Chapter Text
The colors are over saturated. Michael wasn't sure; the contrast between the negative energy cells and the cells at equilibrium is intense, and leaving the grayscale of the negative energy makes everything seem so bright, but the colors remain bright. Discovery has been inside the same bubble for the last five days, waiting for it to drift to the edge of the barrier. Earth and Ni'Var aren't in danger, so they're drifting.
It's uncanny.
It's not her choice. Michael would have asked Keyla to push them, had Paul give them everything to the shields. She would have made it a fight. Riskier. Messier. That's not how Saru captains, and it's not a bad thing.
A few more days here won't endanger planets, it'll slow down trade, make sensors more important, and they need a solution to the warp bubbles, but it's not urgent. They have time. They'll get through much more intact than last time, shields in better shape and the crew well rested. There's logic to Saru's choice.
If Michael's honest with herself. It's not that Saru is asking them to wait, or the time it's taking them to get there, it's that she's entirely outside of the chain of command making this choice.
Michael helped Laira with the trade treaties they need to finish, showed her the ship, took her on another tour of the places she loves on Discovery, not the official ones, but the silly little junctions of Jefferies tubes and the DOT bay.
The detour where they made out in the science lab was nice, and luckily Zora kept it locked, even when Lt. Ractru tried to finish her analysis.
Laira might not have been recognized with her hair down; face flushed. She's not exactly presidential when Michael's been toying with her neck, but Michael is Michael, and the captain should really remember the privacy lock.
The captain hasn't been struck dumb in love for awhile.
There's no on duty when she's out of uniform anyway.
By the second day in the doldrums of the spatial cell, they've slipped into the gamma shift. Laira's sleeping rhythms are off, she's cold then hot, and giving up trying to fit a schedule - they don't have any meetings anyway - is the fastest way to hang onto their sanity.
Keyla and Joann have been on gamma shift as well, which gives Keyla time to teach Laira how to fly a starship while Joann and Michael work on crew rotations. Nilsson's tour as first officer is going well. Joann thinks she might go after the first officer's place on the Armstrong that headquarters keeps talking about.
Someone has to captain the Voyager-J. Laira still likes to tease Michael that she's stuck with her second choice, but Imahara is a great captain, she'll do well on Voyager. That leaves Armstrong without a captain, and Commander Emor's ready for her own ship, but maybe not the Armstrong, so everyone shuffles around and...there's a place for a first officer on the Armstrong. Maybe even a new captain, and perhaps Michael has to admit that Saru will leave her too.
Bryce left to work with Dr. Kovich.
Now Nilsson.
Maybe even Saru.
She can't keep her crew together forever.
Philippa always used to complain that as soon as she made someone into a great officer, they'd leave. Michael can hear her joking over the dinner table in her quarters when her first officer left, then Michael moved up, and whether or not she was becoming too good of an officer was always a point of contention.
She won't tease her crew the same way as they move on, but she will miss them.
People drift in and out of assignments, transfer from ship to ship. This is how Starfleet has always been. Nilsson's warmth and optimism will do wonders for the Armstrong. Michael's not her captain right now, but Imahara would listen to her recommendation. Laira must know Imahara. She has such careful notes on all her captains.
Michael's thoughts float as Laira and Keyla laugh at the conn. The little flashes beneath Laira's fingers mean the panel is in training mode, like she's a brand new cadet, but her hands move through the programmable matter with the almost as much surety as Keyla.
She misses flying, she has to.
Better to be learning to fly the ancient starship than lying in bed, trying not to throw up. Michael wants to say that they've found stability.
Still...there's something else.
Michael can't put her finger on it. Sneezing's a constant, unpredictable companion, but they're as accustomed to that as they can be. Laira has her sweater on over her pajamas tonight, covering the Federation insignia. Yesterday she was so warm that she didn't close her robe, and tonight she's freezing.
Maybe her blood pressure's off again? They'll have to ask Hugh tomorrow.
Joann brings her back to reality with a nudge. "Are you listening to them? She's right."
Michael smirks at Keyla and Laira at the helm. "Which one?"
"Yours." Joann tilts her head towards them. "Mine can't be told she's right, it goes to her head."
"Still goes to Laira's, she just hides it better."
"Well, then don't tell her."
"I guess I won't." Michael leans on the back of the captain's chair, grinning at Joann. "What's she right about?"
"Everything, of course."
"Of course."
Joann laughs, leaning beside her. "Keyla's a good teacher."
"Laira's entirely right about that."
"Can't tell Keyla though, she'll get nervous. She's not teaching the President of the Federation how to fly an antique starship, no no, this is just a favor for your girlfriend."
"No teaching of any kind."
Joann rests her head on Michael's shoulder. "She's good with Adira too."
"Yeah she is."
Resting her hand on the cool leather of the chair, Michael can almost hear Philippa's boots walking from the lift to relieve her. "When you've been through a lot, you get patient."
"Is that what happened to us?"
"Perhaps." Michael listens to Keyla and Laira talk about how to spin the ship on her ventral axis. "Tilly has been looking for field experience for some of her cadets."
"We're an excellent field. Turn off the programmable matter and the cadets won't know what to do. We could give them a real challenge." Joann's half-teasing, but it's a good idea. If they can integrate spore drive technology into other Starfleet ships, Discovery is a funny antique with a living computer system. Zora might enjoy helping to train cadets; she's certainly creative enough.
It's a thought, not a theory yet, but it's something. They had training ships in the 23rd century. They haven't had enough ships here for anything like that. Laira doesn't have her own ship either, even though historically the president has had a ship.
Headquarters does have warp drive, but—
Could they do both? Take cadets on diplomatic missions and run training exercises while Laira negotiated and the hitchhiker grew up in space?
That's too much, isn't it? They can't—
The viewscreen flashes blue for a moment, then enters training mode, responding to Laira at the helm as if it's real.
The deck won't move with the stars and it's nauseating at first, then Michael's eyes adjust. Laira's not really taking them out of the bubble and flying hard for the edge of the barrier. They're not screaming through a punishing set of turns and loops. They're drifting. The deck is still.
Red digits in the lower right corner count down towards zero shield strength and Michael bits her lip. She can't break Laira's concentration. That's not fair, but they are about to die.
Sort of.
She's not Keyla, yet. Discovery's probably a strange beast to fly after the freighters she's used to.
Still, they're only a few seconds from surviving when Discovery mock explodes.
Keyla groans, then laughs with Laira, patting her shoulder. "Almost."
"Almost doesn't keep the starship in the sky."
"Sure it does." Keyla taps the console, resetting it so Laira can try again.
"No, no, you should me how it's done." Laira slips from the chair, making space for Keyla. "I need to see how you pull out of that dive."
"You were close."
"You are too kind." Laira starts to yawn, then has to sneeze into the sleeve of her sweater. "I would like to see you do it."
"There are several ways through." Keyla settles into the chair like a queen returning to her throne.
Laira tries to speak but gets caught in another sneeze. After a moment, she's fine, but she rolls her eyes anyway. "Show me the best one."
Keyla smiles a little at the challenge, takes a moment to think, then smiles in that wicked way as she stretches her fingers. "How about the best two."
Michael and Joann share a look and shake their heads.
"You're never getting to bed," Joann whispers. Michael drops her head and sighs.
Laira gets comfortable in Joann's chair so she can watch. "Perfect."
It's the middle of alpha shift when Michael mentions sickbay. Laira's curled against her, blanket on her lap even though Discovery's a comfortable temperature.
"You're cold."
"I am." Laira doesn't look up from her holopadd, her eyes flicking through star charts and trade routes. "You're worried about it."
Michael shuts down her own padd and turns, snuggling into Laira's shoulder. "I am."
Kissing her forehead, Laira whisks her padd away. "You need to do something."
"I do."
Laira's hand cups her cheek and her fingers are warm against Michael's. Usually her hands are cool. "You don't feel warm."
"I don't."
Lowering her forehead to Michael's, Laira sighs. "You usually feel warm to me."
Michael widens her eyes, because she's right and Laira definitely has a fever, but admitting it takes all this. "It's mild, I'm sure it's fine."
"Its all been fine, dear."
"Totally fine," Michael repeats, kissing the inside of Laira's wrist.
"Her body temperature is elevated." Saru leans down to Michael, whispering around his tea. "By several degrees. Is she well?"
Michael tightens her hands around her coffee.
Across the lounge, Laira talks to Hugh and Paul in front of the bar as they page through the drink menu. Her sweater's in the booth with Michael because her body temperature's up to 38 degrees, which her Cardassian side considers a fever, but Bajor and Earth agree is only mildly elevated.
Hugh tried to settle her temperature by stimulating her human hormones, nudging her body to consider a human baseline as more acceptable. So far that just makes her oscillate between feverish and a little warm.
"Cardassian body temperatures rise as much as five degrees to increase the rate of fetal nerve development in early pregnancy. Laira's already warm enough - by Cardassian standards - so it's not a helpful addition."
Saru makes a soft, sympathetic sound, shaking his head. "A trilateral genetic negotiation would be a difficult one."
"Bajor brought sneezing, Earth brought nausea and Cardassia turned up late with a fever." Michael sighs, resting her face in her hands.
Saru pats her shoulder, his hand warm. "You're doing this well. I don't think you let yourself acknowledge that."
"How do I do this well? What am I doing?"
Lifting his mug, Saru takes a sip of his tea, tilting his head. "You're building a family, which is something you've wanted for a very long time. You've done it with your crew, and your crew is incredible, but you want this too."
"Saru, I—"
"One thing that I have learned is when we are missing something for most of our lives, we find a way to make it for ourselves." He leans in, smiling. "Of course, you must do that in the most spectacular way possible."
Her face burns, and she stares into her coffee. A child needs somewhere to start, somewhere safe. Michael has to do that.
"Your parents were not able to give you the life they wished, no one, perhaps, feels that as keenly as you do, Michael."
"I have my mother, she's here."
Saru nods, meeting her eyes. He fidgets with his mug. "She is here, in this time, but she is not what you expected. I believe it is also safe to say she is not who you will be as a mother."
"None of us are our parents."
"And few of us know what it is like to have that unconditional support. My parents were lost to me, as were yours, and Laira's."
"And Keyla's, Joann's- all our families are lost to us." Michael takes a breath, trying to relax her chest. "We let them go."
"And we rebuild." Saru tilts his head at Hugh and Adira, as they play that Trill game Gray is so fond of. "Of course, you had to be first. First in the chair, first to have a child, still so competitive."
Chuckling, she reaches across the table, wrapping his fingers in hers. "Sorry."
"It is all right, I am quite used to it, serving with you."
Michael moves closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Across the lounge, Laira removes the thin shirt she had on over her tank top and jokes with Joann about playing strip poker instead of the very sensible game of tongo they're currently playing. Keyla blushes bright red, which is the correct response, because Laira's cleavage in that tank top is exquisite.
"So you're not sweating because you fear our incredible tongo skills?" Reno jokes and they all laugh.
That's Laira's real laugh, where her eyes crinkle.
By the time they're at the last hand, it's just Reno and Laira left, everyone else has gone bankrupt. Laira keeps yawning into her arm, and no one's naked, but a stray drop of sweat runs down from behind Laira's ear, down her neck and then across her collarbone into her cleavage.
At least that's not a fever? Michael isn't sure what they're hoping for, what might be good. Laira ignores the drop, but Joann's eyes are just as lost as Michael's, and Keyla's turning as red as her hair, judging by the her ear.
Michael stands behind Keyla, watching Laira look at her cards, and then smile coyly at Reno. That's not a good smile to have pointed at you, and Reno might know that. She's inscrutable to Michael, still, but Laira reads people in ways Michael doesn't.
Saru tilts his head towards Hugh, and some kind of waver is exchanged in whispers.
Hugh would bet on Laira.
"Are you going to make me confront, ma'am?"
"Only if you have the cards, Commander."
"Commander?" Reno raises her eyebrows. "We are getting fancy."
Laira presses her lips together. "I told you not to call me ma'am."
"I'm trying to throw you off."
"You should be trying to acquire the pot."
"Not if you have the minor monopoly that you're trying to convince me you don't have." Reno leans back, cards flat on the table.
"Minor monopoly?" That's the same tone Laira used with T'Rina, when Vulcan was trying to leave negotiations, and Reno is dead, if she knew it.
"If you had major you'd confront."
"Maybe I'm waiting for you."
Reno clucks her tongue, then lifts up her drink. "Letting me be the lady of the hour?"
"Feeding your ego."
"My ego? Madam, you wound me."
"Engineers have the kind of ego that can start a warp drive, don't madam me."
"And presidents don't?"
Sneezing into her elbow, Laira has to wait, take a breath and sneeze again before she can retort. "President is my job, it's not me."
"Uh-huh." Tapping the back of her cards, Reno glances at the pot, then sighs. "Fine, if you force me."
Laira shrugs, feigns sneezing again, then smiles, all wicked and bright. "Confront."
"Dammit, dammit, damn you, and the wormhole that brought us here." Dropping her colorful cards to the table, Reno shakes her head. "Ma'am."
Keyla leans back, whispering to Michael that the set of cards in front of Laira are a blind hegemony, one of the more rare hands in the game. "A major monopoly would beat it, or a full consortium, but Reno only had a minor monopoly and the beginning of an oligarchy, so the blind hegemony means the economy's too unpredictable for profit."
Joann picks up her drink, finishing the bottom of it. "She means Laira wins."
"I got that part."
"Oh captain, you'd love this. It's anthropological." Reno collects the cards and tucks them away. "You should try it next time."
"Oh no, thank you."
Laira pulls her hair out of the braid and shakes it out, ignoring the huge pile of latinum in front of her while she fidgets with her hair. "Michael finds capitalism dull."
"There's no logic in this game."
Joann chuckles. "That means you like the peace in your quarters too much."
"Maybe I'll try tomorrow, if we're still in the barrier."
Saru catches her in that. "We should be out tomorrow morning."
Lowering her hands to Laira's shoulders, Michael takes over braiding her hair, fingers replacing fingers. "Guess I'm out of luck."
"Terribly," Keyla mutters, eyes on Laira's cleavage before she heads to the bar with Rhys.
Saru starts ordering a round of drinks for lounge, and Hugh and Paul follow him, laughing. Dr. Veddra, the Romulan propulsion scientist, arrives from engineering just as Reno starts to really sulk and there's something, a way she laughs with her that Michael has to watch for awhile.
How close are they getting down in the spore bay? What is Reno like when she flirts? How do Romulans date?
Michael drags herself back to the moment, breathing in the scent of Laira's hair. "I would always bet on you," she whispers, leaning down to kiss Laira's ear. "You're a menace."
Laira's little shiver has nothing to do with her unpredictable biology, for once it's just a moment of appreciation.
Getting to her feet, she stacks the latinum with Michael, leaning close to no one else can hear. "You were trying to distract me."
"I was?" Michael chuckles. "Sorry."
"Unless you want me to ignore how irresistible you seem to find my cleavage."
Taking a strip of latinum from Laira's hands, Michael toys with it, then runs it along Laira's hand towards her wrist. "It's the real reason I can't play."
Laira starts laughing, losing concentration as she stacks the latinum. It's late, and she must be tired enough that Michael's distraction is very, very funny. When she can speak again, she wipes tears from her eyes. "You see them all the time."
"Some things never get old."
Back in their quarters, when tongo's been cleared away and the inevitable rematch has been promised for the way home, Michael changes out of her civilian clothes, tries to not to linger too much in the closet, staring at her uniforms. She misses the red, the chair, the way she talks to her crew as the captain. Saru's an excellent captain and this is good, but—
Laira hums to herself, pulling a nearly transparent, silky nightgown over her head. "It was easier to wear my warmest pajamas."
"You're never hot?"
"Not on starships, they're climate controlled. Planets, sure," Laira pauses, removing her earrings and setting them next to the bed. "Everything's just—"
Michael opens up the blankets, pulling them closer to her side. Even if Laira's too hot, they'll end up wrapped together because Laira always drifts into her. "Chaotic?"
"This kind of too warm is better." Laira sits on the bed, pulling her knees up close. "I don't feel sick just-" she waves her hands, "-chaotic."
"Maybe Hugh—"
Laira makes a sound and shakes her head. Reaching for Michael, she tugs her close with both arms around her neck. "Stop worrying."
"Worry is the mycelial network I run on."
Laira's lips on hers are almost enough to forget about that, for the moment at least. Laira curls into her chest and they stare at the stars. Laira's breathing slows and Michael could believe she's asleep, but Laira's fingers toy with Michael's shirt.
"Putting your uniform back on isn't going to turn you into your mother."
"What?" A phaser stun would have surprised her less.
"I know you miss it."
"Of course--"
Laira runs her fingers down Michael's chest. "You can be captain and mom, I'm sure you'll work it out."
"Where's this coming from?"
"Your message to your mother, Saru, the way you can't wait to put back on your uniform—"
Michael thought she was being much more subtle about that. "Hey."
"You look good in your uniform."
"Oh I do?"
"Yeah, you really do." Laira sits up on her elbow, looking for Michael's eyes. "The ancient blue was nice, but red really brings out this gravitas in you."
"Gravitas?"
Giggling, Laira takes her hand, bringing it to her belly. "You and that uniform are at least sixty percent at fault for this. Maybe seventy."
"Is that so?" Kissing her cheek, Michael shakes her head. "You just picked the most attractive Starfleet captain and went with it?"
"Yeah, I'd already vetted you."
"For Voyager, not to mother a child with you."
"It's a remarkably similar process."
"Oh? Remarkably similar? It's the same thing, apparently." Michael laughs up at the ceiling as Laira cuddles into her arms. "I did wonder why Vance kept asking me questions about how much I liked children, and the psych screening about parenting was a little odd, but it's just like captaining, isn't it?"
"Might be more like trying not to blow up the ship as we dance through colored spatial cells."
"It's negative energy."
"It's-" Laira pauses, yawning into Michael's chest like an exhausted sehlat, "-kind of beige. Though, I suppose I've never found beige very positive."
Michael chuckles with her, shakes her head and then sighs, her chest warm and full, so full her throat's tight. "This must be remarkably similar to what it feels like to be utterly in love with you."
"I hear that's the same thing." Reaching up, Laira pats her chin. "Either way, I've made my choice, and I'm sticking with it."
"To the ends of the galaxy."
"Beyond it." Crawling up to kiss her, Laira wrinkles her nose. "I love you too, and i talked to Discovery and she's willing to share, so, when we get back, we'll work this out."
"This?"
Laira waves at Michael's quarters,and the rest of the ship, her eyes shining. Michael's sting, and she'll cry if they keep talking.
"You can be mom and captain. It's been done before."
Blinking against her tears, Michael shakes her head. "It hadn't."
Laira kisses her, lingering on her mouth. "It's something we managed to improve on. Before the Burn, people live their whole lives on starships. There were family ships full of children. Discovery can jump away in a crisis, that's a pretty good safe guard to keep children safe"
Her words tremble, as if they're an unfamiliar language. "You want to make Discovery a generational ship?"
"We need one." Laira rests her cheek against Michael's, then kisses her again. "You're the right captain for that, and I hope, by the time she gets here, we'll both be ready."
Will Laira live here with them? Will they jump back and forth? If the ship has children, will they also be using it as a training ship? For diplomacy? Is that the tone Laira wants to encourage for her term? Children and peace, prosperity and calm on an ancient starship.
When Laira starts kissing her way down Michael's neck, she can't think at all.
They bring all their engineers - Reno, Paul, Veddra - and they're ready to explain the problems of the static warp bubbles. It ends up being a fairly easy series of math equations. Easy according to three of the most intelligent people Michael's ever met, and the calculus of it makes Laira's eyes glaze over a little.
She's tired.
Michael takes her hand, whispering. "See, the Ten-C really don't care if you wear a sweater to negotiations."
"Thank you."
Saru's ability to keep up with the Ten-C and their engineers is impressive. Michael's not sure she could follow all of that, but he's always had an incredible ability to process multiple things at once.
"Remember your coefficents," Veddra says, nudging Reno with the kind of look that usually comes with something more fun than warp theory."
"I had them."
"But did you have them in the right place."
Laira rests her head on Michael's shoulder, sitting on one of the rock formations is hardly presidential, but she's a figurehead of this conversation. Michael and Laira were here for introductions and the delighted greetings of the huge floating beings. Perhaps their entire civilization? It's hard to keep track.
Saru sends the latest equation and the lead being turns, conversing in lights and molecules with the being to its left.
"Zora, can you catch any of that?"
"Affirmative, captain." Zora lowers her voice as well, as if whispering. Even though the Ten-C might not even see their vibrations as communication, if they can sense them at all. Still, it seems polite to whisper. "They have questions of a more personal nature. It seems some of them are more curious about us than the static warp bubble equations."
"Who wouldn't like equations?" Reno quips.
Veddra laughs, and Michael's still getting used to Romulans, who look so Vulcan but laugh so easily. "As if you don't enjoy gossip equally."
"If you're arguing an equivalence in my enjoyment, then it's an equation, and it's math, not gossip."
Veddra's eyes flash, and the hint of green seems to be a flush.
"How much is the bet on them dating?"
Laira chuckles. "Fifty to evade the question, one-twenty to confront."
The lead creature returns, sending a light map to accompany a new set of molecules. Zora and Saru begin decoding, and Saru blushes, bright red.
He covers his mouth, swallowing hard.
"Saru?"
"My apologies, Captain. Madam President." He takes a moment, tilting his head to organize his thoughts. "The Ten-C remain quite happy to help us with the the static warp bubble problem, however, they are a group consciousness, and their empathy is quite advanced."
"They have other questions," Laira says, and her calm softens Saru's discomfort a little. "Go ahead, Captain."
"They are curious about you, ma'am."
Michael starts to smile.
"They do not procreate in the same fashion," Saru continues. "They wish to know about the aquatic creature inside of you. I believe they mean—"
Lifting her hand, Laira hushes him. "I understand." She looks down, taking a moment. Raising her eyebrows ridges, she looks at Michael. "How does a xenoanthropologist explain internal gestation?"
"You want me to take this one?"
Laira's nod is very gentle, so is her smile. "Please."
Michael takes a moment. Where does she begin? "Saru, tell them that we saw the structures where they raise their children on their former world. Ours begin too fragile to survive outside. So we grow them internally, in an aquatic environment, until they're large enough to survive on their own."
Saru's fingers fly as he translates, and Zora sends the lights to explain it.
The Ten-C takes barely a moment to ask more questions, apparently from several beings at once because the lights move quickly. The one directly in front of them seems to be their ambassador, and they collect the questions before they address Saru again.
"They would like to know if this is your child, or if you share this one with others."
"We share her," Michael says, slipping her fingers into Laira's. "She's ours."
Saru nods, his embarrassment still tinging his face. "They would like to communicate their joy on your behalf. Children are an valuable part of their society and they are pleased that you have found this one."
"She found us, didn't she?"
Michael smirks, kissing Laira's cheek. "You went looking for her."
"I needed her." The trace of apology in Laira's voice makes Michael's chest ache.
"We both did."
Laira opens and closes her mouth, looking down again. When she lifts her eyes, they're liquid and bright. "We did?"
"I love surprises."
Laughing frees the tears on her eyelashes and they run down Laira's face. Michael climbs onto the rock beside her.
Reno and Veddra give Saru more equations to send to the Ten-C and they trade math back and forth.
Laira's tears dry slowly, and she curls into Michael, an arm around her back. "Are they working it out?"
Michael nods, then rests her chin on Laira's shoulder. "They're firmly in the realm of metaphysics. Some of the same thought processes that Paul uses to steer the ship through the network can be used to pop a static warp bubble, they're just trying to work out the safest way to explain that to other ships."
Saru nods to Michael. "The Ten-C have explained that static warp bubbles can be thought out of existence. We're trying to determine what procedure would be easiest to replicate on a large scale. A ship as small as a shuttle could safely eliminate a static warp bubble if the crew was focused."
Laira clears her throat, her voice still thick from crying. "If they believe it's vanishing, it will vanish?"
Michael toys with her wedding ring beneath her shirt, then pulls it out. Removing the chain from her neck, she slips the ring on her finger. "Symbols and rituals are powerful."
Stroking the ring, Laira has to blink several times to avoid her tears returning. "If you wear a ring on Earth, you're married."
"If you believe what you're doing will pop the bubble. It pops." Reno double checks her calculations on the holo then Veddra nods.
"We'll have to be very convincing in the procedure," Paul warns. "Demonstrate with Discovery, show it working, get it in their heads that it's efficient and effective."
"That sounds like theater," Saru says.
"So much of politics is." Laura squeezes Michael's fingers, then stands up from the rock. "We can record a message, send it back before we head for the barrier. If they get it early, Admiral Vance can disseminate it before we even return."
The engineers start talking almost in unison about anti-proton beams and the types of discharge that can be achieved with the the average warp core.
Saru coughs, drawing her attention. "Before we leave them, the Ten-C wish to acknowledge your joy, and they are happy you have this new one." He pauses, gesturing at Laira's belly. "Zora, is that about right?"
"The hydrocarbon mix the Ten-C are using to discuss your child is composed of love, hope and peacefulness. A good deal of their conversation has been about the child."
"Yes, they are-" Saru has to blink a few times, "-focused on our community. We came to them without children."
"We were on a dangerous mission." Laira's hand hovers over her belly but she doesn't hold the baby with her palm.
Smiling a little, Michael finishes the gesture for her, cupping the baby through Laira's sweater. "They don't travel. They're an incredibly communal species. Their children are always with them. Being without any children, even very small ones, must have been strange for them."
Laira's hand covers hers, warm and trembling.
Michael spends a moment choosing the right words. "Saru, tell them we found each other coming to see them, and express our gratitude."
"If it hadn't been for the mission," Laira starts, shaking her head.
"Galactic events often have unpredictable consequences on the personal level." She had Book, then lost him, then had to let him go. If it wasn't for the DMA and the tragedy of Kwejian, would she still be with Book? Would Laira's relationship with her partner have continued if she hadn't come with Discovery?
"They did make her possible."
A long, strange line of events led to their Hitchhiker's creation, let to this, and selfishly, inanely, Michael wouldn't change it.
this is where she's meant to be. Her life has followed such strange paths to this pont, swirling and flashing through time and universes, even leaving the galaxy to talk to giant floating beings about their daughter.
'We are grateful, Saru." Laira says, for her and Michael. "This new one is part of our whole because they saved our home. When their device stopped, our lives were peaceful enough to have her."
Saru and Zora send that across with light and hydrocarbons and Laira's grip on Michael's hand is tight and fond.
The Ten-C's answer makes Saru so happy that he touches Michael's shoulder, then pulls her in to hug her. "Their reply is difficult to parse, but I believe it is fully affectionate. It is difficult to explain how the joy of an entire species can rest on a tiny member of ours, however, a child is a gift, and us sharing her with them has brought them great joy."
"Ten-C plus baby equals contentment," Reno teases. "Good to know. Just a few more questions about anti-protons and we can leave them to do, whatever it is that they do."
Wrapping her arms around Michael's shoulders from behind, Laira holds her. "I used to avoid talking about my personal life during negotiations."
"They have a collective consciousness. Their children are shared. We came with no children, severed from that part of our collective."
"As much of the galaxy has been, until you arrived. Vance went years without seeing his family."
"We gotta fix that," Michael says, shaking her head. Too many people have scarified what they have, being together, raising a child- this shouldn't be incompatible with exploration, even a life in Starfleet.
"We can. Starfleet is usually very accommodating to my proposals."
"You are the Federation, ma'am."
"The Federation could learn much from the Ten-C." Laira takes a breath, and maybe it's hitting her that their child will be a communal child. Planet after planet will celebrate her existence, as soon as it's known. It's not just the Burn, and the DMA, and distance from family, this time, this present has been waiting. Waiting for calm, waiting for stability, not just Laira, but billions of people must have trying to decide how to build their families while cut off from so many people they love.
When they solve the spore drive, they'll be closer to each other in a way the galaxy has never known. Warp drive lets them touch each other; a whole galaxy that travels the network is a community, bound by invisible threads. Billions of ones.
Within that are families, within that is her famiy.
She wants that on Discovery. That's her home. It can be Laira's too. Micahel wanted, but she wasn't sure, she hadn't asked.
Laira's breathing slows against her. Saru bids their goodbyes to the 10-C, and then they're back on Discovery, returned to the bridge.
Home.