The Word Painter
Chapter One--Desalia Rising
by D'Alaire
*Quote from Richard Taylor, "Metaphysics."  4th Edition, 1992.

---

 

We shall say, therefore, of whatever happens that it was going to be that way.  
And this is a comfort, both in fortune and adversity.  
We shall say of him that turns out bad and mean that he was going to; 
of him that turns out happy and blessed that he was going to; 
neither praising nor berating fortune, crying over what had been, 
lamenting what was going to be....

Shall we then, sit idly by, passively observing the changing scene 
without participation, never testing our strength and our goodness, 
having no hand in what happens, or in making things come out as they should?

Some people do little or nothing with their lives, 
and might as well have never lived, they make such a waste of it.  
Others do much, and the lives of a few even shine like the stars.  
But we knew of this before we ever started talking about fate.

In time, we will all know of which sort we were destined to be.*

 

 

      "Captain, I think I have a solution to the problem."

      Kathryn Janeway looked up to the engineer from her pile of damage reports.  "I'm listening," she said, etched with a grin as she flicked her fingers to that mess.

      Torres barely glanced at it.  Instead, she set another PADD in the captain's hand for review. 

      "We've gotten everything we could from this nebula," Torres told her, "including our full sensor array--so I asked Ensign Wildman to scan the plasma field we detected when we came in here to see if we could get anything out of that.  And there is:  There's enough raw sub-nucleic particle matter in there to repair and charge our injector coils and more than enough trace deuterium to collect and store.  The dilithium matrix is still going to take some work, but we can at least get the rest back in shape in the mean time."

      Her eyes still flicking over the readouts, Janeway found herself very interested--and glad to see her engineer excited about something positive for a change that week. 

      "That's going to be a rough trip, with all that spectral instability," she noted, though she knew well that B'Elanna Torres was set on her idea and certainly wouldn't be put off by a few bumps.  "With the unstable gas streams inside the nebula, not to mention working inside a plasma field, you'll have to refit the shuttle's deflectors."

      "I've already set aside what we have left of backups."

      Janeway turned a wise, pleased look at the young woman before her.  "It looks like you have this all planned out, Lieutenant."

      B'Elanna pressed down her smirk.  Her captain was starting to know her maybe a little too well.  "I wanted to know we could get into the field before bringing this to you," she said.

      "The trip into it is still going to be a bit rough.  I'd like to have Voyager there as a backup."

      "I'm not afraid of the risk, Captain," the engineer returned, but remembered to whom she was speaking and thought quickly.  "Paris could navigate it.  He could get us through the field and hold a good position while we mine the energy streams."  B'Elanna grinned.  "And he's got nothing else to do until the engines are back online."

      Janeway nodded, knowing B'Elanna of all people would understand that.  She and Tom had been working with Harry Kim on the Cochrane project for a few weeks by then, constructing, proposing and running simulations in every ounce of their spare time.  Janeway had noticed a mutual respect for each other's ideas and abilities growing nicely from that...after a few initial mediations by Ensign Kim, as it were.

      Naturally, the captain was gratified to see the crews really working together after that fateful year they'd been trapped in the Delta Quadrant.

      More, though, the captain smiled at the chief engineer's enthusiasm.  She'd missed it during those recent dark days and the near constant attacks by the Kazon.  Determined and intent she had always been, but not so hopeful.  Just then, however, B'Elanna practically radiated for thinking she could do something.

      Janeway could hardly blame her.  She was feeling better just looking at those readings, herself.  And Torres' staff was well underway in their various repairs.  It wouldn't take too long to get what they needed and get back, provided the Kazon stayed out of their way.  Either way, Voyager would already be defenseless without that power...

      "Assign your away team, Lieutenant.  Keep an open channel with Voyager and get what you can to repair what systems we need.  --But no more than that.  Voyager can come for whatever else you find once we're up and running."

      "Yes, Captain," replied the engineer with a crisp grin.

      "Good work.  Get going."

      B'Elanna took a victorious breath and tapped her commbadge.  "Torres to Engineering:  Nicoletti, Bendera, collect the storage canisters and portable refiners and meet me in the shuttle bay."

      Standing, Janeway stifled a laugh.  B'Elanna was just too efficient sometimes.

      Following the half-Klingon out to the bridge, she looked at Chakotay as she crossed.  "Looks like we might get out of here sooner rather than later," she told him.  "Lieutenant Torres has found a viable plasma and deuterium source in our little haven.  If all goes well, we'll be on our way within the week." 

      "Good work, B'Elanna," Chakotay said.

      "Thanks," was her reply--but she was already leaving.  She was already mentally collecting plasma particles and setting up the refiner units and had barely heard him.

      Janeway eyed Paris at the conn and gestured towards the quickly disappearing chief.  "Mr. Paris, you're with Torres.  Recheck the Cratow's shield inverters before you go.  Use what you need to make them resistant to a particle-rich plasma field."

      "Yes ma'am," Paris smiled with a nod and skipped from his seat to catch up with Torres, already ready and in the lift.  "Thanks, B'Elanna."

      "Don't thank me," she replied.  "The shuttle needs a pilot and you happen to be one."

      "Oh?  And here I thought you just wanted to get me alone on your panels."

      Janeway glanced over only to see Paris' crooked smile--and Torres' responsive glare--just as the lift doors closed.  Snickering, she turned and took her seat, noticing Chakotay also enjoying the byplay.

      It felt good to laugh, even if it was at those two.

      Not an hour later, Tom gave Bendera a pat on the back as the two moved to pick up one of the refiner units.  Torres was already in the shuttle.  "Heard you and Annie had a nice time last night," he said with a mischievous grin.  "Valada-three in the moonlight, was it?"

      Bendera cracked a laugh.  "Damn, I hate this ship.  Too small to have a life of your own here."

      Tom chuckled, too.  "Don't worry about it, Kurt.  Someone else'll have a great time soon enough and you'll be yesterday's news."

      "I need that stabilization unit," came a distinctively commanding female voice from within the shuttle.

      "Yes, ma'am," Tom smirked, but looked at Bendera again.  "Seriously, it's nice to know you were able to get out for a change...  Did it go okay?  I'm just curious."

      Bendera grinned.  "Yeah.  It was real nice."

      Tom smiled, happy for the other man.  He hadn't had much of a social life since coming on Voyager at least, even if he was smart and well liked.  Despite his openly talking about his experiences and many losses in the DMZ, Kurt had always been somehow upbeat, forward thinking and relaxed.  He kept his eyes open all the same, and though he never caused any trouble, he had no pretense to try to be anything but a Maquis working on a Starfleet ship, which made his acceptance by the Starfleet crew almost as slow as Tom's had been.  In any case, it was nice to see him let down his guard.

      Tom jerked his chin towards the hatch.  "Come on, before the slave driver pulls out her whip."

      Nicoletti passed them both with another armful of parts.  Turning a straight eye to the pilot, she said,  "Knowing you, Tom, you'll probably tempt her to it."

      "You really sure?"  Tom asked with mock enthusiasm as he and Kurt set the unit on the lift.

      Pulling her chin higher, she ignored his response and stepped up into the shuttle.

      Bendera had laughed at the quip, but regarded again the "traitor," with whom he'd formed a passing friendship and respected more than he'd expected at first.  "You enjoy that a lot more than you should, you know," he joked.

      "I usually do," Tom replied lightly, visually checking off the collected supplies before tapping the lift controls.  He was in good spirits for being able to get out for a while, get something done.  He'd been alternating between a dead conn and the guts of the navigational array for way too long.  "But you know she gets a kick out of the challenge if she asks for it that much."

      Kurt snickered again, knowing its truth, but shrugged it off a moment later.  "But Torres isn't that bad, you know," he told him, probably just to know he'd said it.  "She can come down on you pretty hard, but she's a good person.  She was the same way in the Maquis."

      Paris nodded.  "Oh, I know she is."  Right behind it, though, he grinned.  "It's just that she can really bring out the worst in me."

      "As long as you don't bring out the worst in her, that'll be just fine."

      The chief engineer appeared a moment later in the shuttle door.  "I'd like to get out of here sometime today, Paris."

      The pilot instantly began to whistle an ancient requiem, easily sending the engineer back into the hatch.  He knew she'd really get on his case later, probably when they ran through another test on the Cochrane.  There, in their separate elements but working on a mutual dream, they could both be extremely annoying even without a reason to be problematic.  That time, it would definitely be her turn.  Tom could see Harry shifting around nervously already.  His resulting chuckle finally silenced him.

      The cases finally shoved into a wall bearing and activated, Tom slid into the conn and ran through some last systems checks.  Torres moved into the ops space beside him. 

      "Alone at last," he said, ribbing her only enough to acknowledge her presence.

      "I'm so honored," she replied, tapping her panels to life.  "Everything checks out."

      "Initializing impulse drive."  He looked back at Nicoletti and Bendera, still organizing parts.  "Fingers and toes in, kids."  With a series of communications with the bridge and a sweep of graceful moves on his panels as the engines activated, Paris moved them out of the shuttle bay.

      Looking over, B'Elanna could see a particular look of contentment fall over his face as they moved in the bluish, gaseous clouds.  She'd come to know it pretty well since she'd met him, came to expect it the more they worked together and often wished he'd show that part of his presence when he wasn't behind the controls.  Either way, she'd begun to enjoy watching him fly, on the bridge or like there, in the shuttle--or best, in the holodeck when they were running simulations and he was getting a real challenge.  There was a kind of presence--peace--in it.  For her own love of her engines and skills with them, she understood it.  It was as if he truly belonged there.

      Knowing that, she'd lately even been less annoyed by his...

      "Where to, my lady?"  Tom queried, raising his brows and a quirky grin in her direction.

      The corners of her mouth pulled inward for want of a smirk.  He really did like to push it when he thought he could, but she didn't feel like continuing it in front of her staff.  "Wherever I tell you, Lieutenant," she replied coolly.

      Behind them, Nicoletti's mouth pursed and blew the refrain of the same requiem.

      B'Elanna couldn't help it that time:  She grinned.  Tom caught it and laughed quietly.  But she didn't really care, just rolled her eyes and looked ahead. 

      Somewhere beyond the nebula around them was a rich plasma field that would keep them busy enough for the time being.

     

     

      Desalia Rising

      In the court of Ara's house lay a soft teal grass below several willowy trees, which swayed gently with the sweet daschis in the cool, dry air of evening.  In the corner, by the stone wall, a fountain spring tickled the pond below, amusing also the fish and frogs who lived there.  The garden stretched well past it, into the trees, hiding the pebbled path.  The glow of the capital city above the trees and beyond the garden walls did not disturb the family milling by; they were well accustomed to their urban surroundings.  For that matter, the Sroleta moon would soon share its pleasing warmth with all of Desal.

      There were, that evening, more family members than usual in the Allanois house.  A good portion of five living generations already lived in that city estate, in the Desalian way.  Those who had ventured out with their mates to begin their own houses, or be a part of another family's house, retained their closeness to their home.  Nevertheless, there were many reasons for them to bring themselves to the court of their elders:  It was Babaki's seventy-fifth rallkle since birth--for which three of her elder siblings, Kyori, Mar'lli and Petalla, along with their families, had traveled from Cezia and Ivlisa to join in the blessing.  It was also nearly the birth anniversaries of Kolana, Orina, Namdali and little Dilsi.  Also, Havetsi, as she was now called, would be consecrated into the novitiate that half-moon, effectively ending her girlhood and solemnizing her relationship with Cera, who was already a scholar.  Soon, they would claim each other as bondmates.

      It was a time to celebrate, a time for the proud, vital family to come together.

      This was a common occasion.

      There in the courtyard, leaf-wrapped haridse was served alongside mial cheese and sliced fruits.  To drink was cool sirril--and sirril wine for the grown people, who laughed and recalled, related and complimented the day that brought them.  Music played and children giggled, darting about like anxious bugs--and to Ara, who caught them in his heavily robed arms, tickled and kissed them, gave them more chisak than their parents would have liked, showered his love upon them.  The children, all, worshiped their tola, their elder-father of Allanois.

      Similarly, their nali was adored.  The elder-mother, matriarch of the Allanois, watched with an eye both wise and kind her bondmate entertain the little ones while she lovingly petted and paid regard to each and every of her kin that had come home to her and Ara.  It was her duty as well as her joy.

      "The Charis Accords progress well, I would think..."

      "Jehva bears all his teeth now!  I'eva tsa ka!  He shall take his robes and a bondmate in but suns, I should believe!"

      "An atrium shall be built before the rain season's arrival; yet the spirits' breath has already blessed the land before us in but three seasons..."

      "Kabli tells that adding jarhat to the sauce makes them firmer when boiled..."

      Thanking the spirits for the blessing of such talk, their nali walked among them all, smiling wisely, laughing with them, agreeing, accepting and advising all as she slowly made her way to a stone dais near the pond.  This trip took her well into the evening, until her family had worn their tongues, played their games and fed their bodies thoroughly enough that they would sit without regret. 

      When she lifted her robe and gown to climb onto the stone dais, the family slowly gathered to share the tradition and the honor. 

      The more anxious children hurried down to the flagstones, wanting to be at their elder-mother's feet.  Older children made themselves comfortable on the grass.  The adults filled their drinks again and eventually found a comfortable spot for themselves in the terrace.  Taking her seat, their elder nali pulled her feet up beside her, tucked her heels beneath her hip and adjusted her robe and gown to cover her feet and flow over the front of the seat.  Finally, the house patriarch joined his woman, managing to climb up and scoot onto the seat behind her, into his place and in a similar position.

      She looked back at him, feeling his shortness of breath, the pain his chest and in his arms.  In return, he sensed her worry, easily read her for the quickness of her feelings.  She commonly worried of late when he tired, since his collapse.  Shaking his head with a smile that knew too well and too much, he reassured her silently and then with words.

      "For the children, Anai," he told her,  "bear not such worry for me this moon.  We shall take ourselves to Doctor Gihora upon our next sun should it please."

      "It would, my spirit."

      "Then we shall take ourselves," he replied simply.

      She watched another moment, assessing him further with the gift their bonding had enhanced in her long, long ago, nodding with her eyes, before turning to their family again. 

      Seeing their beautiful faces, their wide-open eyes, she knew he was correct:  For the children...

      Pulling her headscarves forward upon the crown of her soft, silver braids, she touched her temple markings then held her fingers out to her audience in a gesture of regard.  Breathing, she spoke, marked with time and treasure:

      "Ninety-one years past, I, as my great-great grandchild Havetsi shall upon this next Brejra, entered through the Arch of Azlre and was accepted into the novitiate.  At that threshold, I left behind the remainder of my girlhood.  Beside me stood my spirit's partner, who similarly would consecrate his status as a man.

      "They brought me into a hall of waters and slid away my blue cloak and hood, my maize coat and gown, my leggings and my woven headscarves, baring me fully.  They bathed me in the essence of marlai, cleansing my body and my senses, releasing the heavy world from my shoulders, the ache from my overburdened spirit.  Lledri bid I sleep there, on the edge of the warm water, as on the threshold of my mother's womb. 

      "I awoke a time later revived and pure, and then drew myself from the water.

      "My hair was wrapped with woven gems and covered with clouds, and my body was graced in the sheer skies, waters.  Upon my arms was laid a silken robe, and they led me to the altar of the silag to pray for my spirit and its blessings.

      "My bondmate came, like me, dressed as had been our blessed ancestors.  His cloth were umbers of earth and fertile wood; his robe was the light of a white moon over the distant sky.  At his headdress braid, scarves were triply plaited, thick with silver de'ihr beads.  As such, on the altar we knelt, met our spirits and those of our ancestors together, as is the way of the bonded.

      "We prayed for our transformed spirits, for the journey we would take together.  We prayed for peace.  We prayed for what we nourished in my womb and set forth upon the future.  We prayed for Desalia.  We prayed for Bakali, our elder-mother who had led us, for Bala, our gentle elder-father who had supported us.  We prayed for Susik and Gatra, Derra and Yasis, our siblings in the closing of the war.  We prayed for Dalra and for Miztri, who bore our way upon Uillar and long after.  We prayed for the peaceful deliverance of Be'i and Toma, whose noble sacrifice had finally brought us to that altar. 

      "For all those blessings, we prayed and dedicated ourselves...to our children, to the future of Desalia, and for the promises we had sworn, yet to fulfill..."
 

---

      "Try it again.  Divert power from wherever you can to boost our sensors."

      This was not a suggestion.

      Captain Kathryn Janeway was not necessarily known as a patient woman--and known for hunting with a passion that which she sought.  For the eighth day, she was doing just that.

      A stubborn woman, a caring woman, she would not accept that her away team was gone, not like that, not disappearing without a trace on a mission for supplies.  Not after what they'd just survived with the Kazon...

      Actually, in any case, she wouldn't have given them up.

      Warp was still down and would remain so until she had the supplies she sent the team for in the first place.  That in mind, she set Voyager to follow at impulse the shuttle's course until they could pick up any sign of a precise flight path. 

      It'd been too long, she mulled.  If they were injured, if they were in trouble, if they were drifting, without but perhaps some emergency rations in that shuttle, they'd had over a week in it.  It would take a hell of a lot more time than it already had if they didn't have any more. 

      "Captain, I am reading an unusual energy fluctuation in an area four million kilometers from our current location, within the plasma field the shuttle was mining."

      "Energy fluctuation."  Janeway craned her head around, tired and curious in the same stare.  "Can you be more specific, Mr. Tuvok?"

      The Vulcan did not answer at first.  He knew his captain was not in the mood for anything not pertinent to the situation at hand.  Being human, being the captain, she was worried--and annoyed.

      "I have detected a small area of space within the field:  It appears to be a natural phenomenon."

      Resisting her first vocal urge, she asked him,  "Why didn't we detect this before?"

      "There is a fluctuating temporal instability within the plasma field, which with the volatile nature of the particle gas prevents our sensors from collecting accurate readings of the phenomenon.  I have compensated for the disturbance, though the readings remain unclear."

      Janeway released her breath with deliberate slowness, turning forward again.  Feeling a sharp twinge, she rubbed briefly at the bridge of her nose then straightened again. 

      "Is there any way around it?"

      A pause.  "I have detected the shuttle's remaining ion trail:  It appears to end at the edge of the field, Captain.  It might be advisable to investigate the anomaly."

      "How long until we can reach it?"

      "Approximately twelve hours, Captain."

      Damn.  "Well, at least we know where they've gone." 

      Pushing herself on the knees to stand, Janeway sighed thoughtfully, staring again at the viewscreen for no purpose but to focus on something before her for a moment longer.  "Plot a course and take us to it, full impulse, Mr. Tuvok.  Continue scanning the phenomenon and transmit all data to my quarters.  You have the bridge."

      She walked off, ignoring the familiar headache building in her temples.

      Worse, there wasn't much comfort in leaving, as the latest problem was easily replaced by an existing one.  And no route she traveled didn't reveal at least a little of what the Kazon had done to her ship in their last attack.  No route disguised the tired looks in her crew's faces.

      She knew she probably looked as stressed, though practice helped her hide it more.

      Voyager was lucky enough to get to the nebula it did to make repairs, thanks to Neelix's quick memory and Tom Paris' knowing hand at the conn.  Once again, the unpredictable pilot had gotten them out of that twist and into a safe haven, and Janeway found herself thankful for his talents again.

      Of course, getting out of the nebula was another matter.  Soon after they parked themselves safely inside the gas cloud and began repairs, a systems failure left them without impulse--this in addition to the damaged dilithium chamber.  Even more compromised than when they began, they'd spent over a week trying to make do with what little they had, to little avail. 

      They needed options and there weren't enough firm words or hard stares to make that happen. 

      She'd tried that already.

      It rolled again through her unwilling conscience:  Torres gave her that option she'd been hoping for.  Without much hesitation or wrong feeling about it, Janeway had approved it all.  It was a routine and necessary away mission.  There were no more Kazon in sight.  They desperately needed the power supply.  Torres and Paris could easily handle it--and each other.  Nicoletti and Bendera were high up on Torres' list of worthy technicians.

      But just as they were nearing the stream, communications collapsed.  Moments later, they disappeared. 

      Selfish as it might have been, it was the last thing Janeway needed that day--and they were the last people she could afford to lose at that point--at any point.

      And we eventually got the damned impulse drive online without the extra materials, she harped to herself, grinding her teeth.

      "Captain?"

      She buried her breath as she turned to find her first officer's unwavering stare pointed at her.  "Commander."

      "I was on my way to the bridge when Tuvok informed me of his discovery..."  Chakotay began, and then asked her wordlessly.

      Janeway nodded quickly.  "We'll be there by tomorrow morning.  When Ensign Kim reports for duty, have him reconfigure one of our probes to handle the plasma radiation.  If we can't penetrate the field, then we'll have to find another way to them."

      "We'll find them, Captain," he told her.  "They're a good group, trained as well as anyone to handle difficult conditions."

      Janeway shook her head.  "The problem isn't their abilities, Commander, it's not knowing even how we'll find them once we're to this...field.  But if our probe shows nothing, I'm left with no choice but to go after them."

      Chakotay furrowed his brow.  "I don't think Voyager's ready for that much, yet.  We barely have enough power for minimal shields."

      "We can refit another shuttle if we scavenge the others," she clarified.  "And I can take it in."

      "You?"  Chakotay was immediately put off by that idea, though he showed only surprise at first.  "Captain, the Cochrane is unavailable because of the warp project and the other shuttles may not--"

      "I sent them in there," Janeway cut in firmly.  "I don't want to risk the ship further or any more crew than is absolutely necessary.  I have experience navigating through plasma-fused atmospheres."  She held up her hand to any further reply.  "We can argue about it if we get to that point, Commander.  Tomorrow morning.  Oh-five hundred hours.  We'll pick it up, then."

      He nodded, glad she didn't want to discuss it.  Janeway had been consumed with the situation since Paris' last words rode over the comm:  "Just a walk in the park, Captain."  She had gone from shock, to anger, to tightly bound determination, which held together for nothing but the crew's well being.  When they finally got their engines back online, she would speak of nothing but finding the away team.  Though that was natural, and he felt the same way, he knew well she wouldn't rest until they had their people back.  That was both good and bad, he knew.

      At least they now had a chance to go after them now.  The rest was just a matter of discussion and good advice.  On that point, he knew he had six hours to come up with a good argument.

      "Sleep well."

      She nodded back, but didn't bother to reply with what was already on her tongue.  He probably knew she wouldn't sleep.  She hadn't in days, in truth.  She never could when she was in wait of a solution, when her ship and crew were in jeopardy.

      Another night wouldn't be unique.

      A few hours later, she made her way into the mess hall with PADDs in hand and a long night of studying ready on her mind.  Moving to the dim replicator, she easily decided to part with a couple of her remaining rations for a cup of coffee.  She deserved at least that for the day to come, much less the night.

      "Is that you, Captain?"  asked Neelix before her peered around the pantry well in the kitchen. 

      "Don't mind me," Janeway said.  "Just doing some homework."

      Neelix nodded, pulling off his apron as he rounded the bar.  "Still looking for the away team?"

      Janeway sighed heavily, but didn't mind his redundant question as much as she might have.  "We think we've detected the area where they were lost."  When the Talaxian drew near to her, she looked up at him, offering one of the PADDs.  "Have you heard about this phenomenon in your travels?"

      Neelix flipped through the report, skimming it with pursed lips.  "Can't say I have.  Of course, I've heard of this area--the nebula, as you know.  But I don't remember any records about the plasma field.  Guess nobody's really studied it, only mined it."

      "Or maybe they disappeared, too," Janeway added, leaning back into her chair.

      He hesitated a moment, but then pulled out a chair to sit.  "Captain..."  He peered up to her.  "I know Tom Paris and I weren't on the best of terms for a while, but even then, I knew he was the best pilot I'd ever met.  If anyone could keep that shuttle together, it'd be him.  And if he was unlucky, Lieutenant Torres could put it back together."

      "If they survived whatever happened to them out there," Janeway pointed out, unusually confessionary in her pessimism.

      Maybe I should try for some sleep after all.

      Neelix pulled a deep breath.  "I'd like to believe they have," he said hopefully.  "It's just as possible they're still in that field and just can't communicate with Voyager."

      Janeway grinned, a little pained, but glad for the man's attempt to be optimistic.  Then again, it seemed everyone but her was more willing to look for the better than the worse.  She wanted to be, too, knew they were right to keep their chins up and their eyes forward.

      But not knowing what happened, much less the team's condition, and being powerless to do anything, had drained much of her hope and had begun to test her nerve--as if being in the Delta Quadrant hadn't proven test enough already.  Whatever happened out there, she wanted answers and her people back.  That was it--and she didn't want to wait any longer.

      "We'll see," Janeway replied and took a sip of her coffee.
 

---

      Havetsi of Allanois and Scholar of Desal yanked her white headscarves up into the proper position, pinning the sweep of one side under a dark crown of braid rows, pulling the other side forward and down, over one side of her forehead and temple.  At the braid pin just above her ear, she attached the long bead vine she earned with her scholarship and hooked it to her ear cuff.  The latter was not necessarily traditional for working dress, but she chose not to mind for the moment.  She would likely regain her sense and pull it off before she got to the assignment hall.

  Satisfied that nothing was bunched up on her shoulders, she made sure the rest of her scarving fell neatly in the back, covering most but the ends of her long hair, and then that another end was tucked correctly into the open bodice of her tailored uniform kneecoat. 

      She curled her toes in her new wrap boots, feeling the softness of the cloth around her feet, willed down a happy flutter in her chest.

      She looked at herself again before backing away from the mirror.  Her eyes shone with the memories recently passed into her.  She drew those eyes over every detail of herself, taking a deep breath and pulling a wide smile.  She was--finally--a...

      "You forgot a thing," sang an ancient voice behind her.

      Havetsi turned and smiled at her nali, who had come into her chamber and plucked up the missing item from the bureau.  Shuffling across the room, the elder peered appreciatively at the recent graduate's choice of working clothes, which were simple yet proper in status and rank.  She held up the pins.  "You should not take yourself without this, I would think."

      Havetsi touched her temple, and then her great-great-grandmother's cheek.  "Shall you honor me, my elder-mother?"

      The old woman smiled and reached up to the young woman's drape collar.  Momentarily, she touched the soft cloth of it with her bony fingers, admiring it again, opening her mind to fully sense the unabashed pride in the lady before her. 

      Gently, she affixed the diamond shaped pin and bead chain.  Then she straightened it.  "Captain Havetsi."

      The younger woman beamed at the title and to her elder-mother.  "You and Tola truly believed in my choice, Nali," she said, taking and kissing Anai's wrinkled fingers.  "You assisted in my defense, even when Cera disagreed.  I feel such gratitude."

      The nali freed her hand and patted the woman's face affectionately.  "Were one wise thing in my life learned, it would be to mind one's instincts, Havetsi, to have freedom in your spirit, whether in pleasure or challenge.  It is the task of the strong and the blessing of our ancestors."

      "This is much agreed, Nali."  Turning back to the mirror, Havetsi examined herself one more time and giggled at the wise expression she caught in the reflection, in her nali's memory-brightened eyes.  "Prihar take this vanity!  It is but a support craft I oversee.  When did such particularities overcome me, Nali, these many ornaments and titles?"

      "When you consecrated yourself to your scholarly education and spirit's discipline, I would believe, child," she replied,  "when you grew into your fate and accepted your truth--in the face of your bondmate's being more pedantic than sensible."

      Havetsi laughed.  "Yet I bear such anxiousness.  I fuss as does a unburdened prichava."

      "You bear but newness," the old woman pleasantly dismissed.  "All the suns of Bihla's prayers remain for digging in engine waste.  This is the sun of your entry, your first assignment.  Best it is to be neat now and roll your coat sleeves later--which I have no doubt you shall.  It is the way of things, and your way." 

      "This would be truth."

      She looked her spirit-child over once more, gave a nod.  "Now, take yourself to your work.  You have taken much education and training.  Now it must be put to a use your love of it demands.  Take to mind the examples our honored spirits have left for us, which as Allanois you bear fair knowledge of.  Make use of your own spirit also and you shall have wellness."

      Havetsi reached out to caress her nali's temple.  "My thanks again, dear Nali, for all you have given.  Yet may Tola be greeted before I take myself?"

      The elder sighed.  "He presently sleeps, child.  I trust you shall not make yourself into filth and disarray before sunset.  He shall present himself at dinner and greet you."

      Havetsi swallowed the reminder of it as they walked together to the rear stairway.  It was about the only time of late when her great-great grandmother was not affected by her spirit's bond with Ara, when he was sleeping.  His illness had drained both their vital bodies over the past several years, and they spoke of their meeting the long honored ancestors more commonly both with expectation and disappointment:  Waiting as always for their final duty to present itself, yet wishing for peace among the spirits.

      "Nali ka," the young captain answered then kissed her elder-mother farewell.

      Anai watched the woman skip down the steps to the doors at the bottom.  She raised a robed arm to wave and offered a proud parting smile.  Havetsi had earned the attention well, and not only through her education.  The girl had long been a secret favorite of hers, always reminded her of a lady she once knew well--and still did, deep within her crowded memory.

      Moving herself from the staircase and down the center hall of the sprawling house, she soon found herself again in her chamber.  There, a greater love still, yet so opposite in carriage, remained.

      On their soft bed, Ara slept, so still it sometimes frightened her.

      Gently, so not to wake his age-beaten body, she stepped to his side and pulled the cover over his thin frame, smiled sadly at his tan, heavily wrinkled face, evidence of too many years of choosing to write his lectures in the sun, and faint reminders of a youth which had marked them both, long ago.  His freckled skin spread slightly on the pillow he reclined upon; his breath rattled slightly with each intake.

      They would not remain among the living much longer, she knew.

      Soon, he would pass; as his bondmate, she would, too.

      She yet could see him as he was when they were children, running across the Cezian savannah.

      She stood with some effort, breathing into her move, and then went to her bureau.  There, she looked over her memoir boxes.  She did this often, making sure her histories were properly arranged and she had forgotten no one..  Their five surviving children, close relatives, Beshelli, Vansura, among others... 

      The Institute, of course, already had a copy in its catacombs, collected past her and Ara's education long ago and periodically after.  The scholars there waited only for the regents' passings to release them to the public.  It was the way with those of their rank and professions, an old tradition they did not mind upholding.  Admittedly, the two had been more selective with their verbal accounts of the past, as well.

      She and Ara had easily kept their people waiting during their own vigil.

      Their memoir boxes were all in order, including the one she and Ara had set aside and specially prepared many years ago.  They had mutually agreed it was proper, to preserve all that they had for those who would certainly desire the information when they--if they--ever came.

      "You search them again, my spirit?"  It was Ara, of course, though only barely, it seemed.  The whisper from the pillow was but a shadow of the voice she knew.

      "Yet again," she confessed.

      "I would not think they have moved since you set me here, good lady."

      Her lips turned up and she glanced back to him.  His spare eyes smiled into hers, projecting himself to her with an ease that belied his condition.  Feeling it, she thought to do nothing but go to him again, sit by his side, touch his fingers.  His hand turned and enfolded hers.

      She felt his spirit in that touch, as she knew she should.

      "I pray each sun that another sun shall see us, Ara, so that we might finally meet them, hear their voices; so I may finally paint the words that have been hidden away to half-told records.  All these years to wait and pray and wish but that."

      "As do I, wish to see that sun," Ara admitted, swallowed a breath.  "And yet," he added, "would I pass upon this sun, you with me, I would be content to meet the spirits at your side with no more to claim of our lives."

      She felt her eyes twinge with her smile, both sad and enriched by the man by her, decrepit in every facility but his mind and a gentle spirit that loved her so deeply.  She leaned down into his arm, closed her eyes upon his chest. 

      "And I, my spirit," she whispered.  "And I.  Our places among Tsa'aitsa have been well earned.  I would accept it without regret should that indeed be meant."

      "I only hope it truly lies there," he smiled.  "Else we shall be lost together among those many stars."

      "You bait me, sweet fool.  Of course it lies there," she rejoined with a light laugh.  "And our youth once more would grace us upon entering the hereafter:  I would wear the coat and gown you kissed from my body the moon of our bonding, and upon you would be borne your fine coat and sash, your headscarves pulled poorly and you smiling at me as when you were a child."

      "And I would call you my blessing, as I call you now, dear lady."

      When he turned his head to kiss her, she pulled aside her veil and bent up enough to press her lips to his; then she lowered herself again, resting in his softness.

      "I shall pass in peace at your side," she confirmed,  "without regret for a moment of our lives.  Yet, I would still have dreamed...it could have been, that we might have met them, that we might have made peace with our promises in the way they designed."

      "We are not passed yet," Ara pointed out.

      "This is truth.  We are not passed yet."

      She turned her face into his robe.  He smelled of fresh soap from his bath that morning; his robe was scented with the sunshine he'd been sitting in after breakfast.  She loved those aromas; since the war's end, she had sworn to never take them for granted.

      It was a day she had sworn many things, in fact--including wait and hope.  As long as she and Ara lived, they would.  And they had. 

      "Oh, my spirit," she breathed,  "like Bihla and Sa'alli, for merely others and for our cares would I wish we remained among the living.  It is selfish, yet it is truth."

      "Then I shall tell the spirits they must wait a while longer," Ara whispered and closed his eyes again as he felt her wide smile press against him.

      Their lives had been lived fully and had been blessed with every happiness save that one desire, which still bore the faint promise of fruit.

      Not two years before that day, an alien probe entered the Barrier and struck an asteroid, destroying itself. 

      If the woman who likely fired it lived up to an iota of her reputation, she and her own would follow soon...relatively.
 

---

      "Shields up.  Have repair teams standing by."  Captain Kathryn Janeway spun on a heel and took her seat.

      "The metaphasic shield array is online and holding at eighty-nine percent capacity."

      They'd investigated; they'd all met to discuss the situation--even if the captain had already settled herself into her plan.  Their second probe, more carefully positioned inside the field, promised any entry to be a strenuous journey, but a survivable one. 

      Immediately to Janeway this meant that the away team may well have survived their own trip through, though it was likely they suffered at least moderate damage.

      This left her with her original decision--which actually was a relief.

      Chakotay had fought the idea of taking another shuttle in, mainly because it could just as easily end up like the Cratow.  Janeway finally agreed--but only once Tuvok and Kim reported on exactly what they were up against.

      However, Voyager still wasn't in the best condition to push through a plasma field, particularly one with such an erratic temporal instability, according to their sensors.  More, the heat of the plasma could buckle the hull even with the metaphasic shields in tact if Voyager was exposed to it too long.  But they'd managed to collect enough of the same energy to boost the inverters to ninety-five percent for almost a minute and for a return trip.  It would be enough to keep the ship together.

      For that matter, Janeway was determined absolutely to find her missing crew--as if anyone expected her to feel otherwise.  Shuttle or no shuttle, she was going in after them.

      "Take us in, full impulse, Mr. Baytart."

      Chakotay glanced over at Janeway.  Her face was tight and ready.  He drew a deep breath, turned also to the viewscreen and the looming, red-streaked field before them, its flickering radiation taunting them to stay away. 

      "All hands," the captain said crisply, placing her hands on her command chair arms, "brace for impact."

      The ship crept forward, rumbling as it entered the gaseous layer of the field, and the bridge filled with its reddish glow.  It was there that the Shuttle Cratow paused before positioning itself more snugly within the field.

      "Steady Mr. Baytart," she said evenly.

      The rumble strengthened and the glow intensified.  A rhythmic shudder, sounding low and deep within the starship's bulkheads made Janeway press her back in her chair.  It was not as violent as she imagined it would be, though, more like passing though thick, red rapids, her boat shuddering but not flipping in the hard current.  She prepared herself for a surprise all the same.

      A shake--then a creak from somewhere on the ship echoed through the bridge.

      "Hull stress has passed sixty percent and is rising one percent per second.  Shields are holding."

      The Vulcan's cool nerves stilled her further. 

      Thirty more seconds...ninety percent...

      "Divert all--systems but navigation---and life support--to the shields."

      "Captain..."  came Kim's voice--and it seemed suddenly far away.  She turned.  He was still there, staring at his panel.

      His mouth moved out of synch with his words.

      "...we've come to...the edge--the edge of--of the fie--"

      "Shields--have dropped--Shields have dropped to--six--ty--sixty-two percent--"

      The shudder became a sharp tremor.  Janeway felt herself burning a hole through the viewscreen with her stare to save her lurching heart, fixing it on the waves...

      "----Ste--steady--steady---"

      The computer beeped and echoed across the bridge.  "**Warn--warning...hull--warn--hull stress--ing--hull stress--reaching--**"

      "Shields--shields--are--shields are buckl--buckling---"

      "Ta--ta--take us--us--us throu----"

      ...

      ...

      ...

      Kathryn Janeway pulled her head up, could barely see at first but a blur on the floor before her, moving so slowly then hauling itself up.

      She felt like she'd been spinning for an hour on a turnstile she played on as a child.  As an adult and a captain, she didn't enjoy it that time.  Her head swayed to try to keep up with the rest of the ship, and her stomach fought to follow.

      Her hands were still clutched firmly on her command chair arms. 

      She could feel a cool sweat all over her body, a chill on the edge of her nerves, though not rising, only holding.  Finally, she shuddered; she felt goosebumps from her scalp to her toenails.  Then she felt nauseated, and she swallowed to bury it as best she could.  Behind her, she heard the unmistakable sounds of coolant steam hissing from a few panels, several blown panels crackling beside others about to go and the groans of crew pulling themselves up from the floor.  Shamefully, she didn't have it in her yet to turn and look for herself. 

      "Status?"  she rasped.

      A pause, then Tuvok's voice:  "We...have passed through the plasma field, Captain."  Even he had been affected, though predictably, he resisted revealing it.  "We have suffered substantial damage."

      She rolled her eyes, but then decided against voicing her first response to that as she swallowed her bile again.  "Sensors?"

      "Captain," Kim croaked,  "I'm detecting a ship approaching off our starboard."

      Janeway blew a held breath.  That was not the kind of confirmation she wanted.  "I need more, Mr. Kim."

      He paused, probably trying to focus on what he was reading.  Her own vision hadn't quite recovered, either.  "It's a...approximately half Voyager's complement," Kim finally reported,  "heavily shielded."

      "Their weapons are minimal," Tuvok added.  "They are hailing us."

      Janeway glanced at Chakotay, who like the others was just getting his own bearings back.  She hoped she wasn't as pasty as he looked--though she could certainly imagine she was.  "Onscreen."

      Squinting, Janeway saw a sleek, white ship approach then float to a stop upon reaching its position beside Voyager, like a dove resting beside a magpie.

      Drawing a firming breath, she stood and moved forward to the rail.  She would need something to hold on to, she belatedly realized.

      "Open a channel, Mr. Kim," she said quietly, straightening her posture.

      Sooner than Janeway expected, a woman of around thirty years appeared in full view of the bridge.  Wearing a long, tailored coat and white scarves arranged around her fair face and braided into the crown of her dark hair, she bore a look of both surprise and concern as she let her eyes fall over her view.  In that glance, she took in the bridge crew as if to memorize them and everything else there.  Then her stare found the captain's.

      Before Janeway could open her mouth, the woman touched a fan of delicate markings on her temple with a hand likewise marked, and then she spoke.

      "Zha lastnya.  Cost ira'ic lo fro'utisla.  Ye vasu i'i bra'ell lutsridro ak i'aftsill ra'oll." 

      The lady's assured yet comforting tones were gibberish--and even she realized it, still examining the crew one by one.  She sighed, speaking more slowly.  "Zhall ye'i.  --Your forgiveness, good lady.  Have you understanding of me now?"

      "Yes," Janeway nodded.  "I--"

      "I greet your sun in peace, and it is seen you have need of assistance, I have said," the woman repeated.  "You bear injury.  Assistance shall be provided in every facility you would require, should this be wished."

      The woman had already decided, however, and she turned to set her crew into action with several kind suggestions and praise, the way it sounded.

      "We came..." Janeway started, regaining the woman's attention, "...into the..."  She stopped to grab hold of the rail again.  It was getting better, but each time she realized that another wave hit her, disrupting her equilibrium and forcing her to swallow her bile again lest she lose it.

      The woman understood.  "Do not attempt great effort.  Stories of ones surviving the Barrier are known to us, and it was noted that they experienced nausea."  She then furrowed her brow before peering at Janeway again.  "Records among us recall an alien scanning apparatus which brought itself through the Barrier.  Shall I confirm it belonged to you?"

      "It did," Tuvok told her.

      "It passed through the Rrillov Asteroid Field and was destroyed upon impact," she informed him then looked at Janeway again.  "We were near Rrillov, in truth, when your similar entrance into our region was noticed.  You have suffered good fortune, yet it would be advisable to accept our help."

      As if I could get so many words in, Janeway thought, collecting herself again.  "You're very kind, b--."

      "You bear severe damage," the other woman noted, looking briefly down to her panel.  She pursed her lips to what she saw there.  "Revealed in my analysis are hull fractures patterned over your stern.  You might not have brought your ship through so slowly, as the pressure from the plasma waves creates more damage, our research tells.  Yet your warp drive is already inactive, by the spirits' blessings, for at your pace it would have made your plasma conduits like trees leaking sap.  Your shields boast but minimal power, viable plasma and deuterium is perilously lacking, and hull scarring is..." 

      Pausing to draw a breath, a shocked stare rose to meet Janeway's that time.  "You have been attacked before this sun.  War has been waged with this ship."

      "We have had some encounters," Janeway admitted, taken at first by the other captain's surprise.  "There's a group of people who are not taking kindly to our passing through their territory.  We're on our way home, which is very far away.  We intend no harm."

      With sigh and another examination of the alien captain, the woman finally nodded.  "Then they shall be pitied for their interference.  Allow me to assist you, Captain..."  Suddenly, she laughed.  "Yet now permit manners taught me as a girl!  It is not upon each sun a ship brings itself through the Barrier.  I suffer much distraction."

      Bowing to them, she touched her temple again and said, "I am Havetsi of the Allanois, Bondmate to Cera, Scholar of Desal and Captain of this survey ship, the Ki'ial."

      Janeway couldn't help but smile back at the captain's amusement, a complete change from the concern and shock of a moment before, but no less welcome.  "Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager," she responded, managing a bit more pleasantry in her tone. 

      Captain Havetsi bowed her head again, curiously meeting each set of still foggy eyes when she lifted it again.  "Zha lastnya.  My honor, Captain Janeway, and all claimed as your own."

      "Thank you," Janeway returned and let the appropriate pause pass.  "So, you are aware of this...Barrier?"

      She nodded.  "I'eva tsa, ka.  Our region of space is comparatively a pin-dot in the vastness of what is the universe. --Ka, we have awareness of this.  At sixth level warp, our ships require but three t'brass to cross our space."

      Janeway didn't pretend to know what that equaled, but it couldn't be very large, probably a good deal smaller than Federation space.  "And it's completely surrounded by the plasma field?"

      "It is."

      Janeway had to shake her head.  "Amazing.  I've never known of anything like it."

      Havetsi grinned.  "In ancient times, when ancestors peered at the stars from our sweet home upon Desalia, it was said the Barrier was the end of all things bodily, with existence only non-corporeal lying beyond.  Therein lay the realm of both our spirits and all those who came before us.  --Far more was known an age later, coming by the weary sacrifice of scientists who dared cross it in nature's curiosity."

      Janeway sympathized, considering how she felt having just come through it.  "Long ago on my homeworld, it was said they thought the Earth was flat and that sailing too far might take the ship off the edge."

      Laughing aloud, Havesti turned to tell her curious crew of it.  They took it with equal good nature.  She turned back to Janeway with shining eyes.  "We bear many words to paint for each other, it seems!  Yet first, your repairs should be set about.  In this time, we shall learn why you have brought yourselves here."

      "Actually, I would like to see to the last item first, if you don't mind," Janeway told her, regaining enough of her senses to get back to why she was there in the first place.  "You see, we didn't come here by accident, Captain."

      "Tsid ka'e, your entry seemed not to be met with resistance," Havetsi confirmed, looking over her panel again.  "Thus you seek a thing?  This is not surprising.  --Your supplies shall be replenished, Captain Janeway.  Bear no concern on this matter."  She held a finger up to Janeway's reply, wanting to finish.  "My people enjoy great prosperity, our thanks to the spirits' blessings and our dedication to their wisdom.  We give when it is needed and of proper use.  I would trust you bear goodness and shall take responsibility for you."

      Janeway gave a polite--and relieved--nod.  "Thank you.  But we didn't come here looking for supplies.  We came looking for our missing crewmen."

      Captain Havetsi stilled, a sudden paleness washing the mirth from her expression.  Again, she looked at the outsiders.  "How long ago have you lost them?"  she finally responded.

      This sudden question took Janeway aback, but then it clicked.  "We noticed there was a fluctuating temporal variance in--"

      "How long?"  the other woman pressed, completely serious.

      With a blink, Janeway let her know:  "Nine days."

      A glaze appeared in the other captain's eyes.  She might even have shuddered, but otherwise accepted the news with a slow breath.  Behind her, her crew had also stopped to look.  Their captain waved them on with a gentle hand.  They moved away, but not without another peek. 

      "Your 'day' is a single rotation of your homeworld on its axis?"  she queried solemnly.

      "Yes," Janeway answered, feeling a cool dread at the captain's question.  She watched her calculate it briefly, almost unwillingly as her eyes turned askance then closed.  "Captain Havetsi?"

      "Saletsa, zhobrul llesk ye.  Most sincere sorrow is felt," she breathed then opened her gaze to the other woman's, nodding.  "Allow me to lead you to Desalia, my homeworld.  My Aunt Babaki, bondmate to Osna, the Prime Minister of Desalia, shall be consulted."

      Janeway looked back at Chakotay, likewise entranced by the other captain's apology and equal call to action.  With a look alone, he seemed to want more--and she had to agree with that desire. 

      "Your weapons must be disengaged," Captain Havetsi continued,  "as it is the policy in our space.  Yet you are allowed every freedom to retain your shields, however they suffer.  Please bear trust and allow my guidance.  It would be best were we to take ourselves now, however, and commit to your repairs as me move."

      Janeway eyed her.  "First, I'd like to know why, Captain.  Is there an unusual effect with the temporal instability within the Barrier?"

      "It does not vary here, or there," Havetsi told her, hesitating at first, and then consigning to the rest with a sigh.  "Yet what was discovered by those unfortunate scientists was that time in your home region passes much more slowly than in Irllae.  Our scientists set out on their studies, managed their way through the Barrier and returned...three hundred years later.  Only their proof of scholarship and our oral records claimed them as our own.  All they had of their own life was lost."

      "You mean our away team was lost years ago?"  Chakotay questioned.

      Captain Havetsi returned his stare.  "Your sensor apparatus entered this region and destructed several Desalian years past, good man.  I was yet a novitiate when I learned of it.  Its remnants lie at our colony Llatso'a, at the research center in the dluma city."

      Janeway had slowly lost her breath again as the captain explained, and a shrinking, sick feeling inside her chest replaced the nausea she'd had before.  She believed she'd have preferred the nausea.  "How much more quickly does time pass in this region?"  she asked slowly.

      "For each Desalian year to your approximate day?  It is twelve to one."

      "What?"  rasped Janeway.  She swung another look back and saw Chakotay's face reset with astonishment.  Just as quickly, she couldn't look at him--nor at Kim, or anyone else but the other captain, who seemed perfectly certain of what she was saying, though regretting being the bearer of that news.  Even then, Janeway could only shake her head to herself.  When she asked, she knew it wouldn't be what she wanted to hear, but...it was impossible.  It had to be.

      Recovering a little, Chakotay's eyes narrowed with skepticism.  "Are you telling us it's been over a century here since our people passed through your Barrier?"

      "There is yet more..."  Havetsi paused, knowing the weight of what she had just said, and also knowing the stiffly dressed and predictably cautious people would learn the rest soon enough, if they sought the party she was beginning to suspect.  The timing alone could not be denied.  "In that past era," she continued,  "our world among all in our region was in a dreadful state.  A necessary war with the Unar approached. Unar had conquered the whole of Irllae to serve a terrible turn of power and philosophy among them.  It is very likely, particularly for their uniqueness as outsiders, they were captured and sold."

      "Sold?"

      "To service," Havetsi replied, more simply than she meant to.  "It was common at the time.  --Yet more ideas shall not be put into your heavy spirits.  I wish only to prepare you.  The wiser course, however, would be to find fact, not assumptions, so no more at present shall be said.  I ask only that my suggestions are accepted."

      Janeway was more than willing to do that.  "What do you recommend?  We are obviously out of our element, Captain."

      "We shall take ourselves to Babaki and require her to search the records we have of that time, which the Unar kept diligently during their occupation.  She is a library technician at the Institute."  Captain Havetsi moved closer to the screen and met Janeway's stare again, solidly.  "In the interim, I shall endeavor to procure repairs and assist with the casualties you have suffered in your unfortunate journey.  Yet we would leave now, lest any more precious time is lost to your good memory."

      Giving the younger woman another, longer look, Janeway finally nodded.  She knew she could do nothing else, secretly wished she were instead in a some strange dream than that strange region, despite her natural scientific curiosity and the other captain's friendliness. 

      It was impossible to believe that her crewmembers, whom she sent out only a week before, were dead generations before that woman was even born.  It was too much to believe.  Still, Captain Havetsi was being sensible too.  Voyager did have several other concerns to deal with--and those were ones she could at least do something about for the time being.

      "Mr. Baytart, set a course to match the Ki'ial's at full impulse."

      "Desalian space lies not far," Havetsi told her.  "With your approval, we shall perform what repairs my supplies may support in the interim to speed our journey."

      Janeway looked up at the captain's bright yet pained face, not knowing whether to mourn, to feel humiliated for her obvious need of help or to kick herself for ever allowing Torres to go off chasing plasma streams without Voyager's backup, despite her and Paris' talents. 

      Yet they were there now, with a captain who certainly looked to be regretful of their circumstance and willing to see to their problems. 

      Now was all they had to make the best of.

      "Thank you."
 

---

      Havetsi's white scarves floated off her thigh-length hair as she led her guests through the inner avenues of Desal, Desalia-Four's capital city.  She walked purposefully and seemed completely in her element doing so.

      The downside was that she walked a little too swiftly.

      Truly, it was paradise in clean, naturally curving arches and gently angled structures, with lush teal and green trees lining every whitewashed street, trails of small coral and blue flowers running down almost every window and around every door, scenting the air.  In sunnier turns, those vines bore coral-colored, oblong fruits.  A wide avenue they eventually turned onto bustled with travelers and denizens.  Lines of colorfully clothed children apparently off to school were delightfully distracted by the gurgling fountain and small, splashing birds as they passed.  The equally colorful but relatively refined adults milled, strolled or relaxed on warm stone benches, though none were idle, but reading or writing or chattering quietly amongst themselves.  A pang for their homeworld might easily have struck both Janeway and Kim for the familiar peace and community they passed.

      From time to time, Havetsi slowed slightly to bow in passing to some of the citizens, but continued without bothering with introductions, despite the surprise her fellow Desalians aimed behind her.  Her gait remained swift, her steps assured as she swerved around groups and gardens on the streets, even as she looked back at her guests. 

      "Babaki expects us in Bala's Court at the Institute," she said.  "My apologies for the absence of transports, as they are not permitted within the city walls."

      Beside the captain, Harry Kim furrowed his brow.  "Why not, Captain?  --If you don't mind me asking."

      Havetsi grinned.  "Tradition, Kim," she replied.  "We are full with them, peoples have said, and indeed our tendency is to honor the spirits, our ancestors, those who laid the paths we walk well upon.  Transporting within the city is avoided for respect of those before us, who tread with but their feet upon the salvation of this city then rebuilt it with their own hands.  --Vya, we arrive now."

      With a spin, she turned them under a low arch between two domed stone buildings.  Within them stretched another whitewashed mall surrounded by a flush of red willows and bright flowers, populated with white-robed adults and hurrying youths.

      Janeway noted those people, the men with boxy, white headdresses braided at a side with beads pinned in, generous white robes over tailored kneecoats and brightly embroidered sashes tied at the waist.  The women there, much like Captain Havetsi, wore sheer white scarves draped around and braided into their long hair, white robes draped on their arms like shawls, fitted shin-length coats cut low over silky gowns, loose leggings and carved bead chains.  In their stature, they reminded her of a formal Vulcan assembly.

      Unlike any Vulcan meeting, however, those people were rather like the Desalians she had encountered on the Ki'ial, laughing often and animated in their otherwise intent conversations, whatever they might have been discussing.  The universal translator had all but given up trying to decipher the dense advanced language.  For their benefit--as they did with other peoples they knew--Havetsi and her people had been speaking the "children's tongue" for them.

      Had it been any other situation, Janeway would have rolled her eyes for the meaning in that.

      Still, as she had been when they first arrived, Janeway was impressed.  The people, again, seemed as pleasant and cultured as a peaceful people should be; they were also extremely helpful, if the Ki'ial's crew was any evidence.  It truly was a beautiful world, too, a sort of place where its inhabitants seemed to take a particular pride in making it clean and welcoming, lushly decorated but eminently natural.  Helped on by a fragrant breeze and a warm sun, Janeway wished she wasn't there for the business she was, and might easily have felt guilty for appreciating it so much.  But she hadn't forgotten for an instant her purpose. 

      More likely, she unconsciously was welcoming the distraction.

      "This is the Institute of Desal, where my oaths as a scholar were taken," Havetsi continued as she maneuvered them around a concerted discussion with but a nod their way.  "It was the first place of scholarship recovered on Desalia past the Unar War, consecrated by Bala of Na'ihaj.  Ab, my great-grandfather's sister awaits."

      Janeway grinned despite herself.  Havetsi spoke as if they'd stopped once since entering the city.

      At the corner of a nearby pool, a tall, elderly woman stood.  Her dress was not unusual, though her coat seemed finer in its embroidery and lush texture, and her braids and scarves were more intricately fashioned.  Unlike the others in the mall, too, she patiently bided her time without company, seemingly enjoying the view of the playful fish and dotted water flowers.  Spotting her reason for being there, however, she instantly gave up her solitude and set forward to meet them, offering her slim, wrinkled hands from the folds of her white robe as she approached. 

      Havetsi immediately bowed and sank to a knee to humbly kiss her aunt's fingers then brush them over her temple markings, her breath hardly quickened by their excursion.

      Janeway took that opportunity to check hers.

      "Yeshalli zha lastnya, ye'i va'as jllai," the younger woman said, oddly making the elder laugh.  Havetsi stuffed a responsive snicker and looked to her guests.  "My friends, I bear gratitude for the honor of acquainting you with Babaki of the Allanois House, Scholar of Desal, Bondmate to Prime Minister Osna."

      Babaki was still grinning at her niece's introduction when she turned her gaze to the others.  "Yet Babaki alone may be said, should it please.  What a mouthful I have become as I grow the elder!"  Without waiting for them to introduce themselves, she eyed her niece again.  "Havetsi, claim you our honored guests?"

      "Yeshalli, ka," the young captain promised.  "I have found them good-spirited, sense well their truth and much their pain, this by more circumstances than what was has brought them directly here."

      Babaki nodded.  Looking curiously to the guests again, then seeming to decide in another blink, she extended her hand.  "Consider your travels paused for as long as required by you.  Great sorrow is mine for your trouble, and I do feel responsibility for it--should it indeed be truth.  I shall attempt to rectify what I might."

      Janeway accepted her hand.  "Thank you, Babaki."

      "And you are called Kathryn Janeway.  Your officer, Kim."  Though pleasant, Babaki had not asked.

      "On behalf of my crew," Janeway said, "I'd like to thank you for any and all of your efforts, Babaki.  Captain Havetsi has been more than helpful in assisting us on Voyager."

      "Fate has proven her a fine captain," Babaki replied with an innocent gleam.  "Odd how our nature is found with further suns upon our experience, by our blessed spirits' guidance."

      Havetsi was not fazed by Babaki's mischief, but rather laughed and touched her temple affectionately.  "And I, good Babaki, should be a poorer one should I fail to update my co-captain as promised."

      "Dejorra brings himself from Saha'aten at last!  His son has been well settled with his bondmate and her aunts?  --A young couple, Captain Janeway, assisting a small house's growth."

      Janeway only nodded.

      "Ka, they are all contented," Havetsi reported, "and at next sun, Dejorra is happily reinstalled on the Ki'ial as contacts for the Voyager's many procurements are arranged and carried out.  --Your humility is unnecessary, Captain Janeway.  I see already that this is not the way of your own.  Allow me to honor my people in this."  Again, she addressed her aunt:  "Your forgiveness for my absence now, good Babaki."

      "You shall bring yourself before sunset?"

      "Yeshalli ka--myself as well as Dejorra's details."

      The elder woman smiled.  "They are much anticipated, Child.  Take yourself in the spirits' light."

      With a bow to Janeway and then to Kim, the young captain backed off four steps then turned to walk briskly out of the court.

      As it turned out, Babaki set them off in another direction, though thankfully slower than her niece had, as they started down the pristine mall--though Janeway had a feeling it was for her age and not her temperament.  She had been as verbally energetic just before.

      "It is understood you may have lost your friends recently in your history," she said quietly, her eyes straight ahead.

      "We came into the Barrier to find them," Janeway affirmed.  "Havetsi says there's still a chance that they might have gotten caught in the streams that surround your region."

      Babaki considered that.  "It has been known through the ancient stories, sometimes myth," she said.  "Yet I would not discount the possibility, as it has touched our histories."  Turning her gaze to the captain's again, she tried to reflect that glimpse of hope she saw there.  "We shall take ourselves now to uncover the Unar records of the century past.  They diligently maintained accounts of every poor spirit who happened into their camps."

      It was a grim business, Janeway knew, but she did want to be sure--and hoped more that she would not find her crewmen there  "Thank you, Babaki."

      She nodded once in acceptance.  "Should your friends lie not there, we shall ask our word painters."

      Kim peered over at her.  "Word painters?"

      "Our oral historians," Babaki clarified.  "Desalia has an ancient tradition in the oral history, from the times well preceding the establishment of our regency.  Though it paled considerably during the occupation, when all knowledge was banned to Desal, we yet did pass our memories and events to others, often in public."

      "Forgive me for asking," Janeway said, "but is it a reliable source?  On Earth, there were civilizations who passed their knowledge down in a similar manner, but it was not always...accurate."

      "Fact is sought, not tale.  This is understood."  Babaki offered them both a friendly smile.  "Some who are not of us believe it is not as precise or scientific; however it is in its way a science and the result of long study and dedication to its details.  It has long been a dear trade among Desal, particularly when our technology was taken from us, when we were consigned to what Unar designed as nothingness.  During the Unar occupation, though necessarily suppressed and hidden, it was our only available system of recordation, our latent mnemonic skills.  Even past the day this world was liberated, we had not the resources to spare on databanks, but rather massive amounts to recover.  Only the memories of those who would later paint held our histories together during this time."

      "But they might not have known our officers," Janeway said.

      She held her hand out to guide them around a garden wall as they headed into a sidewalk of the mall.  As they passed into a shade of willows, Babaki nodded.  "This is truth.  Yet the oral histories are an invaluable source despite that.  We shall try every turn to find fact." 

      "It's as much as we could ask for," Janeway admitted. 

      "And yet more.  Many peoples reside in Irllae--what our region is called.  They too might have some record of outsiders among them." 

      "You could ask them to search their databanks?"

      "What they have of that era, ka," Babaki answered.  "I would place more hope in the Unar records, however, which are kept in the catacombs of the Institute.  They may yield scientific data, as well, which perhaps might show a disturbance in the Barrier when--"

      "Those old, tedious records shall do you little good, Child!  Why should innocent spirits be tortured with such pedantic, unfeeling drivel?"

      Janeway and Kim together spun towards the craning, thickly accented voice that rang out from their side.  En route, Janeway also saw Babaki's face flush to scarlet. 

      Beyond her, Janeway saw a fossil of an old woman leaning on a timber inside a heavy trellis, her thin, skin-draped fingers woven upon her belly.  She was fashioned in an indigo coat and gown, with a finely embroidered white robe that hung low behind her back.  Loose leggings would have hidden the thinness of her legs were it not for her narrow, cloth-wrapped feet.  Several strings of amber beads showed through her white headscarves, which were braided with and pinned into the thick tiers of silver plaits on her crown and draped around her shrunken, sallow face.  The remainder of her hair fell behind her to her knees like curls of smoke against a mist of trailing scarves.

     To add to her relatively formal array, her posture necessitated respect.  Her stare, a bright hazel aimed at the prime minister's wife, also spoke of her place.  It struck even Janeway with its depth.

      Nearby her, on a short stone wall by the trellis, sat an equally ancient gentleman with a voluminous white robe over a long green coat and gray trousers, reading and eating a fruit he held in a trembling hand.  He glanced distractedly over at her and Kim from beneath the opening of his heavy white headdress, and then went back to his book, muttering to himself inaudibly.

      Babaki was quickly conciliatory to those elderly people and bowed deeply before speaking.  "Nali, these are honored guests, searching for their own.  By blessed example and by my desire as well, I would of course assist them in every manner possible."

      "By torturing them?"  the elder returned, creaking in her interrogative.  "Bearing through those dreadful files of death?" 

      "They bear some use, Nali."

      "As does joth manure."

      "Good sirril pods grow for it," the old man said and took another bite of his fruit.  That said, he turned his attention away again.

      The prime minister's wife did not return the favor.  "Tola, why have you brought yourself at this high sun?"  Babaki asked.  "You shall needlessly tire yourself, when you have only taken fresh treatments this early sun."

      "I am eating sirril and reading," was his simple reply, as if to say he need not explain himself.

      Babaki gave up, shrugging.  "I would beg you excuse us, then.  I shall find you at sunset, I would hope."

      The ancient woman lifted her hands to the sky.  "Vrill yat ho'all cich arr!  So'at ye'i jacne'e agl a so'a garr.  --Wisdom was taught you, Child, yet it is believed we said it should not be thrown into the air as seed for birds."

      "Nali, I act only as I--"

      "Grrikal shast yo'i," snapped the man, still not looking back at them.

      Babaki sighed and looked worriedly at Janeway.  "Your gracious forgiveness, good lady.  These are my parents.  The Unar records disturb them greatly."

      "With proper reason," the elder woman added, staring plainly at her child then up to Janeway,  "particularly upon this sun.  My youngest child bears nothing but a fine spirit, kindness and a mind worth all its speak.  She is adored, my youngest.  Yet she on occasion, for her many fine qualities, bears little sense."

      Babaki snickered at that, even if it was a jibe aimed at her.  She found more comfort to see her mother relax somewhat, too.  "Then what shall you have me do, Nali, to procure what they desire?  Your guidance would of course be respected."

      "I would wish you bear silence so I may ask them myself, Babaki," the older woman replied with a small grin then eyed Janeway.  "It is plain my elderhood among the living is well borne; by my many scars, I and my bondmate recall well the Unar occupation, those among a vast number of memories, long borne within us.  Whom have you lost?  Tell me their callings."

      Janeway decided to be patient.  She had much rather have kept going to that information she was anxious to see.  But even Babaki was obedient to the mother.  She had a feeling it would be best to follow suit.  It couldn't hurt, anyway.

      "Two of my bridge officers:  Tom Paris, my helmsman, B'Elanna Torres, my chief engineer.  And two other engineers, Susan Nicoletti and Kurt Bendera."

      The elderly woman's eyes flickered over the outsiders' faces as the names were said, reading the heavy strain of regret and worry those names called up.  In that pause, the woman gentled, her lips closing lightly together.  She had almost looked away to her daughter, but instead glanced back as Kim shifted on his feet.

      Babaki, meanwhile, remained anxious to recapture the elder woman's attention.  "I have heard no mention of these names in our histories, Nali, not in the common files, nor among the Worlds Council records.  I should have recalled such interesting titles."

      The mother did not speak at first, but found her bondmate's glance, drew a short breath, and then another atop it.  She closed her heavily creased eyes, opened them again.  "Babaki, my child," she breathed,  "have you rather a recollection of our friends, Susik?  Or Derra?"  Her voice cracked with a sudden, deep emotion, and she paused again.

      Babaki's small mouth parted--and Janeway and Kim shared a stare as well before focusing again on the elderly mother's profile.  For the woman's heavy inflection, even they wouldn't have connected the names she'd listed if they didn't know to whom she was referring.

      "...of Be'i and Toma?"

      Babaki gasped, flushing red, and she looked at her guests with a sudden and equal emotion to her mother's.  She had been told it might be, could see why her niece might have suspected it for their bearings, uncanny timing and what little detail they had picked up over the years, but those people?  To only look at them with their hard, sterile clothing and steely faces, it was little wonder she had all but discounted it--and she corrected herself for taking such a narrow view of them.  Shaking her head in her bemusement, she whispered,  "Birthpeople of our honored spirits, they have indeed brought themselves..."

      Janeway felt her heart drop.

      "Honored spirits?"  Kim asked, too taken to think what it meant at first.

      "Our honored passed," Anai told him softly, regretting her words more when she saw the young man's features pale, the woman start aback.

      "Dead," Janeway breathed, looking at the ancient mother again.  "When...How long did they live here?"

      The elder woman turned her stare to a long pond in the garden, following the ripples of life within it as she told them,  "Susik passed twelve rallkle past her lifemate, Gatra, not twenty years before this sun, here, at Desal.  Derra had some years past that, yet remained at Cezia with his Antral wife, Yasis, where they had long worked past the war."

      Her breath remained restricted, but Janeway fought it--also the painful water that found her glass hard stare.  Those conclusions, so simple to the elder woman, Janeway had been somewhat prepared for, but... 

      Perhaps the woman, she imagined, was mistaken.  Maybe she was trying to keep them from the Unar records for some reason more pressing than what Babaki had barely explained.

      But the captain needed to hear it:  "And Toma and...Be'i?"

      "They passed near the end of the war that had liberated our people," was the response,  "sacrificing themselves for the blessed fate of Desalia."

      This was not a comfort.

      The elder woman looked at Janeway again, finally stepping away from the wall to touch the captain's arms with her time-wilted hands. 

      "Ka, I knew them; I am the bearer of their histories.  Be'i and Toma had much closeness to me and my bondmate, good lady, those honored spirits, from their first sun among Desal."

      Babaki looked at Janeway and Kim in turns.  "By all that is blessed, I did not believe you were of their birth."

      "This is for that the full details of that time lie within your tola and me," the mother said.  "Susik, Gatra and Derra passed with this unspoken, as have most of the others who knew of them.  It is yet retained by Yasis.  By Be'i and Toma's wishes, as Ara and I remain among the living, their full history would be recognized first to its appropriate audience.  --You, lady, sir, and your people, are that audience.  I and my bondmate have waited a long time for you to bring yourselves to us."

      Janeway didn't have the momentum or the nerve to escape the warming touch on her arms, nor her gold-flecked eyes, which regarded her with graciousness and relief.  She felt the stare penetrate her nerve. 

      It was too much, she thought yet again. 

      "Waiting for us?" she asked blankly.

      "It was known you might bring yourselves, someday, when Be'i and Toma learned of the temporal variance in the Barrier," she replied.

      In the elder's pause, she watched their faces, falling more as the news she had dreamt of telling filled them.  They did not want to believe and yet they had no choice.  They had been somewhat prepared for that information, since they knew of the difference in time.  But there, facing the reality of their friends' histories, lived quite fully in but a day of their own lives, truth was bearing down hard upon them both.

      Especially the boy--young man, she corrected herself, trying not to smile at her perspective.  The young man's face was terribly pained...

      Their friend, she remembered.  Kim had been their friend.

      So, she moved to him, touched his arms as she had the captain's then reached up to place her cool, wrinkled hand on his face.  He blinked, staring down at her with dark, childlike wonder.  Again, she had to force herself not to smile at that.  He was so young.

      "Mourn them not so zealously," she said softly.  "Your people lived nobly on Desal's part, on one another's parts.  They thought dearly of all of you.  They passed, ka, yet with pure spirits, dedicated absolutely to the salvation of Irllae.  Through their efforts and sacrifices, all of this," and she waved a graceful hand around,  "all you see upon Desalia and beyond, may not have been returned to us as happily.  They gave of themselves readily for this purpose."

      "How?" he asked.  It was a plainly spoken curiosity in a thick throat.

      An tiny smile crossed her mouth for the simple word, a vast understatement of the relief she felt to hear the question she'd been waiting for, hoping to live long enough to answer.  She did not answer Kim, however.  Instead, she stepped back and returned her attention to the captain.  Touching her temple markings, she bowed as low as her body would allow.

      "I am Anai of Cezia, bondmate to Ara, matriarch of the Allanois House, Scholar of Azlre and alongside my Ara, Regent of Desal."

      "Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager," was her polite reply, tempered by the elder's admission of rank.  For her ornaments and stance alone, it made sense--and she wished Babaki had said something earlier about it.

      "Good Captain," Anai continued,  "I am what is called in Desal an akarr tiras--a word painter.  Since my induction into the scholarship over one hundred years past, I have painted the stories of lives, of Desalia, of that which is known by me and my bondmate...all save one.  One story has been withheld by us.

      "For all my time upon Desalia, but two things in my trade have been sought:  One, that my children and theirs, and all those children's progeny, would bear understanding of that which preceded them, so that they would never forget the lessons and sacrifices that made the good life they now lead.  For that, I have lived long and with great purpose.  My bondmate has performed much the same service.  We preserve and tell both our life's histories and those of our ancestors, kept within our spirits, with great pride, for the children and for Desalia, for our people, our region and our future.

      "My second wish has been to paint in full the words of Be'i and Toma, of Susik and Derra, to my family as well as the ones who have every right and need to hear it:  You."

      Janeway felt her breath only beginning to return as the woman neared her, taking her hands firmly in her own, unbroken in her stare. 

      "I am what your people would name a 'dying' woman, Captain Kathryn Janeway," she continued.  "My spirit's partner, since beginning his descent ten years before this sun, shall soon take me with him to our blessed ancestors.  I shall pass willingly at his side, as is the way of our kind, of the bonded.

      "Yet we have had but one elder's wish, and that is to paint the words of their lives to you and your kind.  I and Ara have brought ourselves here this sun with this purpose.  You were sought by us when I heard that aliens from outside the Barrier were bringing themselves to Desal, with prayers it was meant, that you have finally brought this fate to truth."

      "Mrs...Anai..."  Janeway sighed, swallowing back that next layer of all that had happened already that day.  "You have to understand that this is very difficult for us to accept right now.  Just over a week ago, we sent our officers out on a supply mission, and now you're telling us that..."  She shook her head.

      "This is understood," Anai responded.  She tightened her hold on the captain's hands.  "Permit me to paint their lives with my words, for my children and for you.  Let us finally, fully, celebrate their lives and vindicate their memories, and let us help you understand as well.  This was what was wished by them; my bondmate and I have also long awaited this sun."

      If asked, Janeway would readily admit she was overwhelmed.  Not only was the terrible weight of what she was discovering still spinning in her mind, but the elderly woman's sudden passion, the depth of her emotion, the quick, dry warmth between their clutching hands.  She could practically feel Anai's energy pulsing from her fingers.

      Whether or not she trusted Anai's information, that she would prefer to see the Unar records instead, was not the issue anymore.  The matriarch was bound to her will.

      Then again... "Are you certain, Anai, that these are the same people?"  Janeway asked.  "Not that I don't think you believe what you're--"

      "Toma was borne of an upright gentleman, good in standing, who was your trade-guide," Anai cut in.  "In his youth, he betrayed his elder's way and brought much suffering unto himself in consequence.  Likewise, Be'i's ancestry was betrayed for her fears of loss, so keenly realized in her youth.  For this, they yearned for vindication, for correction of their perceived emptiness--if not through true rectification, then through their works.  Susik was a woman consumed within her craft, which found her both searching and willing to drift--and thus both caught and comforted within what she perceived as safety.  Derra brought himself from a land of sufficient strife to make his being one of justice and constant care, while bearing the easiness of a man with few ties left but those of his own making."

      That was more than enough to settle Janeway's doubts.

      The matriarch Anai was pleased to see it.  "Good lady, allow me to paint their words, their histories and the words of those around them," she repeated.  "Let me reveal the compass of their lives to you, bring their beings and their desires life again--to give them back to you as best my humble art may do, in the only way I can."

      The same unwavering stare began to shine, and her time worn voice was crackling with longing. 

      Longing finally given the chance to manifest itself, Janeway realized.

      "I beg you, good lady, let their sacrifice be celebrated together, brought alive with their last wishes, and let me and my sweet Ara find our spirits with peace.  I beg you my final wish among this living world:  Permit me to finally paint the words of their lives for you and for my family, my people.  Zhras ye'e. --Please."

      Their hands parted; the elder woman stood away, waiting again, patient and willing to hear either answer.  She had made her plea. 

      "This fate is chosen by you alone," she said quietly.

      As if she'd come through the plasma field all over again, Kathryn Janeway felt her head spinning, was at a loss for several precious seconds as she tried to reign the effect of Anai's declarations and her offer.

      Her voice was rough with unwillingness despite her efforts.  "Very well."

      Anai closed her eyes, letting free her breath after holding it throughout that pause.  "My gratitude, Captain Janeway," she whispered.  "You and your own are charges of my noble house, as I claim you this day."  She opened her stare upon the captain's again.  "You shall be brought to the house of the Allanois this evening to dine and take rest among my family.  Following our evening meal, I shall take my place and begin to paint their words to you.  This shall require four evenings, should my bondmate and I remain well."

      Without waiting for a reply, Anai moved to her daughter and touched her temple.  "Tabri'elko ye'i, bablisull, a'o gye ak'ollisht o'ad.  Ya'o broll patsige'a Unar zatsik.  Gychak a'i ak sane'arr pa'a zhallov."

      "Nali ka," Babaki returned faithfully, kissing her mother's ink-marked, skeletal hand.  She then looked at Janeway and Kim again. 

      "I shall take you to review the Unar records now, should it please," she said.  "At early evening, Havetsi shall bring you to our house.  Whomever you would wish or would desire to attend may bring themselves.  Our garden is large.  All are welcome as honored members of our house for your visit's duration.  Nali has bestowed it in honor of your dear ones."

      "Thank you," Janeway said emptily.  The reason to see those records--generously permitted by the elder mother--was now moot.  They would likely pale to what Anai had to say. 

      She didn't know if she wanted any of it now.

      Conversely, Anai was satisfied, and she moved away to wake her bondmate from his unplanned bed on the wall.  Ara, the ancient patriarch, roused with a start, as if he had not known he had drifted off.  She spoke softly in their tongue to him. 

      Glancing over, he only gave a nod to each guest then smiled gently to his daughter, who returned his affection wordlessly; he touched her temple, bowed slowly.  Content, Ara let his woman take him down and set his shuffling pace, across and away.

      In that fashion, they left the mall.

      Janeway did and said nothing, rather watched the ancient scholars depart, bowing to those they passed, greeting some, until they disappeared beyond the garden.  Even after they were gone, she stared after them, still fighting back the bitter tears in her eyes.

      In her heavy heart, she could admit to herself she dreaded returning to her ship and cursed herself again for ever letting her people go, cursed the fact that they could do nothing at that point but mourn and wait for supplies.

      She looked at Kim and forgot herself a moment when she noticed his own mourning had already begun.  She placed her hand on his arm comfortingly.  "Mr. Kim?"

      He collected a long breath, met her eyes.  His own were misted.  "I'm sorry, Captain."

      She swallowed.  "I am too, Harry.  I know how good a friend you'd been to them.  If you'd prefer to return to Voyager, you have my permission."

      Harry shook his head.  "If you don't mind, Captain, I'd like to see what happened to them, too.  That they lived all that time, when we were still..."  There, he stopped, cleared his throat.  "It's hard to believe.  But I guess it's true."

      Janeway sighed.  "It seems so."  Turning her attention back to Babaki, who had politely taken a step away to allow them their privacy, she gave a blink of approval.  "May we see the Unar records now?"

      The old woman bowed in respect.  "This way, my friends," she replied quietly and continued to lead their way through the shade garden.  For the entirety of their trip, she was relatively silent.

      What could be said that would not be said by Nali, after all? she asked herself and kept her eyes thoughtfully downcast as a tiny smile pulled at her lips.
 

---

      Captain Havetsi was plainly subdued when she returned to Voyager to bring her new friends to the house of her elders.  Decidedly straight-backed, her entire presence seemed to be conscious of her responsibility, her facade a mix of awareness and formality similar to the elder scholars she'd only breezed by earlier in the day.  Conversely, she had changed into what looked like 'off-duty' attire--airy, light-colored versions of her gown, coat and leggings, her headscarves changed to an opaque, embroidered sort, woven into her crown braids and tied around the rest of her hair.  Though she appeared comfortable, her formality seemed to clash with the more casual array.

      Not that makes any difference at this point, Janeway sighed to herself.

      "I greet you in peace, good lady," Havetsi said softly.  "Nali--my great-great grandmother Anai--has spoken with me regarding your way, on your people's fashion of mourning.  I shall endeavor to assist you with whatever shall please and bring comfort to you in this time."

      "Thank you for coming, Captain," Janeway said and gestured to some of the others in the room.  "I don't believe you've met Kes and Neelix, yet."

      "I have not until this moon," Havetsi confirmed and bowed formally to them both.  "I greet you in friendship and in sorrow for your losses."

      "It's very nice to meet you," Kes said, offering the captain a small smile despite her still-swollen eyes.  She had indeed been torn to hear of the strange fate her friends had encountered. 

      "Thank you for coming to take us," Neelix said, jerkily nodding his hello.

      "My honor," Havetsi told them.  "It brings my Nali great rest to bring alive their memories, as is the way, and it pleases to bring you to her painting."

      She looked around at the others there:  The commander, so solemn, troubled--angry, perhaps, too--tried not to stare, not to hurt openly.  Kim, who had come to the planet earlier that day, was more uncomfortable than before.  Carey, with whom she had worked in engineering, was stiff-jawed, but he met her eyes without complaint and a nod.

      And Janeway...Janeway's look of loss and a leader's blame was evident.  Havetsi could only imagine what she might feel in her place, if it had happened to her own crew.

      Then again, Havetsi knew the difference between them.

      "It is a sad duty in your situation," she told all those in the room,  "yet among Desal, where our elders and ancestors are revered, it is more certainly a celebration of life and not so much the reminder of loss.  It is known that for your people it is different--most people of our acquaintance are not of our belief, of course.  Yet I should hope, somehow, my elder-mother's stories may balance your conscience to some extent, bring comfort in knowing their spirits, ease the space that is left for their absence."

      Feeling her heart thump, Janeway reached out.  Havetsi's hand immediately met hers, held it warmly.  "Thank you."

      The younger captain bowed deeply and pressed Janeway's knuckles against the markings on her temple.  "My honor, good lady," she whispered then straightened again, allowing an appropriate pause to pass.  "Shall we transport now?"

      But a minute later, they materialized on the Desal city limits and waited for the next group to transport down.  There would be six in all.

      Once they had all arrived, Janeway motioned them to follow Havetsi into the west gates, into the lush evening shade of a lovely, seemingly well-placed Desalian neighborhood.  Ahead, Havetsi mentioned that she had grown to womanhood there and still resided at her elder-father's house with her husband.  Desalians commonly lived in large multigenerational households, she continued, thinking belatedly to inform them, thus the reason for their expansive, multi-winged structures.  Their neighbors and great allies, the Antral, had a similar yet unique familial structure.  That said, she waited for another to speak.

      Janeway meanwhile held Chakotay behind, setting their pace to follow.  They turned onto a wide stone avenue, which was quiet for mealtime, she suspected.  Food and drink would be ready by the time they arrived at Ara's house, they were told.

      She would, though she wasn't very hungry.  Much the opposite, really.

      In those Unar records, they had found after some searching the "claimed" names of Susan Nicoletti and Kurt Bendera, who had been assigned to service and purchased at a planet called Horaaet by an Antral trainer representing Aldrun of Kichyrn's ship and house.  Their bodies were "paid for" about two seasons later, the Kichyrn representative having signed an affidavit of their deaths and payment a sum of forty "kibo."  According to Babaki's explanation of Antral currency, it was not a great loss to a good family, even then--only an annoying one.

      With further examination, they found the claimed names of Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres, drask prisoners at the Uillar Labor Camp from the same date as the others' assignments.  There was no other record of them.

      Though their mentions were slight, they were indeed in the Unar records.  Her people had been there.

      Her heart lurched anew just to think about it, to replay her confirmation of her officers' fates after returning from the surface.

      When she related it to him and Tuvok, Chakotay's face seemed to crack with the truth; not surprisingly, he said nothing.  Not long after she stopped her explanation, he left without more than a request to leave--off to deal with it in his own way, no doubt.  Later, he reappeared to take the news to the other Maquis on the ship, help them with the loss of their old comrades and be the strong one when that news sunk in.  He probably needed to be the good leader, at that stage.  Janeway knew the feeling.

      Though for him, she imagined, it would be harder, as those Maquis had been through far more times and trouble before Voyager had even been commissioned.  Paris' and Nicoletti's losses were just as dire, but they were new on board when Voyager set off on its ill-fated mission only a year before.  The Maquis' feelings were stronger in general.

      As if sensing her concern, he said,  "Funny how things work out, for better and worse."

      "I'd say that's true here in more ways than one," she said.

      He almost laughed, seeming to suddenly picture the memory behind his dark stare. 

      "I remember one day, I was cursing about the fact that our supply ship was off selling our parts for more latinum, and before I knew it, we were scouring Cardassians off that ship.  I found B'Elanna there, took her on my crew.  She was young, just trying to do something with herself that felt right to her."  Chakotay looked at Janeway.  "B'Elanna was totally dedicated to what we were fighting for.  She wasn't born out there, and she was as troubled as anyone else I knew in the Maquis, but she was a good friend, loyal to the crew, gave her all, all the way through."

      Janeway smiled sadly.  "I'd only started getting to know her, but I admired her, her conscience and intelligence.  She reminded me of myself in a small way, that...determination of hers."  A short laugh escaped her--and even Chakotay grinned, knowing what she meant. 

      "The way she came in," the captain reflected,  "all on fire about that damned plasma stream, I thought I was looking at myself at that age.  She was troubled, you're right about that.  But she had so much potential." 

      She turned her gaze ahead to the group, their people, that remaining crew. 

      Harry was walking somewhat alone.  It was much harder on him than he was openly admitting, though he made no pretense of hiding it in his features.

      Janeway sighed.  "Tom...All he wanted was to start over again, get his life back on track.  I didn't know how much until after we were here, working probably harder than anyone else sometimes to prove he could do it."  She glanced up at her companion.  "I know you two had your long-standing differences, but you can't deny he was trying to make good on himself, that he was finally starting to use his assets." 

      To that, Chakotay did nod.  Janeway looked forward again.  "I believed he was going to do it," she added.  "I wanted..."  She shook her head, swallowed in a thick throat.

      "Captain?"  Chakotay asked.

      "I wanted to see him finally succeed," she said.  "I wanted to see them both succeed.  And Lieutenant Nicoletti, a fine officer from a good family, the youngest of five...  She was raised by her father; her mother died when Susan was three. --Did you know that?  Susan had been on a fast career track before we ended up out here.  I'd talked with her a couple times, at Sandrine's, in passing.  Quiet, but always there right when we needed her, always..."  She cast a guiltier eye towards Chakotay.  "I hardly knew Mr. Bendera."

      Chakotay grinned despite himself.  "Hell of a left hook, thankfully.  He'd gotten us all out of some scrapes at one time or another.  "Hell of a left hook, thankfully.  He'd gotten us all out of some scrapes at one time or another.  His parents were members of the colony resistance.  He joined my crew a few weeks after they were killed in a skirmish.  I found out right away that he was pretty used to living outside the edge.  Funny, quick...always there when you needed him, even when you didn't know he was there..."  The commander laughed quietly, a memory he didn't elaborate on.  Instead, he more simply concluded,  "He was a good person."

      "They all were," Janeway whispered and shook her head again.  Her stare turned outward, hardening even as she took another breath.  "Chakotay, I can't accept this.  I don't want to accept this."

      "Then why come down here at all?  You didn't have to."

      She knew his tactic as soon as he voiced it, but admitted it.  "Because I need to know what happened to them after I sent them; we all do.  I also represent this crew--and them.  It wouldn't be right for me not to be here."  Letting out her breath, she shook her head bitterly.  "I was wrong to let them go out there...out here."

      "You accepted B'Elanna's idea because it was a good one," he told her,  "and I agreed with you.  What happened to them was an accident--we both know that hundreds of officers have been killed by lesser ones.  They probably couldn't see beyond that plasma field any better than we could at first--and for that matter, that's not how they died."

      "True," Janeway allowed.  "But it doesn't change the fact that I wish I hadn't approved it.  After everything we've gone through..."

      "Yes," Chakotay said gently, firmly, "we've been through a lot.  But--"

      "I know," she nodded, focusing again ahead of them.  "We can't do anything about that now.  But damnit, I wanted them to succeed."

      Chakotay looked at what the captain had turned her eyes to. 

      Captain Havetsi had reached her elder-father's sprawling, well-kept house, and she hurried ahead a few steps to open the gates to the back terrace.  Inside, from what he could see, sat a lush garden stretching well within the corner of the fragrant street they still walked along, surrounding three sides of the estate.

      Seeing it, he had to remind himself of what he'd been told already:  Only a century ago, that city had been occupied by Desalia's enemies, besieged by war, their people subjected to refugee status at best.  Chakotay knew personally of similar conditions. 

      That same century ago, their crewpeople had somehow earned names for themselves among the honored of those people.

      "Maybe they did succeed," he mused.  "Just not with us."

      She patted the commander's arm, her lips upturned but barely grinning.  "That would be something, wouldn't it?"  she said mirthlessly.

      He returned the half smile.  "It is something," he said and escorted the captain in the rest of the way.
 

---

      The dinner, considering its occasion and the alien company's unease, went considerably well, or so thought the Allanois family members as they milled and mingled and came to know the visitors.  Predictably, they were quite curious.  Not often did outsiders tread upon the doorstep of Desal--and certainly the Desalians, being naturally inclined to collect information to pass on to others, queried them as much as tact would allow.  The history behind those outsiders' reason for being there only compounded their wish to know all they could about them.

      Thankfully, many of the "Starfleet" and "Maquis" were willing tellers, despite their sadness.  They told the tale of how they came to be so far from their birthplaces, spoke of their families, distant or passed, related their trying but determined lives there, on their ship ironically called "Voyager."  They spoke, too, on their passed friends.

      For this, the listeners to their words were fully attentive, felt for those people's struggles and hoped sincerely that fate would see them returned to their own successfully and soon.

      The elders had not attended the dinner.  It was explained by Kyori, Babaki's elder sister, that Ara had grown unwell for his activity earlier in the day, and so they rested for the telling, which would be soon.  They would indeed need the strength, considering what times would be remembered that moon

      Surely, soon did arrive.  Twilight began to fall over the city and small torches were lit about the yard for light and warmth.  The talking began to ebb and flow and ebb again, as the speakers' tongues became worn in expectation.  The trays of food, emptied nicely, were quietly taken away and replaced with a few selections of wine and spiced water.

      Then, as a sharp, cedar-like smoke scented the court, the partitions at the rear of the house opened.  A few moments later, a finely dressed couple appeared and began their entry onto the terrace.  Anai, who looked barely strong enough to carry the thick white robe draped over her shoulders and arms, all but completely supported Ara, who stepped stiffly upon the unforgiving ground, shuffled off the patio and into the well-populated garden. 

      More than the family, who gave their elders warm but casual greetings, the alien crew stopped to see them, cutting off their sentences midway to catch a glimpse of the regents.  Though the garden grew quickly quiet, they continued through, oblivious--or perhaps merely accustomed--to the attention.

      The regents stopped briefly for introductions, to greet Janeway, to meet her first officer.  Chakotay returned the patriarch's polite but silent bow then looked down at the old woman, accepting her hand when she brought it down from her temple and offered it.

      "Thank you for inviting us here," Chakotay said, trying not to look surprised by Anai of Allanois' ancient face and soft, bony fingers.  Janeway's report made him expect someone who didn't look like she would break in a decent wind, not so shrunken and pale as she had every right to be, considering.  But then, he could see in her warm hazel eyes an undeniable awareness and an assuredness that was both observant and kindly, while picking at his unease.  "Thank you for waiting for us."

      She took a shallow breath as she held his dark, honest gaze.  "Then, you wish to hear the words I shall paint?"

      "Among my people," he told her,  "storytelling, passing down lessons for the younger generations, is a long tradition, too.  I have to admit, I'm curious to hear yours."

      Anai nodded.  "This is good."  Her eyes went to the captain, then.  "And you, good lady?  Have you reconciled yourself this moon?"

      Noting how sallow the elder was in comparison to earlier that day, Janeway didn't have to heart to say no--even if the perceptive old woman had cornered her into politeness. 

      "I know how important this is to you, and I think it'll be better in the long run for my crew to have some answers, to help them deal with this."

      "Perhaps you as well, Child?" Anai queried.

      Janeway laughed without cheer, more at Anai's title for her than anything else.  "Maybe.  I'd like to think so."

      "Then perhaps it shall be," Anai replied.  With no further words--there would be many words spoken there soon enough--she moved away from them, taking Ara's arm in hers to ascend the dais in the corner of the yard.  Once there, she seated him in his usual place then settled herself before him, spreading out the lengths of her headscarves and robe gracefully upon the white stone.  She wore no coat that evening beneath it, but a full-length gown of deep violet.

      Once she had pulled her feet up and to her side, Ara's shaking hand moved forward.  She took it, resting it upon her thigh, and then her hand atop it.  The identical patterns tattooed over their left hands, designating their bonded state, merged in that union, more when she looked down and curled her fingers around his.

      On that natural cue, helped on by the gathering of the children at the elders' feet and other family members also finding their usual place, the crew in attendance likewise gathered around and made themselves comfortable while the elder-mother patiently waited.

      When the yard finally stilled and the sound of the trickling water nearby became the only sound in that space, the time worn woman raised a finger to her spirit-daughter.  The young captain stepped to the dais then turned to her audience, her fingers brushing across her temple markings.

      "Zha lastnya.  Nya'i ina'ic cost la'aill.  I am Havetsi, great-great-grandchild to Ara and Anai and future heiress to the Allanois legacy, which histories they now hold.  By them and their living children, I was requested to speak for our own this moon, and to welcome you to our home."

      Standing straight but easily, Havetsi's gaze drifted over all those in presence; a gentle smile upturned her mouth. 

      "Since the suns that recorded time graced our people," she began, "our ancestors and other honored spirits have passed their spirits' experience unto heirs, so that we may learn in their currents, grow our branches from their food, and most importantly, never forget the path that brought us to our present earth.  For all time, our history has bound us, has brought us life and has immortalized our memory among the living.

      "It is for this we have brought ourselves together this moon."

      She paused, letting her eyes fall over the guests again.  "Three hundred and thirty-six years past, Desalia had both richness and was elder in its society.  The Allanois Regency had begun a prosperous leadership, benevolent to its own, humbly dedicated as Desalia's voice.  These blessed ancestors cared for great lands across eleven star systems, maintained a rich trade and peaceful alliance with all they knew and truly were at one in spirit with their people.

      "The times then were lush and fertile, like the Hanis Valley in the rain-soaked spring.  Our arts and sciences, our scholarship and our relations, all thrived, teeming with creation, with vitality, variety and steady growth.  It was a blessed time, the result of a society that had grown over several thousand revolutions on Desalia.

      "Yet that which lives and thrives requires sleep in its existence, a rest, a cleansing of its spirit's sun.  In our region called Irllae, this became so.  Yet sleep came through a seeping poison, which crept through the spirit of our beings, whispering prophecies of our civilizations' impending night.

      "Upon Desalia that era past, our good regents passed unto their spirits, passing their legacy to those who could practice but impressions of their ancestors, impressions whose ways slowly grew into another manifestation of leadership.  At first, for nearly fifty rallkle, this was not apparent.  When troubles in Irllae made itself a part of our fate, however, these shadows allowed the lessons of the wise to fall aside for their own slighted sight, enough to weaken the structure and balance, on which our society depended, and become lackadaisical in our life-giving sun as they fed too well on their own meat.

      "In the Shihihajk Realm, another people so-named the Unar underwent the same poor transition.  Once ancient friends of Desalia, known for their active philosophy, they in their turn took on a fateful arrogance in their search for purity, and they adopted violence and the idea of domination to secure their aims.  This was a slow transition through many sects of their people, came slowly enough that, like in the Regency, it went at first unnoticed. 

      "So slowly, they grew, yet they did spread, first to those around them.  The militant Plodischik sect rose from the white coals of Unar's internal struggle to spread their ashen wings over Irllae.  Yet pleas for assistance were countered by Desal's complacency with fate, excuses of historical passivity and resistance of interfering in neighborly matters flowing from unwise tongues while those sympathetic among Desalia were cast away to be allowed to fight for those not our own, and they passed to their spirits unseen by the community of Desal--a terrible price.

      "The Unar continued its path of fire.  Desalia sat in its wet valley still.  The life-giving rains ceased.  Desal yet fed, largely unaware of its unbalanced habit.  Finally, when Unar came to the Desalians like fire in the forest, the Regency was in no form to prevent its own destruction.  The remaining lush waters became fuel, and there was laid Desalia, its belly open to the predator's beak.  Some did flee and hide, yet any remaining pleas were but a fleck of dust in the ashes Unar had laid upon our worlds."

      Havetsi brushed her temple again, sang quietly:

      "Shirr al ye sho'ivl ak;
      Kek'litsch hana som yaj;
      Zhall ye'o vesi'id cost mya'e;
      Omi'id rallesh."

      The response echoed, "La'a iv ye'as.  Zhall ya'o."

      With a slow breath, Havetsi continued,  "One hundred and seventy-two years past, our fertile ways were parted from us.  Our scholarship, technology and histories were snatched from our very fingers as our homes and communities were torn and scattered.  Many were assigned to outer worlds to serve in forced labor; others were consigned to colonies as base refugees, whose only hope for food and health was voluntary labor.  Some were kept upon their home-soil, bereft of all but their lives.  Remaining proud regent families and scholars--one-fifth of our population--were committed immediately to the very earth we had devoured unto its despair.

      "In but years, Desal became but items for purchase and for use, slaves to the desires of others, breathing, bleeding machines for Unar industry and households.  A Desalian was drask--nothing, as defined by Unar.

      "The title could be said to be due reward for their Desal's laziness and disregard.  Our honored spirits had taught and Desalia had grown to ignore that wisdom.  For that, Desalia paid with its known life.

      "Yet no creature earned the cruelty endured by our predecessors and allies of fairer times; no creatures earn the horror of nothingness, nor do their children and grandchildren, which Desalians of every rank and status came to accept in their penitence.

      "There was resistance at turns, as they became like mice and crept in the shadows of Unar nights, fed from nests--yet with no more than minimal gain, only a temporary meal and blessing of supply.  These were spotted attempts, but these were but an amusement to the hanehk-owls who preyed on the mice and other rodents in the dank forest those hunters claimed as theirs.

      "For sixty Desalian years, the prey and hunter coexisted in the darkness.  By nature, however, owls grow old and blind in the night, wax infertile while the rodents breed and carry their nests in their migrations...and acclimate too well to the dark.

      "Yet then, our word painters have told, in that cold stench of night, there had crept creatures small, who burrowed without intent but passion and life into the nest of Desalia as it also lay alive, one hundred and eleven years past.

      "Zha hevrra.  Ye'o tsal nost, abralla'ad."

      Havetsi had quieted in her final intonation then stepped off the dais, again revealing the elders of their house, both unmoving.  The elder-mother's eyes were closed.

      The terrace was silent for nearly a minute.  Engaged with that respectful stillness, no one spoke.

      A breeze rustled through the garden, tickling leaves and wind chimes on the branches.  Then it stilled again.

      Anai opened her eyes, devoutly brushed her thin, wrinkled fingers across the markings on her temple.

      "Zha hevrra," she said softly, etched with distance.  "I shall speak all of what is known to me.  I shall speak from the many memories I and my bondmate bear, of my own in turns, and from those who have been largely sequestered these many years in respect and with hope of this moon." 

      Her gaze floated over all those before her, catching a few eyes, but holding none.  Then her stare pointed aimlessly, unfocused. 

      "For one hundred and one years, the materials have laid in pieces in our memories, collections of witnesses of that time.  Now, the history shall be built completely:  All those colors, all the voices, they all shall be painted into words, to create the portrait of lives we celebrate and treasure. 

      "It shall not be abstract--to spare those who are not accustomed to our way of speaking, I shall instead speak with plainness.  For I wish them as well as all of Desalia to understand and to see what I and others have seen, to know what has been known to us, and to carry it in their spirits as I and Ara do.

      "For my children," Anai whispered,  "for the children all, for Desalia, my people--and for you, our honored guests--I shall paint the words that were our dear ones' lives.  I shall, in it, make them all live again and onward, as is the way, and also was requested by their blessed spirits."

      Silence blanketed the garden once more.  Anai of Cezia's stare turned faraway in the oncoming darkness of night, burnished bronze flickering increasingly with the torchlight and not the remaining sun.

      In the moments of silence, Anai likewise faded from where she was to where she would remember, so distant her time-buried eyes became.

      Only her voice remained, soft yet audible, heavily trilled and dialectal but clearly spoken:

      "It was upon the hot, dry Uillaran soil they were thrust," she began,  "four in clothes not too dissimilar to the black and ash of Unar--and yet they were alien to even the wisest there in detention.  In the Uillar Labor Camp, once a rich mineral trading station, all its occupants stopped their work to see the clean, groomed strangers.  The stare of one, standing within the trodden trench behind her deep hood, was of unenviable prescience.

      "The aliens would not be clean for long, it was whispered among the others.  The one watcher blinked her dreadful acceptance.

      "So they would not lift themselves, the strangers were snatched up by guards and thrown against the barricade for inspection by Commander Hychar.  This was standard procedure, and the prisoners did not disappoint his regard for interesting subjects.

      "Two men stood angrily yet without offense.  One, a fair, tall man, had need to hold back a third person, a dark-glared woman who cursed and resisted Unar hands on her collar.  She would have earned their fists in her first moments there were it not for that fair man who claimed her side and whispered firmly to her ear.  The fourth, another dark-haired woman, stood rigidly still, not daring to be anything but beside the other man.

      "Despite their costume, all who watched their entry knew without question that they were of another place and people, well-kept, educated and proud--the defiance and pride in their faces, though vulnerable, showed their beings all too plainly. 

      "Yet as eventually they would know, for their presence there alone and for being not Unar, they had become--like all Desalians--nothing."
 

---

(continued)
Chapter 2 | WP Main

June, 1999
© D'Alaire M.