Day of Honor - Michael Jan Friedman [66]
"Complete?" he echoed.
She was having trouble putting the right words
together. It was the lack of oxygen-she knew that.
Still, it was frustrating.
"I don't know what I'm trying to say," she told Tom. "All my life, this has all been so confusing-this Klingon business. My mother, my father. It's always been easier just to ignore it."
"Until I dredged it up," he interjected.
B'Elanna nodded. "Until you dredged it up." She looked at Tom. "No, that's not fair. Not fair at all. I've spent my life running from who I am. All you've done is help me stop and turn around. And now that I have…"
Suddenly, she was overcome with emotion. "And now that you have?" he prodded. B'Elanna heaved a sigh. "It's too late."
Anger flared in Tom's eyes. "Stop that."
She shook her head. "We have to look at it, Tom. We have to stop kidding ourselves. If I'm going to die, I want to acknowledge it. Maybe there are things that ... that should be said."
He gave her a long, searching look. "Maybe so," he agreed.
"Don't you have any regrets?" B'Elanna asked. "Things you'd like to get off your chest?"
Tom laughed softly. "Too many to list."
She held his gaze with her own. "Why not start?"
The flight controller hesitated. The conversation had unexpectedly turned back on him, and he was clearly no more comfortable talking about himself than B'Elanna was.
"I wish my parents could know me now," he said. "My father especially. I wish he could see me wearing a Starfleet uniform again. I guess that's my main regret." He looked at her. "How about you?"
B'Elanna pondered the question. "I wish ... I wish I knew my father better. I was only five when he left us. One day I came home and he was making arrangements to ship out-just like that."
Tom looked sympathetic. "Sometimes those things
just happen."
Silence again. All B'Elanna could hear was the
sound of her breathing, harsh and labored.
"Feel better?" asked Tom.
"You?" she countered.
He thought for a moment. "I guess so."
B'Elanna nodded. "Me, too."
Janeway glared at the viewscreen. Lumas's image had disappeared, leaving her and her officers with a view of the nearly thirty Caatati vessels amassed against them.
She wondered if Rahmin's ship was among them. She wanted to think that it wasn't, but she couldn't know for certain.
"Our weapons are a lot more powerful than theirs," Chakotay pointed out. "I say we put up a fight."
Tuvok frowned. "Perhaps they will settle for less than they demanded. It is a common bargaining strategy."
Kim agreed. "Maybe if we give them something, it'll appease them."
Janeway shook her head. "Given the mood the Caatati are in now, I can't imagine what would satisfy them-short of all we have."
"I will go," said the Borg, who had been silent to that point.
All heads turned. Seven of Nine met their gazes evenly.
"They asked for me," she pointed out. "If I surrender myself, perhaps they will let you leave."
Janeway stared at her. It was the first altruistic gesture she had ever heard from a Borg. In that sense, it was as remarkable as any cosmic phenomenon she had ever been fortunate enough to witness.
"Seven," the captain said, "that's very generous of you. And very courageous. But I will not turn you over to them."
The Borg tried to absorb Janeway's remark. "I was only offering to do what would be best for this group," she explained.
The captain smiled. "You're part of this group now. And we're going to protect you, one way or the other."
Seven of Nine's brow puckered. Clearly, she was struggling to understand this ethic.
"You ... want to protect me?"
Janeway nodded. Then she turned to the others.
"It's time to stop talking about this," she said. "Tom and B'Elanna are in trouble and we have to find them. Tuvok?"
"Yes, Captain."
"What's the status of our weapons array?"
The Vulcan's answer was quick and to the point. "Weapons are at the ready. However, our shield strength is extremely low."
Janeway considered