Chapter Text
“Captain’s log, 865814.9.
“Commander Nhan has joined us from the Mitchell. While it’s good to see her again, I wish her presence wasn’t necessary. Though there’s no clear threat, and it’s a precautionary measure, it’s difficult to avoid dwelling on it. Danger is part of Starfleet, and I know how being a starship captain might end. I've seen it. Laira should be safe though. Politics should be safe and dull.
“I’ve reached out to Haz Mazaro, just in case he knows something and the whispers and threats. He always did like me. Book said he tell me if he heard anything. He’s much closer to his courier contacts than I am, and he’s kind to help.
“While Laira’s on Coridan III, Discovery’s going to be assisting with the spore drive testing, along with the Armstrong, so we’ll see Saru. I’m hoping for an update on how he’s enjoying commanding his own ship, and perhaps even some new developments with his relationship with T’Rina. It’s good to see him, and even better to see him so happy.
“I should remind myself to focus on the good, because there’s so much of it. We’re surrounded by love and support, and as time passes, I keep reminding myself that this is the universe we’re going to give our daughter - one of safety and love, full of promise. Thinking about that almost makes the rest seem insignificant.”
Michael pauses, glancing across the bedroom where’s Laira’s still asleep. Coridan III doesn’t feel like a dangerous situation, so maybe it’s not here, perhaps it’s the next planet, or the next. Laira’s always had security, and Nhan is incredibly good at what she does. Bringing her in is smart, and nerve-racking. Needing the best is a difficult place to be.
“Almost insignificant,” she finishes. "I always worry. It's easier when it's me. End log."
Michael runs her finger around the edge of her empty tea cup. She should sleep. All her worries will still be there in the morning, waiting, no closer to any kind of resolution. Shaking off her anxieties, she centers her breathing, then stands, cup in hand. Setting it back in the replicator, she pauses by window. Philippa's telescope is up in her ready room. Touching it won't actually do anything, but it would make her feel better.
Michael figets with her wedding ring. Philippa's agates are there. Sarek and Amanda are in the candles. Her dad would love the masks. It would be easier if she had them. If she could just open a channel to Earth, to Ni'Var, to whatever planet Philippa was maming safe tonight. She can feel them, echoing through history. Stay alert, but don't let it ruin the moment. Neutralize the threat. (Thank you, Philippa). After another moment, she crawls back into bed, curls raound Laira and falls asleep.
Commander Nhan, two security officers, Tilly's cadets, Tilly and Laira all beamdown together. Michael touches Laira's hand, pulling her in for a moment so she cana't beam down yet. Laira smirks down at her, then kisses her forehead.
"You worry very loudly."
"I'm sorry."
"We'll be fine."
Laira and the baby, Laira and the cadets, Laira and Tilly and Nhan and her aides…everyone will be fine.
"I needed a minute."
Laira's smile grows and she kisses her, bright and demanding and when she;s done Micahel wants to cancel the whole day. Winking at her, Laira drops her hand to reach for her badge. "See you tonight, dear."
Saru brought her tea, and a cutting of his suhket plant. "It keeps outgrowing its place in my quarters."
"You're too good to it."
"I'm not going to provide the plant with more adversity to slow its growth. I will continue to give it away."
"Get some suhket on all the ships in the fleet."
"At the rate its growing, I certainly will." Saru settles into the sofa and folds his hands in his lap. "Perhaps it is a good sign."
"Oh?" Michael grins at him and he chuckles. "Other things from Ni'Var are flourishing?"
"Indeed."
Saru reaches over, touching her hand. "You look tired."
"Well, you know what they say about the middle of pregnancy."
"It's exhausting?"
Michael squeezes his hand in return. "I worry, she can't sleep when she gets uncomfortable, and then sometimes she can't sleep because she wants to do other things in bed."
"That's what's exhaausting."
"In the best way."
"Of course." Ssaru tilts his head. "I will bring you a tea for endurance."
Raising her eyebrows, she laughs. "Thanks. It's good. We're good. We really are."
"The rumors weigh on you."
"Putting aside the personal. the assassination of the President of the Federation would be catastrophic for morale."
Saru nods thoughtfully. "And that is why they threaten. To attempt to create that instability."
Taking her time to breath, Michael tries to soften the knot in her chest. "I didn't realize how much interest there was in becoming the next Osyraa."
"There will always be those who think force is better than compromise."
Michael touches her tea, smelling it as she stills her concerns. "I found it more manageable when they weren't trying to go through my wife."
"T'Rina's intelligence doesn't believe Coridan III is as dangerous as they originally feared." Saru pats her knee. "There are many networks, on many planets. Laira is more beloved than she is hunted. It will be all right."
"It's difficult."
"Of course it is." He clicks his tongue angrily. "I know what it is to be hunted, and it is never without fear. You are with family, and we will protect your family." He reaches over, hugging her close with his longarms. Her family has meant so many people. Now it's very small at the center, spiralling outward. Saru's right. She needs to trust.
That's always difficult.
"Captain, we have a very encrypted message for you," Lieutenant Christopher reports, his tone light and puzzled. "Like, ridiculous amounts of encrypted. I'm not even sure who its from. Non-Starfleet encryption, bouncing all over the place."
"In my ready room, lieutenant." She leaves the center seat to Joann, walking quickly.
A holograph of no one waits in her ready room. It's beeen run through so many filters that Haz shifts from being a black blob, to a gormagander, to a whisp of smoke.
"Starfleet Captain Right Hook."
"Hi Haz."
His holo settles in closer to him, if he was an Orion, for the moment. "Pretty fancy ship."
"This is Discovery."
"The antique."
"My antique."
Chuckling, he paces her ready room, looking at her treasures. "This was what you were trying to get back to."
"I found my way."
"I never doubted you. Glow-worm did, a little. Maybe he wanted to. That and the isolynium is aa heck of way to end things."
"We're friends now."
"So I hear." His holo shifts again, turning into an amphibian Michael's never seen before. "You didn't just go onto the law-abiding, narrow flight path, you went straight to the literally heart of the Federation."
Michael forces herself not to fidget. "I've always liked seeking the best."
"The fine things in life, indeed." Haz pauses, studying Philippa's telescope. "This is an antique's antique."
"It belonged to my mentor."
"Millenia ago, eh?"
"Just about."
Haz caresses the telescope with holographic hands that now resemble a Cardassian's. "You know, I hear things."
"You do."
"I hear some things that you should also hear." He pats the telescope one more time, and turns to her, Kelpien, just for a moment. "Can you make it for a private game? Just pop in, with your fancy ship."
"You don't want my fancy Starfleet ship in orbit."
"Pop in close, shuttle over. You need a nice, junky shuttle. Something nondescript. I can sell you one."
Michael shakes her head, chuckling. "I'll take the most beat-up one we have."
"Good choice. See you soon."
She sits in the silence, running her fingers along Philippa's telescope. Philippa never had a daughter. Never married. Her crew was her family. Must have made some of this easier.
"Captain?"
"Come in, Commander."
"Who was your mysterious message from?"
"Haz."
"Oh." Joann takes a step closer. "That is mysterious."
"He wants me to come play poker."
"Not for anything explosive this time?"
"Hopefully not." Michael reaches for her, touching her shoulder. She needs to go, and she can't bring Joann this time. "I'm going to leave you in command."
Joann nods, concern glowing in her eyes. "Take Keyla."
"She wants to see the Karma Barge?"
"She's great in sleazy places," Joann touches Michael's hand, holding her fingers tight. "Nothing surprises her, and she'll bring you home in one piece."
"I'll be all right."
"Of course, of course." Joann leaves her and studies Michael's desk, then circles to take her chair. "Not that I mind the extra time as captaain."
"I'll try not to let you get too comfortable."
"Too late."
Michael laughs, perching on her own desk. "Look after Laira."
"We all will." Joann rests her hands in her lap. "She's ours."
"I know."
"You could stay, Keyla and I could go."
"Haz asked for me."
"And that's harder than it used to be, isn't it?"
Michael toys with one of the trinkets on her desk, running her fingers over the wood. "I could do anything when I was courier. That year, all I did was try to solve a mysterty, fix one thing at a time. No family, no crew. Just me, sometimes Book, but it wasn't like this."
Lifting one of Michael's statues, Joann picks up the smaller one - the child. "They both need you."
"And I need all of you." Shaking her head, she tightens her grip on the sculpture. "I keep telling myself family is what we make, and we've built ours together. Discovery's home, and I can't think of a better place to grow up. She'll be happy here, we all will."
"But it's nerve-racking."
"That's parenting, right?"
Joann finds a very hopeful smile. "I hear it can be a bit more cheerful than that."
"I hope so." Michael sighs, letting her gaze fall on the little wooden figures in Joann's hands. "You've got them."
"We do."
Meeting her eyes, Michael smiles. "Course you do, you're the captain."
Joann's smile is quick but soft, and the light in her eyes echoes the tightness in Michael's chest. She knows how heavy this is. "I am, aren't I?"
"You make it look good."
Discovery delivers them close, but not too close, to Porathia, before returning to their diplomatic duties. Joann, Tilly and Hugh are all there with Laira, she's fine. Better than, because she's been in such a good mood lately. Hugh says when her hormones balance out, it can feel pretty wonderful. Making a person can be a joyful process. Michael should worry less, and enjoy it more.
"I don't know when it was exactly, but now you look tired and your wife looks great."
"Before it went the other way?"
Keyla keeps her eyes forward on the stars in front of them, not that she needs to while at warp. "Well, you're gorgeous, but she looked like hell. Your fault, I'm sure."
"It was." Michael nods along. "It definitely was."
Kelya glances over, then turns. She points at her eyes, indicating the bags beneath them. "So this is her fault now?"
"She has trouble sleeping."
"Unless you—"
Michael sighs, staares at her hands, her face burning. "Yeah, unless we— Hugh says it's normal, and it's fun."
"Having sex all the time is a blast, but you're not a cadet anymore?"
Chuckling, Michael shakes her head and taps the console into automatic. "I'm going to get more coffee."
"Because you're exhausted."
"Yes."
"Because your wife—"
"Yes, but it's great. It's-" she pauses, trying to chose the right words. "Hormones are really complicated. They made her feel terrible and now they don't. Which is great, and different, and yeah, there's a lot of sex, if you must know."
"And it's…?" Keyla waits, fishing.
"You really don't want to hear abut sex with my pregnant wife." Michael returns with coffee for both of them and hands one to Keyla.
"You say that but—" She shrugs. "Your wife is pretty hot."
"She is."
Keyla's eyes twinkle. "I suppose we didn't used to talk about it, being you were so important and first officer and not part of the crew before."
"I was so socially awkward."
"Oh that's why you always talked Georgiou and not us lowly crewmates."
Michael sighs, looking out at the stars. Philippa would have loved it here, now, when they're building something. Exploring, trying to make things better. "She was lonely too."
Keyla leans back, hands wrapped around her coffee. "We thought so. I'm glad you're not like that."
"Lonely?"
"Lonely on purpose."
"How can I be? You'd never let me."
"Oh I'd let you make bad choices, Joann's the soft one."
Chuckling, Michael sips her coffee. "Thanks."
"Everyone needs someone to keep them honest. Tilly and I can do that for you."
"I hope you ask Tilly this much about her sex life."
Keyla shrugs. "You're the one whose wife is literally glowing."
"Not because of my prowess in bed."
"That's not what engineering says."
Keyla means Reno. "Reno's quarters are nowhere near ours."
Keyla raises an eyebrow, her smile turning wicked. "Veddra's a telepath."
"So instead of having sex with her own telepathic girlfriend, Reno lies in bed with her and they and talk about Laira and I having sex."
"I think they have snacks while they do it."
Unbidden, Michael's mind presents to her the imaage of Veddra curled up with Reno, bowls of snacks in bed, while Veddra recounts what the crew is doing. Vulcan telepathy is much stronger with contact, but Sarek could feel things when they were strong enough. It helped him in negotiations.
What does Veddra feel? Is it like Betazoids? More emotional? She should ask. She doesn't dare. Veddra's often so amused in her presence. Is that why?
They don't get to discuss it. Porathia's beneath them and they have a sea monster hologram to fly into. Keyla, of course, makes it look easy, and in they go.
"You didn't bring the bruiser," Haz says, strudying Keyla in her leathers. "And you came under cover this time."
Michael nods. She can look like a courier, and it's almost comfortable, but it's not her anymore. The leather jacket is Philippa's this time, because she needed the confidence that comes from her. "I'm obvious enough."
Chuckling, he waves up several of the newsreels at once. Micahel and Laira feature prominently in all of them. Script in several languages explain their wedding, and the baby they announced on Earth, along with the new spore drive. "You're making waves. Anyone who can get a copy of that spore drive interface of yours can buy a sector or two and retire early."
"Join the Federation."
"All those rules," Haz shudders like spiders are climbing his back. "Warp is fine. Everything I need comes to me anyway."
Glancing around the room, Michael tilts her head towards the back. "You mentioned a private game."
"Only best for you, Right Hook." Haz stands, gesturing for his staff to set them up. "I have a select few players."
As they follow him towards the back room, Kelya leans in close. "Book?"
"I doubt it. He would have come to me directly, this is probably a courier contact. I had a few."
"Course you did." Keyla falls in step behind, and they walk back to one of Haz's gaming dens. "I've been practicing leonine poker, but your wife still beats me."
"You'll lose a shuttle playing tongo with her."
"I've almost lost your ship." Keyla leans in close to her ear. "Twice."
Michael only has a moment to glare at her, then they're setting up the game. Across the table are two Ferengi Michael recognizes. Traders, sisters, who moved goods with couriers. Prish and Gacis, honorable, cunning, she liked working for them. Even saved their asses once or twice. Michael had a knack for the difficult contracts.
They sit down next to each other, leaving the other two chairs open for Michael and Keyla. Leonine poker, unusual for Ferengi, but not unheard of. They don't acknowledge Michael, no smiles of recognition, so they're playing this tight.
Haz takes a seat in the middle. "The stakes today are a most unusual item. I don't often allow biological specimens as prizes, but I'll make an exception for these mushrooms, they're baasically food, right? Fry them up right aand you'll have dinner."
Prish opens a container, exposing a sample of Prototaxites Stellaviatori as their stake. Not that unusual. They're found all over the galaxy. So there's something in the container, something encoded in the mushrooms themselves. She'll have to win them to find out. She and Keyla hand over a small fortune in latinum, but that's easy enough to come by. She still has latinum stashes all over the quadrant.
The table talk is quiet, even subdued. Prish is funny, at least on a good day. Gacis keeps checking the door, looking over her shoulder. Michael's not a threat, but anyone could be after them. They look at each other once in panic when an Orion walks past the curtain, but they don't seem to know him. Is this about the Emerald Chain? More would-be warlords?
The sisters are running an obvious feint. Not too oobvious, they win a few, but no one's luck is that bad. Keyla takes the pot on a particularly good hand and Prish hisses.
"Why did you bring this human? We know Book's ear tug."
"And you beat us."
That finally gets a smile out of Gacis. "We did."
Two more hands and it's just Michael and Keyla left, so the Prototaxes are theirs. Prish makes more of a show of being a bad loser than Gacis, but they ham it up a little. Prish winks at her while faking her disgust at their loss.
"Humans can't be trusted."
"We're known for it."
"Indeed."
Gacis keeps her distance, but Prish brushes close to her. She presses something into Michael's hand, then they're gone. Michael toys with it, turning it over and over. Latinum, by the weight of it, not a bar or a slip, but shaped into something. A sculpture? Some kind of message?
She lifts it and starts to smile. "It's a toy." Handing it to Keyla, she holds onto her gratitude, and it warms her chest.
"A latinum replica of Discovery. Half-decent, really. Almost to scale." Keyla flies it for a moment, then grins. "Kid's going to love this some day."
Haz looks over and nods his approval. "Ferengi give you expensive gifts when you're growing a child. Helps offset the cost of raising one. The spoils are yours, I'll take the latinum. Feel free to drop by whenever you need anything rare and unobtainable."
Michael places the container of spores into a bag, then slips it over her shoulder. "Thanks for setting it up."
"Anytime."
Keyla flies the tiny ship back towards Michael, then tucks it into her pocket. "I think we should start collecting ships for your hitchhiker. Get some shuttles, some freighters, more starships. Get her a whole collection before she gets here."
"We have time."
"A complete unknown amount of time," Keyla teases, heading back to the shuttle. "I heard there's a window, but it's months?"
"Maybe one month."
"No, Laira said months, and she was mad about it."
Wincing, Michael opens the shuttle and sighs. "Hugh's not sure. Bajorans, humans and Cardassians have vastly different gestational periods. Hugh can monitor the baby's growth, keep an eye on her organs and her brain, but it's all a waiting game. When she's ready, she'll arrive, but we might not get a lot of notice."
"Well, that doesn't sound stressful at all." Keyla settles into the pilot's seat, taking the shuttle out of the Karma barge's holo while Michael studies the container of spores. "She'll probably just go into labor on the bridge or during some intense negotiation."
"We have awhile yet."
"Time to get some more starships."
"Exactly."
Keyla turns towards Michael as they break the atmosphere "What is in the spores?"
"I have no idea. They went to the trouble of collecting and storing them, and lost them to us pretty quickly, so there's a message here. Hopefully Stamets and Reno can determine what it is."
"Maybe it's just a note on the bottom and the spores are just to mess with us."
Michael rolls her eyes upwards. "That would be so easy."
"So it's not that."
"We're not that lucky."
Returning to the ship is not as simple as leaving it, of course. They barely dock before they're needed on the bridge. After a red alert and the adrenaline of rescuing a medical ship at the edge of yet another ion storm, they finally have the time to pick up Laira and the diplomats from Coridan III.
Michael hands off the conn to Commander Rhys for the night. Heading to engineering, she takes the long way, passing her crew in the corridors, thanking them for everything they do.
Adira nods to Michael. "Got any more messages in a mushroom bottle, captain?"
"Did you solve the last one?"
Adira tilts their head towards the lower workspace, where Veddra's perched on Reno's concole and Paul's trying not to watch them with a very soft smile. "They did."
"Oh."
"Bit like cadets if you ask me," Adira mutters.
Patting their shoulder, Michael slips past her. "It's good to see them happy."
Adira may have added in a whisper that Michael aand her wife are just as bad, but Michael didn't really hear it. Clearly, Reno and Veddra are much worse flirts.
Down the ladder, Michael walks through the hologram of the latest ion storm. "Category six?"
"Seven," Paul says, moving the display. "Passed through three systems. The alpha quadrant averages a few category seven ion storms a year. We've already catelogued four this year, and two category eights. The Nog reported a category nine ion storm in the gamma quadrant, which is really wild."
Michael whistles. "Hopefully they were at a safe distance."
"Something's increasing the frequency and strength of ion storms, like superheating an ocean." Paul changes the map shrinking the galaxy down. "Zora's been collecting reports, trying to find a pattern. It's possible this is a normal cycle of the galaxy and we just don't have enough data to predict it, or something's passing by that's stirring things up magnetically."
"We don't know."
"We don't." Paul folds his arms. "We will."
"Good."
"Your puzzle was fun," Reno says, leaving her console as Veddra slides down. "Someone taught the musrooms a set of coordinates."
"Taught?" Michael tilts her head.
"Exposing the spores to the magnetic resonance of a particular planet aligned the spores to its position in space." Veddra waves up a rocky little world. "I'd love to see whatever they used. Might be another prototype for a type of spore drive interface."
Reno nods, gesturing with her pretzel. "I don't know how accurate it would be for intersetllar travel, but in this case. It seems someone wants you to go to this planet."
Michael sighs. Another mystery. "Is it near any of the ion storms?"
"Nope, far corner of the Delta Quadrant. Former Borg space, incredibly isolated, almost as far out as the jolly jellyfish—" Reno is cut off.
"She means species 10-C."
"That far?" Michael raises her eyebrows. "Do we know anything about the planet?"
"Satellite four of a white dwarf, no signs of life. Barely more than an asteroid."
Taking a breath, Michael tries not to let her worries run away with her sense. "Report it to Admiral Vance, ask for additional information. We'll do our research before we go anywhere that far out."
She stays in engineering, talking about ion storms long enough that she's worried Laira's gone to bed, but Zora says she's in the lounge. Michael finds her in a booth by the viewports, finishing her ice cream. A half-drunk mug of tea sits in front of her on the table. Michael touches her shoulder, drawing her attention.
"You're back," Laira smiles up at her, tilting her head closer for a kiss. "How was it?"
"Mysterious, challenging, kind of exhausting really."
Nodding, Laira sets her spoon down and folds her hands together. "I'm sorry. Andoria finished their elections." Her expression's so fragile that something must have happened. "They chose the isolationist candidate, Sh'eqorrin, and when she takes office tomorrow, they'll begin expelling all Federation support from the planet."
"All Federation support?" Michael sets her wine down on table and sits. "They mean personnel?"
"Every Federation citizen must either evacuate or renounce their connection to the Federation."
"Why?"
Laira lifts her tea, making a face. It must be cold. "President Sh'eqorrin convinced enough of the population that the outbreak of scosian fever is cause by interstellar travel, and if they close their borders, they'll be able to eliminate it. Looking inward will let them find themselves. Fear is a powerful thing." Sighing, she lowers her head into her hands. "Before our hitchhiker, I would have gotten whisky."
"I'm sorry." Reaching across, Micahel touches her fingers, and Laira's hand slips into hers.
Laira finds a small smile. "You might need to drink for me, dear."
Chuckling, Michael opens the menu on her badge and orders. "One for your day, one for mine?"
"Tell me what it tastes like."
"Burnt wood, usually."
Laira scoffs, kissing her fingers. "And get more ice cream."
One of the DOTs arrives with their order a few moments later and Michael takes a sip. "Admiral Cornwell was fond of Bourbon, which is from North America, whisky is from Europe."
"Not Paris," Laira says, starting her new ice cream. Cherry and chocolate, Tilly would love it. "Tilly said Paris is all about wine."
"It's romantic." Michael pauses, bringing her memory back. "The lights of the city reflect in the river, music floats on the air."
Dragging her spoon along the edge, Laira takes a bite and watches Michael take another sip of whisky. This one takes like smoke, and she can picture the misty green hills.
"Taking a solar sail ship, away from the trade routes, when you don't have to go anywhere or deliver anything. You just fly. The deck doesn't hum. The sails sing a little, and your breathing is almost too loud. All the stars seem brighter when it's that quiet. That's romantic."
Michael sets down her glass, momentarily aware of the hum of the engines far beneath her feet. "You'll have to take me someday."
Laira has that faraway look for a moment. Their hitchhiker must be making herself known. Laira blinks, then nods, eyes bright - blue and endless. "We'll go."