The Word Painter
Chapter Five--Parameters
by D'Alaire

 

Parameters

 

    "In this manner, sleep found them, wrapped in body, met in spirit, able to look to a possible fate and believe, truly believe, substance and healing would follow.  Some fruit had been partaken, yet much was left to eat. 

    "How their second bite would be taken, however, is yet to be seen."
 
 

---

    When she turned onto her back, she felt the cooler sheets more clearly than usual.  Cool, empty space on the clean, well-cushioned mattress...

    Kathryn Janeway sat up, sighing away her latest attempt to rest.  Aside from napping, she couldn't keep herself still that long though she knew she was well past exhausted.  It was clearly insomnia at that point.

    Maybe I should have the Doctor sedate me, she thought, moving from her bed to the main room.  Finding the replicator, she said,  "Computer, coffee, bla--"  She stopped and sighed.  "Computer, cancel.  Warm milk with honey."

    The cup appeared conveniently in the slot and she took it.  Such a simple thing, she knew, so desperately needed at Azlre, fought for, sacrificed for, insisted on.  The Kazon had been desperate enough for that technology that they'd been willing to kill and die for it.  The Desalians were once dying for a lack of it--and many died to get it, thanks to Padan of Koba.

    Between their desperately needing to distract themselves from the tragedy of being stuck in that place, of being mutilated and feeling powerless, Tom and B'Elanna had managed to shirk the system and rile some people up after all.  Janeway wouldn't have put it past them, knowing how those two could be...had been...were.

    For lack of anywhere else to go, the captain leaned against the cool, smooth wall and looked aimlessly at her quarters, drinking the steaming milk.

    They had become lovers.  (Kathryn sipped again.)  It wasn't too strange a thought.  They seemed well suited for each other as they responded to their circumstances.  It made sense that they would come to need each other, truly respect and trust each other, love each other.

    Anai had unabashedly spoken of their intimacy, explaining that there was no shame in the physical love between mates, a thing "Be'i and Toma" had become much accustomed to.  Despite whatever enculturation her officers had been through, however, it still felt a bit intrusive.  Seeing the crew's slight embarrassment, Anai did giggle and move on, though she continued to tease her audience with innuendo until the end.  She gladly detailed their togetherness, had named it a good thing for them.

    Perhaps it was, but it reminded Kathryn of her own loneliness, particularly just then.  She would have walked somewhere else in the room if she thought that pacing in circles would do any good to killing the same nervous energy that had woken her too early--again.

    They had reformed the resistance.  Janeway didn't know what to think about that.  For all the precepts of the Prime Directive that met her first reaction, she also reminded herself that Tom and B'Elanna had given up on ever leaving long before, given up any remaining ideas of rank and their status as stranded officers.  They had lived in Irllae twice as long as they had been on Voyager by the time they committed to that fight--and sought the support of others in it.  And others did join them, revived in their hopes, in some of their strength and dreams for their homeworld to be returned to them.

    For this, Sashana'i had formally resurrected the regency, for her people's sake offered her soul as the lamb for the sacrifice in Desalia's fight.  A leader forced to bear the responsibility for a people's very being and be the visible symbol of progress and correctness, while still delegating all she didn't know or couldn't be.  It sounded familiar.

    It discomforted Kathryn, who was still coming to grips with the mere loss of her crewpeople and the guilt of not only sending them, but also having to be practical and get on with business without them.  She still needed to officially replace two of her senior officers before they left Irllae, oversee two more reassignments in engineering.  Despite the necessity, it seemed...tactless.

    She'd done such a thing before, of course, but despite her commander's facade and experience, losing those people like that had been...  She didn't even know what to call it anymore. 

    Anai of Cezia returned to her thoughts.  At Azlre, she had been content to let Tom and B'Elanna go about their way, knowing somehow--like Padan had--that they would react sooner or later and help her towards her goals.  At the same time, she had guided them subtly, assisted them, educated them, opened their minds to Desalian ways...

    For this, they were eventually killed.  Her proclaimed brother and sister were lost for all her machinations.  It seemed to be a debt enough to both Anai and Ara, an adequate source of guilt as difficult to amend--if not more, as they indeed had had to wait over a century before even having the chance to.  At the same time, Kathryn believed she knew her officers well enough by then to think that Tom and B'Elanna hadn't needed much prodding to swear their loyalty to the good-hearted people they'd been living with.  They'd essentially been homeless before ending up in Irllae.  They were all but homeless before ending up on Voyager, too.

    She continued to drink her milk, sighing through the heat it brought to her throat and stomach.  It didn't make her tired, but it did relax her a little, which was almost as good as sleep, in her opinion.  She moved back to her bed, sat on the edge. 

    Looming in the distance was the Desalian sun, readying to rise over the far side of the planet.  Like the morning before, it came quickly.  Kathryn blinked as the light poured in, as the reds, golds, then warm white, filled her cabin.  She didn't ask the computer to dim the viewport, but watched the sunrise silently.  It was only oh-three hundred in Voyager's time, but the captain decided she'd slept enough.

    Setting aside her milk, she called to the computer to activate the sonic shower, removed her robe as she crossed to the bathroom.

    She wondered what Anai was doing that morning.  It was probably about their breakfast time in Desal.
 

---

    They awoke as they so often had, laying facing each other, staring into each other's eyes.

    Ara's hand unconsciously reached out to Anai's temple, and his fingers rested there.  She realized this upon waking and so moved her fingers accordingly, slipping her center finger into his left palm.  Blinking slowly, her lips turned upwards, feeling his spirit entwining with hers.

    It was a longing, his wishing to touch her, wanting to feel her body wrapped around him.  The painting of the night before had made him miss her more.  For all the joy in such talk, Anai agreed.  Yet the telling was necessary.  The alien crew needed to understand.

    They would need to rise soon.  Their daughter Mar'lli would come for them before her morning meal.  She was required at Cezia for two days to smooth over some disagreements there.  She had been called again the night before.  As prichava of the silag at Azlre, she did have her responsibilities, despite any telling that would occur.  Her bondmate Valno'a would remain so to relay the continued painting to her properly.

    Petalla had already gone.  Their youngest son, all of ninety-four years, a member of the Worlds Council, had been a busy man since his graduation into the scholarship, but had likewise left his willing bondmate Nivrlli at his parents' home for the stories.

    Their children would be far more occupied when they passed, when all their elders' words had been painted and they could allow themselves to let go of that world.  Tramasa, their grandson and Havetsi's grandfather, in particular, would take on some great responsibility in assuming the house ledgers.  As both her elder sisters lived on Cezia, Babaki with Osna would assume the role of house elders.  And young Havetsi, chosen with Cera to carry on the Allanois line, would be busier still as the new blood regent.

    Much change awaited their family.  They had led the Allanois House for most of their lives.  The elder-parents had done all they could to make the transition an easy one.

    Then there were the ones from Voyager, their responsibility to them.  A century's worth of wishing and wondering...more than that, in truth...  Their work was not done, not then, not yet, even if it was largely out of their hands.  They yet had to hear from the girl Kes.

    Even so, Anai had to admit she was tired, had begun to feel her age with the emotional expense of relaying that past--such a distant and painful past, she realized once she had begun to finally express it.

    Despite that time's constancy within them, among all the other memories alive within them, her and Ara's daily lives had necessarily taken precedence.  For decades, they lived caring for all that was near them, helping to heal their worlds and people, reestablishing the regency as a sound and just voice among Desal, learning and teaching--so much learning, so much they all had to know again.  There went years where they, their family, or their close friends hardly even mentioned it.  Only in her paintings of that time did it come up; even then, it was always another account, and but a mention at that.

    Only when Ara found his illness, when they knew their passings approached, did their minds become consumed again with their plans.  Finally painting the words which she had sworn to relate, her own story had cut into her, bringing her purpose so painfully alive again...and the guilt they both bore, such wretched guilt...

    Anai wondered if it was correct to continue as she had with those people--not as she had originally intended.  What would be the great crime in allowing them to move forward again with their guilt eased rather than agitated?  The thought was increasingly inviting to her, knowing what was to come and what likely would not come, knowing all that she and Ara did.

    But then she had the encouragement of remembering what a loss of hope felt like--the despair of losing despite hopes given.  It burned into her memory, searing her upon arrival.  So many losses...  The field, the phaser, Be'i's scream and those last encompassing moments, ripping into her spirit....  Tears gathered in Anai's eyes to remember her blessed sister, who so wished survival, found the realization of her quickly impending passing a hardship beyond all others, if but for all she must leave behind.  She knew how much they were needed, their knowledge was needed and how much they both wished to see those following suns.  Yet he was all but gone as she fought for each last breath so to live just a moment longer, and perhaps just a moment more...

    It was not to be, she knew.  They were not meant to continue...

    Ara closed his eyes, comforting Anai in what ways he could.  A century later, she still cried inside herself to remember that trauma; it tore at him in its own way.  His bondmate being the direct recipient of their adopted sister's torment, Ara was left to feel Anai's agony on top of what he had collected.  Yet they had also succeeded in all their aims and ambitions.  They had fulfilled every desire of their ancestors, the many other spirits they bore within their heavy memories, centuries old.  There was nothing to regret or wish different.  Even if all their promises remained incomplete, they had done all they could.

    At the very least, their guests would carry noble memories of Be'i and Toma, would be assisted in their mourning the passed spirits of their crew.  So, perhaps two more nights would not be too great a strain.  The rest would simply require patience or acceptance.  She had practiced both of those in good measure and could again.  He had always been patient to a degree, and acceptance had rarely allowed contention.

    In the end, their fate would be known well enough.  They could wait.

    Anai admitted again and without shame that she was tired.  Ara was too.

    Sighing, Anai broke their contact and kissed the man by her then pushed herself up to begin their day.
 

---

    It wasn't real, or at least it didn't seem like it, as Kes sleepily picked through the foods Neelix had planned for the crew's meals that day. 

    She knew she was feeling off that day:  She had ended up being only twenty minutes late for the onset of Anai's story, having snuck in and found herself a seat in Neelix's warm arms.  She let him hold her all the while, listening to Anai, barely lit in the torchlight, her eyes distant and placid, weave the pictures for them all, Tom and B'Elanna's life as it became on Cezia.  For several parts of the story, she had needed Neelix's comforting embrace.

    She had walked with the others quietly back to the east gate, whereupon they were, group by group, transported back up onto Voyager.  She and Neelix had walked with Harry that time.  He didn't talk about how he was feeling, the tired smile painted on his mouth enough, perhaps, to express his opinion of what he'd just learned of his closest friends.  They all had been quiet.  Hearing the details as they were, without an ending, had left them little room for anything but taking in the information and waiting for the next part.

    All but her. 

    After kissing Neelix good night, she went to her personal terminal and began asking the computer questions.  She continued throughout the long, undisturbed night.  Though she did not require much sleep, even she was tired when she woke at her usual time.

    Neelix had noticed it upon seeing her the next morning.  "You've been taking it hard, too? --You always did feel so much more than ordinary people," he said comfortingly.  "The whole crew has been affected, of course.  I admit, as morale officer, it's been a challenge."

    Kes had to force herself to look at him, but not to smile.  "I think you shouldn't try."

    "Shouldn't try?  But--"

    "I think our just being there for them when they need us should be enough.  You'll know if they need more than that."  She had taken her basket with her soon after, assuring him she was fine, that she would be back soon.

    She yawned and tried to breathe herself awake throughout the small harvesting, tried to clear her mind of the loops that all the data had spun into her head, to no avail.  She also wondered why Anai would have chosen her, of all people, to look into her plan.  She was having a difficult time with the complexities of the elder's instructions and simulation parameters.  It was indeed a lot to put into one sole program--far more than she knew she was capable of handling in so short a time.

    Of course, Anai had also been correct in assuming that she could trust her.  For the first time, she regretted that.

    "How are you, Lieutenant Carey?" she asked as she poured the man's coffee.  It was not yet breakfast, but the soon-to-be chief engineer had stopped by between double shifts--crawled in, it seemed to Neelix, who instantly put aside his creations for the solitary diner.

    "Getting by, I guess," Carey said, his baggy eyes glancing up for but a moment.

    Kes understood.  Of all the people who had a right to be tired, it would be him.  Not only was working double shifts since Lieutenant Torres' disappearance, but he had also been at Ara's house both nights.  "I hope it's not been too hard on you."

    He shrugged, took a drink of the coffee.  "As I said--getting by.  Maybe after all these repairs are done, it'll get better."

    "Maybe if you asked Captain Janeway, she would let you take the alpha shift off, to get more rest."

    Carey shook his head.  "Oh, it's not the shifts.  I'm the one assigning myself.  But...well, I need to keep busy right now."  He laughed shortly.  "I have no idea how Torres did it.  That woman never slept.  When Anai said she slept soundly, I couldn't believe it at first.  Maybe she did once she set her mind to it, for all the time she put in down in engineering."

    Kes smiled and took the seat next to him.  "She always did seem to be there despite the time of day."

    "Only a year on Voyager and I can't imagine the place without her."  He let out his breath.  "We weren't ready to lose her or Susan--or Tom and Kurt.  It just seems so sudden.  But at the same time, it wasn't--really wasn't in their case."  Again, he shook his head.  "I don't know."  He bent to take another drink, but pulled it away as soon as the lip touched his mouth.  "It sounds hateful, but I almost wish it'd been quick.  It'd have been easier on our end.  I sure hope they really were happy for a while, or at least were satisfied.  But we won't know that for a while, will we?"

    "It's only a couple more nights."

    Carey nodded slightly.  "I'd really come to respect Torres, you know.  We didn't get along all the time.  Frankly, she made me nervous, but she was a damn fine engineer.  She had an instinct, and that just doesn't happen.  The more I came to know her, the more I could see that.  She didn't let many people in...  Hearing those stories is like peeking in her diaries."

    Kes reached out to place her hand on his.  "I don't think Anai would be telling us about their lives there without a good reason."

    "If she didn't have a good reason to tell us so much," Carey replied, "we'd have gotten it in a file and we'd be along and on our way."

    That sentence ringing in her mind, Kes found herself in the holodeck not fifteen minutes after Carey left.  But as the numerical storm flashed in front of her again, she thought again about how well she should have been trusted.

    It was unfair of Anai to have given her that responsibility, particularly one so important--at least to her.  Anai and Ara were clearing their own consciences with their telling.  The rest was just a curiosity--according to them.  They had used her to see if it was truly viable.  They claimed no enormous importance in it.

    No, they wanted to know.  Kes could tell.  She had seen, had felt their desire to resolve that part of themselves, to resolve all their doings and difficult decisions.  Even if Ara and Anai died in peace, having told the stories they'd saved so long, she knew they would also die knowing they hadn't completed all their promises...

    Kes didn't like that the more she thought about it.

    So, she took a deep breath and contemplated what she should do--and whom she should ask to assist her.

    They would simply have to trust her a little more, she decided.
 

---

    How was it done by Be'i?  Havetsi wondered, peering over to her bondmate with a cheerfully wicked intent.

    The man yet slept, though the sun had risen and his woman was well awake.  Though she knew she was to have met with her elder-mother that morning, for talk and comfort, the telling of the night before had set entirely different things to be eased within her.

    That reminder of such passion...  Among schoolgirls in particular, Be'i and Toma's passionate natures had long been a diversion within the serious study of the occupation and war--a part of their public reputation in life that made the study of their histories even more appealing.  The way her spirit-mother had painted their truth did indeed bring that part of them alive.

    How did they say it had been done? she wondered again, moving closer to Cera's warmth, smelling the musky, manly scent that he would wash away upon waking.

    How they had come together was perhaps not so passionate, though it was amusing.  She couldn't help but recall their unusual union from the vantage point of both their memories as she watched him, so undisturbed and unwitting as ever.

    Cera had in fact been Havetsi's secondary pre-novitiate teacher--a young novitiate himself, instructing the well-spoiled sixteen year-old, who was all too pleased to eventually graduate from his classes and move on.  Rumpled from throwing herself into her preferred courses, she had called him a pedant before his own class, her chin held high and a terrible, challenging smile painted upon her lips.  She accused him of boring his students to death and misusing the education provided to him by the sacrifices of their noble elders and ancestors.

    Unfortunately, he could not fight the young Allanois.  Despite her proud disarray and prouder tongue, she was a terribly bright student.  Moreover, he was only a novitiate.  Still, he did correct her behavior, her arrogance and stubbornness and disrespect.  She replied only that it was a blessing of honest teaching that she did not bow blindly as others did merely for his being a teacher--and a dull one at that.

    She had troubled him, cajoled him and insulted him outright, daring him to respond then dismissing his corrections.  So, as was the way, the novitiate teacher begged an audience with a proper forum--in that case, the elders of the girl's house.  He knew well the pride of the Allanois family, leaders of exceptional bearing and trade, well worthy of Desal's loyalty, not to mention all Irllae's great friendship.  More than even that, his family was very close to theirs.  Cera's great grandmother was dear among the regents' memories.

    For those reasons and for the right his position afforded him, Cera felt some comfort in going to those dignified scholars.  With nothing but their usual, well-worn graciousness, the Allanois regents accepted him at their midday meal at the Institute, in the sunny garden off the mall.  He set himself down before their floorcloth and spoke of his troubles with his student.  The elders listened as they set out their bread, cheese and fruit, the man slightly amused, the lady simply taking in the young man's words and expression.

    Finally, when Cera had explained the situation with their spirit-daughter in full, he begged their wisdom.

    "Why wisdom would be asked of us is not a question," said Anai of Cezia.  "Aveketatsi is not in err.  She bears great youth, yet her nature is forward and curious; truth as a great virtue likewise has been encouraged.  She projects the lessons of her spirit and elders well."

    That was not what Cera had wished to hear.

    "What brings you discomfort, Cera," said Ara,  "is her correctness."

    "Your birth was well-placed," Anai observed.  "As son of Van'sura of Ella'omb and having witnessed your upbringing, we bear awareness of your being."

    "This is known," the young man nodded.  "My great-grandparents maintained a long friendship with you, and it is recalled that my great-grandmother bore much fondness in her recollections."

    "A lady of great skill yet quiet initiative; she is one among many to whom a great debt remains."  Anai leaned back upon her pillows, stretching her sandaled feet out before her.  "You shall teach our child Aveketatsi and allow her truthful way.  You need not agree with her, yet her words shall be allowed."

    "And," smiled Ara as he rolled a sirril pod around on his palm (he had not found his illness then),  "perhaps what is truly within her words may be seen in time, in your being, accepted.  In acceptance, your dilemma shall be corrected.  Were you to call it wisdom, you now bear it, Child."

    The girl spent the remainder of the rallkle in Cera's tutelage, unendingly torturing the man, who had essentially been advised to take it.

    Even after she graduated from his course, when they passed, she would ask if he had sent any to the ancestors with his drivel.  Grown into a beauty with another year of maturity, with her sharp eyes and long, thick hair, and having taken on the proper coat and scarves of an adult, to hear her all but denounce his very being became unbearable.  A willful child was one matter, a lady with the bearing and energy of all her fine bloodlines was entirely different. 

    Finally, his pride hurt enough, her grace too difficult to witness, Cera found himself requiring retaliation. 

    His public lecture would be coming soon and he determined his very purpose in life at that point was to impress her beyond any possible criticism.  He toiled and studied, traveled through all Desal, seeking the advice of other scholars in his mission to stave off the remarks of a girl whose very chosen trade was not his.  He in truth was an instructor of the arts and had taught her the theory of symbolism.  Her concentration resided in the astral sciences.

    By all right, she need not have had any reason to berate him in the first place--and perhaps that was why it troubled him so.  Perhaps the good elder Ara had been correct.  Perhaps she did have reason.

    Nevertheless, during this time, he smiled to her jibes and bowed reverently when they passed.  He even sought her out sometimes, when he found her scrubbing her work-soiled arms in the public bath or at the laboratories of Makhar.  He made himself conciliatory to her, a thing she accepted with a quieter pride, if not thoughtfulness, which apparently reflected some growth.  Her statements were yet pointed enough to make him continue his mission, however.  He even went with his family to her induction ceremony, which would bless her in her impending journey into the novitiate.  There, surely her arrogance would be challenged, he thought.

    Yet upon arriving at the Allanois' garden, he found her even more lovely.  No longer a girl at all, she carried herself with such poise and purity of nature that Cera's breath halted in his chest.  She had been dressed exquisitely that day, with finely embroidered silks tied close, her braids woven with lace-edged ribbon, her fingers, so smooth and gentle, her penetrating gaze....  Even the way her feet had been dressed suddenly seemed beautiful to him.

    Interestingly, she had noticed his presence and seemed discomforted by it.  She barely spoke to him throughout the day and barely met his eyes when she did bother to show him some attention.  Cera was not surprised, but remained in the garden, choosing to take his conversations with others as well.  Her beauty, indeed, compelled him, but he finally understood she did not intend to bear any more than that to him.

    Yet when the Rite of Being came, when she was led to kneel on the ginhra cloth before her venerable elders, she looked straight at him to call herself "Havetsi" for the first time, her round, brown eyes misted with emotion.  She came into womanhood looking into his eyes.

    Immediately, his spirit was enlightened and his entire purpose about her changed.  In one look, that simple yet daring look, he realized she had been right after all.

    He had not known his spirit before, for he found it at that moment.

    His lecture day came, and before the very heart of Desal, he spoke--spoke dearly and from deep within.  He had edited his dissertation and presentation until that very morning--unheard of among most would-be scholars--so that he might be even more effective, particularly to her.  His assigned topic was simple and ancient:  "The nature of art."  Speaking boldly, moving with purpose and gesture around the Institute dais, he stretched the worn, philosophical question to the realms of mind and emotion, time and event, both alien and cultural and sub cultural--and the manner of interpretation between the man and woman, the search for both passion and balance within an inanimate thing.  He even extended the argument to himself and his recent discoveries.

    When he began his final analysis, he finally found her face in the crowd.  She stood near the center in her novitiate's robes, yet to be consecrated at the Institute proper but no less befitting her as her stare shone above her proud smile.  He drew a full, new breath and boldly pressed his points into all the people there, with pride for all the result of his labor and passion for not only his topic.  Upon his completion, cheers of congratulations rose for his efforts.  It was a rousing success.

    His first news upon leaving the dais was that he had qualified for his final admittance into the scholarship.  With genuine humility, he thanked his elder-teachers, yet his eyes were pointed out at the dissolving audience, which was still alive with his presentation.

    She was gone.  He could not find her.  Cera sighed to himself, but settled upon that fate.  He was content enough in knowing that she had taught him, purposefully or not, what truth lay within him and that he must show it.  He had certainly done so that day, before all his people.  He was indebted for her embarrassing lesson.  He returned to his family's house, settled himself to rest with a small smile on his face, a bittersweet gratitude.

    What he hadn't known was that her attentions had indeed been purposeful.  The girl called Aveketatsi had found her young teacher handsome, with a fine intellect and a thrilling voice which would have spoken more deeply to her had she not been bored to tears by his extraordinarily lackluster words and stiff facade.  For all her youthful daydreaming, she knew that a man with such a cloistered being could never appeal to her spirit.  It was somehow in her very being that such dullness could never be accepted, though something about him had captured her attention.  So, she had endeavored to see what sort of spirit lurked behind his sleepy lectures and simplistic logic with all the zest and carelessness a girl of sixteen could muster.

    She had not been disappointed.  In her doings, however, she realized too late that she had embittered the man, had raised his ire far more greatly than she knew at the time how to control.  By the day of her induction, she was certain that he was forever lost to her.  He had only the afternoon before taken her words with a short,  "We shall see," and turned away from her on the street, his head held high with pride and determination.

    "Vya, your little turtle bears some strength in his spirit!"  Anai commented wryly as she aired the girl's new coat.

    "And that good spirit has been turned against me," Aveketatsi sighed, unusually sedate as her mother Beshelli clipped on her earrings.

    Anai giggled again, sharing a wise eye with Beshelli.  "This child remains a child, I should think."

    Beshelli embraced her daughter, and then held her at arm's length.  "My beloved, Cera has risen from frustrating dullness.  Allow him the effect of your pointed belligerence first then judge the outcome.  Bear patience."

    Aveketatsi was not comforted.

    Anai yet smiled.  "You need merely make your being known in this, Child.  This sun shall be appropriate.  Word has reached me he shall attend to bless your way unto the novitiate."

    "I should not think he would wish it, for the torment I have put upon him."

    Anai stood to turn her great-great granddaughter from the mirror.  Staring deeply at the child, she smiled, both ageless and ancient.  "A painful way at times allows us truth within ourselves.  From pain, our truest nature may be better realized, our fate more clearly seen.  In this knowledge, we may find contentment."

    Her nali would know more than any other on Desalia, Aveketatsi knew.  Looking to her mother, she found agreement.  With a deep breath and a bow of her head, she accepted the advice, turning back to the mirror to examine her braids more closely.

    She yet found her usual daring slipping throughout the day.  She could feel his solid stare following her, prodding her pessimism, and she found herself wandering around the garden she had walked throughout her short life, person to person, hardly listening or speaking, unable to decide how to express herself to him. 

    At last, tired and impatient, when she knelt before her elders and took her name of being, she at last decided what she would do with her feelings toward Cera.  Likely, it was not a proper way, but it would have to be hers, else she forsake him entirely.

    "How shall you be called from this sun unto the ancestors?"  said her nali, and she found him standing near the daknal tihad, his tall frame accentuated by his fine red coat and white robe, his scarves partially hiding his short black curls.  She held his eyes in hers and spoke her name to him, "Havetsi."  And her voice was strong, assured.  She had no doubt of her spirit, now.

    A week later, she returned Cera's favor and attended his rite.  His lecture was, quite simply, thrilling: full of life and wit and all his precious knowledge--all melded into a lecture even she might not have dreamed of him.  He in his "revenge" had shared his passion with her, meeting her eyes briefly with a charming twist in lips.  She felt both stir wildly within her.

    Unfortunately, Havetsi had her own courses to attend after the lecture and departed the moment he finished.  She barely paid attention as she flitted through her projects, hearing his rich inflection ringing in her spirit, his stare melting into her.  By evening meal, she had worn herself to complete distraction, barely eating her favorite selections and even removing the soiled dishes to the rinsing sink in her kitchen chores.

    Anai finally had to take the child aside.  She and Ara had seen the lecture; they also had been witness to much of the play between the couple over the past seven seasons.  She knew all too well why both hesitated as they did.  So, meeting Havetsi's eyes, she merely grinned and said,  "Take yourself to him, Child.  Make yourselves one.  --It is plain a man of his need for persuasion shall not bring himself to you, only display his wish."

    Anai's smile found her old eyes to see the young woman's stare spark with that truth--and her blessing.

    Havetsi ingratiated herself into his family's house but ten minutes later.  Begging their pardon, she found herself opening Cera's chamber door but minutes after that. 

    Not quite as she expected him, she didn't find him bent over his crowded desk, but at the window seat of his dimly lit room, staring out at the stars.  The fragrance of the nearby Shantsou Gardens wafted in the warm air.  She breathed it deeply, relaxing herself, reconfirming her desire.  She moved into the room, closing the door silently behind her. 

    He turned and saw the young woman silhouetted in the globelight.  Straightening, his lips parted, but they neither spoke.

    Taking another step in, Havetsi reached up into her hair and untied her scarves.  Her braids and dark curls rolled down her arms and back; freed, her scarves drifted slightly in the still air then slipped onto the cool floor.  Cera rose from his seat, still surprised by her presence, and now stunned by her explicit message.

    He yet did not speak, even as she went to him, pressed him back down onto the window bench and knelt on it beside him.  Running her fingers into his uncovered hair, she leaned down and softly placed her lips to his.  The contact her gasp, her spirit surged so then.  His arms slid around her, pulling her to sit across his lap, and she followed his guidance without question.  His fingers dipped into her hair, his other hand pressed warmly to her exposed calf as their kiss quickly deepened. 

    Breaking apart, her lips found his temple as he tasted the sweet skin of her neck.  Readjusting herself with an unpracticed grace, she moved her leg over so to straddle him, leaning him back against the sill of the window.  Caressing his body with hers, building their mutual warmth, she smiled to feel her clothing slowly loosening.  Of course, he understood.  She then bent to his ear.

    "No other has taken me," she whispered,  "for it was known I belong to you, Cera.  You shall take my body as you have captured my spirit."

    Needless to say, the man was overwhelmed.  Each touch, each kiss, was all but a true joining to her spirit, so withheld from him before that he could not imagine how he had survived their ever being apart.  He shook his head in amazement at their fate as he bared her fair skin, kissed her soft breasts when she offered them, shuddered as her hands, with strange and determined ability, unlaced and revealed him, too.  He gasped into her hair when she moved herself down onto him, taking him into her no longer youthful warmth.

    She cried through her smile at the sharp sensation that met her descent.  The pain soon brought joy between them both, just as her nali had professed.  And as they stoked that blessed pleasure, they called to the stars then to the spirits themselves when he filled her and swore his love, which he had not realized until she had forced him know and share his true being, and she could not respect until he had made her know humility, balancing them both.

    They knelt upon the ginhra cloth but a rallkle later and accepted each other's spirits.

    In the following years, they had gladly been consumed in their trades and with each other for their rightful pleasure.  Perhaps with some purpose, both had remained too busy to create a fruit from that bloom, still fragrant.

    She stared down at her bondmate as he slept.  With a half-quarter before needing to rise, Havetsi decided time enough had passed.  The stories of the past moon had not only brought her senses alive, but reminded her further of complacency and daily ritual, even if comfortable and beloved, leading to nothing.  Within the desolation of the war, the necessary pain, there was growth, joy and development.  Certainly, in her own good life, she might accept the responsibility and the risk of motherhood. 

    It was time.  Not to mention, she knew it was her time.

    She even knew the name she should bestow upon the blessing.

    So, how shall this be committed to first? she mused, easily arousing herself by concentrating on his handsome features, his fair olive skin and curly black hair, so soft to the touch.

    Moving her leg over him, she wove her fingers into his and slowly pulled his hands over his head, giggling quietly to herself as she did.  She believed that had been their way.  His breath among other organs stirred, and then his eyes opened.  They had hazeled since their bonding, yet were no less beautiful to her--more, in fact. 

    As his gaze began to reflect wondering, she enticed his flesh with her own, assuring him about her desire.  "We shall bear the fruit of our treasure now, mes va'a," she then clarified, still smiling at him.

    This time, he instantly knew:  His woman had taken the initiative and again sought to teach him a thing they had not known before--whether or not he was necessarily prepared for it or she knew precisely what she was doing.  Cera grinned to himself.  She had not changed in some respects.

    Of course, he was well beyond resisting her, even if by the time she had joined with him and expertly brought him to the threshold of their climax, he flipped her onto her back and thrust a cry to the ancestors from her sweet throat.

    To her pleasure, he had learned quite a bit from her, indeed.
 

---

    The woodsy landscape Chakotay knew so well was little trouble to tread over in the short shadow of his spirit guide, who blended in with the roughed out earth of pine and ancient leaves then appeared to him again, mischievous, teasing.

    "You search for the lost?" she asked him, darting over a fallen log, rotted to dust at one end.

    "I'm looking for the dead."

    "But they're not dead--or so say the Desalians.  Their spirits are eternal, they say.  You should say the same."

    He moved to climb over the felled tree.  "If their bodies are no longer with us, I'd like to find their souls."

    "And if you cannot find them?  The spirit world is a vast land to commit to such a search.  You may not find me either, now."

    Sure enough, as soon as he managed himself over the obstruction, he found himself alone in the forest.  He continued to walk, however, through the thicket.  Through the pines, he could see the lake, its azure glow shining through the trees.

    But then he heard a chirping and turned to see the mouse on its back, the owl perched above it.

    "Damnit!"

    Before he could speak, a fair-haired man jumped out from another direction and swatted the owl.  It flew screeching away.

    "Tom?"

    If he'd heard him, he showed no indication, but bent over the mouse, which was still trembling and prone.  He gently lifted it into both his hands; cradling it, he turned and moved quickly away. 

    Chakotay moved to follow that path, weaving through the dizzy, thin trail until he heard a voice--

    "Is it okay?"  It was B'Elanna, asking excitedly.  "We can't let it go."

    He sped his heavy steps to find them.

    "I don't know.  We'll see."

    "Tom, you can't let it die."

    "I can only try, B'Elanna."

    "I know, I know.  But it just can't die."

    He saw them, kneeling on the ground, knee to knee and in clothes he recognized from their Maquis days--Tom in a beige shirt, brown trousers and ochre vest; B'Elanna had her old boots, dark trousers, leather vest and red shirt.  Chakotay grinned to think that it might well have been how they'd imagined themselves in their spirits--or maybe it was just his projection.

    Either way, it was good to see them.  He missed him--even Tom, surprisingly enough.  Seeing them made him smile, made him warm with memories despite the scene they had created.

    They were huddled over the mouse in Tom's hands, which B'Elanna touched very softly with her small, careful fingers.  The mouse had stopped crying as she stroked it.  Tom smiled at her, a pure, loving smile.

    "I have an idea," he said softly, and turning the mouse into one palm, he took her hand.  She returned his smile then, nodded.  Standing together, they ducked and disappeared into the thicket.

    Chakotay set himself to follow again.  But he didn't see them or another move in the heavy trees, though their voices were still close.  He continued towards a lake, speeding as he heard the loud ripple of the water and the cry of gulls bury Tom and B'Elanna's sounds.  Determined, he pushed on through the thickening trees, webbed with saplings.

    The mouse ran around his feet and into the thick.

    Then he looked up again...

    On the shore of the lake lay the pair, bare and joined.  Her umber curls flowed upon the sand; the flesh of her breasts was crushed between her and his torso, shifting as he arched into her.  Her fingers grasped his hair, a lock of which had been woven with beads; he touched her face, stared down at her in adoration.  Her strong, thin leg wrapped around his waist as they continued the slow but steady rhythm, oblivious to any audience.  Aside from their gasps of pleasure and confessions of love in half-Desalian inflections, they made little noise at all.

    The sight, gently passionate, was a beautiful one Chakotay oddly didn't mind witnessing.

    "Like Bihla and Sa'alli, they found a balance."

    Turning, Chakotay saw Susan Nicoletti and Kurt Bendera playing with a nest of mice on the edge of the thicket.  Sitting on the leaves, the mice crawled up her dress uniform, his fitted trousers and long, white shirt.

    Nicoletti looked up, gave the commander a shrug.  "We couldn't blame them for that."

    "Besides, they were happy," Bendera said.  "And they'd never forgotten us.  We appreciated that."

    Nicoletti grinned.  "To say the least."  Standing, she waved off the mice and gave the commander a formal bow.  She gestured to them with a sweep of her fingers.  "Forgive me, Commander, but I must not force Gatra to look for me."

    "Never a bad thing to keep him on his toes," Bendera chuckled, but got to his feet, too.  "Don't worry, Chakotay.  You don't have to go looking for us."

    "But I wanted to see you," Chakotay protested.

    "What for?  There's nothing to see here but a few souls in limbo.  Well, at least Be'i and Toma did their best, but that's beside the point."  Shucking off the last of the leaves from his thighs, he grinned and started back into the forest.  "As I said:  Don't worry.  You don't have to look for us.  We'll be around if you need us."

    "Hold on, Kurt.  I want to talk."

    "There's enough talking going on for you to listen to," said Bendera as he disappeared.

    Chakotay turned again to the water.  The beach was empty.

    Far in the distance, he heard the song of prayer for the Desalian new year, echoing over the water....

    The carpeted warmth of his quarters filled Chakotay's eyes as they slowly opened then blinked.  He removed his hand from the akoonah.

    More than usual, he forced himself not to decide on it at first--as if he could.  But drawing a breath, touching the wing--

    "*Tuvok to Chakotay.*"

    Gnashing his jaw with a hard sigh--Bad timing must be the rule around here--he tapped his comm badge.  "Chakotay here."

    "*Commander, Prime Minister Osna has returned from Saha'aten and would like to review the chemical list with you before preparing for the first transfer.*"

    "Open a channel in my quarters.  --Chakotay out."  He carefully folded his medicine bundle up and set it on his coffee table.  Diverting his still slightly affected and confused mind to the official and necessary, he managed a polite smile when he clicked on the comm and saw the older man cheerfully touching his temple in greeting.

    "Good morning, Prime Minister," he said and nodded to Osna's low, respectful bow.
 

---

    The first thing Kathryn noticed that time she walked through the busy streets of Desal was the change in reception.  When she had first transported to the surface two days before, her brisk walk with Havetsi had been met with respectful bows from various people, but it was otherwise nothing special.

    Walking through those same streets with Anai of Cezia, bondmate to Ara, Scholar of Azlre and Regent of Desal, was completely different:  They literally cleared the way for her.

    It was more an impulse that had brought the captain to Desal so early in her morning.  She had a full day ahead of her, with the first batch of power transfers coming in and the seemingly endless repairs on Voyager's battered hull, among the many other repairs happening at the same time.

    When the stories were over and the major repairs were done, she planned to give the whole crew a month's shore leave.  They deserved it--they needed it.

    *I* need it at this point.  But that's nothing new.

    Babaki had already offered the time and Havetsi reinforced it on their way back from Uillar, having noted some hull fractures that could become worse with time and more stress.  She even offered a drydock at Ivlisa, Desalia's closest and very hospitable colony, for that and any other non-space hardy repairs they might have needed.  Janeway was grateful--and had begun to wonder when her luck was going to run out with those people.

    Then she reminded herself that it already had and they were making up for that.

    So, for the third time, she'd met with Anai.  Upon her arrival at the family house, Kathryn was brought past the central hall and through several arched passageways to the back by Sisji, Kolana's elegant bondmate, who had just come in, herself.  Arriving at the dining room, she was given a space to kneel on a soft floor pillow at one of the bustling dining tables and was promptly served tracha by a young man passing by with a carafe.  Then she was passed a tray of bread, cheese and fruit by a salty brown haired lady called Beshelli--Havetsi's mother, Ara informed her with a nod his great-granddaughter's way.  Kathryn greeted and thanked her in the same sentence, and the captain instantly knew where Havetsi had gotten her clever smile.

    Meanwhile, several children wondered about their honored guest's interesting "ornaments" and--of all things--her black issue boots.  Around the rest of the table, the chatter continued, most of it untranslatable but for a word here or there.  Eventually, most of them began to speak more simply, so she might join in the conversation.

    It was of general matters, getting the children to school or planning a walk with their babies, their own schooling, things to do, work to be completed or started or that they planned.  A few times, they asked her opinion on various matters, once concerning preferred color combinations, another time about the nature of magnetic containment outside the Barrier and even about sewing. 

    Then, admitting to have knitted in her lifetime, Janeway invited a good deal of attention, nearly a hundred detailed questions and several anxious students, much to her great surprise.  Kathryn's politeness at that point, she noticed, had sent the elders into a minute of barely withheld laughter.  Grinning, she promised to send them the Federation database on needlework then continued with her meal.

    Being away from her own home, she knew all over again how much she'd missed such gatherings.  Tom and B'Elanna had come to attend meals with anticipation too, she mused.

    Finished with her portion, Beshelli leaned her elbows on the table.  "I recall as well the small... --How had they been named, Nali?  Sachets? --Susik once made lovely sachets.  Her floral combinations bore such beauty, always."

    Kathryn was shaken from that amusing present with the mere mention.  "You knew her, Beshelli?"

    The older woman nodded.  "By my spirit, yes, Susik was well known in our family, was dear to me throughout my childhood.  And Derra...  You have known him as Kurt?  Derra was his...'nickname'?  Derra was likewise known well.  The remainder of his many years was spent at Azlre with Yasis, his wife.  Susik and Gatra were a well-regarded couple of both Antral and Desal, and often were guests here when later their residences included the Ella'omb house.  Their son Mi'eka was my uncle's dear friend and was a fine composer of music--his mother's influence, it is said.  Though Susik Kichyrn was by trade a celebrated data analyst, they by tradition are a family of artists."

    "And in Ara's house, a family of the utterly exhausted at first sun," came a man's exasperated voice from behind them.

    Looking back, Janeway caught the tail end of Cera's bow as he hurried to the kitchen, his scarves and robe in his hand and ignoring the giggles and suggestive comments coming from the table.  Raising her brow, Kathryn watched Beshelli stare archly at the kitchen door, still swinging from his entrance.

    "Does my womb's treasure again make you tardy for your anxious students, good Cera?"  she queried.

    "I bear the strain accordingly, Nali," he called from within, much to the family's continued amusement.  A moment later, he exited, swallowing whatever he'd drunk.  Then he plucked up a leftover piece of bread from his mother-in-law's tray as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.  "You would think she bears great satisfaction with herself, my Havetsi."

    Getting to her feet, Beshelli's eyes sparked with mischief.  "And with you now, as well."  Nearby, Ara and Anai were nearly beside themselves laughing, trying to calm themselves for their own sakes.

    Snorting, Cera shook his head.  "Never again shall I teach with her agenda, thus her initial aim for me would be fulfilled--save that I shall sleep through my lessons."

    Janeway didn't dare say a word, but she knew she wasn't holding down her amusement well when she looked up into his sleepy eyes and saw him chuckle tiredly.

    "This is not always our way, good lady," he told her, taking a step back to don his robes.  "My bondmate takes her wills quite seriously, however."

    "Kash!"  Anai clucked,  "You speak as one who has sworn off my spirit-child at any point in her devising!"

    Cera laughed and shook out a thickly embroidered belt as Beshelli reached up to his loosely donned scarves.

    Once he finished tying his sash, she moved in front of him to finish re-wrapping his headdress.  He yawned and she gave his black nape hair a playful tug.  "Remain still, Child, else a trail of cloth shall drift to the Institute in your wearied shadow."

    He complied, eating the rest of the bread he'd picked up. Then he pushed the stubborn curls off his brow as the shorter woman worked around him, twisting the top row of scarves tight before looping it around his head and tying it into a twist over his ear.  Patiently, he stood still as she adjusted the headdress with quick fingers and a careful eye.

    Within a couple minutes, the mother finished and reached down to stuff the remainder of her bread into his pocket.  Grinning, Cera touched Beshelli's temple, then his own, and then bowed to Janeway.  "Peace in your--"

    He stopped upon his turn to see his smiling bondmate leaning wantonly on the door.  From the table, Kathryn could hear him sigh--and the rest of the table about to burst out in giggles again. 

    "...sun," he finished more softly.  Moving to Havetsi, he gave her a wry grin, a simple kiss, and then, finally, sped out the door, ignorant of the comments that echoed behind him.

    Havetsi indeed was pleased with herself, and she held her head high to every comment and quip as she found her place by Beshelli.  "A peaceful morning, my Nali, elders, Kathryn Janeway--and all.  Does much tracha remain?  --Good captain, I bear matters for you as well."

    For a short time, they discussed what Voyager was to take on that day.  The younger woman assured her all their supplies were en route or being refined.  She had also contacted the engineering assembly at the Institute at Ivlisa to prepare for the Voyager's possible arrival, if Kathryn wished to drydock her ship there after all.  Anai herself had secured the space usually reserved for the regents' transport.

    Though she thanked Anai sincerely, who had listened with Ara from their pillows to the business discussed, the captain made a mental note to do something--anything--for those people, for their kindness.  She could almost say they were doing too much, even in the spirit of reparation.

    Not too long after, the large family began to filter out into the hall and away, first the children and their parents, then the teenagers and adults.  Havetsi needed to get to her ship and the supply runs, and she promised on her way out to return by the afternoon.  Soon, Kathryn was left with but Anai, Ara and a comely teenager named Fahadi.  After the latter two left--the elder had promised to assist his descendant in preparing for her advance entrance exams--it was just Anai, sipping away at the last of her tracha with a placid smile and her eyes on her bondmate as he shuffled down the hall with the girl. 

    Upon completing the cup, she invited Kathryn to take her on a stroll.  She wanted to purchase chisak stalk and her legs craved movement after hours of sitting the night before.  The captain accepted, not minding the idea of a walk, either.

    Her pace was necessarily slow, but that made no one any less patient for her to pass.  Whatever they might have been carrying, every citizen they neared moved and bowed respectfully as Anai proceeded.  In return, the diminutive regent responded to every greeting, chatted briefly with closer acquaintances and friends.  All were deferent despite their relation to her.

    After hearing the story of her reclamation of rank on Cezia, Janeway wasn't surprised to see such honors from the devoutly traditional people.  Still, it was a strange feeling, seeing so many bows before her.  Even as a captain, she could never imagine herself accepting such tribute without growing tired of it very quickly.  Far better bred to the idea, Anai patiently, with both grace and dignity, bore through her duty.

    "It is a fine example of the old way," Anai told Kathryn, her well-tailored coat and gown shifting over her silk-covered shins in a steady rhythm, like sandpaper on small blocks.  "It is accepted as a mere honor, always returned.  When the role is assumed by Havetsi and Cera, our fellow citizens shall turn the same to them."

    Kathryn looked at her.  "Isn't she rather young to take over the house?"

    "Younger regents have ruled, as is known," Anai smiled.  "She and Cera are entirely capable of inheriting the whole of the memories I and Ara possess.  Two years past, they had been chosen by the family to carry on both our legacy and the Allanois Regency.  They accepted with truth in their desire to honor us and have diligently prepared.  Thankfully, she and Cera shall not bear certain other traditions my bondmate and I have shared."  She grinned at the thought.  "I should think those would be maddening."

    Anai bowed in return to another group of people they came upon, patted the cheek of a ruddy-haired child with a loving smile then touched his soft temple.  "Ra'ishch, natsa zha'e," she said affectionately.

    Kathryn smiled as the boy, about ten and equal in height to Anai, bowed low before his elderly regent.  His parents proudly explained that he was to receive his first spirit journey that day, earning his last marking of earth--his final temple kraja.  Anai graciously blessed the child in his journey and gave him a section of her hair ornaments as a gift for his ascension.  Waving as they moved on, she took Kathryn's arm and started them off again.

    "When our closer children and grandchildren petitioned Havetsi and Cera as the next in line, there was little resistance," Anai continued.  "When I bore thirty rallkle, I was far less centered, and there was far more to assuage and accomplish."

    "That was during the war, wasn't it?"

    "It was."

    "You seemed to know what you wanted and did what you could to get it."

    Anai smiled.  "My thanks, Child."

    Nearing the end of the tree-lined neighborhood, they walked through a small, whitewashed gate, softened by a lovely arbor of blue flowers--daktricha, Anai called them--and into the market.  It was one of four, she informed Kathryn, that one being the first market erected in Desal after the war.

    "Anai Cezhiat'i, zhresb'llar," said one vendor and she whirled around to uncover a fresh stack of chisak stalks even as Anai took three of the ones before her.  "Oh, my good elder, these have been touched with too much sun."

    "It is preferred they be unfresh as they all shall be prepared upon the sunset," Anai replied and nodded to Kathryn.

    Suddenly remembering the sack one of the grandchildren had hung on her shoulder as they left the house, she opened it.  Inside were a communicator and a purse of thin power cards. One form of currency in Desal was ferranide, which were given to vendors for goods that could not be grown at the nearby commune gardens.  One palm-sized card would run a farmer's irrigators for three days, enough to grow one sink of chisak, so Dilsi had instructed her.

    "Four cards," Anai told her and smiled to the vendor who took what she was given with a deep bow and breath of gratitude.  "A blessed sun, Child."

    "And to you and yours, fair regent," the vendor responded.

    Anai leaned closer to Kathryn as they moved on.  "I always give too much."

    Kathryn grinned.  "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

    "I should believe it would not!"  Anai giggled, hugging Kathryn's arm against her. 

    "Anai Cezhiat'i," said another passer-by with a generous smile and a touch to his deep brown temple.  His brow flicked up flirtatiously.  "Blessed sun."

    Anai laughed lightly and pressed her old fingers to the young man's markings.  "I greet you in peace this midday, Kobpraca.  My fine student--"

    "Ah, I am student no longer," he returned with a sweeping bow.

    "Always shall you be student to me," Anai returned with mock insistence,  "be it only as I am elder and certainly better practiced of nerve for having been elder to you," They both laughed a moment after she finished.  "Dear man, give kind greetings to my friend...Kathri."

    Janeway rolled her eyes at Anai's nickname and, without thinking, offered a bow to the handsome young man.  Belatedly, she realized that it was hard not to mimic the Desalians after a time.

    In that fashion, at that slow pace with many stops and more greetings, they continued shopping.  Soon, they were nearing the end of the vendors and moving into a quieter neighborhood.  Anai led them onto a nearly deserted back street, where they would not need to bow or interrupt themselves for a time.

    Waving a hand out to the vine-adorned white buildings around them, her steps shuffling on the pristine road, she sighed.  "Va, had you seen Desal when Ara and I had first been summoned here--or, it is better you had not.  There was such difference from this present.  You would not have recognized it."

    "Havetsi said it was all but in ruins."

    "More than ruins had claimed it.  It was Unar."

    Kathryn looked at the elder for that curt description.  The way the words had rolled off her tongue with her heavy inflection, it sounded all the more unpleasant.  For all her goodness, it was strange to hear that--even if it was the first mood she'd met Anai with, berating the Unar records.

    "It's been a long time since the war," Janeway noted.  "But you're still bitter, aren't you?"

    "I have recalled a time when the war was fresh," Anai answered,  "a'o ka, their history is unforgivable, nor are the few of their people who to this sun call for dominance.  I could never give them pure trust.  Such youth had bled from me by that war's end, bled for giving away my resilience, my body, my spirit, and bearing knowledge of the horrors within my long memory.  There is no hatred for them, and I bear many respected Unar acquaintances, yet I would not hold company casually in their presence.  This is a crime earned through pain and yet this springs from an honest way.  Comfort lies only in that the younger generations have not felt this--nor the need."

    Anai's stare drifted out to the end of the row.  Her sallow and heavily wrinkled face shone creamy white, while her eyes sparkled like copper in the late morning sun.

    "Kathri, had you seen my city, seen any Desalian who chose the fight upon taking acceptance of our ability to stand proudly again, who saw through what all Irllae sacrificed so willingly to find our capital city, your spirit, too, would be weighted without ease.  Here alone, Unar, so obsessed with their purity, poured their filth and waste into our waters, blackened our lush ground, left our women depraved and barren, our children hollow-eyed, our men beaten and crawling upon their dung for poisoned water.  The dead were thrown into heaps in alleyways to rot, and families were forbidden to claim them for the pyre.  Ka, how we found Desal upon its liberation was horrific.  It was at this place as well we sacrificed more...so much sacrifice.  My own with Ara mean nothing in comparison to what suffering was endured in this city.  It changed all that we had thought even to that sunrise, what our people had survived."

    She turned her eyes down, breathed away the rest of her remembrance as she led Kathryn farther down the court, heading towards an overlook on the curve of the street.  "There lies a thing to show you before we take ourselves to the east gate.  --Your errands upon Voyager are yet to be performed this day.  The replacement materials shall be brought soon, ka?"

    To her surprise, it had almost slipped Janeway's mind.  "Yes.  Havetsi told me it would be about twelve hundred hours, the first transfer."

    "Should more assistance be required, you are aware that you need only ask."

    "Thank you," Janeway said.  "Actually, Havetsi's already offered, but I think we can handle it on our end."

    Anai nodded slowly.  "It pleases."

    "I wish I could bring you aboard Voyager, let you see where they worked."

    "My thanks to you, good lady," she said respectfully.  "Yet the transportation would be a great strain on Ara.  I would not bear such risk, particularly now.  Perhaps past my duty's completion, we may find an acceptable alternative.  I should like to see your 'world.'"

    They came to a meter-high stone wall, where Anai slowed her pace and finally stopped, placed her small fingers on the rest.  "Desal," she said softly, nodding to the landscape before them.  From there, they could see a fine stretch of the walled capital, the Institute directly in the middle, the parks surrounding it blowing gently with the breeze, showing off the silvery teal of the higher tree branches.  Around all that sat more of the residential area Janeway and Kim and traversed with Havetsi their first day there.  Far in the distance were foothills to a range on the horizon; to the left lay a sea of deep turquoise water, Desalia's main ocean.

    "A council formed by elders after the final peace was achieved, summoned us here."  Anai told her.  "Shantsa of Desal brought himself to us past our graduation into the scholarship to beg our presence.  Ara and I arrived willingly, yet with heaviness to leave Cezia, which we loved without question.  Every rallkle, some turns more often, Ara and I took ourselves back to our homeworld.  It had enjoyed a beautiful recovery, with hopeful spirits leading it well:  Hanla'i and Sollve'a at Azlre, Ashri and Gi'odra at Sacezia, and Cali at Dviglar.  Long were their tenures, and great was their adoration.  Each visit inspired us further."

    "Yet our presence was required here.  As the last of the Allanois and newly scholars--our thanks to Lledri for her great patience with us--our work and presence as leaders here were much needed.  Bala and Bakali and several of our comrades from Azlre came as well, and together we first erected food systems and clinics and repaired the shoddy power systems for temporary relief."  She shook her head at that recollection.  "Those pains had not even been taken, seven du'ave past their liberation and with assistance from trained technicians.  A number of citizens continued to resist their contrition's completion until Ara and I brought ourselves before them and commanded them otherwise. 

    "At last, matters moved forward as they became convinced, and past the stabilization of power and sanitation, we rebuilt the central silag then restored the Institute.  With others arriving, the housing restoration could be continued, which began just there."  She pointed to a circle of rooftops on the west side of the city, near the water.

    Moving her hand the other way, she pointed to an ornate, spindle-domed building, perched on a slight rise on the other side of the Institute, beyond which, no more of the city could be seen.  Snickering quietly, she squeezed Kathryn's arm.  "Do not laugh:  It was wished Ara and I live there, at the palace."

    Considering their relatively simple lifestyle, Janeway did see the humor in that.  "It's a beautiful building, though.  Is it as rich inside?"

    "It was desecrated by Unar, of course, yet is quite lavish this sun."  Anai shook her head.  "It may well have become a scandal, the refusal to reign over Desalia from such a height.  Our instating a prime minister as the leader of world affairs caused much commotion--yet even that at the time was little in relation to our choice of lifestyle.  Ka, we claimed airs in the infant years, as tradition, symbol and influence of Desal required.  Yet Ara sought then claimed the family house of Bala and Bakali--the Na'ihaj house.  Preceding the occupation, it had been a regal estate; fate blessed us in that it, among most of the residences in our district, remained structurally unharmed during the occupation.  Humbly, we asked our gentle elders we share that residence.  This was gladly agreed upon.  Past the liberation of Desal, their closeness was immensely desired here, where such loss had been borne, and where many...many had lost so dearly."

    Once again driving herself off that topic, Anai looked out to the silver and bejeweled structure.  "As matters stabilized and all Desal was again in assured growth, it was finally 'decreed' by my bondmate and I that the regency was satisfied in its aims and that the former home of the Zezhembe, Shricha and Allanois regents would become a historical museum and chamber for Worlds Council meetings."

    "It seems to have been for the best, then, considering how it turned out," Kathryn said.

    "Ka.  It was.  When my word painting for you is concluded, you may wish to see it."

    "I've always been a little interested in art, as a hobby.  I'd like to see your people's."

    "For our love of nature, there is persistent realism in many movements, though a lovely form of abstraction and symbolism has been practiced for several ages.  Some rooms of regents remain in tact or have been restored, as well, however much of it is recovered sculpture, art, physical records and relics, as well as new works.  The new exhibit is silverworks of the Sricha Regency--very beautiful."

    "You mentioned an artist in your last story.  Was there much art from that time?"

    Anai gave a nod.  "Ka.  I spoke of Kra'alba.  Several fine artists worked among us during the occupation and redawn, and many depicted our lives then.  The mediums were simpler and they worked in silence, certainly, and yet I have found them always quite moving.  Should you desire it, Cera would be able to teach any of our art to you, as it is his trade.  Indeed, when the museum reopens with its new exhibits on f'hajen--seventh day, six suns from our present--I bear certainty it would be his pleasure to introduce the many departments to you--and would find for you the Midnight of Desal, as the period is now called."

    Anai drew a deep breath as the breeze floated up, lifting the scares around her face.  "Many years and tireless work were required to return the capitol, like all of Desal, to its proper honor.  Yet more was required to settle the roused spirits of my beloved people and to heal those who remained in the dearth during the fight."

    Kathryn turned her eyes out to the view, too, took in the majesty of the bright white and flowered city and the sweet air rising from it.  "Where we come from, the Bajoran people were under the dominion of the Cardassian Union for about forty years:  They still were recovering when we came to the Delta Quadrant.  But they had the help of the Federation.  I can't imagine how difficult it was for your people to recover single handed after so many years and so much taken away."

    "Through our will and respect regained, it became truth," Anai answered, her eyes still stubbornly lost on the horizon.  "We all of Irllae have labored with much persistence."  She smiled gently.  "We have prospered for this.  Desal lived in peace and prosperity for nearly seven recorded millennia preceding Unar's disruption.  Such time shall be again, with the spirits' blessing.  I shall pass at Ara's side in peace for our good lives and for all the accomplishments that made themselves meant during our time."

    There, Kathryn understood and suddenly was caught by Anai's distant stare, almost in profile when she looked at her.  There was nothing but ancient pride in her expression, the pride of so many lifetimes, within her golden memory.  The captain wouldn't have been surprised to hear her admit she had been thinking about that entire circle, unbroken in her:  The state before the occupation, the occupation and war, the recovery, the prosperity they lived with then.  All of it seemed to emanate from Anai's eyes as she stared out upon the city--her city.

    It was a successful regent's pride, there, Kathryn could tell, but also more.

    It was all of that knowledge, all of that history, that she radiated each time she painted the stories. The Voyager crew was being told about but a few of the lives within her. For a century, she had related all the others, making her "paintings" so greatly sought after.  There was an incredible awareness in her facade, a familiar sort of expression that couldn't quite be named, eminently wise and yet...wondering.  All this was devoid of youth.  Indeed, youth was utterly absent in the ancient woman's stare just then, too.

    As if Janeway had spoken those thoughts, Anai said softly,  "Bear you belief in the afterlife, Kathri?  Believe you in a spirit--an eternal 'soul' as is called by your people?"

    "That's quite a question," Kathryn said in a breath.

    "The answer is simple."

    "Well, that I believe that I have a soul, I suppose I have to say yes.  I'm not so certain about the afterlife part."

    "Shall you require passing from your body to see your uncertainty answered?"  Anai teased.

    The captain took it in good humor, peering down to the woman by her.  "I don't know--maybe.  It is your intention to provide me a shortcut to that answer?"

    Anai laughed.  "Vya!  You are a wicked child!  Of course, I may not.  Belief is what one brings unto oneself."  Patting Kathryn's arm with her other hand, and then giving it a gentle embrace, she nodded to the view.  "I believe utterly.  When this elder's body no longer may sustain life and fate finally chooses my precious bondmate and I for the ancestral plain, I shall be freed unto the blessed spirits.  Ara shall stand by me, our spirits as they truly are--as I have described in the journeys made by Bakali and Bala with Be'i and Toma.  It is as that, truly.  Of late, we have lived in anticipation of that eternity."

    "You have lived a very long time," Janeway agreed gently.  Despite the truth of it, it seemed sad that she would die, a woman of so much strength and experience.

    "This body has lived a very long time," Anai corrected quietly, still smiling.  "It shall be a joy to be rid of it for all the use it has had.  Though you may not believe, Kathri, there is no crime in hoping for one's eternity."

    Kathryn drew a breath.  "Forgive me, Anai.  But you could say I'm not the sort of person who can hope just for the sake of it."

    "Would you bear hope that you may step upon your homeworld again--despite the possibility you may never reach it?"

    "But there's a chance we will."

    "Ka--and your fate has yet to be decided in this matter, I should think.  There is also a chance you possess a delightfully obstinate spirit that shall meet the ancestors upon your passing--and myself, who shall welcome you openly and say I have told you this truth."  But the elder laughed again to conclude it.  "We may travel the circle of this topic for hours.  --Your forgiveness.  I bait you as mischievously as Ara might for the sake of clearer knowledge of you."

    "I don't mind," Kathryn smiled.  "I enjoy talking to you."

    Anai's eyes shone with her own grin as she looked up at her.  "And I you, Child."

    She tugged at Kathryn's arm, setting them off again.  For a time, they said nothing, only enjoyed the sweet morning air, temperate sun and rich color, and all of the people whom next they came upon.

    The captain watched the old lady lower herself to bestow a bracelet upon a child who had tugged at her coat skirt and begged her regent elder's attention.  Though it was likely she would not have any ornaments left by the end of the day, Anai good naturedly reassured the girl's mother that it was what she wished to do; she also told the girl that the way was a good one, to give when no want exists, to share one's blessing and joy while among the living.  The girl nodded reverently and touched Anai's temples with fair, soft fingers, thanking her.  Anai lovingly returned the gesture.

    So taken was she with Anai's simple acts, which continued through the remainder of their "errands," Kathryn hardly thought to think anymore about what the regent was saying, or even what brought her down to the homeworld in the first place.

    The moment she materialized on Voyager and saw the crewman on duty, as she strode into the corridor and heard the clean, simple sounds of her ship around her, did she realize how much awaited her, and only then did she begin to wonder about the regent again.

    She wasn't to the turbolift before her "world" gratefully caught up with her.

    "On my way."
 

---

    How certain moments persisted in his everyday recollections remained interesting to him.

    Nearly every time he left his library, Ara could hear Bala laying out the repairs of the house, his thin but nostalgically proper voice echoing around the center hall the day they swept the remaining rubbish from it.

    They had been sleeping in bare rooms with no furniture but their bedding pallets for over a t'brass, the worst conditions they had had since leaving Uillar--and had enjoyed greatly not bearing for so long, despite the humility and poverty they accepted.  Unfortunately, they had but their spare time alone to sweep away the rubble and dirt.  It was nowhere near enough.  They all had required treatments for living in those conditions at first--not to mention working in the wasteland that was Desal at the time.

    Anai, several du'ave pregnant, needed not to worry about that much, as her inoculations had been constant and successful.  However, the pregnancy was precarious, and so she had been largely sequestered inside.  She used the time well.  Soon after deciding their decrepit house must be cleansed and returned to its noble origins, the renovation began and did not cease until she and Bala were entirely contented.  She predictably told them all that she would always feel sorrow for having left Cezia.  Even if she had willingly accepted that next and natural stage of responsibility as regents, she was unhappy.  Ara had been, too.

    Meanwhile, along with their elders, there was another child in that house, too, to see after--in addition to their long dreamed-for duties in rebuilding the city, the Institute, their people, their arrangements with all of Desal, not to mention Irllae.  They had thought to repeat Cezia's blessing, but there on a larger scale.  Yet once they were there and saw the enormity of that world's needs, they barely knew where to start.

    Bala, in his constant and gentle wisdom, knew the home of Bakali's youth well and knew precisely where to begin:  "At the back of our great estate, and the torrent shall be swept to the front, so all may know that the house has been emptied of Unar and its dreadful way.  Our efforts shall stand as an example, one matter at a time.  It shall be an inspiration to all who share our duty, my children."

    It became just that in many ways.  Hearing their elder's words well, the cleansing began upon the next sunrise, both inside the house and in the bowels of the city, where it was taken outward, street by death-streaked street.  Multiple groups of twenty or more worked in shifts to cremate the dead, incinerate the waste and and push the rubble and even some obstinate citizens out of their way when necessary until sunset finally hid the city's malaise once more.  At sunrise, they began the process again.

    Ara, over forty years older than Bala had been when they reclaimed the Na'ihaj house, shuffled over those stones and recalled how difficult they had been to clean. He could see himself scrubbing them with his ratty hair stuck to his dirt-smudged brow, banishing the staining ash to Prihar.  Ara looked at the trellises and knew when they had been planted, and when they had acquired one piece of furniture or another sconce and each pillow.  He recalled clearly how Anai had spilled nearly a full bucket of whitewash onto her long braids when they had begun to repaint the main hall.

    They all had laughed as she wiped away the paint--then dabbed it on his nose. 

    Recalling that moment alone put a warm smile on the old man's face.  There were many such memories made in that house, whether or not they had initially preferred remaining there.  The beginning was full, indeed, of unwarranted desire--a solid determination to bring healing and education to their battered and backwards people.  It was their day's work. 

    Yet they did bear much pleasure--and they, too, had healing.  How they had needed both, particularly to ward off the persistent reminder of their first visit to that world and the losses incurred on that day...

    "Tola, would you wish assistance?"  It was Beshelli, home that day from her work in the archives.

    "No," he stated, sure to follow it with a little smile.  "Yet I would require it."

    Beshelli's arm snaked around his thin waist a moment later.  "Only your direction is required, my elder-father."

    "Which in turn would require my decision, hmm?  I should like to sit in my chamber, then.  I carry my book with me and shall await Anai while reading it."

    With sure and experienced hands, she assisted him there, up the curved staircase he and Bala had re-stoned by hand, and then into the first corridor and to the end.  Within those doors, she helped him down to the pillows by the window, so he could watch outside.

    He would rather have been outside.  But the garden was taking its irrigation that noon.

    Not that he felt no gratitude for the blessing of that view.  It truly was superb.  The leaves were stirring on that cool summer day, and the sun, white and unobstructed, bathed the city with gentle warmth.  He could feel it on his cold skin, sinking into all the lines his years had built.

    Years within that house, on that planet, years of suffering and survival, of promise then long reward:  There was little left to do with it, so much had been done.  And yet he would continue would fate have it.  Despite his practically mummified state, he did love life, if only as a spectator.  So perhaps they grasped at life too jealously, for noble or selfish reasons--or both.  When his heart began to fail ten years ago, he knew they could have chosen a natural completion, let his wretched body go and journeyed to the spirits with his precious Anai.  But then, he long had shared her promises, their devising and dreams and hopes to see those people of the Voyager.  It was as natural as a peaceful passing that they desired to see to their last few duties among the living.  Remaining amongst their beloved family was certainly a blessing, as well.  Either way, he would of course be willing to pass when the spirits deemed them ready.

    And so he lived, enduring the treatments while his body crumbled and became useless, letting people assist him wherever he went, eventually becoming all but a hermit in his vital house.  The trip to the Institute the other day had nearly sent him straight to Doctor Gihora's main ward.  Babaki had every right to question his presence at the Institute.  But without question he had wanted to go, wished to see what he too had been waiting for, those people.  More, the glow upon his bondmate's face afterwards was well worth a trip to a Kahseht physician on Unar Prime, as far as he was concerned.

    Laboring for a deeper breath, Ara glanced over at the memoir box, sitting on its usual place on the bureau.  As was the way with regents, elders and scholars, and particularly as one was a known word painter, they had painstakingly drawn out all their stories, so that there was hardly a moment missing. 

    A gift to their family and their people, and also a gift for those for whom they had waited for so long, as were the paintings and that one other matter.  That particular item sat in its own case within the box.

    He wondered how Anai would bestow it onto young Kathryn Janeway when the time was right.  She had not decided.

    At present, however, he did not wish to think on that.  Fate would reveal that part of it.  Instead, he opened the book he had chosen for that day and reclined against his pillows.

    There was time.
 

---

    "Thank you," said Kes quietly, with the same supportive smile she'd been giving almost everyone since Captain Janeway had opened the comm and quietly, professionally told the crew that their crewmates were gone.

    Harry had been there, listening to Janeway's choked-up announcement in a numb, otherworldly state.  He could still feel Anai's hand on his cheek.  It'd felt like crumbled tissue paper.  Her eyes--he could barely meet them, they were so motherly and wise--sparkled into his as she spoke of his friends in the long past tense.  Later, hearing her tales, he had listened dumbly, taking an occasional thick breath, blinking at certain developments, even smiling at others.  Not all of what happened to them was bad, of course.  Rather, some of it was great to hear.

    He returned to his quarters only to pace the floors.

    Kes' smile would have set him pacing more if he wasn't embroiled in the latest plasma transfers he'd been assigned to oversee.  The Doctor had sent her down for a recalibration inducer--something they somehow had no shortage of.  He found it for her and gave it without thinking about anything but her gentle smile.  Similarly, the rest of engineering buzzed around him, too and he barely heard it.

    "We're almost ready to begin transferring the plasma into the relay shunt.  --Harry?  Are you ready to take the containment manifold offline?"

    Harry glanced to Carey.  "Give me two more minutes," he said and looked down to his console again.

    A couple months ago, they'd been at similar work.  Thanks to Seska and a well-pointed attack, the entire navigational relay grid had blown out, forcing them to rely on secondaries for nearly a week. 

    Predictably, B'Elanna was pissed as hell--Tom's words.

    They worked four nights straight in triple shifts and bets were going around the other departments to see who would crack first--him, Carey, Tom or B'Elanna.  None of them had slept, had barely eaten but rather lived on whatever they could squeeze out of their rations for coffee.  Even Tom couldn't lighten the pall after day two:  No navigation meant no job for him, so he was damned and determined to do what he could, too.  But after the fifth power node had nearly blown up in his face, he'd found his limit.

    "Harry!  Carey!  One of you get me yet another node for this idiotic relay!  Hell, one more night of this and I'll be committing harikari!"

    Without warning, B'Elanna spit a mouthful of coffee all over her readouts.

    They all saw it and froze on the edge of a mutual snort, almost afraid to make a sound for the consequences.  But then, B'Elanna started laughing, even while she was obviously humiliated and wiping the brown liquid off her face, her tunic, the entire panel, the viewscreen.  The more she cleaned it, the harder she laughed. 

    "I'm_so-- Oh God," she sputtered,  "I just got the worst image of...the three of you and a...phase inducer!"  She barely got the sentence out before she started up again.  "It isn't even funny!" 

    Despite that, Tom started snickering, belying his bad mood.  When their eyes met, they burst into a mutual fit of uncontrolled laughter.  Harry and Carey did, too--relieved that they finally could.  B'Elanna had to hold on to the dripping panel as she wiped at it uselessly.

    Within seconds, it had descended further, to the point where they couldn't even think to stop and were wiping their work-swollen eyes, holding their stomachs. 

    Then Vorik passed and gave them all a stare:  They howled.

    Two months later, Harry chuckled unconsciously at the memory, hearing the echoes of their laughter so clearly then; Tom's rejoinders egged on their silliness until they finally quieted, minutes later, contained themselves, tried not to look at Vorik and got back to their work.  They snickered their way through the rest of the repairs and finally got it done early the next morning.

    In the turbolift together, none of them could meet each other's eyes.  B'Elanna, off first, was last heard snickering as the doors closed.  They grinned for days over it.

    Harry missed them more than ever just then.

    "Ready, Joe," he called behind him.

    "Taking the manifold offline," Carey said.  "Prepare to initiate the transfer."  He tapped his comm badge.  "Carey to the bridge.  We're about ready here, Captain."

    "*Good.  We'll monitor your progress from here,*"  replied the captain with her usual crispness.

    About a minute later, the transfer was begun; with a blank stare and a couple glances to his console, he watched the manifold slowly come back to life.

    Harry felt sorry all over again that B'Elanna wasn't there to see it:  That plasma was what she'd been after in the first place, and she would have been satisfied to know Voyager got it after all.  He could see her already, praying over the readings that were quickly making him blind, making sure everything was just right.  He could even hear her ordering her team around, all business as she stalked around the deck.

    Of course, if she and Tom had been there, they probably wouldn't be there, in orbit of a peaceful Desalia with those good, well-educated and healthy people.  Voyager would probably have been fighting with the Unar then and probably getting nicely beat up for the condition the ship was in at that point.

    He hated it.  But if there was a good way to die...

    He still hated it.

    Pacing through his quarters the night before, he'd called up some oral records Babaki had provided him, among other records and databases, for Voyager's files.  There were few visual records of that time--not surprisingly, as taking portraits was probably a very low priority even when they reacquired the equipment--but he hadn't minded reading reports on the various campaigns waged by the Irllae Resistance.  Be'i and Toma of Azlre popped up quite often, as teachers, captains, technicians and tacticians, pilots, organizers and as the regents' siblings.  Much of it was simple information, but by the look of it, they did a hell of a lot.

    With a little more searching, he'd found accounts of their call to fight the Unar.  One was recorded by a word painter called U'aslla.  To read about that night brought Anai's words alive all over again--her descriptions combined with the other man's interpretation...

    "Her hair bore the trim of a Sureshan man's, but with womanly straightness and confidence she held herself.  Close to Toma, Be'i had raised her hands to us, asking of our spirits with her own.  Each desire was echoed by her mate, just behind her, with his sky-set eyes and tall, firm posture and rightful words.  As such, invoking the very stars which bore us, their cloaks of earths lit in the firelight and caught the stagnant air of death at Azlre, they finally, completely, bore themselves to us.  Many suns had passed in our wait, for those passionate spirits to be as Desal or choose utter separation.  Fate blessed us all:  Desal was chosen with purpose and love.  For this, many found their own spirits rising from the grave of our night's complacency and finally, fully, lit by the dawn of Desalia's redemption."

    Overdramatic as the language was to him, it was near enough to Anai's depiction and said the same thing:  Tom and B'Elanna had asked to give themselves for all Desal and invited only the willing to join them.  Then Sashana'i stepped in and absolved her people's sins before their necessary crimes would be committed.  And so the resistance was formed.

    After so much waiting, they'd have been happy to be able to fight, Harry mused, staring at the deep red glow of the plasma inverters as the orders flew around him to relock the containment field.  With a few taps on his console, it was done.

    They would have been satisfied with the outcome of all their struggles.

    Tom would have hated being killed--obviously, but also despite his dedication to that cause.  B'Elanna would've gone down cursing her fate.  But they had a cause they believed was worth their lives and were ready to put all their talents and attention into it, to make themselves useful as they knew how, and also to help reverse that massive injustice.  They'd already been to hell and were fighting that long before they had any support.  It wouldn't have been too difficult for them to give their lives for those people...their people.

    If Harry liked the Desalians any less, he'd have been jealous.
 

---

    She fingered the memoir chips before returning to her undressing.

    Ara lay sound asleep behind her.  He'd only been taken up an hour before and somehow managed to get himself over to the bed for his nap.  He had the novel, "Thall'rrab A'i Mashirr," though, still in his hand, and likely just then, he was dreaming of its lusty lovers running off to Gavllorst and repeating their passions over and over...and over.  Not necessarily the most scholarly study, yet it was enjoyable. 

    Anai smiled and wryly thought it might not be a terrible thing for them to pass with that fresh on his memory.  Decrepit as they were, she did miss his company, particularly having heard of Havetsi's newfound plans with her more than willing bondmate.  It was good to see her beloved spirit-child ready for children at last.  Anai had not too many more suns when she at last had managed the same.

    Having pulled her coat away and slid her leggings off, Anai leaned against the edge of the bed in her loosened daygown to unbraid her long, silver hair.  She watched herself as she did it, wondering at her own appearance.

    It was strange sometimes to see herself so old.  When she thought of herself, she still pictured her small, lean body, her long, bountiful hair and her full-boned facade--not that thin, crinkled face and the shrunken relic of a frame worn too many years by a youthful spirit too full of life and purpose to slow down.  It was the younger form she knew better of herself, the one she viewed each time she journeyed with Ara.

    She knew her age well and was proud of it, yet she still expected sometimes to see her girlish facade in the glass.  Strange, but not discomforting.  A curiosity, really.

    Kathryn Janeway.  The guest had properly remained on her mind throughout the day.  So young, so bound to her duty.  A part of the elder-mother wished to take the girl into her house and find her a mate to worship her body and spirit, feed her well and share a home where she could always laugh and feel content and safe.  The lady had earned such goodness and Anai, not only a woman but also a mother, naturally wished she could bring about such a fate.

    The leader in her knew better:  The captain had a sworn duty to take her people home, to keep them safe.  That was her being.  It was as strong a feeling of responsibility as Anai's had been and Kathryn had failed--in her human captain's mind--on four counts.  She had not spoken of it to her, had been pleasant and charming, willing to spend the morning with an old lady chattering on about a past that was not quite relevant to the captain's immediate concerns.

    But Anai understood the lady--and she felt Kathryn was coming to understand her somewhat better as well with their second talk.

    Though this was good, it was not as she thought it would be.

    In truth, it was all very odd, their presence.

    She had expected to see them in good spirit, to relate all she and Ara had waited on for all those years, and perhaps also fulfill the other promise they had made.  She had not planned to have enjoyed so much time with the young woman, nor feel so much behind it.  She had not thought she would care with as much depth as she now did.

    Of course, few things are expectation's mirror, she knew all too well.

    But it had mixed her feelings considerably, seeing that woman and her people, watching them mourn.  Despite their oath, which they would not consider breaking despite any feelings gained or lost, she wondered if she and Ara had done the right thing after all, if any of their doings were, or would be.

    Anai's stare drifted from her reflection to the open window, where outside, in the portico, she heard Havetsi and Cera returning from their day's work, greeting the others there.  Babaki and Osna were already relaxing over a glass of wine, having made themselves quite busy that day arranging for the arrivals of Voyager's supplies.  The children played as they always did--nonstop, like a flock of little birds making havoc of the nest.  As always, their house was a living one. 

    But all Anai could see were the softly drifting limbs above the upper garden.

    She was tired, she knew yet again, and so much life resided below her window.  How she wished she could hop down the stairs and go to play with them, share their young spirits with her own.  She could feel the desire deep within her.

    But she didn't; the space beside her bondmate was far more her own.  When the time came, she would be placed beside him and they would release their bodies entwined.  In the best of times, this was the way.  It was the end she wished no matter how or when they finally allowed their spirits to be freed.

    Bala and Bakali had met the ancestors in such a fashion.  Anai had seen personally to their dressing, as well.  They had remained a wise and humble couple after returning to their birthworld, but in their last breaths some fifteen years later, they bore the ornaments and regalia which befit their youthful station, complete to the difficult to attain burgundy orvish silk, which Bakali had so adored.  Their last breaths were of gratitude and respect, their memories, given unto Anai and Ara, had both concluded with joy and relief.  They passed unto their blessed spirits in true peace, the circle of their life having been completed, their spirits unpoisoned, their birthworld purified, and their people safe.

    "Shall we bear the same?" she whispered to herself as she crawled into the space beside Ara to share his nap.  Placing her head near his on the pillow, she closed her eyes.  "Shall peace be meant at last?"

    Her greatest discomfort then was that she truly did not know anymore.

    Ara turned his head as her weight depressed the space beside his.  His hand crept over the small knoll of her frame to embrace her softly.

    "Should it be meant, my love," he breathed, his eyes unopened,  "then we shall find peace in but knowing we did all which bore possibility.  It is our way."

    "Mes va'a, ka....  Mes va'a, ka."
 

---

    "I didn't see you at breakfast this morning," Chakotay said as he fell into a pace beside the captain outside engineering.

    They had finally reinitiated their primary systems, as the first plasma transfer had been gratefully successful.  The captain had arrived soon after, personally overseeing the results, taking command of the deck's progress and making Carey nervous as hell on top of exhausted.

    As soon as they left per the commander's reminder of the Doctor's update, Chakotay could see tiredness finally creeping into her facade.  Her shoulders had fallen just enough and she had stopped bothering to tuck a stubbornly loose string of hair back in place.

    "I had breakfast with the Allanois," Janeway smiled with an effort at mock formality.  "They fed me until I nearly burst and then Anai whisked me away for errands in the city.  We had a lovely walk, talked quite a bit."

    "She seems very friendly," he nodded.  He'd hoped the captain would do something to start coming to terms with their losses--and talking to Anai of Cezia outside of the stories seemed like a good place to start.  Janeway had held her head high for the crew, of course, but he knew she would feel Voyager's loss for some time to come.  So would he.  His game face, too, had also been nicely in place since Havetsi first informed them of the Barrier, and more so that tiring day.  "Did it help?"

    She slowed before the turbolift doors, watched him push the panel to go up.  "It's been helpful to understand more about her," she answered thoughtfully.  "I like her."

    "They're a good family, a good people."

    "Yes.  I feel bad about almost not letting her do this for us."

    "After getting to know some of our previous acquaintances, a little suspicion is understandable."

    "I'm still inclined to wanting all my information up front.  Of course, Anai knows this."  She grinned.  "She says I 'bear little patience.'"

    Chakotay snorted.  The turbolift doors opened and he held out a hand so she could enter first.  "Deck five," he ordered when the doors closed then faced Janeway again.  "When I was young and listened to my people's stories, I remember the frustration I felt when they wouldn't tell me everything.  Either they would introduce a problem then tell me what the animals were doing, or they simply wouldn't finish.  He breathed a short laugh at the memory.  "I hated that when I was young--and it can still be frustrating.  In vision quests, I don't always find what I'm looking for." 

    Kathryn smiled, though she also stifled her curiosity of what his vision quests of late had been telling him.  "I can see why it would.  I was always the sort of child that drove herself crazy looking for the answers to just about anything.  I like books with endings and questions with answers."  She peered up at him.  "How did you manage?"

    "The point was to derive your own meaning," he answered.  "Or sometimes, there's no meaning at all--but you have to discover that, too.  So, you could say I didn't like the stories very much until I learned to take the time to interpret them."

    When I have the time to do that, it helps, too, he added to himself.

    "Good thing I wasn't raised with your people," Janeway quipped and looked up to him.  "I wouldn't even know where to start with all she's told us."

    "She hasn't finished yet," he corrected her.

    "No, not yet.  But tell me, what do you think so far?"

    "Captain?"

    "Of what we have heard already:  What are your thoughts?"

    He shrugged.  "I don't have anything to add to it yet, to be honest.  I was interested that they began to explore their spirituality.  Considering how B'Elanna was--how she and Tom both were--I was surprised until I thought about it more.  They had to work from almost nothing; it let them discover parts of themselves they didn't expect to find.  It's good to know."

    Janeway grinned, and as she did, it increased of its own volition.  "They did grow into that, didn't they?  I should be more surprised than I am that they ended up together.  But I'm glad they had that companionship and love."

    "They'd been sharing a room for so long, something had to happen between them--good or bad."

    She gave the commander a look for that.  "You can't tell me that was all there was to it.  I don't think it was just close quarters and that they were the only two humans there."

    "Could you imagine those two here--on Voyager?"  he countered, both challenged and pleased by the little romantic streak his captain had just revealed.

    "Yes," she answered.  "The way those two could behave, they were practically asking for it.  They acted like kids in a schoolyard, boy taunting girl to punch him in the nose--and she'd really do it."  Chakotay laughed.  "Well, at least she didn't kick him in the shins and he didn't pull her hair during staff meetings."

    "Or shoot spitballs?"  Chakotay rejoined, easily imagining Tom pulling a straw up from under the table when B'Elanna wasn't looking.  It wouldn't have been pretty.  "Maybe you have a point."

    "They were different but similar--and loathe to admit it here," Janeway concluded pleasantly.  "But then, the longer we've been here, the more we've started to work together, maybe even think of each other as family.  It wouldn't have surprised me to see them finding more equal ground.  They seemed to have developed a good working morale.  It could have become something..."

    It was too much to think about, she knew.  For a moment, she had gone on as if she was discussing a hypothetical, not that impossible thing.  No, it would never happen there, the crew would never see it, share any of the funny or endearing ideas she'd just conjured up.  They would instead hear about them from the lady who'd adopted them into her own family and among her own people, long ago.

    He nodded as her face fell with her mood.  But he said nothing.  There was nothing more to say.

    The subject tacitly closed, Janeway straightened and turned back to face the door.  Suddenly, she imagined that maybe they should run a diagnostic in the lifts, too.  They were too damned slow.

    "Hello, Captain, Commander," said Kes upon their entry into sickbay.

    Janeway managed a smile for the young woman, though it became less of an effort the more she moved into the room.  Somehow, Kes could cheer her no matter how she was feeling.  She regretted that they would not be able to talk a little more before returning to her quarters for a change of clothes and dinner on the surface--not to mention organize the pile of PADDs on her desk.  She and Kes hadn't met since before they came to Desalia.  "We stopped by to check on the Doctor's progress with the DNA samples," she told her.

    "He has the information.  I'll get him."

    Kes had been organizing a series of PADDs when they'd entered, but put them aside and went to the office area.  There, as she had left him, the EMH was buried in the data Kes had brought him several hours before.  He detected company in the corner of his eye, but chose to ignore it for the data his programming was attempting to elucidate.  Upon Kes' entry, however, he glanced first, and then straightened from his monitor.

    "Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay are here for the report," she said in her usual pleasant manner.

    "Thank you," he said, unwillingly closing the file to speak with the two.

    Kes returned to the main room just ahead of the EMH and listened as the Doctor told them about his findings.  Having isolated the correct chemicals, he told them first that he would appreciate at least a small supply of the trisiptic compound that had helped keep Paris and Torres alive on Uillar, as it could also be used for other forms of radiation poisoning and as an inoculation.

    With more analysis, he was confident he could replicate and use it on the majority of the crew with very few side effects.  It was very good news, Janeway and Chakotay decided, very practical. 

    Kes agreed to herself, even as she uploaded the remainder of her needed information, pulled the chip and tucked it unobtrusively into her pocket.
 

---

    Again, they had gathered, nearly upon the Desalian sunset, the family and the guests at Ara's house.  That night, as planned, a full dinner was served on the yard, complete with extra serving boards and floorcloths for the large congregation.

    The night would prove to be warm, which Anai promised would be befitting for that moon's tale.  For the moment, however, the elder circled through her family, catching up with their days, petting the children and adding to conversations when it pleased her to speak.  Eventually, she gathered from the buffet a meal for herself and Ara.  Taking it to him then kneeling beside him on the wide, colorful floorcloth she had laid, she gave him a gentle peck on the temple and prepared his servings for him.  He smiled and squeezed her knee.

    As if by nature, Janeway had gravitated over, as had Harry.  On his arm was Sam Wildman, just rounding with child.  Both elders urged their company for the meal.  Kathryn accepted and invited the others to take a seat.  The elders curiously asked Ensign Wildman--"Samantha," she had smiled to them--of her stage and if she knew the child's sex.  A few minutes later, they told Harry they were glad to hear the transfer went well.  Their meal progressed slowly and pleasantly for their chatter and for the visits of other family members and Voyager crew.  Meanwhile, the sun descended.

    A toddler hopped into their circle, causing Ara to expend some energy and tickle the baby, earning her turn and full embrace.  He accepted the attention with a warm grin, closing his eyes and patting her slim back with a gentle, knotted hand.  Then, he returned to his food, giving the toddler the first bite.

    "Ara, you shall starve unto the ancestors in such a manner," Anai commented lightly.

    "Ah, but Lle'asdri bears hunger and thinness.  --You would say as much."

    "So I would, my spirit," she laughed and held her arms out for the child, who went directly to her, plopped down into Anai's welcoming cradle as if it was her given seat.  With an expert hand, Anai fed the child from her own plate.  Like a little bird, the bright-eyed girl opened her red mouth to accept each morsel, clinging to her great-great-great grandmother's robes.

    Janeway watched this with a small, sad smile.  Like with her garden, with her trips to the market, Anai looked so happy with that everyday duty and Ara shared it with a inward grin of his own.  Old as they were, it was a shame as much as a comfort that they were so prepared for death.  That I might have been able to bring Voyager through the Barrier a day ago, or two days, or three--twelve, twenty, thirty years before on Desalia!  She wished she had known them before they had weakened so.  Still, it was gratifying to watch the elders now, witness their unguarded moments while they still had some.  So easily, she might have missed knowing them entirely.

    Appearing in the garden to kneel behind her elder-mother and sneak a kiss to her cheek, Havetsi also joined them.  She peeked over to pinch her baby cousin's cheek, say something silly.

    Ara looked at her.  "O'a?" 

    Havetsi laughed.  "Tola!  What curiosity you bear!"

    "A foot lies among the spirits, Child."

    She relented immediately.  "It is promising."

    Without looking back and still feeding the baby, Anai's face broke out into a wide smile.  "A blessing, Havetsi--as are you to us always."

    Seeing the curious faces among the guests there, Havetsi's eyes shone to explain:  "An egg within me has been fertilized.  --Should all progress well, I shall bear a child in eight du'ave."

    Janeway felt her smile press her cheeks for the news.  "Congratulations, Havetsi--and good luck."

    "My thanks, good lady.  I shall bear fair hopes as well."

    "So," Ara asked,  "when shall our newest Allanois be announced?"

    "When it has implanted certainly."

    "This is proper," Anai nodded.

    "Yet let us not bear this blessing to Cera just yet," Havetsi said quickly, passing them all a stare, and then a mischievous grin.  "I should like to reinforce the method--for the sake of certainty."

    That time, Anai laughed aloud--and startled the baby still in her arm.  The child opened her mouth again to let out a slow cry, and then a louder one.  "Zschhi'i i'al asza'al," Anai coaxed, still laughing as she picked the little one into her embrace.  "Le'asdri si allo vaclld'i ye'i."  Rocking her gently, patting the baby's back, she pointed a grin back to Havetsi.  "Si vechnall ta'i hreda o'a zeshchra'i?"

    Havetsi giggled and leaned up again to kiss her elder-mother.  "Nali ka'i.  Zh'chuoi ra'i li monr...  Yet it would please me so had you been able to bless my child properly.  I should think its acquaintance would be desired."

    After another minute of expelling her energy, the baby had quieted with a gasp of redecision.  Anai responded by giving her another chunk of cheese.  Then she looked at Havetsi.  "Ab."

    Obediently, Havetsi moved to kneel by her, and as Ara smiled on and winked at Samantha, Anai put her free hand on the younger woman's flat belly.  "Tsa zha hi'alle vrollst, tsa'i monr'ra'll jisis."  Touching her temple then Havetsi's abdomen again, she drew a slow breath.  "Zhe'i hevrra ta'oll, nashill hevrra'i o'a tsa."

    "Hevrra zhatsill tsa'o kletsau'o," Ara proudly added, "hzi'ova glimarr o'a tia pradtsi."

    Havetsi couldn't contain her grin, and she bowed with misty eyes her thanks to her beloved elder-parents.  "Zha hevrra," she responded.

    Ara peered out to the small audience.  They were both taken and pleased with the small ceremony, as they should have been.  "Shall your blessing likewise be given?  --Zha hevrra."

    Janeway blinked away the little spell Anai had easily woven with her little prayer.  "Tszha heavra.  --Was that right?"

    Anai giggled.  "Kathri ka.  It was well enough."  Grinning again at the others' good but equally amusing attempts, she took Havetsi's hand and kissed it.  She looked back at the progress of the dinner.  "The time to begin again approaches."

    Janeway blinked, the mood broken.

    Havetsi also saw her family beginning to finish their meals.  "Shall I have Drriha'ana begin the lighting, Nali?"

    "Ka," Anai said softly, moving her gaze slowly to Ara.  "Jisaj zha."

    "Zhe ye'a salle'o," he answered softly.

    She looked at Janeway, who had stilled with the change in topic--with the very reason she was there.  "The painting be continued, Kathri."

    The captain nodded with a sigh.  "Yes."

    I should be looking forward to this, she thought as they all began to find their respective places, milling around in the yard until they were comfortable.  The scene shifted before her, leaving her strangely hesitant.  I'd agreed to wait it out and trust her...but at the same time, I'd rather stay here, in this present.  Leave the past to the past and move on as best we can...

    But she corrected the thought as soon as it occurred.  She wanted to hear the rest of the story.  But more, as much as Janeway knew that Anai had wished to tell them and their family of that past, to make that brutal and enlightening history live through her words, she reminded herself that Anai--and maybe even Ara, too--needed it.  They'd remained alive to serve that purpose.

    They still needed to let go, too, she realized, staring at the robed couple moving so slowly, yet surely, into their place.  They had never let go of Tom and B'Elanna, all those years, even if it was the way to release a passed spirit in peace.

    They broke tradition for them, for their debt.  For their guilt.

    Kathryn felt worse than ever that she still wanted a file on a PADD, her clean, cool, private ready room and a strong cup of coffee to read over.

    Once they had let go of that past, they could let go of themselves, too.

    She watched Anai help Ara to the space they'd inhabited two nights already.  They seemed ready to begin the third, moving into place more quickly than before.  As if on cue, Desalia's sun, already deep gold, steadily deepened to a rich red as it descended past the high stone wall.

    I'm just too tired, Kathryn told herself as she numbly made her way to the place she'd taken before, lowered herself to a pillow and leaned against the tree.  A wave of just that--exhaustion--flew through her head, but she fought it as she had all day, kept her facade pleasantly neutral as she breathed deeply, blinked to unlock her eyes.

    A few moments after she collected herself, Chakotay took a seat by her, thankfully not commenting, though she knew he both noticed and was concerned.  Nearby, Kes and Neelix settled into the same places they'd occupied the last two nights, too.  Gladly, the sight of the Ocampan distracted Kathryn for a moment.

    "Good to see you here on time tonight," she smiled.

    "I paid better attention to the time today," Kes admitted, "and the Doctor was there to remind me."

    "I was curious as to what kept you.  I hope you were able to catch up on what you missed."

    "I was," she said quietly, but nothing more.  On the dais, Anai had reached over to take Ara's hand, pulling it forward to rest on her thigh.  "Thank you, Captain."

    The garden drew to silence.  In the torchlight above, Anai patiently waited for the last of her audience to gather, caressing her bondmate's hand with her thin fingers.  When the sun had completely faded from the horizon, she drew a slow breath and blessed the evening.

    "It must be said," she then began,  "that such a matter as fighting, combat of arms, was unknown to Desal.  A world never yet disposed to violence would be wholly ignorant of war.

    "Yet it was not a fight in itself that was required at the onset of our resistance.  Far too much to build and learn, far too many to gather in strength, remained, as was time and stealth.  Additionally, Desal did as was always was our skill, to retain silence and perform the necessary with dedication, patience and, at that present, peace...."
 

---

(continued)
Chapter 6 | WP Main

September, 1999
© D'Alaire M.