Chapter Text
Commander Nhan smiles up at the rain, tilts her head and nods that the temple is clear of threats. "Of course it's raining."
"It's in the name." The rain falls in thick round droplets, plonking on the stones like musical notes.
"I thought maybe a planet where it rains so often would value the sun. I like rain, of course, but-" Nhan glances up at the heavy grey sky- "Still very wet, ma'am."
"Very." Laira's hair is tightly wound into a knot, but with this much water, even that will be soaked through. Hopefully it'll hold for the holos, and any press who happens to be here.
Nhan touches her back, one of her hands resting on Laira for balance, just in case the slippery stones aren't a good combination with Laira's inability to see her feet. Nhan remains a step or two back when Michael's here, as if trusting Michael with a little of Laira's safety is acceptable.
Today her boots are steady on the slick surface, but she misses Michael. Michael would worry about her balance if she was here, and explain the history of the Temple of LLuandrur. Laira's already late, and she rescheduled twice, but the attendants st the temple have been patient. The traditional blessing she's been invited to can happen at any time, if there's rain. Rain is easy to come by near the coast of the great green Kaminar sea.
In Michael's absence, Nhan stands a little closer, ready to catch her elbow.
By the time they're all the way up the meandering stone stairs to the cliff - the traditional path - Laira's jacket is soaked through; she can feel the chill of the rainwater on her shoulders, and her hair is heavy. Walking up is traditional, and being soaked is probably part of it. (She needs Michael for the history, she read it but it's hard to make things stick in her head lately).
A dark-green robed Kelpien nods to her and Nhan, welcoming them in.
"Thank you for your patience," Laira says.
Someone in a lighter green robe nods to her. Perhaps the robes lighten with rank? Maybe it's just a preference. They other Kelpien is equally unadorned, and neither seem concerned that she learn their names.
"We are grateful you were able to join us, Madam President. The rain is has come with you, which we welcome."
They exchange pleasantries, and her words feel like autopilot. The temple is a quiet place, full of dark stones and the sounds of water. Laira can't help thinking of Resuna Idun, and Michael - again - but Michael sits on the committee that is reviewing Kaminar's membership of the Federation, and all member worlds. They started just after breakfast and Michael's lunch didn't match with hers so they haven't seen each other since she disappeared into the chamber.
Which is fine, they will see each other tonight. She's being ridiculous missing her, yet Laira misses her. Michael would enjoy this.
"I know it must have been difficult to find the time to come all the way out here," their guide says, walking them through long, curved hallways of black stone. "The blessing of LLuandrur has extra significance during pregnancy, as we give thanks for the water below, the water aboce and the water within. It is fortunate you were able to visit us while you still carry your child."
Laira will be carrying her for a several weeks yet, longer than a Kelpien pregnancy, and much longer than the budding process the Ba'ul use to reproduce. She imagines pregnant Kelpiens do not get as rounded as she is. They're so tall and graceful that it's hard to imagine them as
The hitchhiker shifts, and rolls, finding a new position that is uncomfortable for a moment before she settles. Trying to keep her expression neutral gets harder as the baby gets stronger. For the last few weeks it feels like she's running out of space.
The guide walks them through the traditional blessing. The tide rushes up through cracks in the cliffs below and the rain falls. Being in it requires taking her boots off. "I know it's colder than you might prefer—"
Do it quickly, get it over with and she'll be fine.
"I'm warmer now than I've ever been." Laira rubs her belly with her left hand and shrugs, trying to find the positive. "She's like a heater."
"Good." The tall Kelpien inclines her head gracefully. "We were concerned that it would be uncomfortable for you, as you are not Kelpien. We are relieved."
Walking through rainwater on cold stones on her way to the sea will not be pleasant, at all, but it will be tolerable. She'll make it work. They're left to a bench to get prepared. Kelpien hooves won't feel the cold or the stones the way Laira's feet will.
"Too bad it's too cold for Saurians, ma'am," Nhan says. Her voice low enough Laira might be the only person who can hear. "You could share this special moment with Council member Gozre, if he could come, but Linus says being cold and wet is incredibly unpleasant."
"And I was trying to be subtle about how we're in agreement."
"You're not even sharing the same space lane." Nhan shakes out her wet hair and sighs. Sitting down, she removes her boots and socks, then rolls up her trouser legs. "Would you like help with yours, ma'am?"
"I don't know if that's a choice or a necessity."
Nhan kneels on the cold stone by Laira's feet, and gently eases off her boots. Laira could step out of them on her own, but it'll hardly be dignified.
"Michael's been helping me. Seems like all of a sudden it I can't reach."
"Hitchhiker's had a bit of a growth spurt then, ma'am?"
"I think so." That familiar twinge of pain starts in her lower back, then creeps forward. Her hips don't usually hurt, but it fades after a moment. She can usually hide it, no one needs to know how uncomfortable this can be, but Nhan's obviously noticed.
It's her job.
Nhan looks up at her sympathetically, balling Laira's socks together for their return. "Everything all right, ma'am?"
"I'm fine." Laira takes Nhan's hands, letting the commander help her up. "Thank you. Everything gets out of place."
"Captain Burnham should be done with her meeting soon, ma'am."
"I should let her fix my back again?" Laira inhales, her eyes widening at the chill in the stone beneath her feet. "She gets so smug."
"I think that might be affection, ma'am."
"Oh?"
"Just an observation, ma'am."
Laira playfully narrows her eyes, as if glaring at Nhan. "You've been Federation security longer than you've been on my wife's ship, Commander."
Nhan grins, playing along. "Of course, ma'am. Captain Burnham is known for being smug and insufferable."
Patting her hand, Laira returns her smile. Nhan plays along well; Laira enjoys that about her.
The chilling stone beneath her feet is part of the great cliff that they climbed, and it's so cold because the ocean is beneath it and within, and it's so rarely warmed by the sun. The high tide forces the water up through channels into the sacred chamber, and the falling rain completes the connection. She just has to make it through her rather short speech.
The audience wasn't important, it'll be broadcast by the little floating holocams. The little crowd around the center of the room has a few bright gold Starfleet uniforms, and the cadets came down with Tilly, both groups of them: those in Starfleet Academy's red uniforms and the keen little junior cadets Discovery has been hosting.
Bringing them here was a good idea of Michael's. They've been so eager to learn everything Discovery's crew can teach them, and visiting other planets with Michael's crew brings them such wonder and joy. Meeting more people of different species will help them hold the galaxy together, when their time comes.
Even in the rain.
Nhan hands her a towel for her face. "There's more towels after the blessing, so you can warm up, ma'am."
"Are you saying I should talk fast, Commander?"
"Only if you're cold, ma'am."
Laira's part of the ritual is very short. So it's up the elder clergy to speak quickly. She's grateful to be asked to participate in one of their sacred rites, and she's honored to receive their blessing, on behalf of the Federation. Laira's been part of hundreds of ceremonies and rituals, many as an ambassador, as a sign of Federation good will. Now, as president, she's part of every tradition; every ritual a planet wishes to ask of her. Bajor was her home, now all the worlds must be.
The sea rushes up through cracks in the stone, worn into the cliffs over thousands of years, filling the dark stone with frothing water, which settles into the sacred pool beneath the rain.
The eldest member of the clergy stands in the water, waiting for Laira with hands outstretched to the sky. The roof is open above the center, so that the grey sky hangs above them, soft and velvet.
"In our oldest tales, the Kelpiens come from the meeting of rain and sea. We began in the sea, as did many species, and the land was a desert, dry and uninhabitable, but the rain came, and with that came life on the sand. Our ancestors ran between the droplets, and the rain made the sand and stone flourish around them.
"This tale could be of drought, or perhaps it speaks of the earliest rains on our shores. Our tales change as our world changes. Kaminar is an island in the stars, a pool of life, separated from others by the vast desert of space. We share that desert with many other planets of the Federation, and our villages hold billions of lives. Space is more vast - and beautiful - than our ancestors could ever have imagined, yet we all share the rain. The rain falls on Tellar Prime, on Ni'Var and Earth, as it does Kaminar. We are part of that rain, walking out of the sea, finding our way in the amongst the unfamiliar stars.
"The rain connects us, as it did when we first built our villages. Our rain follows us into space, between stars and darkness, and reminds us of the softness of our skies at home."
The Elder squeezes Laira's hands, her long fingers as cool as the water. "The events of late have reminded Kaminar of our place in the stars. We are grateful to the Federation, and the our starships, like Discovery, who sail out, taking our precious rain into the darkness, bringing home new stories, and old friends."
The Elder's gaze falls on her belly, and her smile is bright with hope. "Su'Kal is home now, and the Burn is behind us. The DMA is gone. Space is still full of danger, as threatening as the dark shores, but we are the rain. We support each other across the void, and we bring hope with us, rain under the rain."
Laira repeats the blessing, following the Elder's gaze up and down. Her words on behalf of the Federation are grateful, and brief, just as she promised Nhan. Kaminar deciding to look outwards, sending their scientists and engineers to the Federation, while they begin the slow process of rebuilding their fleet.
The universe their hitchhiker will be born into is full of connections, and she will know so much more stability than Laira did. Being Michael's daughter means she'll be surrounded with hope - that pure, everything is possible Discovery hope.
Laira smiles easily. "Our villages, our worlds, will be strengthened by Kaminar, and all you share with us. We are grateful for your friendship, and all that you share with us under the rain."
"All the rain touches, we offer in friendship," the Elder says, bowing her head.
"All the sea of stars holds, we offer in gratitude," Laira replies, bowing her head so the rain falls cold on her neck. The traditional form of the blessing was merely the sea, but as she's visiting from the stars, the change seemed appropriate. Her aides must not have told the Elder about the change, because her smile brightens in surprise.
The Elder leans close, whispering into Laira's soaking wet hair. "I hope your little star child knows the brightness of our hopes."
That's what they're trying for, isn't it? Giving everyone a brighter galaxy, full of possibilities. Michael sees that so easily. Sometimes all Laira can see is the work it'll take to get there, but maybe she can believe. The Hitchhiker deserves to grow up int he galaxy Michael sees.
Eyes stinging, Laira hides her tears in the rain. Everyone's looking at the sky and the sea, not at her and she shivers. The cold rolls through her. Nhan steps out from the shadows, bringing Joann and Keyla with her. They're all much drier than she is, because they were allowed to sit outside the sacred rain. They brought towels, and Laira's tears run faster.
Looking after her is part of their duty, of course, but they aren't fussing about her wet hair because she's their president.
"You must be so cold." Joann says, patting her face dry.
"She means good speech, ma'am." Keyla adds, shaking her head. "How's the water?"
"Cold, Commander."
Joann apologizes with her eyes, but only a little. She's all heart with the people she cares about. Forgetting a ma'am just shows her affection. "Do you need to speak to the clergy or can we take you to get warmed up, ma'am?"
Laira completed her part of the ceremony, and she's not needed any more. Glancing around the room, she checks for anyone that she must speak to, where she'd be offending them if she ddn't, but she doesn't recognize any of the faces. She starts to shake her head, but her back hurts, again, this time more of a spasm. Yesterday when it was a slow, steady ache, but this is different. This tugs, finding new ways to be uncomfortable, even painful.
"I suggest that Lieutenant Tilly handles the diplomacy, ma'am, she's excellent at it." Nhan decides for her, guiding Laira to the side. Joann and Keyla follow, and the rest of the officers from Discovery disperse, asking questions, sightseeing in the temple, showing things to the cadets.
"Are you all right, ma'am?" Joann asks, her eyes full of concern. "What hurts?"
"How do you—?" Laira stops, they're leaving the space where she's Madam President and sliding into Mrs. Burnham territory. Trusting them is right. "My back hurts, Owo," she replies, giving Joann space to drop the formalities. "I don't know why, I haven't been sitting and that's usually what sets it off."
"Does standing help?"
"It comes and goes."
Keyla disappears for a moment, walking into the crowd with purpose.
Joann dries her face, and Nhan has another towel for her feet.
"Can you sit long enough to get your boots back on?"
That seems fine. It's an entirely reasonable thing to do. She did it, before, and Nhan took her boots off, but sitting makes her back hurt, stretching out with that tugging pain like tendrils. She squirms, and Joann holds her hands, squeezing gently.
"It's worse?"
"It gets so tight, I don't know what's happening."
Keyla returns with Hugh and Paul. Laira didn't even recognize them in the crowd, even though Hugh's white uniform makes him stand out against the dark stone.
"Her back hurts," Joann reports for her. "But it's coming in waves, not like yesterday."
"We should get Michael," Paul says, and Michael's crew share looks back and forth. She's missing something.
"She's in the Kaminar committee review—" Laira stops because it hurts, enough for her to wince, even inhale too sharply. Joann and Hugh get her back to her feet, their hands on her hands. All of their eyes are concerned, too gentle, too caring, and she should tell them she's fine, convince them not to worry.
Nhan touches her holopadd, pulling up the notes from Michael's meeting. "Captain Burnham's meeting is still sealed."
"She's the president." Keyla crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head towards Laira. "That shouldn't matter."
"The Ba'ul are very particular about the protocols " Laira takes a breath, shifts her weight a little and it's gone. She feels fine. She's not even cold any more. Is that bad? She needs Michael, it's like she can't form a thought without her.
"Better?" Hugh taps his own badge, subtly opening up his tricorder.
For a non-telepath, he's the most observant doctor she's had. "How did you know?"
"You don't hide it well."
Hugh checks something, and an instant of relief washes over his face. He usually hides everything so well that she's curious. "I'd like to get you in sickbay."
"What is it?"
"You're not dilated, so I'm not worried, but your emyargleanine is elevated, and I think that's causing your discomfort."
Dilated? What is he talking about? Why is Joann's hand so tight in hers? "Why would I be dilated?"
Hugh touches her shoulder, helping her focus. His voice is gentle. "Emyargleanine causes contractions, usually after the baby's head is pressed against your cervix, but it can be triggered by stress."
"Which she doesn't experience at all," Keyla mutters, as if she's filling in for Michael's sarcasm.
That twinge returns, sharper, but faster, and it doesn't linger. "This wasn't stressful."
Hugh touches a few indicators on his tricorder. "Stress can accumulate, your endocrine system is under an incredible amount of stress, no matter what your day's meetings are like. The baby's very high, and, as I said, you're not dialated, so I don't think she's coming today, but I would feel better if I can run some more detailed scans. I think you'd feel better if you weren't in pain."
Pressing her lips together, she smiles at him. "You make a compelling argument."
"Reno, Adira and I can stay with Tilly and the cadets. Reno heard there's a buffet." Paul touches Hugh's shoulder, and they share that little see you later smile.
Their transporters whisk them up with a pop. Laira's grabs her a moment after everyone else's. Zora must have triggered it when she didn't. Nhan comes with Laira, she usually does, and Joann still has her hand. Keyla beaming with them back to the ship surprises her a little.
After they materialize in sickbay, Hugh pulls in Dr. Pollard, and scanners light up all around Laira while all of them fuss.
Keyla returns from the replicator with water. Laira didn't notice her going, but it's kind of her. So is the way Joann has Laira's hand and Nhan stands behind her, easing off her soaking wet jacket. Sickbay seems so warm and so bright after the dark temple.
"You're flushed," Joann says. "We need to contact the Vice President and Admiral Vance."
"it's not that serious," Laira says, watching the indicators for her and the baby appear on the biobed on her left. Nothing's orange, orange is bad. Yellow makes Hugh concerned but there's no orange. It'll be fine.
Doctor Pollard and Hugh examine the holo of the baby, checking her vital signs. No one's asked her to get on the biobed because it'll make her back hurt.
Nhan draws her attention to the buttons on the front of Laira's shirt. "You're soaked through."
"I'm very blessed."
"And cold, because the sacred rain was freezing, we're going to take this off."
Keyla holds her water so Laira can get her arm out of the sleeve, and then Keyla hands it back and they all orbit around her, like DOTs repairing a satellite. When the water's gone, Keyla disappears again, then returns with a mug of something that smells sweet.
Keyla takes her clothes away. Laira thanks her over her hot chocolate, which she starts to drink but her hands are trembling, Sh'=e's not cold, she doesn't feel cold, why are her hands so unsteady?
Her back tightens, again, and the cramp radiates outward through her belly, tight, then sharp, and she gasps when it ends with that familiar ache of the baby's hard little head against her spine.
"Breathe," Hugh says, touching her bare shoulder. "Being tense will make it worse."
"Just relax and the pain will go away?" she mutters through clenched teeth.
"Relax and we can help."
"I can press on your spine, but it is going to sting," Pollard warns her, and Keyla takes her mug and Joanna and Nhan have her hands. Pollard's hands are quick, and strong, like Michael's and not Michael's. Missing her makes her eyes sting.
Michael's in a meeting, they can just— Laira can't let herself. The Ba'ul are very concerned with balancing the needs of Kelpiens and Ba'ul, and making sure Kaminar's place in the Federation serves their ideas of balance. Pulling Michael out of the meeting when it's not an emergency will need diplomatic handling and seem selfish and she can't—
Pain runs like lightning up her back, demanding all of her attention for an instant. Her sudden little gasp has everyone's eyes on her again and her breath hisses when she inhales.
"Sorry," Pollard says, rubbing Laira's spine. "Her positioning isn't doing you any favors. Walking around a little should help"
"The erratic contractions aren't moving her down." Hugh says, guiding her attention to the holo of the baby, who is wedged right against her spine, again, and her feet kick in the holo which makes then sensation sharper within. She has such bony little feet.
"We don't want her down, not yet anyway, but she's getting tugged around, and your muscles are strong, so it hurts."
"I admire your ability for understatement."
Hugh smirks a little, then turns serious. "I want you to take a few days off. Send the Vice President to the Federation council meeting."
"It's the last one before the Burn memorial."
"You can miss it."
"I just talk—"
"The last meeting was almost fourteen hours," Hugh reminds her. "Fourteen hours on your feet might get you some much stronger contractions."
"I can sit—"
"Oh no, your back's not going to take that well at all," Pollard agrees with him. They do united front far too well. "You need to rest, change positions often, go on a nice walk, then sit for awhile, take a nap, go for a swim, give her a chance to move out of the places where it hurts you."
"Go for a swim?"
"Get the pressure off your bones." Hugh manipulates the holo away from the baby to show Laira her own painful spine. "At the end of pregnancy, ligaments and connective tissues start to soften, preparing the body for delivery. It also helps with the demands of carrying a heavy baby. Some of your hormones are signalling for that process to start. The Bajoran hormones you produce, like emyargleanine are ready to wrap things up."
"I've been pregnant longer than a Bajoran would be."
"And some of your hormones are on a different timetable. Your connective tissues respond most to tollissityn, which is a Cardassian hormone, but you're not producing much of that at all, and that fits with the slower gestational rate a Cardassian would experience, but it makes things now a little uncomfortable."
"That's an understatement."
Hugh pulls himself up to sit on the biobed she's leaning on. "Pain is a signal. It can be a signal that something is out of alignment, or a reminder to slow down. You're asking your body to create something incredibly complex and resource intensive, while changing your posture, your gait and your ability to breathe—"
"I understand."
"Great. I know the memorial is important. If you want to make it through that in a few weeks, then you're taking three days off now, maybe more if you keep having these contractions."
Sipping her hot chocolate, she sighs, trying to focus on the warmth. "You said not to worry about them."
"I don't want you to worry about having her prematurely, or that the contractions are causing her discomfort. When I say don't panic, that does not mean that we should ignore what's happening." Hugh's voice is low and kind. "You're in the ending weeks of a very taxing experience, mentally and physically, not to mention emotionally."
The faces around her all agree with him, and Joann's eyes are so loudly concerned.
Hugh rubs her shoulder. "When you're exhausted, that tells your endocrine system to hurry up and get her out, but your skeletal system isn't ready for that yet. Letting them debate is going to cause you more pain, which will make the meetings longer, and the more contractions you're trying to avoid, the more distractions you'll have at the meeting. The Vice President can handle the council."
Dr. Pollard adds, "You're in a marathon, and the last leg is a doozy, you need to be prepared when you hit the last hill."
"Never really enjoyed running."
Both doctors smile at her, rolling their eyes at each other. "I'll see if I can find an appropriate metaphor for you, ma'am."
Laira thought she might lose a day, maybe two if Hugh was feeling protective. Sending Jen to the council meeting sends a message, one she wasn't ready to send quite yet, but maybe she needs to be. The Hitchhiker's nearly ready, and this is that last little gravity eddy before the Bajoran system. Almost home.
"Michael can take the time off too," Keyla says from across from her. "Joann can handle getting us in orbit of Akoszonam and a few science experiments."
Joann nods, and the eye roll is just for Keyla. "She has such faith in me."
Laira runs through several ways to protest, but stops. It's selfish, too selfish, and she should, but it'll be better with Michael. "Thank you, all of you."
"Of course." Hugh slides off the biobed. "Go, do something fun."
"Fun?"
"You remember what that is, right?" Nhan teases. "When you do something that makes you happy, not because you need to, or the Federation needs it."
"I think I'm aware of the concept."
Joann nudges Keyla. "You know, Keyla has a pilot game she's been playing with the cadets, and you'll love it."
Keyla blushes a little, then explains. "Zora helped us program the holos in main shuttlebay so we could make a simulator. We have some routes from the 23rd century that no one from this has been able to beat."
"Are you appealing to my sense of competition?"
"Oh no, I'd never do that, Madam President." Keyla's eyes twinkle, and Laira is aware of a metaphorical guantlet being thrown.
"Is it fun?"
Joann shrugs. "Maybe for hot shot space pilots."
She's never flown a shuttle this old. It's closer to the days of sailing ships on Earth than the programmable matter controls they have now. It's a stunning antique, and the controls are bizarre. No neural interface, no haptic feedback. It has buttons.
Shiny buttons. Even the oldest freighter in her father's fleet never had buttons.
Keyla gives her the easy one first. Sol's asteroid belt. Keyla says it's from cadet training at the Academy, when the Academy was on Earth. Lifetimes ago.
"None of the cadets can survive this one, not yet anyway."
"None of them?"
Shrugging, Keyla gets comfortable on a crate next to Joann. "I must have made it too hard for them in the antique shuttle. You try it. If it's a breeze, you can try Jupiter."
The controls are antiquated, messy, too sharp and too slow and she spins out of the belt four times. (That doesn't really count, and she's not simulated-dead so Laira flies back in and they start again. Keyla flies through it once, so she can see what she does, and then something starts to come back. Laira blows herself up spectacularly around one turn, then again when she underestimates how fast one of the asteroids is spinning.
Then it clicks.
Her hands know what they're doing. Her head's a mess of thoughts about the last two planets she needs to visit and the council meeting she's going to miss and Michael and the memorial.
Some day - soon - they will have a baby. She won't just be feet and a sharp little head, she'll be a person. Their person.
Her contractions won't be erratic and the pain will get worse, and the Hitchhiker will go down and they'll finally know what she looks like. It's a series of steps, and they end with a baby, and she'll have Michael and they'll have Hugh - and everyone. Michael's - their - family will love the Hitchhiker so much.
Just get her to the end.
One last dive around the big asteroid. The shuttle sparks, and the hulls whines in a way that hasn't changed in centuries. Steer into it, let the gravity do the work for her. Wait.
She never used to be good at waiting, not the way she is now. Laira would rush when she was younger, pull it too tight, come out of it laughing and panting and nearly dead.
Now - she's remembered - it's easy.
The shuttle chimes in victory, the simulation ends in open space. The whole galaxy twinkling in front of her. Huge and unexplored - unknown - because this is Michael's time. The far past where Michael is from.
"Congratulations, darling," Michael says, her voice light and teasing. "First person from this time to beat Keyla's death course."
"She said it was easy."
Michael's smile lights up the entire shuttlebay like a supernova. She's tired, she has to be, and there's worry in her eyes. Did she talk to Hugh? Did she come here directly? When did she get out of her meeting?
"This is the hardest course I've made yet."
"What?" Laira looks at Keyla and Joann who smile innocently over their tray of snacks. They've been cheerleading her through all her tries, offering popcorn in between races. Laira has no idea where they got it.
Keyla's smug face is more self-satisfied than Michael's. "If I told you, you never would have tried."
Joann looks more apologetic. "You needed a challenge."
Michael's hand slides into hers and the universe feels still.
"That was difficult."
Michael stands on her toes and kisses her cheek. "And you did it."
Hugh and Dr. Pollard were right, fun is nice. So is seeing Michael, even if there's worry written in the lines of her forehead.
"I'm sorry I didn't break you out of your meeting."
"Would have felt real?"
"Too real."
"You know, it's all right." Michael holds her hands, sheltering her fingers like shields cradling a ship. "I don't think anyone really feels ready."
"You do."
"I have a reputation to maintain as the captain who solves everything." Michael flips her braids back over her shoulder and chuckles before she sighs. It weighs on her too. "Hugh says she's not coming today."
"He's usually right."
"It's good that you know that about him." Michael kisses her cheek, squeezes her fingers, then touches her forehead. "I don't know if I should be telling you to calm down, or suggesting another impossibly difficult course for you."
"I don't know if I have anything left."
"You did well today."
"I did?"
"You beat Keyla's impossible monstrosity and I hear it's raining on Ni'Var, you were that good at the teple."
Now Laira chuckles. "I'm sorry."
"I need to be here."
"You're here."
"You know what I mean."
Looking down doesn't save her. Michael lifts her chin and her eyes are the deepest ocean between the stars.
"I got out of my meeting, and Hugh was waiting for me. My heart beat so fast. I couldn't breathe."
Now Laira's the one kissing her forehead, trying to calm her. She brings Michael's hand to her belly, finding that little bony foot through her belly for Michael to feel. "I'm all right. We're all right."
"First thing out of his mouth was that you were fine, but in the heartbeats in between were eternity."
"I'm sorry."
Michael leans down, whispers to the Hitchhiker, then rubs her belly. "I need you to take me out of the meetings, even when it's stupid and nothing and it doesn't really hurt."
"Oh this hurt." Laira's chuckle catches in her throat. "And I wanted you, and I felt like an idiot, because she's not coming today and it's my biology working against me, and I was fine, I was so safe, and still I wanted you."
"I think that's marriage." Michael nuzzles her cheek. "I don't know though, I'm still pretty new to it."
"Me too."
"Lot of new things coming."
"Not today, thankfully." Joann hands Michael some popcorn.
She shakes the tension out of her shoulders. "Thank you both, for being here."
"That's our baby too."
Keyla flushes pink a little and nods. "She is."
Michael touches Keyla's shoulder, then hugs Joann, tight and slow. "Did you steal this from surprise movie night?"
"Oh uh, actually, the test shuttle makes a feed that we play in the cargo bay. The cadets love watching it."
Laira stares at them both. "I was the movie?"
"Well, visiting pilot LB is the movie," Keyla explains. "They only see the shuttle go through the course. No one knows it was you, Mrs. Burnham. It's fun to watch. "
"So half the ship watched me blow myself up a few times, for fun?"
"And you then beat the hardest course I've ever designed. Trust me, in cargo bay two right now, you're a rock star." Keyla pats her shoulder. "When you go, we'll let the cadets in and give them a chance to try to beat your time, but I want to preserve the mystery for a while. Give them someone less impossible to beat than me."
Laira shakes her head, then grins. "I am honored to be of service to the Federation."
Michael kisses her cheek again. "See, you had a great day."
"And we have the day off tomorrow."
"Together." Laira's eyes sting, again, and kissing Michael doesn't hide her tears. Now does she need to.
"Absolutely." Michael touches Joann's shoulder, then Keyla's hand. "I have total faith in your ability to handle some experiments and the cadets."
"After we jump to Akoszonam, Tilly's planning a field trip to the fissure of Jorat for them. She says it's gorgeous."
Michael went there, with Tilly, in the quiet after the DMA was gone. Laira still hasn't been, but perhaps on this visit, they'll make time.
"And there are a number of science experiments scheduled for the freshwater oceans. Plenty to compare to Kaminar's." Joann hugs her and Michael together, and tugs Keyla in. "We can handle the ship, take your time. You don't have a lot left for just the two of you."
"We're not alone," Michael says, her voice soft and thick. "Thank you for that."
"You know, if you're done being mushy, I have a co-pilot course I've been waiting to test."
Michael rubs her eyes and looks at Laira, waiting for her to agree.
Squeezing her hand, Laira nods. "I'm up for it if you are, darling."
"I might be a little rusty on shuttles."
"It's fine, cargo bay 2 loves an explosion, or three."
Michael looks at Joann, then Keyla. "All right, we'll do it, but only if you two do it afterwards."
Laira leans in and whispers. "Are we getting competitive?"
"No, no, just some friendly back and forth."
"Right." Laira nods, then stretches her hands. "Nothing competitive at all, purely for fun."
Keyla winks at them. "Winning is fun."