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Isabella's videos (and their transcriptions, and their translations) are not instantly the topic of conversation in every household in the Federation over breakfast or its local equivalent, but they gain traction, and the Federation is still scrupulous enough not to send Starfleet to get her in the middle of the night for recording her opinions.
(Her opinions are limited here to the subject of her "repatriation" and to the Prime Directive. Her thoughts on genetic engineering are confined to the "polarbear" handle on long-dormant accounts on old, in some cases defunct, fora.)
It is a few months before she's invited to a speaking engagement by an activist club at a university on Viarat, a moon inhabited by predominantly human colonists but some Vulcans.
She accepts the honorarium, writes a speech, and (in the recovered Prometheus, which Renée has been holding for her) goes to Viarat, accompanied by her husband.
They get a hotel room; a liaison from the activist club shows her to where she's giving her speech, she gets as far as thanking them for inviting her and beginning to outline her planned topic before someone in the back row pulls a phaser pistol and squeezes off a burst that hits her in the sternum.
She collapses, exhaling all her air voicelessly. Someone next to the shooter tackles her and gets the phaser away.
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warpfairy
warpfairy
It's a lovely voice!
(About which she has some mixed feelings about enjoying, in her current state of general invalidity, but it is net positive.)
(About which she has some mixed feelings about enjoying, in her current state of general invalidity, but it is net positive.)
dream-me-up
Yes, there is that slight trouble, isn't there?
But it's still a very nice voice. And he can go on reading to her with it pretty much until she gets bored or needs sleep.
(No one gets on their case about visiting hours.)
But it's still a very nice voice. And he can go on reading to her with it pretty much until she gets bored or needs sleep.
(No one gets on their case about visiting hours.)
dream-me-up
Lalita contemplates going somewhere, but eventually decides that no, he's slept in worse places than a hospital chair and given the option he would rather stay.
warpfairy
She's too asleep to urge him to go back to the hotel, of course.
She sleeps for a longer time than usual - getting shot takes a lot out of a person - but then wakes up.
She sleeps for a longer time than usual - getting shot takes a lot out of a person - but then wakes up.
dream-me-up
Lalita is still there! She may be able to tell 'still' from 'again' by the fact that he is napping in his chair.
warpfairy
Awww.
Hmmm, she decides not to wake him up to entertain her right away. She looks around at the room, yawning.
Hmmm, she decides not to wake him up to entertain her right away. She looks around at the room, yawning.
dream-me-up
It's a room. There's not much to it; bed, chairs, assorted medical equipment, a couple of cabinets. Sleeping husband.
warpfairy
Hmm. Sleeping husband within reach? If she only moves her arm at the elbow and not the shoulder?
warpfairy
"Morning," she yawns. "Are you planning to stay here literally all week?"
warpfairy
"Oh, I'm not going to object, especially if you nip out and get me non-hospital food now and then."
warpfairy
"I am actually hungry," she observes archly. "But I also don't want to let go of your hand. What a dilemma."
dream-me-up
He leans down and kisses her hand, then lets go of it.
"I'll go find you something to eat."
"I'll go find you something to eat."
dream-me-up
He smiles at her, and goes.
Food! And while he's at it, news of the shooter, if he can find any.
Food! And while he's at it, news of the shooter, if he can find any.
warpfairy
Current news is that the young lady with the phaser was an off-duty Starfleet enlistee on shore leave who felt the need to defend her organization's policies, and that she has been scheduled for court martial and claims to have acted alone.
dream-me-up
Lalita reports this to Isabella when he returns with her non-hospital-sourced breakfast.