she had been.
It hurt to think that. It hurt worse than the energy in the chute. B'Elanna wanted to cry, but she couldn't. Other people cried, but not Klingons or even half-Klingons. She had learned that early on.
Suddenly, she caught sight of him. Her father was coming out of the administration dome, his eyes downcast. Then some sixth sense told him to look up and he saw her.
He tried to smile, but he didn't get very far. His eyes stayed sad, no matter what the rest of his face did.
"Oh, Daddy," B'Elanna said, and leaped into his arms.
"Little Bee," he whispered in her ear, clasping her to him. "How did you get so dirty?"
"You can't leave," she told him. "You can't. Not after I was so brave. Not after I saved Erva in the cavern."
He held her away from him. "What?"
B'Elanna told him all about it, barely taking a breath. The whole story spilled out in a matter of moments.
"So you can't leave," she insisted. "Not after I've been so good. And I can be good like that all the time."
Her father shook his head, tears welling in his eyes.
"I wish it was that simple," he said. "I really do."
"But it can be that simple," B'Elanna argued. "All you have to do is tell the administrator you've changed your mind-or made a mistake or something. You want to stay home with me and Mama."
Her father swallowed. She could see his Adam's apple move up and down in his throat. "Come on," he said softly. "We can go home for now, at least, Little Bee."
B'Elanna looked into his eyes. They were still sad, still wet with human tears. "But not for good," she said. "Right?"
He didn't answer for a moment. It seemed to her it hurt him too much to answer. But eventually, he found the words.
"Not for good," he sighed at last.
For a moment, the girl got angry. She didn't want her father to go away-and she was his daughter, wasn't she? Why couldn't he just stay and do what made her happy?
As if he had read her mind, he said, "You'll get over it, Little Bee. You'll be happy again. And so will your mother. Just remember that and it'll happen before you know it."
"But how can I be happy," she asked, "without you?"
Even before she could get all the words out, she was overcome by the need to hug him again. She hugged her Daddy long and hard, harder than she had ever hugged him before. And when she was done, he took her hand and they walked back to their dome.
A couple of days later, he was gone, just the way her mother said he would be. And B'Elanna and her mother were all alone.
AGRON LUMAS