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Prologue: 2396
I study my life as a historian might examine the ancient pyramids of Egypt.
My life is a mystery, perhaps of lesser importance to the universe, but equally as
cryptic. Reflecting on the myriad of destinations, explorations, or interactions I
have encompassed over the years, I still puzzle over the absurdity of some.
A wise entity once told me, "Shannara, your complexities challenge the
very existence of your people." Those words, offered to me at the age of six,
vexed me wherever I traveled. My people. Who exactly are my people?
Klingons. . .Humans. . .Betazoids? I never knew exactly with whom I fit in.
Although I could not grasp his meaning, that entity, who almost in a sardonic tone
referred to himself as my guardian angel, managed to profoundly influence my
expeditions of the mind. Whether that influence has been positive or negative is
almost impossible to evaluate.
At times, he has seemed to mock me, popping into my life at the most
inopportune moments. He follows his own schedule, his own agenda-- or
perhaps he feels such precise planning is superfluous. What's a millennium or
two to an entity who's seen millions of birthdays pass? I asked him once why he's so
obsessed with my misdirected life, and he told me that my masochistic nature
was quite fascinating. He couldn't resist guiding me along a bit. I could not
determine if he was complimenting me or condemning me. Was he serious?
Anyway, here I am, Shannara Rozhenko at twenty-three, waiting for my
ship to dock so I can transport to Earth and visit a dear old friend of mine. Maybe
he can help me ponder the nature of my existence for a millennium or two. If only
I could stay in one place for that long. . . .
*****
Eighteen years ago. . . . .
I just know I'm going to hate school, but Mommy will make me go.
Daycare was bad enough, with all those big kids picking on me. I was so glad
when they had to leave for school. But now Mommy says she's sending me to
school! What should I do when the big kids pick on me again? If I fight back, I
will be the one getting into trouble. That's the way it always happens.
I roll onto my side, not wanting to get out of bed. I watch the stars
zooming by out my viewwindow. To me, it's the most excitement living on the
Enterprise. I don't want to be on a starship, but I don't know where I want to be.
"Shannara," Mommy calls from the other room, "Are you awake?"
Oh, I don't want to answer her, but I must! "Yes, Mommy," I reply groggily
. I step out of bed and rub at my eyes as I walk toward the doorway to poke my
head out. I can sense Mommy in the living area, and know she can sense me.
I cannot tell what she is thinking, though Grandma Lwaxana tells me that one day,
I may develop that ability. I can, however, clearly pick up on what Mommy is feeling.
She is practically fuming at me.
"You should be dressed by now," she says. "Do you need help putting
your romper on?"
"No! I'm a big girl." That's all I need, Mommy treating me like a baby. I
dash toward my dresser and take out one of my new outfits Mommy had
replicated for the new school year. After slipping out of my nightie, I fumble
with the buttons on the romper. I glance at my dollhouse setting in the corner understand wonder
if the children in their world have to wear something so ridiculous. Why hadn't Mommy
replicated something with a zipper? No, I have to have something with these cute little
doggie-shaped buttons.
Dressed, I run out to the living area, hungry for breakfast. I hope Mommy
hasn't made oatmeal again. I look around for Mommy and spot her walking
from her room to mine and back out a minute later. She has my nightgown
in her hand, along with Eric's pajamas. "Shannara, you forgot to place this in the
clothes chute."
"Sorry Mommy," I reply as I sit down at the table beside Eric. He is my
baby brother. He still needs someone to dress him. Smiling, Eric reaches
toward me with sticky fingers. "Don't touch me!" I jerk away from him. Mommy can
make him stop. "Mommy!"
"Sit on the other side of the table, Shannara, and he won't be able to touch
you."
Here we go again. If I tell on someone, I'm always the one getting into
trouble. I really don't want to go to school! As I push the bowl across the table,
the stuff inside jiggles. I don't want to eat it. Maybe if I don't, Mommy will think
I'm sick.
"Shannara, please eat. We have to leave soon."
So much for that idea. I raise my spoon and swirl the gooey stuff, wondering
if I can really swallow any of it. I look at Eric, who is shoveling his portion
in with his hands. It looks even yuckier being worn on his face. "Mommy, I don't
feel so good. My tummy hurts."
Mommy kneels down, looking me straight in the eyes. "It's just nerves,
Sweetheart." She squeezes my shoulder. Mommy understands what I am
feeling, as always, and yet I sense she will not give in to my wishes. Sometimes,
Mommies and Daddies are hard to understand. "Everyone gets nervous when
they face something new, even grownups."
"Can't I wait just a little longer? Maybe I'll be ready next week."
"No." I knew that would be her answer, but I had to try. "If you don't go
now, you'll just build on your fear. Trust me. In a few days, you'll enjoy school so
much that you'll look forward to going."
Me want to go to school! "I don't think so."
"You should try school for at least a week before you decide whether it's
something you like or not."
"Then can I stay home?"
"That is not an option."
I groan. Unable to think up any more excuses, I consider my breakfast
again. Although I'm stiill reluctant to taste it, my rumbling stomach is demanding to
be fed. So I slowly bring a spoonful of the mush to my mouth and swallow it. It
tastes no better than oatmeal.
Before I can complain about the meal, Eric leans toward Mommy
and grabs her sleeve with his sticky hand. "Mama," he says innocently.
"Oh. . . .Eric," Mommy exclaims. "Now Mommy has to change her
uniform."
I smile at my little brother as Mommy walks into her bedroom. Well, I still
have to go to school, but now I have a reason for being late.
*****
After we've dropped Eric off at daycare, Mommy informs me that the
school room is on deck 21 . That seems so far away from deck 8 where we live.
What if I can't find my way back home?
"Mommy, you will come pick me up, won't you? Just like at daycare?"
"Of course, Sunshine," Mommy replies, bending down to offer me a
reassuring hug. That's her nickname for me. She once explained to me that my
name means "rising sun" in Betazoid. "It will be at least a couple of years before
you will be able to come home on your own."
"I don't think I'll ever get used to this."
"You will. And it won't take long." The turbolift-door opens and we step out
into the corridor. What awaits me around the corner? Kids much bigger than any who
came to daycare? Sometimes school kids come to daycare when school is out. But I
just know there'll be even bigger kids at school. Will they like me? Will they treat me
like a baby and make fun of my ridges?
"Shannara, we're already running late," Mommy says, turning around next to a commpanel
when she realizes I am not following her. I am still standing beside the turbolift.
"You're making this much harder than it has to be."
Am I? Could there really be an easier way? Reluctantly, I step forward
and accept Mommy's hand. I glance at the commpanel, wondering if I could figure out how to
use one if I ever get lost. I wish I could convince Mommy to stay in school all day,
then I could be brave.
We reach the schoolroom, and as Mommy approaches the teacher to talk
to her, I study the other kids. Some are big; some are small. Most are Humans, but
a few are other races. I am the only one with any Klingon, of course. My Daddy is the
only Klingon officer aboard the Enterprise. I sense that none of the other children are
as frightened as I am. I feel ashamed and weak, stripped of my honor.
"Shannara, if you would take a seat in the front row," the teacher says, "we
can get started."
I glance at Mommy, fighting against tears. I can't give the others a reason
to call me a baby. "Please, don't go," I say barely above a whisper.
"Don't make a scene, Shannara," Mommy says firmly. "I'll be back for
lunch.." Without hesitation, she leaves me there, standing in front of the class.
Embarrassed, I dash for the cover of the offered seat in the front row. The kids
closest to me are about my age. The others farther back are bigger. I relax a
little, knowing I will be close to the teacher.
"Welcome to the first day of school," the teacher begins. She is standing in front of a large
viewscreen. I've seen only one other as large in Ten-Forward. I hear the one on the bridge is
even bigger. "I see a few new faces, so let me introduce myself. I'm Mrs. Dewberry. This will be
my sixth year teaching aboard the Enterprise. I have data padds and pencils for those of you who
still need them. Just raise your hand if you don't have one and I'll come around."
I have played with Mommy's data padd. She lets me doodle on it. I
am not sure if I'll like having one for schoolwork, but I'll get into trouble if I don't ask
for one. I raise my hand and soon, the teacher comes around and places a
padd and pencil in front of me.
"Those of you whom I've had before, I'd like for you to write about what you've
done over the past several weeks during your break. Did you go anywhere or try
anything new and exciting? I expect an essay from each of you by
tomorrow. Beginning students, I would like you to sit on the rug." She points to a
circular rug in the far corner. Two boys and two other girls follow me onto the rug. I
recognize three of them from daycare. I don't know their names. None of them have
ever offered to play with me. We wait for a couple of minutes, while Mrs. Dewberry
makes sure the other kids are writing as instructed. I study the other kids in my group
as they study me. They are all Human; I am sure of it. The girl I've never met eyes
me with suspicion. I can sense that she does not like me. Why? She doesn't know me.
Mrs. Dewberry joins us on the rug, sitting with her legs crossed. Our group follows her
example. "On the first day of class, I like to have my new students introduce themselves to each
other. It'll help you relax as you get to know one another and hopefully become friends. Later,
when you're more comfortable, you can begin to mingle with the older students as well. I'll go
first to help you get started." She pauses before beginning her introduction. "Hi, I'm
Mrs. Dewberry. I'll be your teacher this year. My husband and I have two children, Amanda,
who is in the first grade, and Shayne, who won't begin school until next year. I enjoy teaching,
especially small children, and in my spare time, I do a lot of reading.
She smiles at us and to my disappointment, nods in my direction. Surely,
she isn't going to make me go next! I don't know what to say. "Shannara," she says, "You're
quite a unique little girl. Why don't you share some of your heritage with us."
"I--" My cheeks grow warm.
"Do you understand what I'm asking?"
I nod. Why does she want me to talk about being Klingon, though? It's
obvious to everyone. Not like I can hide my ridges from anyone. "I'm part Betazoid,"
I decide to announce instead. I hope they will find this fascinating. "I am only one-
quarter, but I can sense people's feelings as well as my Mommy. She says it's quite
rare for a child to have this ability."
"No way!" one of the boys exclaims. "What am I feeling now?"
He feels like laughing; he must believe I'm ridiculous. I don't want
to say this aloud.
"Bradley," the teacher scolds, "please refrain from being rude."
I don't know how to continue. What more can I say about myself? My
Daddy always tells me I should be honored to be Klingon, but sitting in a group
with others who are all Human, makes me feel like an outcast. I don't want to
be different.
"Shannara?" Mrs. Dewberry says with concern.
"I don't really know who I am," I admit. "My name is Shannara Rozhenko.
That's all I know."
"That's quite a confession from such a little girl!" Mrs. Dewberry glows
with concern for a moment, and then as she smiles at me, I can sense that she
wants to help me relax. "Maybe you have some hobbies you'd like to share with
the rest of the group."
I muse over this for a moment, and remembering about the data padd,
finally say, "I like to doodle." The other kids snicker. "I mean, to
draw." I bow my head. Mommy told me I would learn to like school. How long
will this lesson take?
"Bradley, why don't you go next."
I am relieved their attention is taken away from me. Within minutes, I
know all of their names: Bradley, Eddie, Susan, and Tammy. All Human names,
just like I expected.
*****
"So how was your first morning at school?" Mommy asks on our way to Ten-Forward to eat
lunch.
"There aren't any other Klingons," I say, not wanting to answer her question.
"No. This is a Federation ship. Not many Klingons have chosen to join Starfleet. Your
father was the first and he is very honored to hold that regard. You should be proud to be his
daughter."
We step inside Ten-Forward and I am overwhelmed by all the people. How does Mommy
channel her emotions around so many others? Officer sense joy and amusement mingled with
anger and fear and can hardly sort out any of it. I try concentrating on Mommy's feelings and my
turmoil quiets somewhat.
"Let's sit over there," Mommy says, pointing to a small table against the wall opposite the
viewwindow. We order and once Eddie, the waiter leaves, Mommy turns toward me again.
"You know, you haven't answered my question yet, young lady."
"What question?" I say, picking at the table top to avoid looking at her.
"I think you know."
"Mrs. Dewberry made me talk about myself in front of the other kids. They don't like me
because I'm Klingon. They think I'm funny looking." I fold my arms defiantly. "I wish I were
completely human! Then I wouldn't have warrior's blood and I wouldn't sense so many mixed-
up emotions!"
Eddie returns in time to hear my outburst. He raises a concerned eyebrow at Mommy, but
she waves him off.
"You think they'd like you better if you were only human?" She is not downplaying my
feelings, but instead coaxing me to think carefully about how I feel. The question hangs in the air
as we begin eating our meal. I don't know how to answer her. "There are ways Klingons are
better than humans. They're stronger. They have better reflexes."
"But I'm so ugly!"
"No, you're not." Mommy smiles reassuringly at me. She doesn't think so, but she's my
Mommy and mommies are supposed to love their children unconditionally. "As far as being
Betazoid, I know how difficult it is sometimes for you being in a room full of people like this.
You are young and it is rare even in full Betazoids for telepathic abilities to develop before ones
teen years. There is a reason why yours developed so early and when you're old enough to
understand, I will explain it to you."
I suddenly feel very uncomfortable with the way our conversation as turned. "Mommy, do I
have to go back to school? Can't you teach me?"
"Sunshine, Mommy has a very busy schedule. I can't deprive my patients. Besides, you need
to be around other children. I know today was difficult for you. Tomorrow will be easier and the
next easier yet until one day, you'll look back and realize how much you've learned and how
many friends you've made. Let's celebrate that, shall we?" She flags Eddie down. "Two
chocolate sundaes, please."
I smile as he delivers the ice cream. Let Mommy have her fantasy and I'll eat the rewards.
