- Onari System -

Everything around her, it seemed, was burning. B'Elanna had awakened to a searing pain in her leg, and a loud ringing in her ears. Something terrible had happened and she couldn't get her mind to focus. Miral…she had to find her daughter. She was buried somewhere in the rubble. B'Elanna called to her, but her voice was barely a whisper. She could not get up to search for her.

"Ambassador Torres," said a voice beside her. "Can you hear me?"

Solek, the young Vulcan Commander in charge of her safety, gazed down at her, and ran a tricorder scan. He was injured, a laceration over his ear oozed bright green.

Suddenly B'Elanna's memory flooded back. She was at the Prime Minister's banquet on Onari Prime. Miral, she realized, was safe back home at Starfleet Academy.

"Commander Solek," she said. She tried to swallow, but her throat burned.

The Vulcan lifted her head and placed a rolled up cloth beneath. "Where's my husband?" she said, clutching Solek's sleeve.

"I have not yet located Commodore Paris."

B'Elanna felt a tremble in the floor as more debris fell from the now unstable building. Solek bent over her, shielding her from the showering fragments.

When the fallout subsided, he sat up again.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Shantak Terrorists, I believe," he said, "The attack bears their signature: two bombs detonated ten minutes apart. The Prime Minister is dead."

"No…"

Terrorists. B'Elanna hated the word. It was an ancient expression, revived in recent years when the Onari System fell into civil war.

"Medic!" Solek called above the shouts of survivors and rescue workers.

A helmeted Onari dressed in the typical olive and gold uniform of the palace guard, responded. The young man looked harried and overwhelmed; sweat and soot smeared his face. "I'll find you a medic, sir." He hurried away, climbing over fallen debris as he went.

"Is my leg broken?" B'Elanna said, "It hurts like hell."

Solek examined the leg, but his gentle touch sent spears of pain through it. B'Elanna bit her lip and hissed.

"Yes, but it appears to be a clean break," he said, "We need to get you to a medical facility. Unfortunately, the Onari's lack of planning for such a crisis has resulted in a chaotic response. There may not be enough medical personnel for so many casualties." He stood, "I shall return momentarily with a medkit."

"No, Solek. First, find my husband," she said, "I'll be alright."

"Ambassador, I'm charged with protecting you."

"I'll be alright," she insisted, putting a little more strength in her voice.

He sighed. Working with her for so many months had taught him that she was a very stubborn woman. "I must find a medkit. It may take a few minutes," he said. "If I locate him during that time, I will inform you."

"Thank you, Solek." B'Elanna watched the commander climb over the rubble that was once the ancient walls of the Onari Banquet Hall. Her head throbbed with a dull pain, and she laid it back down.

It was then that she saw a hand jutting from the debris beside her. It was delicate; the hand of a young woman, the rest of her body was buried beneath the debris. Reaching out, B'Elanna touched it and felt the coldness of death.

So much hope. So many dreams of Onari peace, and now. . . . those dreams were dead.

- Starfleet Academy, San Francisco -

Miral . . .u . . . r . . . beautiful. . . .

For the second time during her midterm physics exam, words from an anonymous hacker scrolled across the bottom of Miral Paris' computer screen.

For the second time, she deleted it.

A full hour had already passed since the beginning of the exam, and she'd only answered a third of the questions. The last thing she needed was for some amorous jerk to disrupt her concentration. Her grades in this class were weak at best. She couldn't afford to be tripped up now.

She rested her forehead on her hand and tried to reread the problem.

Then it happened again. This time the words flashed.

Plz Miral . . . gimme the answer to #34 . . .

He's got to be kidding.

Miral glanced up at her instructor, Captain T'Poq. The Vulcan sat at a computer in the front of the room; her back turned to the class. Miral took this chance to scan the rows of students. All were quiet with their heads bent in concentration over their exams. Then three rows back, she found the culprit. Tad Bishop. It had to be him. He was the only cadet in the entire class with a silly grin on his face.

He looked up at her and winked, the silly grin broadening into a triumphant smile.

Those dimples wouldn't get him anywhere. Miral responded by giving him her harshest look. She stuck out her tongue.
Bishop's smile vanished and he quickly resumed his work.

Well, that was easy, she thought.

"Cadet Paris." Captain T'Poq's voice broke the silence. Several other cadets glanced up from their tests.

Miral straightened. The Vulcan was now standing by Miral's workstation, looming over the young cadet, her dark, emotionless eyes cast down in judgment.

"Do you wish to complete this exam?"

Beneath the Vulcan's focused gaze, Miral felt like an ant cringing under a magnifying glass. Her mouth went dry, but she managed to utter a small, "Yes, sir."

"Then do not disturb your classmates or you will forfeit your grade. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Miral turned back to her exam. She could feel a hot blush rising to her cheeks, and wished desperately that her embarrassment didn't show.

"Time," T'Poq announced with a certainty that had everyone either sighing or moaning that it was over. "Close your exams. Class is dismissed until Tuesday at 0900. Your grades will be posted at that time."

Miral got up from her seat, and Bishop slipped past her not saying a word. She saw him file through the door with the rest of the students.

"I couldn't remember Sprak's Theory on black holes," said her friend Inge who came up beside her. "My mind just went blank."

"First of all, it's Spock, not Sprak," Miral said. "Didn't you study?" She picked up her bag and headed for the door. "Never mind. I guess all the studying in the world doesn't matter when your instructor hates you."

"Don't let T'Poq upset you, Miral," said Inge. "She's a Vulcan, she can't hate you. Besides, everybody gets zapped at least once in her class. You should be glad it happened. Have pity on me. My turn's still in the future."

"Thanks a lot Inge," said Miral. She scowled. "That idiot, Bishop. It was his fault! He hacked into my test and I don't know how he did it."
Inge's mouth dropped. "He was cheating?"

"Maybe," Miral said. "He's not going to get away with it."

They stepped through the door and into the sunlit courtyard.

"Well there's the idiot now," Inge said, gesturing with a twitch of her head.

Bishop was standing by the water fountain talking to two girls from class. They smiled and giggled at everything he said. He could probably read Einstein's Theory of Relativity to them and they'd still giggle. She stalked straight up to him. The girls' smiles waned.

"Bishop," she said, "I'd like a word with you."

"Sure," he said as if he'd done nothing wrong. He followed her down the walkway.

They didn't get far when she abruptly turned and jabbed a finger at his chest. "What the hell did you think you were doing hacking into my test like that? I can't afford to fail this class. Of all the-if I don't pull my grades up, they'll kick me off the ski team. I can't let that happen. I've worked too hard for it."

"I was just teasing, Miral," said Bishop, "I didn't think it would bother you, and I didn't know T'Poq would embarrass you like that."

His expression wasn't sincere enough. Miral put on her most deadly serious look. "It won't happen again, Bishop, because if it does, I'm going to report you."

"I'm sorry," he said and shrugged one shoulder. "I was hoping you'd go with me to the Parrises Squares tournament this weekend. I guess I didn't know how to get your attention."

"It was a dumb thing to do," she said weakening.

"I know," he said, but his smile came back, and he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "You sure are cute when you blush."

He was so close; she suddenly noticed how kissable his lips were. Miral caught herself. Heat rose to her cheeks again and she glanced away. How could she think that about Bishop? He was just a player, never serious about anything. She saw the two girls still standing by the water fountain gazing expectantly in his direction. "Your harem's waiting."

He glanced back at them, and their smiles flashed instantly. "Them? They don't mean anything to me."

"Ahem."

Miral turned around and saw that Inge stood behind her with her arms folded across her chest. She was a watchdog, that Inge, and she sent Bishop a cold glare.

"Hi Inge."

"Bishop."

"Think about the tournament, Miral," he said. "I'll call you later."

Miral watched him walk away. She'd never noticed his lean, muscular build before. She was so wrapped up in her studies; she had never really noticed the way he walked. He was so confident and –gods—was she really falling for him?

"Well, what was that all about?" said Inge. "You come out here to tell him off and the next thing I know, you're practically drooling all over him."

Miral brought her gaze back to Inge. "I was not drooling."

"Were too. Besides, he's not your type."

"Who is my type then, know-it-all?"

Inge bit her bottom lip, and mused for a moment. "I don't know," she said finally, " I just think you're too smart for a guy like that. He's the Stepford Wife type. Take the two he's with right now. Blondie and Bouncy."

Miral saw how the two girls fawned over him. Maybe Inge was right. After all, being part Klingon, Miral didn't feel as if she fit in anywhere, let alone the circles that Bishop flew around in.

"Cadet Paris."

Captain T'Poq approached them.

Miral froze. She would be accused of cheating because of Bishop's prank. Her mind raced for appropriate answers to the accusations she was sure would come.
"You are to report to the Admiral's office immediately."

"Yes, sir."

T'Poq left. No explanation. No reassurances, nothing.

When she was out of earshot, Inge spoke. "That's a Vulcan for you. Just the facts ma'am. Never a word of explanation."

Miral hadn't been called to Admiral Janeway's office like this before, and she tried to imagine what kind of trouble she must be in. She turned to her friend, "You don't suppose they found out who rolled T'Poq's house do you?"

Inge dismissed the notion by making a raspberry sound. "That's hardly a reason to be called to the Admiral. She's close to your family, right? Maybe your folks are coming back early, and she wants to be the one to tell you."

"Could be," Miral said. Suddenly, she felt better. She wished she had better grades to show her parents when they got back. "Guess I'd better go find out then. I'll see you later, Inge."

The two friends parted, and Miral strolled down the sunny sidewalk in a dream. The best-looking cadet in class had just asked her out, and her parents were coming home. The day could only get better; she picked up her pace and found that she actually looked forward to the meeting with Admiral Janeway.