Chapter Two:

By the time they reached sickbay, both parents had managed to pull their clothes back on. Deanna refused to let herself believe that her daughter was seriously wounded. Whatever accident Shannara had been involved in, the doctors would be able to use their twenty-fourth century, high- tech medical equipment to repair the damage. A two-year old's bones could be healed in a day. Organs could be artificially replaced and the body healed within a day in most cases.

Yet as she grew closer to her daughter, she sensed the overwhelming dread. Medical crewmembers on duty were feeling hopelessness and a deep sadness. The worst part of it all for Deanna was the fact that she could sense nothing from Shannara.

As they spotted Alexander sitting in a corner of the room, his eyes reddened by tears, Deanna broke down. Her barrier of denial collapsed and her knees buckled underneath her. The rest of that night passed in a blur. The doctors explained to her and Worf that their daughter had been without oxygen for several minutes and had slipped into a coma. Deanna's pleas that they awake her baby were gently refused. She couldn't sense her daughter's feelings, she cried out to them.

Shannara Rozhenko had suffered severe brain damage and had been placed in a stasis tube. Any immediate attempt to revive her would result in death.

While the painful exchange proceeded between the doctors and his parents, Alexander remained quiet and still. He wanted to crawl into a black hole where no one could find him. Once the initial shock had passed, his parents would realize that he was responsible for this tragedy. He almost welcomed the punishment. How could he ever live with what he had done? Closing his eyes, Alexander placed his mind in a mental black hole.

Alexander remembered the day his parents had brought Shannara home from the sickbay. He had wanted to hold her, to smile down at her crying red face. Most of all, he had wanted to comfort her and to be her big brother. Shannara had grown quickly, her ridges thickening despite her Human and Betazoid parts and her entire family had soon realized that she had inherited the Klingon temper as well. Many toys had fallen victim to her rage and the toddler would scream until a new one had been replicated for her. To say she was spoiled would never do this child justice. Alexander could have found himself jealous of his baby sister, but instead he became equally guilty of letting her get away with most anything. A quick learner at how to get her way, Shannara had taken to smiling at each of them sweetly and fixing them with her deep brown eyes. Resisting her then was even more impossible than during one of her fits. No one could refuse her charm.

What Alexander wouldn't do to see her smiling up at him again. Why had he ignored her?!

"Alexander," he heard his father calling him. When he opened his eyes, he both realized that his father had called him several times and that he had fallen asleep. His neck was stiff from leaning against the wall and he twisted it to remove the kinks. As he adjusted to the lights, he noticed his father sitting next to him. The memory of the accident came crashing down on him. He shuddered with fright.

"Shannara?" he gasped. "Is she--" How could he even ask the question? "Will she be all right?"

He could see the tears forming in his father's eyes. His father never cried. "She is in a coma," the older Klingon replied. "The doctors do not want to revive her. It would be too dangerous. They say this is the only way to ensure she lives." He averted his gaze. "But what kind of life is it?"

"Too dangerous! Father, what other option is there?"

"There is a new medical technique. It's known as the brain graft. It is untested on humans and highly controversial, but Dr. Selar assures us that it is Shannara's only hope."

Alexander fought against a fresh batch of tears and lost. "This is all my fault! I wish I were lying in there instead of her!"

Worf placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "Wishing for the impossible will not help your sister now," he said sternly. "We need to concentrate on helping Shannara through this."

"Where is Deanna?" Alexander asked.

Without words, Worf turned and stared at Dr. Selar's closed office door. Alexander followed his father's gaze. He wished he could hear what was being said behind the closed door. Was the doctor offering Deanna any hope or only further despair?

"You do understand, as I explained to your husband already, that while the brain graft has been proven successful," Dr. Selar said, "it has only thus far been used on animals?"

Inside her office, both women sat on the small sofa. Although Dr. Selar was a Vulcan, she was not completely insensitive to Deanna's anguish. She did not offer any physical comfort, such as a hug or a squeeze of the hand, as an emotional person probably would. What she did offer was a few minutes of private conversation and for what it was worth, it did help Deanna put her pain into perspective.

"You said it was my baby's only hope," Deanna replied.

"Indeed, it is."

"Then I want Beverly to perform the surgery." She said her words with conviction, indicating that she would not back down on the demand. If her daughter was to be operated on, then she needed Beverly.

"Dr. Crusher is currently on Starbase 217. It would require several days' travel to reach her."

"You said Shannara will remain stable while she is kept in stasis?"

"That is correct."

"Then I want Beverly!" The fierce determination in the Betazoid's eyes was enough to make anyone relent--even a Vulcan.

"Very well. I'll make arrangements with Captain Riker."

Deanna hated leaving sickbay--and her baby, but knew she and Worf had to return to their quarters to prepare for their long journey.

"I will pack everything," Worf volunteered.

"No," she insisted. "I want to pack Shannara's things. It helps me feel closer to her." She walked to the middle of the living area and knelt to pick up the stuffed dog that their little girl had discarded there. Her favorite toy. "Oh Worf!" she exclaimed as a fresh bout of tears shook her entire being.

Her husband rushed to her, and kneeling down, he allowed her to cry on his shoulder. He wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, but she was an empath, and he knew she could sense his own nagging doubts. "We'll get through this," was all he could manage as he ran his hand through her hair.

Alexander entered the quarters and stopped several meters away to stare remorsefully at them. He could offer no apology, no comfort, nor any assurance, so he slipped past them into his bedroom to prepare his own things for the trip.

Collecting herself, Deanna pulled away from her husband and stood. "I want to take this," she said, holding out the stuffed dog. "When our baby wakes up, she will want it."

Worf said nothing, only nodding tersely and allowing his wife to walk past him into their daughter's bedroom. After a moment, he went into their bedroom to pack their clothes and other necessities.

Three hours later, they met Dr. Selar and Captain Riker inside Docking Bay Three.

"Deanna, Worf," the captain said, nodding at them, "I couldn't let you leave without saying something." Yet instead of further words, Riker stepped forward and offered Deanna a firm embrace.

"Thank you so much, Will."

As Riker released his grip on the counselor, he looked toward her husband. "Worf. . .good luck."

"Thank you, sir."

A few minutes later after everyone had boarded the small ship and settled into their temporary home, the runabout Huron left the Enterprise and zoomed into full warp. On board were Worf, Deanna, Alexander, Dr. Selar, an Ensign Spry, who had an excellent piloting record--and Shannara almost lifeless in her stasis tube.

They slept very little. Deanna spent most of her time peering over her daughter's still body and crying. Worf pulled her away when he could, coaxed her to eat and to sleep for brief periods. What he did not tell her, however, was that while she slept, he maintained the vigil over their daughter. Tears came easily to him as they never had before in his life.

Inside the small stasis tube, even bruised, Shannara looked more beautiful than ever. Her long brown curls clung to her face, while her delicate fingers lay at her side.

Since the day Shannara had been born, Worf had learned what it meant to be overly protective. He had wanted to shield his daughter from the harsh realities of the real world, encouraging her to bask in fantasies and game playing. Even though his daughter was now only two-years old, Worf had already begun to concern himself with ways to handle boys chasing Shannara some years down the road.

Now, as he stared down at her motionless features, he only hoped he had the chance to see the day when boys became interested in her. He wanted to open the lid and cradle his daughter as he had lifted her out of her crib so many times. That act, in which they had both taken great comfort in the past, would kill her now.

After making sure Deanna was still sleeping, Worf sat down beside his son. "Perhaps you should get some sleep as well, Alexander," he said.

"I don't think I could," the boy replied. "Please. Let me stay up for a while longer."

Worf nodded his consent. He didn't want to force the issue, especially when he would probably sleep little himself during this trip. He didn't know what else to say and so they spent several minutes in awkward silence.

It was broken when a pounding coming from a compartment on the far side of the room startled them. Dr. Selar, who was in the room with them to monitor Shannara's condition, was closest and reached the compartment ahead of Worf. When she removed the panel, a black girl emerged.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" Worf demanded.

"R-Rosa," the girl stammered. "I feel so guilty. I had to come to see that your little girl is all right."

"Why would you feel guilty?" Worf turned toward his son for an explanation. Alexander averted his eyes, showing both shame and cowardice. Clenching and unclenching his fists, Worf tried to remain calm. He had to for Deanna and Shannara's sake. He turned back toward the girl. "What is your involvement with my son?" Before she answered, he had a feeling that he knew the story, at least in part.

"I didn't mean any harm," she said. "I just came to visit Alex and well--we got a little distracted."

"Are you telling me that Shannara was hurt because you were--" He again turned toward his son. "Deanna and I placed our complete trust in you. Shannara should have been your first concern, not--" He couldn't bring himself to say the words. It wasn't that he was in denial about how boy's Alexander's age felt about girls--he had been there once himself. What he could not believe, nor accept, was that his son had been so irresponsible. Alexander had always doted on his little sister. He would never intentionally allow harm to come to her. And yet he had been overly careless.

"I'm sorry I stowed away like that," Rosa said, diverting the Klingon's wrath away from his son, "but I wanted to wait until it was too late to turn back before letting you know I was on board."

"You have succeeded. Go sit down! We will discuss this matter later."

Without argument, Rosa walked to the sofa and ostensibly did not look at Alexander. She sat on the opposite end, and they sat quietly, appearing afraid to talk with one another.

Worf, not wanting to deal with them any more, went into the small room where his wife was sleeping and laid down beside her.